A Love Letter to Drake

Washington, D.C.
May 26, 2017

Dear Drake:

You didn’t know it, but last summer you were about to face the hardest year of your life, because I went away to Washington. You didn’t know that I would leave, but I did. I left you in the very capable hands of Neil, who even though he would never choose to have a dog, is perfectly capable of caring for you and is only willing to do so, because he would probably do almost anything within his power for his wife.

We have been so lucky to have so much help with you this year. Nora, who, as you know, we met in puppy class in April of 2009, has taken care of you on and off since that time. This year has been no exception…well, there has been no “off” time for her. I know how much you love her and her sweet-natured golden retriever, Baxter. And, even though you routinely bully him and push him around, he is your best buddy. (But, Baxter does have his limits. Remember that time that you pushed the limit with him over and over when we were at Battis Farm and you two were swimming and retrieving in Lake Gardner? Remember when he pulled you under the water because you were a bully and you came up gasping for air? A-hem… You’ll want to keep in mind that Baxter really does have his limits and you’d best not cross them, as good-natured as he is.) Regardless of your behavior, Nora shows up three times a week, full of cheer to exercise you and show you some love.
 
Nora and Baxter
You don’t know this, but we wound up in Amesbury because it was the furthest south on I-95 that we could get and still afford a house. We were so lucky to stumble onto our little street and move next door to Richard. I know that you love Richard, but what you may or may not know is that Richard adores you. He feeds you dinner when we are working and haven’t returned home, he administers your ear medicine this year while I am away, he sometimes takes you to work (even if you did steal his boss’ lunch), and I hear that he comes next to door on the days that Nora does not exercise you and asks Neil if the three of you should head out together for some exercise. I mean, is that a neighbor or what? I know that you keep him company on Thursday evenings while he watches This Old House and that is very kind of you, even if you do fall asleep most weeks.

Richard and Drake in Lake Gardner
 I think that you’ve been very brave this year while I’ve been gone. But, I also hear that you’ve been sad. Me, too. Washington, D.C. is a dog city. There are dogs all over the place and they’re not just small dogs. There are labs and other large-breed dogs everywhere. They hang out in city parks and they even come to the U.S. Senate Office Buildings when the Senate is in recess. Yes, it’s true! The dogs have to go through security, just like the humans. I think you’d do fine with that. But, you wouldn’t really be happy in Washington. Your elbows could never stand the brick sidewalks. It would be very difficult to take you swimming in this city, although when I am running along the Potomac I often look for boat ramps where you could go swimming if you were with me. But, alas, the boat ramps of the Potomac River are pretty busy, it’s not like Larry’s Marina on the Merrimack in Amesbury. This is not Kansas, this is the nation’s capital. I know you don’t get that reference, sweetheart. Suffice it to say that if you were here in Washington with me, you wouldn’t get to rip trees out of the ground, chew on ice in the winter, bound through the snow, charge into a river, or dig in the sand. Moreover, I’m away from my apartment a minimum of nine-and-a-half hours every day. This is why you’re not here with me and instead you’re at home. I know, you’re thinking, “But, I could go to the office with you!” Drake, honey, do you remember the problems with your GI system and how people run from the room when you let one fly? Yah. Let’s try to be practical.





Before you were born we had another dog, named Blackberry. He, too, was a black lab and I also loved him. He didn’t have as much energy as you and he was not as confident a dog as you are. But, I was so very sad when he died. I used to walk up to strangers who had a lab and to say, “Can I pet your dog? My dog’s dead.” Really, I was like a child with poor boundaries. When you came along, I really wanted you to be more like Blackberry, but you weren’t. It took a long time, but you’ve turned out great, too. When I went away last August, I set up all kinds of plans for you – for people to take care of you and love you. I sent notices to your vet about who could care for you in my absence and mapped out your medication schedule on the calendar that hangs in the kitchen. Have you wondered why I look at the side of the refrigerator every morning before I feed you? It’s to make sure I know which medications to give you. But, I digress. I was worried about leaving you and very sad, but I had a great opportunity ahead of me. I was worried about your elbows though. I try to protect you from playing too hard too often and try to stretch out the days between your encounters with other dogs. I know that one wrong turn and those bulging, twisted, arthritic elbows of yours could fracture or a fragment of a bone could come loose and then you’d be miserable. I thought there was a pretty good chance that all of the play time that I had set up for you might mean that this was your last year of life. I was willing to take that risk if it meant that you were distracted from my absence.

Instead, your elbows have been sore, but not life-threatening. I’m so happy about this. You’ve done a great job adjusting to my absence. My visits home can be confusing for you. Do I punish her? No, wait! I looooove her!! But, wait, there’s my friend, Richard, and I love him, too. There’s Neil walking into the room… It’s confusing. I understand. Guess what? Me, too. It’s as hard to live in two places as it is for you to be separated from me. Sometimes during our nightly talks, Neil tells me that you’re sad. Most of the time I don’t ask, because I can’t do anything about it, and it makes me sad to know.

But, guess what, Little Guy (as I like to call you…)? Eight weeks from today I’m done here in the Senate. And, eight weeks from tomorrow? I’m moving back home. I can’t wait to see you every day again. I’m so glad that you made it through this year and so grateful for everyone’s assistance. You only have eight more weeks to go. Actually, we both only have eight more weeks to go. We’re almost there, Little Guy. Be strong. Keep swimming. I’ll be home for good before you know it.

All my love,


Emily


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