IN MY OPINION
Books Read in 2006
KNOW WHAT I MEAN, JELLY BEAN?
19 October 2006
Sheila must have unequivocally established her position as the dominant bitch (4-footed variety) around here. Lizzie behaves the way Latte did at mealtime. The dog is practically salivating for her meal. I always fed Kimba at one end of the room, and Sheila at the other, and continue to do so. Lizzie eats at the end of the room where the dog food is stored, so I fill both bowls, put hers down and then she dances behind me (leaping continually at my back), and follows me over to where Sheila's food is put. Once Sheila starts eating, then Lizzie returns to her own bowl and scarfs it down.
She finishes her bowl of kibble in a matter of seconds.
So why, pray tell, does it take her half a day to eat one little jelly bean?
Some time ago, I happened to spill some jelly beans on the floor and apparently didn't sweep them all up. Every now and then Lizzie finds one. Never has anybody or anything enjoyed a jelly bean as much as Lizzie does.
She holds it in her mouth. She tosses it up in the air and watches it bounce across the Pergo. She chases it, leaps up in the air and pounces on top of it then she rolls it around on her tongue, drops it and repeats the whole thing again. She can spend an hour playing with a single jelly bean before she finally eats it.
Lizzie makes me laugh most of the time, even when I'm sound asleep and she leaps on top of me with those pointed toes and bounces off of me back onto the floor. Even when she ran through the wet dirt the other day and made a three point turn on the tan recliner (which is now covered with towels, probably until spring, when the risk of rain has passed!)
However, there are times when she does not make me laugh (well, except maybe a little).
It was some ungodly hour in the morning when the call of nature woke me, as it does every morning at some ungodly hour. And, as I do at ungodly hours when Iím about to stagger to the bathroom, I put out my hand to reach for my glasses. God forbid I should walk around in the dark without glasses.
But they werenít where I expected them to be.
I clearly remember taking them off and putting them on the coffee table before I got onto the couch.
Then I remembered how I had gone to sleep.
We have a regular routine around here, my fellow pack animals and I. They say dogs thrive on routine. These girls must be ecstatic. We get up in the morning, have our morning skritches (selfish bitches, they receive, but donít give much). Then I come to my office and work for a bit while they go outside and chase each other around. Then I feed them and the rest of the day is pretty much me working, them sleeping and if I move, they move. I am pack leader. Hear me roar.
They have their active time in the early evening and then pretty much settle down waiting for me to be ready to move to the living room and go to sleep. I have, in past months, moved from recliner to couch. I had reached a point where my body just wanted to be horizontal and beds still didnít work for me, but the couch, with its firm back, provides the support that keeps me from having stabbing pains shortly after going to sleep.
When I get up any time after 11, whether it is to move from my office to the family room, or to get a drink of water or whatever, Sheila is instantly on her feet, looking at me, hope in her eyes. Sheís ready to go to the living room.
The dogs stand back, respectfully, and let me enter, I lie on the couch, Sheila sits near my head and I pat her and tell her what a good dog she is, then she lies down, Lizzie lies down at the opposite end of the couch (on the floor) and we all sleep until I wake up. At least I think we all sleep until I wake up. At least weíre all in the same position when I wake up.
Only this night was a night when Walt and I had gone to a show in Sacramento and got home around 10 and Lizzie was still turned on when I decided to go to sleep. Instead of lying down at my feet, she leaped onto the couch and from there to the table behind it, where she could look out on the street. I got her down and I settled in to sleep. I could hear her sniffing at things, but I was very sleepy, so I didnít listen too long.
So when 3 a.m. came, I was surprised when I couldnít find my glasses, but then remembered the sounds I heard of Lizzie as I was going off to sleep. I cautiously shuffled my feet across the floor to the light switch, not wanting to accidentally step on the glasses.
And yes, there they were, lying on the floor. I didnít realize there was a problem with the glasses until I put them on and felt them scratch my face as they went on.
This is the gift Lizzie had given to me:
Do you know how embarrassing it is to go into an optometristís office and say "the dog ate my glasses" ?
My friend has a very good piece of the effectiveness of 12 Step programs
BUMPER STICKER OF THE DAY
This is entry #2394