Bo surprised me with a puppy, one year to the day after our dear dog Kinsey died. We named our new puppy Matia (pronounced May-sha) after a remote island in the San Juans, north of the island where we bought our cabin last year, and where we buried Kinsey. Matia means "Gift of God," and that's exactly how this little pup feels.
I was coming home from a weekend trip to Tampa, Florida, braving sticky, swampy heat to see my friends Brian and Laura get married. Bo decided to stay home, muttering something about Tampa in August, and how rare it is for him to get any alone time. I wasn't offended because I knew that cavorting with my old college friends would be a lot less fun for him than me. And it was fun, very little sleep, and adventures in the hotel bar and the sea. My friend Joanne and I were both exhausted as we made the long flight home to Seattle and our partners.
Joanne volunteered to drive me home and I accepted her kind offer, knowing full well that it would involve waiting for the most distant of the value parking shuttles to pick us up, and also more time to recap our adventures. As Joanne pulled up to the curb I could just barely see Bo's head over his corn crop. Back in June, he filled one of our raised beds with Silver Queen seed, when the mere possibility of hot weather seemed ridiculous, and over my strenuous objection that the book I was reading on vegetables said corn is one of the most foolish things to plant in terms of the relative value/space ratio. I even showed him the chart in the book, but he was not impressed. Now his corn crop is a thing of beauty, an inspiration, I don't even care, much, if we get any cobs from it. So far those ears are elusive.
I got out of Joanne's Subaru, the same model as mine. Joanne and I are always copying each other - me following her to Seattle, she buying the same car, Bo adopting her favorite breed of dog. I walked toward Bo rounding the corner of our corn crop. My eyes were locked on his and I followed his gaze down the stairs to a little blond bundle of fluff bounding toward me. Bo surprised me with a puppy.
Matia is a golden retriever. I'm told they are the cutest puppies around and I'd have to agree. Bo got her from a family in Monroe that raised one litter of eight puppies for a 4-H project. Bo was grilled by a 15 year old girl to make sure that Lilly, the name chosen by the girl, was going to a good home. Bo, an excellent salesperson, poured on the charm, but kept it honest: we've got a yard in Seattle, a few acres in the San Juans, and Bo described me as a "dog freak." He talked about how much we loved, love, our dog Kinsey and the good life we had with her. Happily, the girl was convinced.
Matia's first week with us has been eventful, and hopefully an indication of the life she'll have. She's already met many of our friends and family, all of whom where happy to advise us on potential names. I was OK with Lilly, but Bo wasn't. He came up with Matia, but it took a few days for me to see the name's wisdom. My original choice was Ellen or Ellie, but Bo pointed out that one of our neighbors on the island shares that name, and she might be offended. Bo, ever the diplomat - I figured she'd just be honored. I mean, this puppy is gorgeous. My final suggestion was Rosie, to which Bo replied that I would soon run out of Lesbian comics to name our dog after. Not sure where my brain was on that one.
Matia is already showing signs of loving our Seattle garden and our island home. In the garden she's been chewing up everything she can find, including those expensive hazelnut shells that got so much praise in the garden tour. Matia showed her appreciation for our decorative mulch by throwing it up all over our stairs. I think now she knows better. On her first trip to the San Juans last weekend she proved her Island Dog worthiness. She slept through my first sighting (in ten years of boating) of Orca whales. Bo's whole family piled into the Miami-Vice-era ski boat we share, at Bo's sister Julie's insistence that we might see some whales just outside of our bay. She'd heard rumors from the neighbors, and although I felt like hanging out in the cabin with my guitar, I trusted her enough to chance the mild inconvenience of sun and water on a perfect summer day. Julie's luck was contagious and within minutes we were watching ten whales, split into two groups as the dove and surfaced, huge fins reflecting light in front of Cypress Island's Strawberry Bay.
On my first trip to the San Juans years ago with Bo, our dog Kinsey wasn't even born. I had no foresight into the amazing future that those islands, Bo, and Kinsey held for me. Now I was seeing Orca whales for the first time with Bo, while his surprise gift, this little puppy slept at my feet. In an eighties ski boat, with a crazy family, I put down the binoculars, and my beer, and offered thanks for Matia, this Gift of God, and for the continued gift of Grace in my life.
