I know that whatever goes up must come down and this is particularly true for a pug on Monday mornings. The Mamas and the Papas got it right in their Monday, Monday lyrics.
I don’t think there is an easy way down when a weekend has been so filled with love, attention, outings, and quality time. This was such a weekend…perfect weather and an inordinate amount of time with Mom. I felt reborn, completely hers, wrapped in the cashmere of her love, and then came the Monday morning reality check.
Lizzard doesn’t feel it because she is so amoeba-like in her wiring…as long as she is fed and curled up someplace warm and soft, she is happy. I, however, have much more refined and patrician needs. I am cursed with such sensitivity that, like the fabled princess who slept on a hundred mattresses covering a pea and suffered from the painful lump, I awake suffering from the pain of Monday morning.
Not to belabor this metaphor, I must move on and find the strength to make it through today. Knowing that Mom is suffering from the same pangs while at work is small comfort for me. I guess I’ll take my cue from Lizzard and snooze until the workday has ended.