It might have been optimistic to forecast a peaceful life reading books by the fire. Last Friday there was a weather window of sorts (if you don’t count ice pellets and freezing rain) through which Jon leaped to get to Pittsburgh in order to meet the Skye terrier “Theodore” (rhymes with “Je t’adore”) and bring him safely home by Saturday. Let’s start with the good stuff…..
He has a solemn face crowned with Mickey Mouse ears and a dainty body of shining black silky hair . Somehow this “designed by a committee” combination ends up being enchanting. He is snuggly and a pretty good boy, affording us (me, actually) only the occasional glimpse of his dominant male-ness. He loves being brushed, walked and generally pleasured (and who doesn't, for heaven's sake). He hates stairs and distains dogs with poor manners but has schmoozed like a devil with the twenty-odd people he has met so far. He has been known to climb onto the knees of new friends so as to better enjoy their adoration.
Now let’s talk about me because the dog is fine. The last time that I combed my hair was, I think, two days ago. I have a shiner (self-inflicted when I bent over to pick up his you-know and ran into one of those curly garden stakes), and a large bruise from unsuccessfully negotiating uncarpeted stairs (in/out/in/out is now the rhythm of my life). My missing pearl earring turned up IN my ear. I misplaced a roast beef yesterday; it was last seen in my supermarket cart in the parking lot. Two pairs of boots are reduced to singletons; again, though I would dearly love to blame this on Theodore, his innocence has been established beyond a doubt. Last night I fell asleep with my clothes on so I am sporting a fetching “fell off the turnip truck” air. The kitchen counter is probably still there but I haven’t seen it recently.
I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
This is all to say that life is wonderful, if busy, while I concentrate on maintaining on my Dog #2 status. At the very least, I am assured of Alpha Female……
Merry Christmas, all!!
He has a solemn face crowned with Mickey Mouse ears and a dainty body of shining black silky hair . Somehow this “designed by a committee” combination ends up being enchanting. He is snuggly and a pretty good boy, affording us (me, actually) only the occasional glimpse of his dominant male-ness. He loves being brushed, walked and generally pleasured (and who doesn't, for heaven's sake). He hates stairs and distains dogs with poor manners but has schmoozed like a devil with the twenty-odd people he has met so far. He has been known to climb onto the knees of new friends so as to better enjoy their adoration.
Now let’s talk about me because the dog is fine. The last time that I combed my hair was, I think, two days ago. I have a shiner (self-inflicted when I bent over to pick up his you-know and ran into one of those curly garden stakes), and a large bruise from unsuccessfully negotiating uncarpeted stairs (in/out/in/out is now the rhythm of my life). My missing pearl earring turned up IN my ear. I misplaced a roast beef yesterday; it was last seen in my supermarket cart in the parking lot. Two pairs of boots are reduced to singletons; again, though I would dearly love to blame this on Theodore, his innocence has been established beyond a doubt. Last night I fell asleep with my clothes on so I am sporting a fetching “fell off the turnip truck” air. The kitchen counter is probably still there but I haven’t seen it recently.
I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
This is all to say that life is wonderful, if busy, while I concentrate on maintaining on my Dog #2 status. At the very least, I am assured of Alpha Female……
Merry Christmas, all!!
Note that I am trying to catch up on my sleep while Theodore looks pretty frisky.
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