On the eve of becoming a dog owner

Shortly after my father passed away in April, a kind coworker had sent me a condolence gift of an octopus mug and the mystifying book, “The Soul of an Octopus,” because I had once mentioned to her that I felt I was juggling so many things in my hands that I either felt like an octopus or wish I were an octopus, able to gracefully hold and manipulate the many things that needed to be held in my many tentacles.

Because I had remained in her Amazon shipment history, she accidentally regaled me with her next Amazon order a few days later. I ended up receiving a 12-pack of Krusteaz Honey Cornbread, Erik Larson’s newest tome, ‘The Splendid and the Vile,’ the hot novel of late (pun intended), ‘Little Fires Everywhere,’ and a few things of which I never anticipated would have an ounce of use six months ago: a package of dog food, a package of miniature tennis balls, and a few of those bucky ball-reminiscent dog toys in which you hide treats. When I told her she’d accidentally mailed me her package, I asked her if she’d like me to ship it to her. She told me to eat the cornbread, throw out the dog food, read the books, and have fun with the toys.

Over the next few months, I took some of her advice: I read one of the books and baked a few boxes of the cornbread. Instead of immediately throwing out the dog food, I used it as part of my at-home exercise routine, squatting and cautiously swinging the bag of food around as a bulky, amorphous weight. As for the toys, the bucky ball ones are still in their plastic packaging and three of the…