Since my renaissance as a social guy, I race out of the house every afternoon when it's time to go mingle with Earnest.
Mornings are less satisfactory, as Earnest and his family like to sleep in.
I find it hard to manage my longing.
I just want to be with him, pee with him, eat with him, walk with him, wear a garbage bag bow like him.
She is my Ur-god. The person whose nose and upper lip I lick with the most abandon. The person I sleep next to every night. The person who feeds me, and who picks the foxtails from my paws. I am a great non-verbal communicator, but she is my voice.
Is she my mother?
She takes care of me. As the mother of my brothers, logically she would be my mom as well. Yet, given the species issue, it seems a bit twee to claim parent-child status.
Though I've referred to her here as my owner, the connotations of slavery always make me wince. I am a free dog.
Maybe I should refer to her as my holder. That suggests more of a voluntary situation. And she does in fact hold me a lot.
Reader suggestions are welcome. In the meantime I may experiment with different appellations to see what feels most natural.
Buddy, Sarah and Cliff's dog, passed away last week.
He was well-loved, and is much missed.
My cousins have moved to a magical paradise dotted with gas station ephemera.
On an overnight visit, I was taken with a petite bench that was easier to access than the ones at home. The comparison might be unfair though, since the bluff benches also serve a larger purpose as memorials and sunset-watching stations.
The cousins -- Ella and Leo -- did not act all that excited about their new digs. But I think they are happy.
That soft light seems to bring out our finest selves.
Recently some impressive dogs have let me hang with their pack. I refer to Ollie, Luke and Mia.
Noticing that they resemble wolves, I have been cautious in their presence, tending to follow far behind them on our hikes.
But then they had me over to their house and we broke bread together (metaphorically speaking). Their generosity and savory kibble eroded the barrier of mistrust.
Still, I wouldn't want to cross in front of them in a dark alley.
My friendship with Earnest has been deepening.
We first bonded when I stayed at his home and he very kindly let me sleep on the bed with him and Nancy.
Lately, he has been coming over to watch Homeland with us. We've also been taking walks together, as well as mixing at the bluffs late in the day.
Some have suggested that I am unable to get along with my canine peers, but I think my burgeoning friendship with Earnest suggests otherwise.
It was either this or a tattoo.
I've been staying at Earnest's while my owner is gone. Nancy sent a glowing report about me:
"He's
been a joy and is eating well, snuggling a lot, walking energetically,
guarding the house from his couch top a lot, and happily sleeping with E and me on the
bed! A 100% Angel Gentleman!"
And here's one from Jackie, owner of Winnie and Oliver:
"Wanted to let you know that Jeff and I bumped into Nancy this afternoon while walking the dogs and that Lambie looked very happy! He was spry and gave me a nice friendly greeting."
It's so nice to have friends who care.
