Special moments in a dog’s day
Early morning is a wonderful time of day. The house is so quiet that I actually hear the refrigerator working. The dog shows her need for attention by turning on her back and presenting a hairless belly. Yes, scratching calms the nerves.
The dog is probably at her most gentle and domestic at dawn. A long night without human contact seems to remind her that we are more than her personal Pez dispensers. Until the arrival of the newspaper delivery guy. She goes from silent and silky to warlike and bristling in a heartbeat; able to clear the couch in a single bound. How DARE that stranger approach her front porch? On the odd morning that I’m not already awake, she serves as an unscheduled alarm clock.
I’ve probably mentioned this quirk of hers in passing, but that’s my right (to repeat myself ad absurdum). The no strangers invited thing is important to her; he only collects from us at the end of each calendar month, because her watchful eye invokes nervous tension on his part. I’m not going to try conditioning therapy; the dog is already distracted by other things that make up life among the human race.
I’m anxiously awaiting a parcel that shipped over a week ago from Tennessee. The postal people are keeping me on edge, since I don’t have a tracking number. OK, maybe I’m over-reacting, but the sooner the box arrives, the sooner I get started. And I intend to let the rest of you know about my progress. Now you can be anxious, too.
