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Writer's pictureGus

A Total Eclipse of My Heart

"Hey Gus!" Mom popped in on me and my tablet the other day. "I'm glad to see you writing again! I was worried about you there for a little bit."


It was hard for me to tell Mom that I've been in quite a depression since the holidays - holidays meaning Christmas and my birthday. Who cares about New Year's? I don't want to hurt her feelings, but it's kind of all her fault. Yeah, a three-month funk is what can happen when pets don't get a thing they asked for on their gift list, especially when pet parents get a second try for someone's birthday a week later and fail to deliver - again! I'll tell you - Big Brother was all over that Christmas list situation, up to and including where Mom said, "You didn't really think we were going to buy you a plush toy, did you?" However, Big Brother was not quite right about the fact that the gifts we did get would be so much fun we'd overlook not getting what we asked for. I got a great pull toy that was big fun on Christmas, but it lasted less than one day. Less than one hour. Less than one quarter hour.


On the way to total gift destruction

Next came my birthday! Did I get anything on my Christmas list then? Sort of, but sort of doesn't count. Well, maybe it counts for effort - like, I know Mom and Dad love me because they tried. But does this bed look like the Big Joe beanbag for upstairs that I asked for?



It's a freaking pedestal, I'll tell you, because I can't sink down into it like my Joe. And while I'd be happy if my family put me up on a proverbial pedestal as an example of the best pet ever, I don't want a literal one to sleep in - or on, as it is. I couldn't even look at Mom while she was doing her best to convince me this new bed was the bomb.


I did get some bully sticks, which I love, but then the ol' butt glands had to rise up again - literally - and Mom decided maybe the bully sticks were to blame. Cone of fame, sore butt, too many visits to the vet, no visits to dog camp, and no fun snacks of any kind.


I wanted to tell Mom about my feelings, because she's normally pretty good at helping me work through them, but once my butt glands got better, the whole family was sick for weeks. First Dad, then Mom, then Big Brother, and Mom was totally preoccupied with all of that. I figured the way I fall apart, I'd be next, but instead I just had to sit and comfort the current sicky.


Comforting the sick is a good job for a depressed dog.

And if I wasn't feeling bad enough from emotional neglect at that point, my family left me at dog camp for a whole week for something called spring break. A week with my dog peeps was good for my soul, and I thought I might be turning the corner, but then the fam returned. In recounting all of their adventures for me, Big Brother, whose birthday was celebrated on the trip, noted that he received the two soccer jerseys he had on his Christmas list as birthday gifts.



Really? I see how this works. Dis the dog. I didn't think I'd ever be able to turn it around. Mom could finally sense I was feeling blue, and when I wouldn't tell her what was wrong, she suggested I listen to music. She said music does wonders for her heart when she's feeling a bit down, so she showed me how to get Internet radio on my tablet. Lots of good tunes on there, but one that got a lot of air time last week caught my attention. It was speaking directly to me - turn around, bright eyes . . . and it could read my soul - every now and then I fall apart . . . and it knew what I needed - a total eclipse of the heart.



Yes, this eclipse thing was what I needed! But how to get it? I still didn't want Mom to know I was mad at her, so I asked Big Brother. "Hey, Big Bro, how can I get this eclipse thing that's all over the radio?"


"Get it? You don't get it; you look at it." He further explained this to me as a celestial phenomenon and warned me not to look directly at the sun.


"If I can't look at it, how am I supposed to see it and change my heart?"


"Gus," Big Brother sighed, "there are special glasses. I'm sure Mom will get you some, if you want to see it, but I don't know that's it's going to be life-changing."


I certainly wasn't sure Mom would get me some special glasses if I wanted them - Big Brother, yes; me, no, based on all recent evidence. But I couldn't take any chances, because I wanted the old Gus back. So I asked, and Mom assured me that Dad had some glasses we could all share.


I felt certain "all" of us meant her, Dad, and Big Brother, but when the big day came, Big Brother went off to school! Mom had a procedure scheduled at the hospital in the morning, and I was nervous she and Dad wouldn't make it back in time - panic stricken actually. I needed this. I told Mom I wanted to see it, but I had my doubts they would come home so I could.


For once, though, in a very long time, they didn't disappoint. I waited for Mom to give me a turn, and then it happened. My eyes beheld the eclipse - although not total where we live - and it was amazing. Of course, also amazing was hanging out with just Mom and Dad on the back patio.


So happy hanging out with Mom and Dad and patiently waiting to use the glasses.


Was it the eclipse that did it or my special time with Mom and Dad? Don't know, don't care. It was enough. The radio was right. After three months of sadness and neglectful feelings, I did indeed have a total eclipse of my heart!


I'm back!


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