First Tea, Then Truth

The value of time and a little grace in the face of anxiety and stress.

Photo by Cotton Bro Studio

The little shepherd-looking pup tugged on the leash as I followed up the steep stairs to the front door that would soon be the entrance to his forever home. Jim had his hand lovingly resting on his mother Margaret’s shoulder as they opened the door wide to match their smiles. Aristotle bounded past the couple and began a “sniffari” in the living room. First to the corner where barrels of industrial spools of yarn in colors to match an Easter parade leaned against the limestone fireplace. Then over to the treadmill where a cornucopia of squash and pumpkins covered the walking mat. Braids of garlic and chili peppers and bundles of drying rosemary and undiscernible herbs were scattered about the end tables and on every horizontal surface.

Jim lifted a stack of gardening magazines from the love seat to make room for me to sit, then scurried to the kitchen to make tea. Margaret entertained Aristotle with a tug toy in her right hand while her knobby left hand gestured about the room, pointing to each passion piled here and there.

“I’ll have to move the yarns so we can light the fire. My old girl, Missy, used to bask for hours in the heat as I knitted and sewed. I miss those quiet days.”

“I’m sure you do,” I commented to acknowledge that I was listening. Inside, however, I was bursting. Quiet was not a word I’d used to describe Aristotle’s demeanor. He was a puppy through and through. When Jim returned with steaming mugs of black tea steeped with mint from the garden, I directed my questions to the mother and son about the spry pup.

“Aristotle spends much of his day tearing through the toy box and sprinting around the figure-eight race track we’ve carved into the deep snow. It sounds like you would be better suited for an older dog not as interested in play.”

Jim jumped in when he sensed his mother’s distress at my suggestion that they look for a different dog rather than the one I’d brought to their home.

Margaret slowly lifted herself from the couch, leaning on the arm for support. She gestured for me to follow. Follow I did, through a kitchen crammed with more garden bounty and potted plants. How Jim made tea I couldn’t surmise. There was no microwave oven. The cooktop was covered in mounds of potatoes. There was nary a space on the counter for a tea kettle.

From a peg by the door, Margaret grabbed a shawl and wrapped her shoulders with what looked like yarn from the colorful spools. She threw open the door just as Aristotle ran past her feet. I lunged to grab his leash out of fear of escape. She chuckled as she exclaimed, “Oh don’t worry, our yard is fenced. Nothing can get out, except the squirrels.”

Aristotle ran circles around the raised beds, sprinting as if our dog Rascal was on his tail. He ran after a squirrel who scurried across a tree branch to the neighbor’s yard. He snuffled under a blanket of snow.

“Oh, mom, he’s perfect. He’ll bring plenty of laughter,” said Jim as he gently pushed his way onto the top of the stoop already packed with me and Margaret. I stood in the cold with the mother and son as they regaled me of wistful memories of dogs of yore. I learned of a loving son who had moved in with his elderly mother to care for her as she aged. He was committing to Aristotle’s care, so she could enjoy the companionship of a dog. Neither worried about a curious pup disturbing their mounds of treasures.

I called Aristotle and he surprisingly came, as if he’d been obedient all along. We returned to the crowded, cozy living room to sign the adoption papers. They’d already met the pup during an adoption event and had been vetted by our screeners. My house visit was the last step.

I thanked the couple for the tea and for committing to his care. I gave Aristotle one last hug and closed the door, making my way down the steep steps a bit lighter than when I’d left. They waved from the picture window, Aristotle with his front paws on the sill. Tail wagging.

“Cindy, do you have a moment to talk,” asked Jim sheepishly from the other end of the phone line. It was 7:30 in the morning. I could sense trouble was brewing. “Can we return Aristotle? I know the contract says we can’t, but it’s not working out to have a puppy here.”

I rushed my dogs around the block and headed back to the city. Rather than a son with a loving hand on his mother’s shoulder, I found two adults shoulder to shoulder, crying. Aristotle was not at the door but penned under the table by more boxes of squash.

“What happened?” I demanded. “It was like a Hallmark movie when I left last night.”

More tears from Margaret as Jim choked, “We’re so sorry. I should have mentioned my anxiety. I thought a dog would help to calm my nerves. When Aristotle began to tear into mom’s yarns and bat around the pumpkins, I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope.”

I thanked them for their honesty, gathered the confused pup, and left.

April is national stress awareness month. The following resources are not intended to replace professional help but may help you on the path to seeking it.  

The National Institute of Mental Health (NIH) has a multitude of resources for managing stress and anxiety, including this video.

Amber Groomes, PH.D., @dramberwrites, writes to make mental wellness more accessible to everyone. I found value in her post on anxiety.

Emily King, PH.D., @learnwithdremily, has a number of articles on stress and anxiety in kids and teens. She even offers “Advice Threads” like this one on anxiety where you can engage with other readers to share what’s working and to help each other out.

Bill James-Wallace, @dontstress, has numerous articles and a podcast to help you understand the sources of stress and ways to manage.

Happy Dog Happy Human Podcast has a number of podcasts on both canine and human anxiety.

Readers of Like People, Like Pets have found the following posts to be helpful.

Why Kids and Cats Need Safe Spaces

Do You Have a “Nothing’s Wrong” Teen?

Can a Litter of Kittens Solve Productivity Anxiety?