It was maybe three weeks that we had him. Yesterday, we said goodbye to Magnum and another couple picked him up from our house, a new family for him, another couple attempting to live out the fantasy of having a French bulldog. They are the cutest dogs, adorable, and we somehow had put on our blinders to everything else that is involved with having a dog other than this cutesy aspect. There were many not cute aspects. Waking up bleary-eyed and stumbling to the bathroom only to step barefoot into a big pile of shit is not cute. Waking up in the middle of the night to him crying also not cute. Taking him for endless walks also not cute. Constantly cleaning up piss and shit very much so not cute.
A week into having the dog I was completely over the idea and knew that he had to go or my sanity did. My nerves became shorter and shorter. I dreaded coming home because I knew it meant doing nothing but taking care of the dog and making sure he wasn't chewing on this or pissing there. I realized how much I really do value my alone time and having a dog means no alone time.
Speaking of which, Jacob just came home.
I thought I would play George Michael's "Freedom 90" when the dog left yesterday and dance around my apartment in celebration. Instead I was actually quite sad, had really come to like his mushy face and perky ears staring at me all the time. Instead I played Bob Dylan's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue," and The The's "This is the Day," neither of which really fit the mood I was in. I was grasping for some musical accompaniment to the moment, googling songs about goodbyes, all of them rather terrible, and so I listened to these two instead thinking they would work. Maybe not every moment has its appropriate soundtrack; maybe the absence of music, a quiet, is the best soundtrack for some moments.