Perspective

“Reality is a question of perspective.”

Salman Rushdie

As my year-end meditations continue, this week I’d planned to explore the notion that this year is considered, in the woo-woo sphere anyway, a year of completion. But man plans and God laughs, and instead the Universe has treated me to a walloping dose of perspective.

Two weeks ago, my personal assistant underwent veterinary dental surgery to have a cracked molar and four dangerously loose teeth extracted. True to his brand, he came through like a champ: he enthusiastically resumed his routines the very next day, eagerly took his meds, and was the same quirky little nut he’d always been. Until he wasn’t. About a week in, he started refusing his pill pockets (previously a high-value treat). Then he started acting as if there were a demon in his food bowl. Next up was some pretty spectacular vomiting. There were multiple trips to the vet, several red herrings, some intermediate relief, and a brutally long weekend before it was finally determined that his liver and gallbladder were shutting down, likely a result of resistant bacteria unleashed during his surgery. Because he has given up trying to eat, we will be making twice daily visits to the vet for IV fluids and other medications for the next week or so.

Despite the emotional toll, it’s been so interesting to watch my perspective shift. Early on, I had little patience for his weirdness around eating, assuming it was just some of his more eccentric, spoiled behavior. A few days later I was on the floor, trying to feed him by hand, willing to sit there all day if he’d just eat something. And everyone who knows me well is aware of one of my major complaints about him: he wakes me between 4:30 and 5:00 every morning by affectionately jumping all over me. As the week wore on, I was heartbroken to wake on my own and find him lying quietly next to me, gazing off into the distance.

Instead of flippant eyerolls at his insistence on being glued to my side, I was now seeking him out as he became too weak to follow me and took to hiding in his crate. The last frontier was his morning walk. When he stopped prodding me to put down my coffee cup and get ready (which invariably involved his maddening habit of trying to lick the lotion off of my legs while I struggled to dress) I would have given anything for one more bossy demand or one more tussle in the closet. And, of course, the twice daily trips to the vet (let’s not even discuss the expense involved) that I would have previously groused about are now a privilege and a relief given the alternative.

So, my perspective, and yes, my reality, has been adjusted. Add to that the fact that he’s aging (he’ll be eleven years old this month, and his muzzle is pretty white) and I think the adjustment will be permanent. Of course, all of this time spent watching and waiting has lent itself to contemplation, and I began to consider: where else in my life could my perspective use a little tweaking? Where else could I consider the alternative before reflexively complaining, even if only to myself?

It seems to me that gratitude has a lot to do with perspective, although I’m not quite sure of the exact nature of the relationship. In recent years, I’ve prided myself on having a robust practice of noting all of the blessings in my life. But maybe I’ve become complacent as my life has settled down from its previous tumult. Maybe I needed a little refresher course. I wouldn’t have chosen this particular delivery system, but I’m grateful for the reminder.

Another tidbit to carry forth into the coming year.

Hanging in

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Thanks for reading.

GOOD THINGS

I whiled away some of the anxious hours doing this jigsaw of Lisbon, which remains on my bucket list. The missing piece, which I later found on the floor, is right on brand for me.

 My first written review for Rising.