I often wonder about NapaTheLab. 

Sometimes I wonder about her crazy antics.  For instance how she can have a binful of dog toys, (thanks to BarkBox) which she treats as treasures until one of her BFFs (Best Furry Friends), Stella or Benny, visit and then they immediately become tug-o-war weapons quickly morphing into shreds of cloth and clouds of stuffing across the living room and beyond. 

Sometimes I wonder about her inquisitiveness.  For instance we were just away from home for a few days and the moment she walked back into the house she had to re-inspect every corner of it.  Or when we take our first few walks through the neighborhood and she has to re-sniff every blade of grass, stray leaf, and twig along our route. 

Sometimes I wonder about her mellowness.  For instance when she decides there is nothing in her world more important than sleep and she nestles in for her version of a long winter’s nap.  More often than not this involves my bed and creating a nest of my pillows.  Other times it turns into her taking 90% of the sofa as she snoozes, stretched out like a snausage-dog three times her usual length.  And of course there are those times she decided the best place is right behind me just so I don’t forget she’s in the house as I flail like a sock puppet while trying to keep my balance and remain upright.

Most often, though, I wonder how she views me.

I wonder what she thinks when I confide in her.  Now that MK is gone, many are the times when I treat her as my trusted confidant.  I tell her what I worry about, what makes me happy, and maybe just what I’m contemplating for dinner.  She often gives me a cock of her head that I fail to determine if it means she understands…or thinks I’m just a bit too off kilter for her liking.

I wonder what she thinks of me when I tell her my stories.  I’ve always been an aficionado of a good story and know Napa is all too aware of this predilection.  Perhaps the best part is she doesn’t care if I just might be telling one for the umpteenth time, an attribute unknown to my friends, children, and grandchildren.  She also exhibits extraordinary patience, sometimes even allowing herself to take a nap mid-story and then waking at some later point, yet not having run off to escape.

I wonder what she thinks when I snuggle with her.  I believe this is her least favorite behavior of mine.  She allows for a hug now and again but when I hang on too long she feels no compunction over slithering out of my grasp, giving her fur a quick shake to get it back in ‘proper’ order, and settling back in, but across the room from me.  Maybe this is the real reason we have two sofas in the living room.

I wonder what she thinks when I cry.  This time of year I miss MK deeply and more than I always do.  During our pre-cancer lives the December holiday season was one of her favorites.  So for me it’s loaded with marvelously warm and meaningful memories.  Times together when we’d find solace in our stolen moments together to rescue ourselves from the busyness.  Then the amazing times with our children, extended family, trips to her hometown to celebrate with her folks, and then back to my family for New Years’ celebrations.  However, during her years of illness this time of year was one of tremendous difficulty.  Every facet of these holidays was seen as a significant barrier to her crucial routine.  Visits were interruptions.  Gifts were an unnecessary evil.  Decorations useless bric-a-brac doing nothing but changing her landscape.  Holiday phone calls simply disastrous interruptions.  Her usual uncontrollable anxiety roiled into unimaginable, massive emotional agony.  So it is, in the quiet times of the holidays, I often find myself in tears.  Either happily over the marvelous memories of old or painfully hot in my torn soul of the later years.  It’s when those feelings overwhelm that I turn to Napa, tousling her ears, and allowing the feelings to explode, while my tears try to wash something new into me.

I realize I’ll never know what Napa is truly thinking, but still I wonder.