Audience of One

I let out a sigh as I allow Henry to climb between the front seats of the car to be next to me. He will stick his nose under my arm and flip it up in an effort to get me to pat him. He puts his two front paws on my seat so he can get a better view out the window. He continues to flip my arm and let out an occasional whine despite the attention I am paying to him. In short, he is a pain in the ass.

I got my little mutt 3 years ago knowing that he had some issues. His separation anxiety was the biggie. After owning him a little while I recognized that he would take off on me if he smelled anything good- despite a disorder which makes him stick to my side. How do you reconcile the fact that a dog has separation anxiety AND will run away given the opportunity?

I finally reached the conclusion that Henry is my karmic come-uppance. My dog is me. I like the security of knowing there is someone there to catch me if I fall.... and fill my water bowl. If I catch the scent of something delicious I want to follow my nose. I want to hang my head out the car window because it feels good, but I want to glance over to see that someone is still there. And when I am feeling insecure I want to be able to curl up on a lap and be petted till everything is right again.

I keep this in mind as Henry demands my attention while I am trying to drive my car. For whatever reason he needs its- and I give it to him because I love him. And I treasure the feeling of his warm, fuzzy belly as I remember those times he would gladly run away.

What Kind Of Dog Are You?

I am currently reading a book called Let's Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. It is the tale of two women who bond over dogs and become best friends.

Like many friends they develop shorthand phrases and little inside jokes. One of their shared jokes is to try to figure out what dog breed people would be. This is an exercise they perform on both friends and strangers.

I am sure this gets easier with time to pair a human with their canine counterpart. I found my mind turning to figure out what breed I might be. I immediately thought of an Afghan Hound. I am lanky and athletic. I suspect I am a bit high strung but also aloof. I am definitely lacking the long tresses, but if I had a tail it would be held curled and at attention.

No doubt there are many people who think I am some sort of terrier.....

So You Think You Want To Be My Friend?

I called up a friend I haven't seen in a while to ask her opinion. We always start our phone calls off with "We need to make a date and get together. I have SO much to tell you."

I then proceeded to ask her opinion "but, oh wait you have to check out this website before you tell me what you think about my most current thought."

Her response...... "Great, now not only do we need to set an agenda to get through a conversation but I have to do homework?"

Yeah, pretty much.

Probably No One Is Reading At This Point....

....which is fine by me. I can get back to my original goal which was to work on my writing/communicating/story telling skills. It is far easier when you aren't writing to an audience.

I found myself worrying about what someone else was thinking recently. It rolled around my brain like a washer set to an extra rinse cycle.... over and over and over. What if I was misreading the communication cues? What if I was getting ahead of a conversation by second guessing a response? What if I was layering my hopes, dreams and previous experience onto a current conversation?

Ahh... after rolling that thought around for a while I realized it didn't matter what the other person thought and I acted on the experience I was having.

I feel better now.

Doesn't Henry look ridiculous in a tutu? I love Henry and my nieces who dress him that way.

Drama On Pleasant View Road

Took the mutt for a quick after dinner stroll, but we had barely left the property when drama struck.

I heard peeping. Henry detected the source before I could even focus. A small grayish chick flopped about in the road. Feathers enough to flop about and really wear the mantle of " bird" but helpless enough to quiver at the huge set of teeth that is the omnivore poodle-boy Henry.

To complicate matters I heard a car approaching. To put it in perspective- I can hear a car approaching as it turns off the main road about 1/4 mile away. This noise is not to be confused with the other parallel road. I can also hone in on the whereabouts of any horse carriages tracing the loop by the echo of their hooves. All of this to highlight that this is a lightly traveled area where traffic is quite predictable.

Like Dudley Doright helping Nell tied to the track, I had ample opportunity to plan my rescue and execute it. I fumbled to tie my dog to the neighbors mail post. (Henry looked at this peeping bundle as an after dinner snack.) I dropped the lead twice but managed to get the task done. I looked up to see lights approaching so I ran into the road. The car slowed and I was able to shoo the bird to the side where it got tangled in the grass- wings akimbo.

I looked at its greenish tinge and thought baby Yellow Throat, but I looked up to see two common Sparrows fidgeting in the tree.

As exciting as this drama was I have learned to walk away. I did all I can do. I gave the baby bird another chance. It either figured out how to use its wings or it became a meal for the kitties next door. There is little else I can do to change the course of nature.

Life is hard all over.

!!!

So I read someplace that you are only allotted a certain number of exclamation points in your lifetime. I am pretty sure the usage number was below 200. I am a "!" junkie. It expresses my attitude which is a bit boing boing. I checked out the titles to my last two posts and decided I have a serious problem.

What A Man!

Amongst all the other samples/goodies I received for being a judge this past weekend were a few items for the man of the house- a comb, scalp massager, bay rum after shave. I gave them to the boyfriend who immediately took a walk down memory lane to the time when men doused themselves in Old Spice...... in order to impress the babes.

The next morning said boyfriend shaved and decided to splash on the aftershave. He met me at the door as I returned from my morning walk. As I opened the door I could smell him. But I was not sufficiently impressed so he hugged me. It was a nice smell- certainly not offensive, but I may not be the best judge as I have very little sense of smell. Maybe he smelled like a big old flower.

But it reminded me of watching my father shave when I was a little girl. It was a morning ritual. A small dish held the soap which he would lather up with a short brush and apply to his face. The razor would make a trail through the lather- marking where he had been. His slightly upturned face would be reflected in the mirror- with the occasional pull of the nose or earlobe to reach a deep crevice. And then.....

...... the Aqua Velva. It was bright blue and held in a flat bottle. He would splash it onto his hands and then onto his face. I miss this. Men all use electric razors now. There is no romance, mystery or ritual to it.