Scott deosn’t like dogs. Why did I even want to be friends with him? One of those pretentious U Dub graduates that thinks living in Seattle for 10 years makes him a native citizen. People from Seattle appreciate dogs, even a transplant knows that. It’s one of the main reasons Texan and Californian ex-pats migrate here. Dogs are respected more than children in the PNW. After adopting Bowie I got an endless amount of congratulations from strangers and loose acquaintances. People who know me are skeptical but that’s only because they know me. Changes this big tend to stretch me thinner than pizza dough. It’s still baffling to think I could care so much about what a guy who doesn’t like dogs thinks of me. Those few years without canine companionship are going down in the book as dark dark times.

I was planning to get a dog this year, even before the COVID scare. I’ve had many pets and have loved them all with different parts of my heart. When Maya left me last year it freed up a fresh pound of cardiac muscle. I deliberately waited a year, to let the healing happen. I’m not into rebound relationships. The first part of this year took me through many highs and lows, forcing questions about my future and sustainability. I’ve lost two great Seattle friends in 2020 and considered leaving town myself. As with any time of crisis, I eventually set my intention and used that motivation to plow through all obstacles. Shrugging off worries about age and endurance, I pursued the job I needed to afford what I want. After proving to myself I can do it, I let the universe know I needed a dog. Like magic, I found Bowie a month later.

2020’s motif is time dilation. Between a new job, new puppy, new friends, new hobbies and new approaches to everything time seems to undulate. More than ever before the weeks seem to vary in length. Forced unemployment was a surreal experience and tested my psychological limits at times I least expected. Turns out I do need an occupation to feel fulfilled. I always wondered if wealth would change my lifestyle and now I know. I don’t want more than I’m providing for myself, the amount of excess allows only for a sense of luxury. But first I need a reason to relax or it just feels like gluttony. The job I’m working now challenges me while respecting my innate restrictions. I’ve made it clear I don’t want to be a chef, I’m satisfied being a great cook. My 5 year plan involves making biscuits but that’s getting ahead of myself.