Memento

Fall has ended; my dog-walking gear must change. The vest I have used so routinely certainly looks more abused than used. All three zippers are broken. It's stained. And it never really fit that beautifully in the first place. I should toss it, I say to myself. Don't be a hoarder.

But as I prepare to throw the mustard-brown vest away, I pause. The pocket conjures up more than pockets usually can. I recall the day I found the pocket dripping onto the hardwood floor. It was a steady drip, rather quick. I was perplexed. How on earth did a section of my jacket get soaked without my knowledge?

And then I realized...Béla and I had been out a little before, and I had her "obey-me" treats in that there pocket. It was saliva-soaked.

Once I understood the substance, I was even more in shock! How could she have lost THAT MUCH saliva, sucking on my pocket? How long had that taken her? How did I not notice her, standing near the kitchen chair, oddly still, eyes glossed over, like a child sucking its thumb?

"Gross", I exclaimed! "Béla!"

I checked the pocket. The once hard, crusty dog cookies resembled crumbs of biscotti, after the coffee. I couldn't even feed them to her. (As if I should have!...rewarded such behavior!?) But I wanted to feed them to her, for sure. For all of her hard work. For really loving food, the way I do. I get it. I have eaten a piece of cake that I had thrown in the garbage. We are but one, I said to her, lovingly. (And...actually...she was less savage in her endeavor. She was simply trying to get a cookie out of a pocket -- not a piece of cake out of a garbage can. Oh - and also, she is A DOG...)

Reminiscing, I hold the jacket close. So many walks with her in this! So many treats dispensed from these [now dry] pockets! Fully-equipped with two outer, zippered pockets and even an inner, perfect for holding all the needed items: keys, phone, poop bags, treats. I admit, I also liked the way the color was similar to that of her fur. We looked like we belonged together.

I am paralyzed in my attempt to put the vest in the garbage. I liken it to a baby blanket. An item that recalls a soul. A token that reeks of love. I'm not sure what to do with it. I might up-and-toss it, in an effort to 'own less, live more' or some bullshit theory like that... I might cut out a swatch and put it in my jewelry box, for the day that she comes sweeping back to me, in a wave of recollection, while attempting to adorn myself. I might just hang it back up in my closet, tattered and torn, filthy and worn....so that every single time I put it on in the future, the past is with me as well.