May 11, 2011

Early mornings at Chez McKiernan can be kind of noisy and busy. This morning, for example, Rocket barked shrilly from his x-pen in the middle of the kitchen floor while Dozer, Dewey, Meryl, Mina, and I milled around, hoping for breakfast.

"Move," Marianne snarled as she tried to maneuver through kitchen. "You're all in my way." She smacked food dishes onto the counter and rattled kibble into them with unusual force.

"Uh-oh," said Meryl.

"Ooooh, not good, not good at all," said Dewey, jumping to the relative safety of the counter.

Dozer hustled out of the kitchen. "I'll just wait here for my breakfast," he called from the Big Giant Closet. "No hurry."

Mina turned to me. "Run," she advised. "Hide."

"Before I eat?" I asked, incredulously. "No way."

"Your choice," Mina said. "I'll eat later." She trotted back to the bedroom.

Marianne handed out our dishes, told Rocket in no uncertain terms to stop yelping, poured a big mug of coffee and left the room. Rocket blinked in surprise. "She seems a little grouchy today," he observed after he finished his kibble. I frowned. Marianne isn't a morning person, but this seemed extreme.

Meryl finished her breakfast, shambled over and sat down. Mina poked her head around the door. "Is she gone? Is it safe to come in?" she whispered.

"Yes, she's gone," Meryl said. Turning to me she asked, "When do you go to CCI College?"

"I think we leave tomorrow," I answered. "Why?"

"That explains it," said Meryl.

"Yep, I thought so," agreed Mina.

"WHAT?" I demanded. "What does Marianne's mood have to do with me going to college?"

"Everything!" Meryl exclaimed.

"It's the Turn In Zone," explained Mina. "I've been through this seven times now, and it's like this every time."

"The Turn In Zone? What's that?" I wondered.

"A long long long time ago there was a television show called The Twilight Zone," said Mina. "Each episode started with this quote: "There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone."

I shivered. "That's spooky."

Mina went on. "Marianne and Vanessa decided that for puppy raisers this fifth dimension is called The Turn In Zone. It goes like this: "There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to puppy raiser and puppy. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between tears and laughter, between awareness and denial, and it lies between the puppy raiser's hope for graduation and fear of release. This is the dimension of fuzzy thinking. It is an area we call the Turn In Zone."

"That's pretty funny!" I said.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" said Meryl, “But it's no laughing matter. The Turn In Zone is real. For the next few days Marianne is going to be grouchy, weepy, happy, sad, forgetful and spacey. Be patient with her."

I still wasn't sure why Marianne was feeling so emotional. After all, she's known about this since the day I arrived. It's not as though Turn In is a big surprise. I decided to call my Auntie Dr. Elizabeth. She's a psychologist and a puppy raiser. I was sure she could help me figure it out.

After I explained my confusion, Auntie Dr. E said, "I'll try to answer in a way that makes sense to dogs, although it's going to be tough because dogs are so good at living in the moment that it may be hard to picture what it's like in the human brain."

"The human brain is a complete mystery to me," I admitted. "You humans fret about so many things at the same time."

"We humans spend a lot of time living in different moments," agreed Auntie Dr. E. "You know how, when you're getting a belly rub from Marianne, that's all you're doing? You're just experiencing how good it feels to be right there with her right then. For a lot of us humans, if we're with someone we love, we may be thinking about how nice it is to be with them. And what it would be like if we couldn't be with them again. And when we might be with them again. And what we have to do between now and then. And how we're going to get the laundry done. And... you get the point."

"Yes, I think so," I said. "But what does that have to do with how Marianne is feeling this week?"

Auntie Dr. E continued, "So our human brains are kind of like a four-lane highway, with lots of cars zipping along in and out of the lanes. Most of the time, there's enough space for all the traffic to move along pretty well. But when we have something big we're thinking about, especially if it's something that takes up a lot of space in our minds and our hearts, that something big can fill up three lanes on its own. That only leaves one lane for everything else -- including where we put our cell phones or our car keys, or when to feed the dog. Things get jammed up in that other lane."

I was beginning to understand. "Go on," I said.

Auntie Dr. E obliged. "And that, Mars, is what we call the Turn-In Zone. We know from the day we get you -- even before! -- that we'll kiss you farewell and send you off to find your bliss. But when that day is very close, we turn it over and over in our minds until sometimes we feel like it's all we can see. Silly humans, sometimes we're even so busy thinking about the time we WON'T have you, that we think about it when we DO have you! We could learn a lesson from you and your friends. I suspect that, if we could learn to just be where we are, we'd spend less time in the fuzzy thinking of the Turn-In Zone."

I pondered this. "You're turning in Calhoun on Saturday with me, aren't you?" I asked. "So are you in the Turn In Zone this week, or are you living in the moment?"

There was a pause and I heard sniffling. "Turn In Zone," said Auntie Dr. E in an oddly strained voice. "Darn it, Mars!" she squeaked and abruptly hung up.

"Ah," I said to myself. "Even the wise puppy raisers can't avoid the Turn In Zone."

Dr. Suess once said "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Good advice, that; he was probably a dog in another life. But I have a feeling the puppy raisers will be sharing king-sized boxes of Kleenex and fishbowl-sized margaritas this coming Saturday after Turn In.

Chow for Now!

Mars

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