Every Day with Peter

 

It's our 36th anniversary this year. And we didn't go anywhere. We usually mark it with a trip somewhere we've never been, a special gift, something to commemorate another year together. 

This year, we have 10 dogs we're caring for. It's kind of hard to impose their care on someone. Two are puppies, they're pretty easy but messy since they're not house broken (yet). Two are adult feral siblings who won't let us touch them (yet) even though we've been feeding them for over six months and they've been living with us for two. Then there are "our" dogs - Dorothy, Pearl, long-term foster Bitchy (hahaha, Itsy) and Oh!. Plus, we've recently re-acquired our dogs from NY, Westley and Maverick. 

This is all a very long-winded way of saying, Peter and my life is not our life alone. We have many depending on us and so, here we are, on St. Croix spending our anniversary in a pretty mundane fashion because basically, we have dogs. 

And this is what I want to say about this life Peter and I find ourselves living. 

We never thought, dreamed, wished, desired to live on this 

Caribbean island. As matter-of-fact, we had visited St. John some 10 years ago with the kids. A vacation during Spring Break, on an island we'd never been before. I nearly died there. I was snorkeling and wound up far from Peter and the kids and very far from shore. I am not a strong swimmer and though I had snorkel gear, I struggled to get back to the beach. I pictured myself dying, drowning and the only reason I made it to shore was I didn't want to spoil my kids' vacation (Imagine! How did you spend your spring break, Macallan? Oh, my mom ruined a perfectly good trip by going ahead and drowning. [major eye roll]). Nope. I wasn't going to do that!

I often say, "Oh! I could live here!" but not here. Not once the entire time we were on St. John. 

But here we are, in the Caribbean. 

Generally, I get up around 5:45am to let the dogs out. There are so many of them, and thankfully, our NY dogs and island dogs get along well enough, but we have had to separate Itsy since she preys, stalks, terrorizes our 12-year-old blind, deaf, English Setter whose legs give out from under him. So, Itsy stays in the laundry room and is let out on her own. Then, we put all of those dogs in various locations and feed them breakfast. No easy task, let me tell you. The puppies try to eat the big dogs' food, Oh! tries to eat the big dogs' food and the big dogs never want to eat from their designated dishes which causes a half-hearted fight to ensue over who gets what, where. So, we separate them. Fun, fun!

Then while the upstairs dogs are sequestered, the downstairs dogs come out. I like to walk the yard with them. I even let the puppies out since the group sort of know each other since they come from the same abandoned property. Actually, we think one of the pups HAS to be Hyatt's baby, they are so much alike. 

Hyatt and Radisson make their way to the porch where I get them to come closer and closer to me as I give them treats. Lately, I've been able to stroke Hyatt's paws and he hasn't pulled away. One day, I'll have them crawling onto my lap as I rub their ears and scratch their heads. I say by Thanksgiving. By then, maybe we'll even get them to walk on a leash. Oh, OK. That's more like Christmas!

After I've been sufficiently eaten alive by no-seeums and mosquitoes, they follow me downstair to have their breakfast. Each time, Radisson does flips and spins, always so happy to be fed. Hyatt sometimes whines when I take too long. Sorry, Hyatt. I have to dole-out the canned food so it's evenly distributed in their dish so they won't just eat the wet but also all of the dry. Otherwise, the rats, cockeroaches or ants get it. Gross!

Then, I putter around with my many plants. I have never had so many in my life. But because it's so easy to grow anything, I've delved into orchids, ferns, bromeliads, cactus and succulents, to name a few...I have covered our inside and outside with plants in ceramic pots, that I'm proud to say, most I've made! 

Peter not only encourages my pup, plant and pottery obsessions, he contributes to them. There's no way I would have been able to trap the dogs we've captured. Many of whom, he wound up cleaning up after, because as he says, "I know you don't like to." He has never complained of the medical bills we incurr not only for the dogs we call family, but dogs we foster, and some dogs we have never even met but were told need medical attention. We have had some heated discussions about dogs we wound up keeping (our foster fails), not because he didn't love them but he fought to give them better homes than we could provide. 

Suffice it to say, this life we are living here on this Caribbean island, isn't the life either of us thought we'd have. He rarely fishes, although he could. I rarely write, although I should. 

We have a handful of places to buy take-out or go out to eat, whereas in NY, we often drove an hour to get a good cocktail or try a new restaurant. Here, we know what we like and we go there. But mostly, we love being home. 

He spends the day in the office, working. But between tasks, he can help me get our barking coonhound inside. He can run out to grab us lunch that we eat at our tiny dining room table, often sharing one lunch plate between us. He knows I love the batter-dipped cauliflower, and not the lentil cakes, so he eats those and leaves the cauliflower to me. He's there to run to the post office and if there's time, drop food off for the stray dogs we feed. But mostly, he's not far from me and before each meeting (and it's surprising how many he has!) he is close enough to give me a kiss before the meeting starts. Every time. All day long. And it's something he established and I love that he does. 

Then because our vegan lunch or Puerto Rican platter was so good and so

filling, we forage for dinner. He puts together a cheese board, I make popcorn. We stream something on TV as the dogs surround us on the couch. 

Sometimes we find a series we both like. Sometimes I don't really care and he watches some violent show with very little plot and I avert my eyes as I post on FB or shop online as I sit two dogs away. 

Sometimes, we find a show that is really good with excellent dialogue, even if it's not English, and I shush him because even after 38 years together, he forgets I don't like when he talks when they talk. "Why do you get to talk?" he has been known to say. "Because I know when it's an important dialogue and when it's a car scene and we don't need to hear the tires squealing." "Oh." he says. And nowadays, that's that. 

We go to bed by 11, but first, the perfunctory ceremony of Letting the Dogs Out...which undoubtedly ends up with the puppies being wired and rambunctious, not wanting to sleep; and Maverick, the 12-year-old, whining to sleep in our bedroom even though he's not supposed to. Some nights Peter persists. "No. Go to bed, Maverick." he scolds. Other nights. like last night, I prevail, "Oh for godssake, Peter. He's scared and lonely! Just let him in our room!" and he does. 

Some nights, we all sleep peacefully. Other nights, it's every hour on the hour, we have to quiet a dog howling, search what door is squeaking, or mop up around the over flowing basin because our roof leaks when rain beat down on us.

Except for the excitement of a snake sighting, a potential hurricane making landfall, a dog, usually Pearl, making her way out of our $12,000 fenced in yard only to wind up standing at our front gate, we lead a very boring, predictable, easy-going life. 

We never thought we'd live here on St. Croix. We never thought we'd like it. We never thought we'd have a bunch of dogs. We never thought we'd love having them. We never thought we'd live in a tropical climate and not in a place with four seasons. We never thought the highlight of the day would be a perfectly ripe avocado spread smoothly or evenly on homemade bread. We never thought we'd have orchids growing on our palm trees and celebrate each time they bloomed. We never thought we'd have a life where we were free of distractions and could give ourselves to our unrealized delights. We honestly never thought we'd be able to trust each other enough to enjoy each other's company so unabashedly. 

We have been together for 38 years and instead of growing bored, we've actually grown more excited by the dull little puppy-ful, plant-filled, pottery-aplenty life we're living. 

How did this happen? How did we get here? I'd ask where we're going, but I know that answer. 

For now, we're going to stick to this routine. It's working. 

No fancy getaway. No elaborate gesture. Just the every day. Everyday. Just like today, with Peter, my pups, my plants and my pottery. What more could I ask for?