It’s been almost eleven years since I retired from real estate and returned to my first love—writing. Come November it will be eleven years since I left the office I shared with my husband at our real estate brokerage and moved into our home office.
During that same time, we brought a new puppy into our lives—Lady, a brown-eyed, tri-colored Australian shepherd. Our cat, Spooky, was much younger then and immediately adopted the new pup and they became the best of friends.
Each day as I wrote in my office, Lady and Spooky were constantly by my side. I can’t write when someone is in the office with me—unless it is a dog or cat. A furry companion is just the right company.
Almost five years ago, after my husband had emergency surgery and required six weeks (three times a day) of IV antibiotics, he decided to start working from home. We shared an office for a while—like we had done when we were real estate partners—but soon discovered a writer and a real estate broker sharing the same office wasn’t an ideal situation.
About that time my mother-in-law, who lived in a guest house (aka Doris Cottage) we had built on our property for her, passed away. I ended up moving into the cottage and using it for my office, when it wasn’t being used by family and friends as a guest house.
Fast forward to today. My husband has recently retired and no longer requires an office. Like the first time when a medical situation was the catalyst for changing offices, a new medical situation—my husband’s hip replacement—was the catalyst for me moving back into my old home office. Reclaiming it, so to speak.
Like that first time I started using the home office, a puppy—or in this case two puppies—are involved. After losing our sweet Lady girl last July we swore no more dogs for a long time. That didn’t last long. We now have two, Danny and Lily, and like Lady and Spooky, they keep me company when I write.
As for Spooky, he is an old boy now, pushing sixteen. He spends most of his time on my mother’s side of the house, keeping her company. The puppies are simply too much for him. He comes out occasionally and gives them a hiss and swats their noses, before returning to his side of the house. A gate keeps the pups from the kitchen, Mom’s room, and the garage.
Personally, I rather miss having a cat sitting on the windowsill as I write. Yet, I have comfort in knowing my 91-year-old mother loves having Spooky by her side. This is their time together.