Cross-species worrying
My guess: the dog expends the largest portion of his energy hunting for food. Not from hunger; he gets his bowlful of kibble, on schedule, every day. No, this is more of a hunt for “better” food. Open the refrigerator, or the pantry. Remove the package of cheese. Count to two. Check the position of the dog. Unless I’ve played the fake by putting him outside first, I will be under close scrutiny. Is this a canine cry for assistance, or just the only way he has to show he belongs to our pack? Other than taking his place on the bed, of course.
I find myself worrying about the details. What if we take him for a long ride in the car, and he gets chilly. Or thirsty. Will we receive the message in time. I swear, caring for members of another species requires effort. Just trying to explain that the sound of a spatula against the pan isn’t a call to chow or a subtle announcement that there are visitors arriving imminently requires communication skills that are a marvel to behold.
But enough pet chatter. I checked the clock icon at the bottom of the screen, so I now know what day of the week it is. That’s a reflection of being permanently “off the clock”. Do the self-employed have to constantly get feedback from the calendar, or can they lose themselves in the creative spirit? That would be good. Maybe if I ignore the day and date, my own creative skills will percolate to the top.
