My Life Has Gone to the Dogs: Everyday Magic, Day 998

“It’s like an animal daycare here,” said my friend Laurie, here to give Shay some doggy acupuncture today. She was right, and with two dogs and two cats, it’s also a canine and feline exercise and mindfulness training program, continually interrupting what I thought I was doing to point my attention toward a higher power. Never underestimate the call of the dogs to go outside. Add in the cats, whose needs must be met whenever they arise because: cats, and you can imagine how much practice I get sitting down only to stand up again.

It wasn’t always like this. For years, we had a constant balance of three animals, mostly two cats and a dog, and occasionally a cat and two dogs. But the addition of Moxie — a border collie with a bit of rat terrier in her — to our trio of Shay the dog, and Miyako and Sidney Iowa, the cats — the balance has shifted even more from the two-leggeds to the four-leggeds. Working at home means I’m in the thick of Animal Kingdom much of the time, and wherever I am in or around the house, they must be also. I could be in my favorite chair, laptop fully engaged, or at the kitchen table meeting with a client over Zoom, or on the front porch, talking on the phone with someone to plan an event, and I will be interrupted. Repeatedly. Just about everyone I work with has heard barking, meowing, and doors opening and closing often.

The animals must of course situate themselves around each other and me. If I pace as I talk on the phone, sometime I’m prone to do, the animals must pace too. If I head to the kitchen to make tea, there they are, herding me toward the stove (particularly the border collie, who can’t help herself). If I need to concentrate — especially in the middle of composing a sentence, revising a poem, or editing a manuscript — someone will leap, hiss, yelp, or knock over something loud just as I’m struggling the most to find the right word or punctuation.

At the same time, I really like being part of a pack. Besides never feeling alone, the mammals do the same thing for me as the meditation bell I downloaded onto my computer, which rings every hour: they stop me in my tracks. I more or less have to look up from the bottom of my rabbit hole to see what else the world holds: three crows balancing on a branch of Cottonwood Mel, the wind picking up and clouds filling in, and a big, lazy cat in the window sill who wants back in. I use the meditation bell to make myself pause for five minutes, breathe and meditate, and check in with how I’m feeling and navigating.

Mostly, I discover that whatever I thought was set in stone or anxiously urgent actually isn’t. Instead, there’s fur-covered faces staring intently in my direction, saying, wake up as well as get off your ass and feed us! I do because I don’t want to be in the doghouse with these animals or with my own habitual deadends. Besides, there’s a lot to learn from surrendering to a higher power even if it does take the form of muddy paw tracks all over the house.

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What DOMA Repeal Means Up Close and Personal, and How I Got a Kitten Out of It: Everyday Magic, Day 715

936492_10151731767950907_14429982_n“Courtney and Denise went to Iowa, and all I got was a kitten,” I joked to a friend, riffing off the old, “My parents went to Paris, and all I got was a t-shirt.” But what really matters here is why Courtney and Denise went to Iowa, and what this says about change that seemed decades away just a dozen years ago as well as changes sorely needed right now.

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The wedding procession in 2001

On May 6, 2001, I conducted my very first (and so far, last) wedding for my dear friends and our kids’ godparents. Courtney and Denise had been together for years already, and they were ready to wed. “But I’m not official,” I told them when they asked me to do the ceremony. “Like it matters,” Denise answered, and we all laughed. When I think of that moment now, I feel like crying because it should have mattered, and actually, it now does, at least in some states.

1003435_623354997676929_1330304895_nBack in 2001, the notion that gay marriage would be legal anywhere relatively soon was beyond what I thought possible. I thought that maybe in my life time, like when I was in my 90s and pushing a walker, marriage rights and privileges would be extended to my gay, lesbian and trans friends. But when change starts its road trip to justice, pit stops aside, there’s no stopping it.¬†When I told a very elderly relative, who previously opposed gay marriage, about Courtney and Denise getting married in Iowa, she said, “Of course they should be able to do that.” Who knew how fast such opposition would transform itself? An insightful article in Time Magazine, “How Gay Marriage Already Won,” released weeks before the Supreme Court’s decision to throw out DOMA (the mean-spirited and unjust Defense of Marriage Act) illustrates the speed of our current culture shift.

With that Supreme Court decision, however, change crossed state lines just as my dear friends Courtney and Denise, who drove to Iowa, where gay marriage is legal, on Tuesday to get officially hitched. No matter that they have a son (our godson), a family business, a house, a stand at the farmer’s market, and a whole bunch of goats, dogs, and even some new pigs at their ranch. Married as much or even more than any married straight couple I know, they were now getting a marriage certificate so that they can partake of the kind of benefits straight marrieds like Ken and I take for granted (such as health insurance and federal tax benefits).

1045174_628850360460726_1634515464_nThey drove, along with their son and mine, and my son’s girlfriend, to Sidney, Iowa for the courthouse wedding. The official marrying them told them how brave they were and said many other wonderful things while both of them cried. Afterwards, everyone went to lunch (oddly enough at a place called Whips) and headed back over the border to Kansas.

downsized_0709132200But a funny thing happened on the way. At a truck stop near St. Joseph, MO, they happened upon meowing under their car: a hot (it was 102 degrees), thirsty, abandoned kitten. By the time they back to our town, I had a new kitten with the proud name of Sidney Iowa Lassman.

More importantly, Courtney and Denise have a new legitimacy even if it’s quite possible that Kansas may be the 49th state or so to acknowledge gay marriage. This, for them and tens of thousands of others, is far more than about health insurance, survivor benefits or tax breaks. It’s about collectively shedding the cloak of invisibility so that people can live out loud as who they are. It’s about acknowledging that love cannot be put in a box and labeled legitimate or not, and that the mystery, challenge, craziness and strength of committed relationships crosses all manner of boundaries, even state lines.