welcome back

The fuzz butt is back. 

Sweet (and slightly deranged) Rueben Henry, my buddy for the last 7 years. He's been living at a doggie daycare type place since December. For a smallish dog, he's A Lot Of Dog... the apartment I'm cohousing in with my friends is not set up well for having A Lot Of Dog. They are gracious. The amazing woman who has had Rue off and on the last 3 years (Kat) is also gracious.  

We aren't ready to move into our house yet (more on this another time) and I'm not prepared to move into the trailer yet (more on this also at another time). But I was willing to chance bringing him back to the apartment. 

This pandemic has the world upside down. I'm one of the "lucky ones" with an essential service position. I still have a pay cheque and regular hours. Luckier still, we didn't finish the house when we thought we would. If it was complete, I'd have left my essential service job for a home business. Lucky because work affords me connection with humans. Also lucky, I have housemates and I'm not alone in my home. 

But this last week, pandemic life has been hitting me hard. I've had a few bouts of tears in grief and frustration, for sure, but last week was borderline panic attacks.  The lack of touch has been eating my soul, and this last week I just hit the wall. Repeatedly.  

I'd say touch is one of my top love languages.  My last hug was March 12th. My last touch on the arm was March 12th. My last arm over a shoulder was March 12th. Cue tears, shortness of breath and a squeezing feeling in my heart.... because when the hell is this going to end? We don't know. 

Someone said to me the other day "what if after this, people don't touch any more?" I was thankful it was a text conversation,  I just sat there weeping. 

That's when I decided,  Ruerue is home. He might be hiding from me a little... some social distancing... because I keep picking him up and squeezing him while making happy squealing noises. But at least now there's touch. And while I still tear up thinking about not touching, not being touched, at least I can breathe.