I'm a Sheep Dog

No, that's not my photo snapped at the latest "Furry" convention. Actually that photo has been doctored with my face on a sheep dogs body. (I know! It's amaizing how real that looks!) As a rule, I don't dress up as a Sheep Dog. But I am of their ilk. I'm a herder. I know I've mentioned this before in passing, but I wanted to get into more detail to see if any of you are herders too. Or am I just abnormal.

My tendancy is to be in constant contact with my loved ones. I'd prefer that we all be in the same room, if we are all home. If one of us is gone, I need to hear from that person, usually if he or she is going to be late. I'd really like a call when anyone is about to head home so that I know when to expect him or her and I don't have to watch out the window and worry that he/she is dead in a ditch.

I suppose I can dispense with the vaguries of him/her...I'm talking about Doc here. He's more of a cat. His philosophy is "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me." If I don't hear from him, I should assume all is well. Which is kind of a logical leap for this pup, because I also wouldn't hear from him if he were dead. So, really? Not helpful for herding purposes. There's also a matter of our different interpretations of what "I'll be back in about 20 minutes" means (See this post, #3 for more information).

I know he hates the phone and would rather never have to use one. And in general, we're an awesome team; I have no complaints. For example, when we cook in the kitchen, we communicate almost completely implicitly; no words are necessary. I aspire to this level of communication with the people in my life and I'm lucky to have it. But it would be nice, for me, if he would just call on his way out the door from work to let me know he'll be home soon and to check to see if we need anything. Or let me know if he was going to be late or off on walk-about.

But that's an old saw and really off the point.

I was talking about me.

My herding instincts really come out at night. It's very difficult for me to be the first one to go to bed. I really can't settle down until I know that everyone is home, safe and out like a light. This is tricky for me and Doc, him being a night owl and working afternoons and me also being a night owl but on the early shift. I want to stay up with him, but it ruins me for the next day.

Last night, however, I had to go to bed first, even before the girls. I had the world's worst stomach ache, complete with cramps and chills. I hadn't slept well the night before and I was just worn out. I slugged down some Pepto and reluctantly headed off to bed. I should have been comforted. I had the bed to myself, I had the heated mattress pad turned up to ward off the chills, I popped in a Bob Newhart Show DVD, but I had this feeling of fear/emptiness.

Everyone was still up. My herd could drift while I'm in here. What if Lucy sleep-walked again? What if Riley runs away? What if Doc scarpered off to the back yard for a whiz and slipped and fell and cracked his head open?

Stop it, I told myself. Just enjoy sprawling out and drifting off. I did, eventually. Then at about 4 a.m. I woke up, still alone. I experienced a sheep dog frisson of fear. I got up and wandered through the house, eventually discovering the girls on the couch and Doc sleeping on they chair with his legs out on the ottoman. I thought about waking him up and dragging him back to bed. And then I thought better of it. They were fine. They were herded. I could go back to bed.

Still...what if...

Watches?!? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Watches!

It's been years since I've worn a watch, probably close to 10. Up until that point I wore them religiously. It started out with my first Swatch when I was in middle school. I wore it all the time. I wore it to bed; I wore it in the shower (it was waterproof). Later, as I grew out of the Swatch watches and into the Swiss Army watches, I no longer wore my watch in the shower, but I did wear it to bed. It had glow in the dark hands so I could see it when I woke up suddenly in the night. For some reason, I wake up panicked and I have to know what time it is. This might be because I wore a watch to bed for so many years. Or I may have worn a watch to bed because of this time disorienting panic disorder I have.



And then I met Doc. He never wore a watch. "I don't need one," he expained. "There's clocks everywhere and there's usually at least one person in the room who will have the time and give it to you when you ask." He was also constantly breaking them and found them confining in more ways than one. I don't think he likes having one physically on his arm, but moreso, he vehemently demands freedom from the tyranny of time. Those who know him are probably familiar with his infamous "Gimme twenty minutes" gambit. Doc's "twenty minutes" are as flexible as taffy. Wearing a watch would turn his taffy into rocks.



As much as I've groused about this time taffy, I've also tried to learn from it. I believe a lot of my depression stems from the sorrow that this too shall pass. Even while I was in the middle of having a good time, my eye would be on the clock and I would be fretting about the fact that this good time would be over soon. Of course I was not wise enough to remember that just because this good time is over, doesn't mean that all good times are over.



Watching Doc saunter through his days, his time his own inspired me. I took my watch off as an experiement to see if I could be more like him and less concerned with "when" and more involved with "how" and "why" and "who." And so far, so good. I'm still worried about the time. I look at the clock often. I check my cell phone to see what time it is. I even wake up in the middle of the night, search for the clock on the cable box, note the time and drift back off to sleep. However, now, when I'm in the middle of something and I feel the time fluttering away from me like a long ribbon, I just hold on to my hat and let go of the panic. Sometimes, I even give myself "Twenty Minutes" to do things.



To this day, my Swiss Army watch with glow in the dark hands and the date indicator, sits in my junk drawer, a relic. As you know, I recently cleaned out that drawer and the watch made the cut; it did not get pitched, but it's still classified as "junk." Doc saw it in there and noted, "There's your watch..."



"Yep," I said giving it a look and closing the drawer, thinking I would never were it or its kind again.



That is until the other day...



I was entering my codes in the My Coke Rewards program. We had about 350 points and I was shopping through the items, not confident that I would find anything good. And what should pop up in the list, but an American Idol watch!!! It silver with a black face and band. The American Idol logo is splashed across the middle and the hands glow in the dark. I immediately ordered it and applied all but one of my points to obtaining it.



The watch arrived yesterday and I immediatly removed it from the packaging and put it on. I was somewhat concerened that this act would bind me again in the shackles of time, like I had been in the past. But so far, so good. It's not much more than a bracelet in my mind. Also, it's a great conversation piece. And, it's totally awesome. I'll keep you posted on my time frame of mind.