Winner of ❝It's Okay To Not Be Okay❞ contest

by AnnaClayton8

"Moxie, it is impossible to be sad around you, isn't it?" Moxie blinked at Ari, her envy inducing long eyelashes veiling cappuccino-colored eyes for the briefest moment. "Yes," Ari answered her own question. "Yes, it is!" At her exclamation Moxie jumped forward and licked Ari's face with her tiny rough tongue, tail wagging double time with delight. Ari laughed, nuzzling the puppy's face. Superman could keep his strength, Batman could keep all his gadgets. Ari loved Moxie's superpower best: the ability to cheer her up at the blink of an eye.

Ari knew getting a puppy was a bad idea, but she secretly wanted one just as much as her husband and kids. It didn't take much for her to cave in to their pleas, and she was thankful every day that she had. The whole family doted on the miniature dachshund, but Moxie loved Ari best. And Ari relied on Moxie for a distraction, a smile, a snuggle when she was in over her head. Which seemed to be quite often lately. Moxie cheered Ari up with her nonstop tail, her ears that were twice as long as her legs, her java-hued eyes, and her hilariously awkward body.

Yes, Ari was extremely grateful for her little dog these days, as the chaos of life was near boiling over. Between work, finding hospice care for her mom, the school's fund run committee, coaching her daughter's soccer team, potty training her son, and the mountain of day-to-day tasks that needed tending to, Ari felt like a seal balancing a wobbly stack of balls on its nose. At the slightest breeze, the tiniest break of concentration, the most miniscule shift of body weight, the whole thing would come crashing down. But Ari knew there was feeling "down" and then there was Jezebel. Jezebel took stress and sadness to the next level. And she was showing up more and more often these days.

*

Years ago, when her panic attacks began, Ari's counselor advised her to name the anxiety, acknowledge it, even talk to it. Desperate for relief from the tumultuous ocean of fear inside her, Ari agreed to try anything. She named the anxiety Jezebel. "Because it's an evil ruler trying to dictate my life," she explained. Acknowledging and talking to her anxiety worked. Eventually Ari's panic attacks subsided and finally disappeared. Ari thought Jezebel was gone for good, but it turned out she was only in hiding, biding her time. Now she was back with a vengeance.

Even as Ari was preparing to leave for their final night of doggie obedience class, she could hear the grating voice of Jezebel: "You don't have time for this tonight. You should check in with your mother's nurse. You should be lining up referees for Saturday's soccer game. You should send emails, you should fold laundry, you should spend time with your family, you should, you should, you should...." Each "should" bounced around Ari's heart, stirring an anxiety that Ari desperately wanted to stay stagnant. But Jezebel was relentless. "You should-"

"Shut UP, Jezebel!" Ari exclaimed, startling her toddler into tears.

"I got him!" Her husband scooped up their son. Ari mouthed a "thank you" and slipped out the door, with Moxie under her arm.

*

Ari shouldn't have been surprised when Moxie failed obedience school. Moxie wasn't housebroken, she wouldn't stop barking, she continued to jump on every person within distance of her stumpy little legs, and just forget about basic commands like "sit" "shake" or "heel." The instructor gently pulled Ari aside and explained, "Moxie needs more work." Which Ari took to mean, "Moxie's owner is a big, fat failure." Her disappointment spiraled quickly and in a matter of seconds, Jezebel convinced Ari she was not only a failure as a pet-owner, but as a wife, mom, daughter, employee, and human being. She was a failure in every facet of her life.

After class, Ari slid into the driver's seat of her car and plopped the puppy beside her. She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth as her heart expanded across her chest. Its beats swelled like waves, then crashed against the shoreline of her soul. Jezebel.

Mercifully, her classmates, the ones with obedient dogs (and little paw-print shaped diplomas to prove it) were gone from the parking lot, so they didn't see Ari sobbing. Kneading her chest, trying to make her heart a normal size again. Yelling at Jezebel to back off.

Five minutes, ten minutes, maybe an hour later, the stormy waters of anxiety had calmed at least enough that Ari thought she could drive home. Almost. She inhaled as though the more air she could hold in her lungs, the more relaxed she would be. Moxie, for once, was sitting statue-still. One of her enormous ears flopped over her head like a ridiculous K9 comb-over. The thought turned Ari's tears to giggles. She flipped Moxie's ear over to its normal spot. "There. Much more dignified," Ari explained to the dog. Moxie put a paw on her arm as a way of thank you and Ari took the opportunity to scoop the noodlesque dog into her arms for a cuddle. Moxie licked at Ari's tears, provoking more giggling and faux resistance.

Ari pulled the little dog away. She lifted her paws and together they danced a little jig. She lifted her massive ears. "Mox, from tip to tip your ears are probably as long as you are!" She felt ridiculous, playing with her dog and laughing on the heels of sobbing, "But!" She whispered into Moxie's snout, "It's less crazy than talking to Jezebel!" The dog cocked its little head at her, brown eyes full of joy. "You might be a doggie school dropout, but nobody is better at cheering me up, Mox." She nuzzled her dog.

When she checked in with the waters of her heart, the current of her brain, Ari found them both flowing peacefully. In fact, she was invigorated. Delegate. She would call in favors. She would prioritize her mom, her job, and her daughter's soccer team. In that order. She would hand off everything else. She told Moxie so the dog could hold her accountable.

Moxie looked like she approved, so Ari went on. "And something else. Jezebel? You can take a hike." Moxie yawned, which Ari also took as approval. She knew it wasn't always so easy. That Jezebel had a way of worming back into her life, but Ari could fight her off. She would fight her off. She always did. As she drove home, the little dachshund nestled on her lap, warming her legs and heart, Ari was convinced, truly convinced, that everything was going to be okay.