Gearhead Mom

Friday, September 21, 2007

The Learning Puppy: A Break-Up Story

Posted by Missy W. @ 7:35 PM

Dear Learning Puppy,

I have some bad news for you. I think it’s time for you to move out. No, you are not going to be shoved in the back of the toy closet (again) only to be resurrected by Sy in a couple of months. I can’t take the break-up/make-up routine anymore! It’s more serious than that. I think it’s time you move to the consignment shop at the foot of the hill, because Puppy, it’s over. Do you hear me? O-V-E-R.  I no longer want to sing and play games with you. I don’t want to hug you. I’m tired of hearing about your YELLOW FOOT! I just want you and your blinking dog bone collar out of my home forever.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had some good times together. I’ll never forget the time I gently tapped your nose and you said to me, “RED NOSE!” I felt like you really meant what you said. But as the years have passed, your once-charming ways have become one dimensional, almost superficial. I mean, how deep can you be when you are only surface washable?

At first I was charmed by your peppy-puppy voice and speedy responses.  You were always up for a song or a quick round of naming body parts. But now it seems that you are always shouting at me. Have you no control of your volume? What about your speedy responses? You are just downright touchy, Puppy. You randomly yell out non-sequiturs when no one is interacting with you. Talk about a cry for attention. I’ve got to tell you, passive-aggression is just not my thing, you hound.

I just have no room in my life for your level of neediness. Now that we’re over, I feel I can tell you that you’ve earned the nickname “Needy Puppy” in our home. As soon as I begin to walk away from you, your high pitched voice calls out, “Let’s SING and PLAY GAMES!”.  I’m tired of playing gameswith you, Puppy! I try to walk away and you just don’t give up. Your squeaky, modulated voice taunts me with “I LOOOOVE YOU!” You don’t love me, Puppy, you just use me to fuel your needs. When your week-long binge of singing and giggling starts to wear on you, you look to me fornewbatteries, not love. You don’t want me, you want my trio of AAA’s.  You are never happy when I only have two. It’s just not good enough for you. Needy, needy, needy!

I know now that I need a toy that has more attention to the task at hand. I mean, look at Thomas the Train. He tirelessly does lap after lap around his well-constructed track. Talk about focus and commitment. You? You’ll be in the middle of a song and if I so much as brush up against your BLUE EAR you stop singing and start going on about your ear. Ears are for listening, Puppy. Something you no longer do well.

Please don’t try to win me back, dog. Pleading with me with your constant refrains of “HUG ME!” will no longer pull me in. Your needy, demanding nature and lack of volume control leave me no choice. I wish you the best of luck in your next relationship, Needy Puppy. I hope you find yourself a fresh-faced 18-month old who will find charm in your ten relentless songs and sometimes-blinky collar. 

And what’s next for me, you ask? Well, I see my future with someone a little more cuddly, with fabric eyes who can really deal with life in the spin cycle.

Love,
Missy

**

Two of my childhood friends, Jenny M and KD, are both high school English and Creative Writing teachers. They live on opposite coasts but still share ideas and assignments. One of my favorite assignments thus far is The Break Up Letter. Write a letter which chronicles a break up. You can break up with anything, an idea, a phase, etc.

Their students turned out fantastic letters: breaking up with gossip, depression, bad outfits, Morrissey. Morrissey? Who breaks up with Morrissey? That’s just crazy talk.

Jenny was pregnant the last time she assigned this and broke up with her pregnancy.

Dear Pregnancy,

I’m really struggling with this letter.  It’s hard for me to let you go, and for many reasons. The first is that you might be my last and I hope I don’t have any regrets about our times together. I hope I appreciated you enough, didn’t complain too much. Another reason I feel wistful is that you’ve brought such good things into my life. Those things are still with me, and I appreciate them every day. Sorry to be selfish, but I’m thankful. And I am not sure what I brought to you, though some have said we looked good together.

You’re just not for the long-term, dear pregnancy. It can’t be a permanent thing. The relationship started out so exciting, and secret, and then made me a little queasy a couple months in, and I questioned why I got involved with you in the first place. I was dizzy with it all and even had trouble eating. The emotions were overwhelming. Gradually everyone knew we were together and that part was so much fun. People were so happy for us!  Let’s admit:  the best times were in months four to seven, because we got along so well then. Thank you for that special time. You made me feel so good, so energetic, so excited and complete.

But let’s face it, pregnancy. The last few months (especially the last few weeks) have been a sort of hell. You’ve pulled at me in ways I’m not comfortable with. The pressure, the late nights wondering when this will end, getting mixed signals from you – I’ve been in need of an answer.  I need to know your plans. I know you’ve just been doing what you need to do, and I respect that. But I think I need something new, something else.  I need to move on. It’s gotten to the point where I’m willing to admit you’re just a stepping stone to another level. Because you can’t decide when we’ll part, I’m going to give you a deadline. If you don’t leave me by the 18th, I’ll have to have you surgically removed.

Sorry, sweetie. I know there are others hoping to have you in their lives. I know they’ll find you just as attractive, seductive, and enriching as I have. Good luck!

Love,

Jenny

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