I’m just now returning home from Vlad’s first art gallery event.
We went to the closing night celebration of Charles Norton’s exhibit for me to pick up the print I bought.
(If you missed that newsletter, you can read it HERE).
Other than a tree trimming in our living room and a Christmas moment at his best friend Malibu’s apartment, this was definitely Vlad’s first large party in a new environment.
Overall, he behaved beautifully.
At least 30 people approached asking if they could pet him.
He fell madly in love with the artist’s beautiful mother, Brigette.
The night was perfect.
Except perhaps for the one moment when he leapt up and tried to put his paws on the pedestal for the sculpture below.
Visions of it tumbling and shattering into a million pieces raced through my head.
And, as is the case with most childhood misbehavior, it’s me and my bad parenting that are quite frankly the only appropriate target for blame.
(oh, Vlad…)
The competition for which of my friends Vlad loves the most is fierce, if not utterly cutthroat.
Amidst the top three––who I text with constantly––a surprise contender has emerged.
Specifically, “The Lady from the Wine Store.”
(Note: She and I are not yet on a first name basis; she has, however, told Vlad that he can call her “Jane.”)
During our frequent––OK, let’s be honest…daily––trips to the wine store, Vlad has both The Lady from the Wine Store and her husband thoroughly trained.
He leaps to put his paws on the counter (aka his sculpture pedestal move) and greets them effusively.
Without fail they offer him an incredible treat.
None of my friends are doing anything like that in the food gift department.
They are mostly just coasting on personality, affection, and brand-recognition.
And yet although Vlad is a complete socialist when it comes to his toys––he has no objection sharing anything of his in the dog park––he is an absolute capitalist when it comes to digestion.
Note 2: I’m not saying he inherited this from me but…
Years ago on a New Age-y cruise, it was observed that a dear friend and I never left one meal without carefully planning our next.
To us (and to Vlad) it just seemed obvious that our feedings were not something we could take lightly, much less leave to chance.
My fear of accidental destruction at the gallery show was also entirely not unfounded for another reason.
You see, last Saturday, right after I finished the newsletter, Vlad and I took a brief nap.
He got up for a few minutes, then returned to bed.
I thought nothing of it.
I awoke an hour later to see that he’d inexplicably done this to the very red chair I’d photographed him in the week before.
(Sigh)
This is Vlad’s first and only act of unsanctioned destruction.
I think with a little slipcovering it’ll be fine.
Or I can just get another armchair.
I try to embrace the wisdom of the poem I most often quote, the great Elizabeth Bishop’s One Art:
“Lose something every day.
Accept the fluster of lost door keys,
the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where
it was you meant
to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.”
Yes, I’m fine with a slipcovered armchair.
It will not bring disaster.
The loss I regret, however, is that for the first time with Vlad, I lost my temper.
I had a friend in yoga school once who sometimes said that they were Lakshmi.
What they meant was that they embodied the gifts of the goddess of beauty and charm and wealth.
All that was true––those gifts were there––but it was a thousand times more true that they were Kali.
They were the disruptor and the destroyer.
Kali wears skulls around her neck, her tongue is covered with blood, and she’s dressed in an outfit made from demon arms.
Her role is to rip you away from whatever you’re grasping.
In other words, she’s not the goddess who offers the feathered bed.
Through all her terrifying fierceness, she’s the pathway for freedom from addiction, bad relationships, fear and insecurity, and our self-limiting illusions.
She embodies the truth that in order to create something new, often destruction of the old is the absolutely necessary first step.
My yelling at Vlad was very brief.
(Definitely under a minute).
I don’t know which of us felt worse.
I was quickly apologizing and comforting him for having raised my voice.
I became much more concerned that he might have accidentally swallowed some upholstery tacks.
Googling and a call to the emergency vet suggested that I simply observe him and increase his food to make passing anything easier.
(I do admit to thinking, “Great…he tears up a chair and gets rewarded with more of his favorite meals.”)
Although he was only frightened by my outburst for a moment, I’ve vowed never to do that again.
There’s honestly no physical possession I have that’s worth tarnishing our bond of absolute trust.
There’s nothing I own that come near the value of our connection.
Above is an IG story a friend posted of her dog Henry and Vlad playing tug of war as Malibu looks on.
Many, however, saw the phrase R.I.P. and were quick to offer their condolences.
Rather than a dog’s name, however, the caption is quite literal.
Here’s how that ball ended up 30 minutes later, utterly destroyed but miraculously still worth treasuring.
It’s gotten late and yet I’m still thinking more about this…
About this passage from the controversial Picasso biography Creator and Destroyer:
“The painter takes whatever it is and destroys it.
At the same time he gives it another life.
For himself. Later on, for other people.
But he must pierce through what others see—
to the reality of it.
He must destroy.
He must demolish the framework itself.”
Or, perhaps more on point,Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing cracked pottery with gold.
The breakage and repair is not something to hide.
Rather, it is part of the history of the object and makes it more valuable and infinitely more interesting.
Lofty thoughts aside, for now, of course, I’m keeping Vlad on a short lease at art exhibits.
And I realize his uncrated time needs more supervision than I first thought.
Even so, his mischievous acts of destruction have reminded me of what I actually do value and virtues I need to master.
And as I prepare for his birthday party tomorrow, frosting yet another round of cupcakes, that’s one more thing for which I’m truly grateful.
Namaste for Now
