Bentley Blue Bojengles

Meet Bentley Blue Bojengles. Bentley is my Pandemic Puppy or so I've heard these puppies called, either given or purchased, to fill a void or a gap during a crisis such as America is undergoing now.

Poor little guy, so much pressure, that's a big ticket to fill.

I'm already sensing complete dependency on both of our ends.

I simply put on a sweater or a pair of shoes and Bentley is bouncing off all four walls barking and whimpering and I'm hollering back, "I'm not going anywhere."

I'm all he really knows. And all he cares to know.

When he first was a pup about eleven months ago, I had friends stopping over all the time. They all came to check on me. In a matter of fact, Mr. Bojengles came from a litter my dear friend delivered herself. He is the third surviving runt. An all black pitbull sporting a bit of white fur just about where a smashing bowtie would fit. He is quite handsome indeed.

He was given to help fill a huge void when my husband abandoned me the week the state I live in went into complete lockdown. I was a complete mess. Some say I still am. Yes, I am.

So I googled what I was feeling and the dog thing. Of course if it's found on line it's usually solid, so pinned a few articles and sat with my Bentley and we read about what we were experiencing. Seems people everywhere had Pandemic Puppies. The whole separation anxiety is supposed to be extremely overwhelming globally. It's already begun here at my house, but I'm not sure which one of us is worse off.

If I have a few errands to run I try to take him with me he adores a car ride. But at times when I run alone I find myself rushing home needing to check on him. Worrying myself sick wondering if he's ok. Talking to myself in the middle of the grocery store, hiding behind my mask, rushing through my list. An evening with friends usually ends abruptly with friends dropping me off and asking if I am really okay. Just a little separation anxiety I laugh it off, but it really is.

When I open the door he comes running to greet me almost as if he thought he'd never see me again. I carry on with go-to phrases like,

"It's ok Mommy's home now" or "were we a good boy while Mommy was gone?" Then out comes the spoilers; (Bentley has his own cabinet) jerky and rawhide and gravy coated milk bones...He is so proud of himself when I praise him for being mommy's good boy. He most definitely earns his treats.

I've been blessed I have only come home to a mess a few times. A roll of toilet paper or paper toweIs left out absentmindedly gets shredded, nothing to extreme, nothing to expensive. Nothing irreplaceable.

But I get it. I really do. I've sat and put myself in his place. This home is all he knows, I'm all he knows. Friends come over to visit now and they are greeted with a snarl and a growl. They end up turning away, and I promise to catch up with them another time. While I know this isn't a good thing, I question the fact that he's just doing his job isn't he? Then if he's protecting me how is it a bad thing? It isn't. There's no way to select who's who or to direct to whom he should bark at and whom he shouldn't. They say a dog can tell if someone has bad intentions toward you, even if it's a wee bit your dog will know. Bentley has figured out the select few he'll allow near our domain and I'm okay with that.

Bentley is my companion and my protector. And he does outstanding at both duties. I'm Mom and provider and he is definitely spoiled. The check out gal at the dollar store eyeing my purchase comments, "you will have some happy dogs." And perhaps I just relate to Bentley better than humans, I get so annoyed with small talk, my response to the clerk's observation, "nope just one, just my Bentley Blue."

Time is running out for us though. I'll eventually have to go back to work, I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to do it. It makes me a nervous wreck just thinking about it. My heart rate speeds up, shortness in breath, a terrible migraine begins. I would imagine that's what he feels when he sees me putting on my shoes. It crushes me to think that every time I leave this beautiful creature thinks I'm never coming back. No one has ever loved me or needed me in this way. I wish he could truly understand how much he means to me and that he is my world, and that I would never abandon him. I wish he could understand that I go through the same separation anxiety whenever I leave.

Our dog day afternoons will soon come to a halt. As well as millions of other Pandemic Puppies and their Mommies and Daddies. It's bizarre how I've never felt this much anxiety with human separation. It must be the unconditional love. I'm not sure which one of us will be worse off.