He looked around his home, at all that was familiar, and suddenly saw it differently.
Cohete enjoyed life in his family’s home – a townhouse on three levels. He enjoyed having many spaces to hide, the stairs that he could race up and down faster than anyone, the outdoor space where he could lay in the grass under the Crepe Myrtle tree, and the balcony where he could oversee the entire neighborhood. There was Mommy’s office space where he could nap under the desk as they ‘worked’ together, and the Boy’s bedroom where they could play, take a nap, or spend the night.
There was space in the living/family room, especially set aside for his crate. The crate initially took some getting used to. At first, he felt it was a place of punishment, of terror. But he had to admit that he liked being in it on his own with his favorite toys, his blanket, and – of course – treats. And it often became his personal refuge. He willingly entered it to escape them – people, his family, and their demands.
After he got used to the crate, he felt neglected when the family forgot to let him use it while they went out on errands. They eventually learned – the hard way – that El Cohete prefers being in his crate. If not there, and if no one is at home with him, well – stuff happens. He couldn’t help it if the ochre paint powder in the container he chewed on ended up on the newly cleaned white rug. Could he?
Sometimes it seems that we live our lives with assumptions, with eyes seeing the same things in the same ways – until that suddenly changes.
It happened one day as he entered the foyer downstairs. In that space with its high-ceiling,tile floor with carpet runner and entry table, he noticed that Mommy and Daddy had added something.
As you enter the front door and walk toward the stairs to climb to the next level, they hung two huge, framed portraits. These were portraits of the family taken by Papa, a photographer. The lighting was dramatic, and each showed the features of Mommy, Daddy, and the Boy.
He remembered Papa’s visit – the spot they set up with good lighting, the stool moved near the window, and Mommy and Daddy and the Boy shifting around to get in the right position. He remembered Papa with the camera. All of this going on while he was relaxing in his crate. Why would he need to disturb himself? So, he paid little attention to what was going on.
He remembered Mommy shopping, going to an art store, talking about frames, nails, and measurements. Then she and Daddy worked with a tape measure, nails, and brackets. It was so boring that he left the scene and took a nap on the balcony.
And now, here they were – large, dramatic, framed portraits of the family. He saw them daily until one sad moment when he realized the glaring exception.
He felt it once again – the pain of their deception. Now he knew the truth:
They did not really love him.
