I’m writing this on the Fourth of July and Seamus is not a happy camper. Seamus, if you are a newcomer to this column (welcome!), is my nine-year-old German Shepherd mix who has been with me for two years now. He’s a lovely companion, except: 1) when it thunders, 2) when a train goes by, 3) when any random loud, or even semi-loud noise is heard, and 4) when noisy fireworks are shot off. When any of those four things happen, he is a quivering, frantic, hiding-in-the-closet-with-me-sitting-by-his-side bundle of raw nerves.
As I said, today is the Fourth of July and we’re having both thunder and noisy fireworks. Seamus is not dealing well with this double whammy. Over the past two years that he has come to live with me, I’ve tried various calming remedies. None works. So I am resigned to sitting on the floor of my closet, patting him, singing to him and wishing I could just go to bed.
Once when I was walking him in Riverview Cemetery, the train came through, whistle blaring. Seamus took off for home at about 100 miles an hour. I clutched his leash and followed after, my feet hardly touching the ground. Some of the staff at Bear Care, where I volunteer to help with the babies, saw me flying past their window. “Wow – there goes Molly at 100 miles an hour!” Or words to that effect.
Bear Care is at Seton school, just a half-block from my home. I started volunteering there for a couple of hours a day when it first opened. That was the year Bing died and I was looking for things to do to help fill the extra time on my hands. Rocking, feeding and changing babies is such fun. Our own grandchildren are scattered around the country, so I feel lucky to be able to have my baby fix close at hand.
Over the years I’ve rocked Beckett, Harlow, Oliver, Lincoln, June, Teddy, Gloria, Gavin, Cora and many, many more. A cast of thousands, really. Too many to list completely, but each one has a piece of my heart. When they grow out of the baby stage and move on to the other rooms, I still see them on the playground, especially when I’m walking by with Seamus. Sadly, he has completely upstaged me in their affections. They come running to the playground fence and put their little hands through to pat him, clamoring to feel his soft fur. Often I have to go back to the fence when I hear a frantic wail, “I didn’t get to pat him!”
When you read this, the Fourth of July will be well over and all the neighborhood firecrackers will, we can only hope, be gone. Now if only train whistles, thunder and other loud and semi-loud noises would also be gone.
Seamus and I would be so grateful.