A Family Affair(78)

SEVENTEEN


Jessie didn’t think her life could change so much in such a short period of time. The day after Thanksgiving she went to Mrs. Sinclair’s house to pick up Mr. Wriggly and brought him home to her mother’s house. He had such a sweet face that Anna immediately fell in love. Wriggly had a nice soft bed, a padded pet carrier, bowls and toys. But that night when they went to bed and Wriggly put his little paws up on Jessie’s bed, she gave him a small boost up and he curled up beside her. She felt him burrow into her bed a few times and in the morning his head was on her pillow.

On Monday she took him to doggy day care but only for half a day and she thought about him the whole time. She picked him up at noon.

“Everyone loves Mr. Wriggly,” one of the women who watched the dogs said. “He’s very friendly, very socialized and made many new friends. He’s so well-behaved.”

Anna went to PT on Tuesday and Thursday and to the courthouse on Wednesday and Friday, and Jessie insisted on driving her and taking her home again. When they were having a quiet dinner on Saturday night, Anna laid down some new rules. “I think I can manage on my own now. It’s been six weeks since the stroke. I’m cleared to drive again, my blood work is good and I’m not worried about marathon nosebleeds.”

“I don’t mind staying here and helping out,” she said. “At least I’m sure you’re eating and sleeping and getting around without being unsteady.”

“If I have a problem I’ll call you. And I think I want my house back.”

“All right, then. I’ll relocate myself and Wriggly back to my condo.”

And, Jessie thought, it was time to begin looking for a small house with a yard for Wriggly. She was so thoroughly in love; she didn’t think she could love a pet this much.

When she was growing up, they had a yellow Lab named Bruce and of course the whole family loved him. He lived to be fifteen; large dogs just didn’t last as long as little ones like Wriggly. He passed away when Bess was beginning college. None of the kids, then on their own, even considered getting a dog. Not yet, anyway; they were all busy and working all the time.

But this timing was perfect.

Jessie fell into a very good routine. She worked in her practice three and a half days a week, and if Cassie could use her help, which she always could, she would give her another day or two every week. Sometimes if the clinic opened evening hours, she would go there for a few hours. Then she would rush home to Wriggly and they would take a short walk or maybe just watch a movie together.

Christmas was fast approaching and Jessie told her therapist, “Despite the fact that my dad has only been gone nine months, I’d like to do what I can to make it the best Christmas ever.”

“How does the rest of the family feel about that?” Dr. Norton asked.

“Well, Bess can be convinced, although she’ll probably make a list of requirements and a spreadsheet of events and a timetable. That’s her usual way of handling things. Michael will probably go along with that idea. He’s pretty much a pleaser. Mom would be relieved to have the pressure taken off her. She spends all of her time worrying that we’re all adjusting to the changes in our lives.”

“It appears you are,” he said.

“I hate to say this but Mom’s stroke was a gift to us, in a way. We were all so freaked out at the idea of losing her, too, that we pulled together in ways we hadn’t in years. Michael and I were always so competitive, vying for Dad’s love and approval. I tried to do it through overachieving and Michael did it through being Dad’s favorite playmate. Neither of us feels that pressure anymore. Both of us miss him in different ways.”

“Tell me some of the ways your life has changed in the past six months, Jessie,” he prompted.

“You know all the ways!” she said. “I’m in here every week and every week there seems to be something new to report. I don’t have a minute to spare, but early in the new year, I’m going to start looking at houses. Wriggly and I need a little more space. Maybe a yard.”

“That sounds promising. Though I don’t know when you’ll find the time.”

“Sunday afternoons. And I can take Wriggly with me to look at houses. There isn’t a lot in my price range in Sausalito, but Mill Valley, near my mom, might have some possibilities.”

“You’re having a very good time with Mr. Wriggly, aren’t you?”

“He’s a dream,” she said. “I’ve never been loved by anyone the way I’m loved by him. I’d marry him if I could.”

“I certainly don’t feel that way about Gretchen, though I will confess to being very fond of him. How have your feelings changed in the past few months?”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

“Are you still journaling?” he asked.

“Yes, and from what I can see when I read it, I have a boring life.”

“But you don’t,” he said. “You have a demanding and, I dare say, fulfilling life. You have a new family member, a new avocation in your little clinic, your family seems to be on their feet—and you contributed mightily to that. And at the risk of appearing condescending, you are not at all cranky.”

She laughed at him. “I’m probably too busy to be cranky.”

“That’s not it,” he said. “You’re on a road to personal discovery. This week, journal about how you feel and how your feelings have changed. That’s an assignment.”