The four-footed one has discovered face cloths. Wet face cloths to be exact. I should back up a few steps and explain a bit. It’s been very hot here. Unusually hot. Too hot for anyone wearing a fur coat. Way too hot if the fur coat that is being worn is dark. So naturally the four-footed one fits neatly into the category someone who is wearing a dark fur coat.
Naturally the four-footed also likes the sun more than the shade. And refuses to have water out on her. Basically today the four-footed one would wander into the sun, flop down and sun bathe. She’d get removed to the shade,yet she’d just move herself again.
She was provided oodles of places with water. A mister was turned on and in a moment of desperation I made s face cloth good and damp with cold water and tossed it on her. Gently dear readers, I tossed it on her gently. Now some animals like that. They find it cooling.
The four-footed one though was having none of is. She shook it off her back, went over to where if fell and proceeded to chew it. Because she’s that kind of dog. Unfortunately for me, she has discovered a like for these cloths. She prefers they are wet, but will chew and roll happily on a dry one all the same. How do I know you ask. Because she managed to get ahold for freshly laundered ones and proceeded to have her own little party with them. I guess when you discover a good thing it’s hard to pass it up.
the four-footed one has developed a thing for bags. Handbags, messenger bags, backpacks and shopping bags. None of these are safe from her curiosity. Or her nose. Or her paws.
I’m not sure when she first discovered her thing for bags, but I can attest to having her paws in my bag. I caught her today with her nose, rooting around in one of my bags. There is something there that she would find interesting, but still she does it. It’s a little odd, but super embarrassing when she does it to a guest.
A little earlier today we had a dear friend of Beloved’s drop by for a visit. The four-footed one wasn’t just interested in the person. Oh no! She happily stuck her head in the bag, and at some point she climbed right in and made herself at home. Because who wouldn’t want a dog in their bag?
Thankfully this friend was understanding about our poorly behaved dog. Which I guess is really a reflection on us. Beloved also has a thing for bags. It’s why he bought me a new backpack even though there is nothing wrong with my current one. See? The dog gets it from him. Not that he sticks his nose, hands or body in visitors’ bags, but you get the idea.
The four-footed one made a new friend today. The fact that her new friend is about three times her size is not an issue for her. The fact that her new friend isn’t interested in her also doesn’t matter to her. As far as she’s concerned everything is fine. And if the new friend is a temporary thing, she seems content with this as well.
Frankly as long as things work out, she’s okay. She’s an easy-going kind of girl. Until it doesn’t suit her anymore. At which point she is no longer content nor so easy-going. Thankfully she lives for the moment, unless it’s around food at which point she has the memory of an elephant and doesn’t forget the when, where, why or who.
It would be wise to be more like her, forgive a little easier, let go of grudges and such and just hold onto the good times. And food of course. Well maybe not too much holding onto food because holding too much food would probably result in massive weight gain for me. And massive weight gain would make me unhappy and I wouldn’t be able to forget about things. So maybe not hold onto food too much. But otherwise just like the dog.
There were two tiny holes along the planter that runs outside my front window. Tiny holes. The sort of places that ants like to visit. The sort of places the four-footed must investigate. So of course that’s what she did.
Onky there were no ants coming out of the holes. Instead there were wasps. It was like a major airport hub for the way the wasps were flying into and out of those holes. Non-stop arrivals and departures. We should be so fortunate as to run our actual airports this way!
now I’m not a fan of stinging insects. Just based on the fact that they may want to sting me and surely the four-footed with her antics could become a target. And so the holes must be filled. Thankfully one of the neighbor’s is an exterminator so I asked him to pop by and check out the issue.
He decided to fill the holes with some type of cement sealant. Those trapped in the holes would suffocate. Those outside wouldn’t be able to get in and while the sealing stuff was settling, he killed some of the swarming wasps as they were getting irritated with him.
The four-footed one and I stayed indoors until the issue was dealt with. It’s a cruel thing, to kill these animals, but the neighbor felt it was best to keep everyone safe. As there are small kids next door. And they like to play near this area.
Sometimes a stretch feels so good it’s hard to stop. Now and then I will lean back in my chair and stretch my arms back and out. And it feels delicious. So delicious I do it again. And again. And then I decide to hold the stretch. And then it goes from delicious to me no longer being sure why I held it like I did.
Other times a quick stretch works, it doesn’t feel delicious so I don’t keep doing it or holding it, or going deeper into the stretch. Ah yes going deeper into a stretch to wring out every last drop of delicious feeling. Pushing things just a bit more.
Perhaps I’m weird, enjoying this stretching now and then. I like to think it’s a case of channeling my inner four-footed friend. Inner cat as well. These animals may be on to something with all this stretching. Not that any of them told it feels delicious, but I bet if they could talk, they’d be saying how marvellous it feels.
I wonder if they stretch to the point of losing that delicious feeling or if that’s just the excessive nature of being human. Or maybe it’s greed on my part. I’d write some more about my thoughts on this, but I feel a stretch coming on. A delicious one at that.
The four-footed one discovered the roots of grass today. Well technically she probably discovered them before. So maybe it’s better to say she rediscovered them today.
When she was a puppy she should signs of being a digger and a chewer. She lost the urge to dog much sooner than she lost the urge to chew on things, granted she was teething too. For the longest time after she was past her digging phase she’d find grass patches to push her nose through, but nothing more than that.
A few days ago I noticed she was basically pushing her snubbed nose into the ground, and in dogging so she had managed to make a small depression in the grass. Telling her no put an end to that. Although she opted to smear both sides of her face in that depression.
Today she was stealthy. She found a small, section of grass not immediately visible from where we were sitting. And once she checked that she was safe (I assume that’s what she did) she got to work. For all I know she blissfully used her nose first to make her depression. When I saw her, she was digging with her front paws. Enthralled and engrossed in her task so she didn’t hear me come up on her.
Thankfully she didn’t make a deep hole, it she wants to revisit the spot. She is pulling at the grass and chewing on the roots of the grass. She doesn’t eat it. She just chews it and spits it out.
I’m all for discovery and following yours passions,just not at the expense of the lawn. I have enough issues keeping things green so her digging is not going to help.
There’s something to be said about the floor. I mean it’s always there for you. Just waiting around, letting you stand on it or what have you. People assure me that once you have a small child, you rediscover how amazing the floor can be for playing on, or just resting on for short periods of time.
I’ve taken to sitting on the floor these past few weeks. It isn’t that I don’t have furniture, but I can’t do what I want to do on the furniture with the four-footed one stretched out against me. She can do that easily on the floor. So I’ve designated a few pillows as ones to be used for sitting upon while I work away on an end table. It works out rather nicely. Until I get up off the floor.
You see the problem with the floor is that’s its far down and getting up is not as easy as it use to be. I’m pretty sure it has to do with the floor rather my age. And I’m almost positive of this because Beloved has taken to joining the four-footed one and myself on the floor these days. He too seems to struggle to get back up on to his feet when we are no longer sitting on the floor.
A normal person would probably not sit on the floor, or at least not for hours on end given the drama of getting back up off it. But neither Beloved nor myself have ever really been normal. So we lose track of the time, sit far longer than we should and then moan about as we struggle to our feet. Only to do the same thing again and again. The four-footed one seems rather pleased with these arrangements.