Who Let the Dogs In?

There's a dog in my house.
Actually, it is a collection of dogs -
different breeds come and go.

All of the dogs are black.
Most of the time, they sit and stare at me.
They follow me from room to room.
They even follow me out of the house, but
I dare not comment on them to others.

I suspect they are visible only to me.

An enormous mastiff wakes me in the morning.
He is scrawled across my body
weighing me down
wearing me out
And it takes all my strength to push him off me.

The Jack Russell Terrier waits in my kitchen
Trembling with all of my worry-energy
What will happen today?
What am I forgetting?
He yips and zips and
I can't hear myself think.

I make it to work with the Lab riding shotgun
She's fairly calm
but she seems to fill all of the leftover space.
She can be very distracting
Sometimes she tells me to do things
and I have to push with both hands
Leave my steering wheel alone

Jack Russell is waiting for me in the office
joined by his friend, the schnauzer
I have to check under my desk every so often
Make sure they haven't set up camp.

They follow me all day
alternately wiring me and draining me.
I concentrate on hiding them from my students and colleagues
They make so much noise in my head
What if it leaks out?

Those two hop in the backseat to come home with me
But
mercifully
the Lab is asleep
and those two soon fall as well.
Their darkness recedes when they sleep
I can concentrate on the road.

There are no dogs waiting for me at home
I can sit and relax in peace
For a little while
I can pretend that everything is fine
That I am not hounded and dogged

The dogs love the night
They know that the day and their presence
exhaust me
They know I can't fight them
So we all sit
together
in my living room
at my desk
in my kitchen
and finally
in my bed.

Sometimes I worry that other people can hear my dogs
but then I remember
I sometimes hear others' dogs
And I would never think less of them
Dogs don't always do as you ask
But they'll stick with you to the end.

I just wish my dogs weren't so loyal.

# 003

Sometimes I wonder
Somewhere along the line
Did I make the wrong decision?

What if I had picked a different school
a different city
a different apartment
a different church
a different grad school
a different program
a different career
a different college
a different summer job
a different sport
a different extracurricular activity
a different group of friends

Does the answer lie at the end of one those trails?
Was it a single decision
a pattern of decisions
a lifetime of decisions
I guess what it really comes down to is this -

Can one decision change the course of your entire life?

What if I had applied to jobs outside of West Michigan?
moved out
moved away
moved on
It certainly worked for other people
Do I have to move away to find what they have?

Maybe I should have given teaching a better try
my life could have looked very different

Or what if I had chosen a different career entirely
A career where adults aren't outnumbered eighteen to one

Or what if
(the what-ifs will kill ya, kid)
I had made different choices in college
the dorms
the meal plan
the student life
the piles of opportunities to make friends
to meet people
All those conclusions

foregone

receding in the rearview

Perhaps it goes even further

all the way back

to the friends I made in middle school

one deviation

and my story could have been one of 

high school sweethearts

(do I even want that? probably not. 

But people don't coo over "27 and engaged to her career.")

Someone wise once told me that 

whatever decision I make will be the right decision. 

But how can I be sure? Is it ever that simple?

(I'll take "Things That Keep Me Awake at Night" for 200, Alex.)