Part II: Goodbye, Puppy

[A continuation of Part I: Hello, Puppy]

I drive down the hill and descend the valley. The view is beautiful, like a postcard snapshot. It was always a calm respite at the end of the day when I used to make the 40 minute commute back home from work. When I used to live there.

Now, it is a Sunday, and I am back for some errands. My former "out-laws" house is just around the bend. I pull up to their driveway and instantly smile as I see Fuji's head peeking out the window. He is expecting me. They told him I was coming and he waits.

As I open the door, he is there to greet me, jumping up and down, running in circles, and yelping excitedly. They tell him to sit, and he sits; his butt squirming on the ground with his brown eyes looking up at me, waiting. I pick him up and he licks my face. So good to see you again! He is saying. He sniffs my pants and shirt to get reacquainted. I walk into the living room, look back at him standing by the doorway watching me, and tell him to come. He looks at me with his thinking eyes as I crouch to the ground and tap my hands on the floor. He walks slowly towards me and I hug him, kissing his face.

In the other room, I sit in the office chair. Fuji periodically comes in to see me. Pawing for my lap and then jumping up to greet me. He stays for a few minutes, and jumps back down. He does this 2 or 3 more times, to check if I am still there. He walks slowly towards me with that same serious look on his face that Jack Russells get. His tail slowly wags back and forth, tentatively, as if to say are you really back? I look away and try to ignore the wave of emotion I get. Or maybe I am just attributing my own feelings to a dog. I have no idea what he really thinks.

Conversation with the parents is awkward. I could barely look them in the eyes. Wondering what is appropriate and inappropriate to say. Giving them lackluster updates on my life. Fuji is on my lap and I stroke his little white body, aware that this is having a calming affect on my anxiousness. I decide to fore-go the awkwardness for awhile, and take Fuji on a walk. The walk is short, and I feel a strange sense of not belonging. This little bundle of white energy is not mine. The walls in my heart tighten, then release; an impending sadness. Awkwardness still at my side.

I will say that I have enjoyed the parent's company for as long as I have been with my ex. I will say that I like them more than my own parents. I will say that it hurts to see them again. Not just them, but Fuji too. The dejection, the sadness from my walk lingered as I came back. Fuji, again on my lap, sleeps soundly with a deep sigh. The name tag, once etched with our names together, has been updated with just his name. All I have left are memories. Maybe that's how it should be. I don't feel right here. I don't belong anymore. Maybe I never did.

I'm stalling. I don't want to leave but I don't want to stay. Fuji nuzzles his entire body further into mine, belly up. I just keep stroking him, not knowing what to say. Finally, after a couple minutes, I leave with another errand. My big exit excuse. Fuji lays himself down on his bean bag chair. I hug and kiss him one final goodbye, trying to look nonchalant and unaffected. His dad asks if I'd like them to call me the next time they're at the dog park. I meekly say yes, thinking in my head that I am unsure if I ever have the heart to see Fuji again. To see them again. To see my ex again...

I'm out the door now, my back turned towards them. I walk towards my car, get in and avoid looking back at the house. Avoid checking to see if Fuji's head is looking out. Avoid the outside world. Concentrate on ignition key; twist. Park to reverse. Check mirrors. Back out. Drive. I'm balling. Just going through the motions now. My tears strain my eyes as I try to drive. I hope they can't see.

Goodbye, Fuji.