A ladybug was minding its own business, just walking along on the path. The four-footed one is fascinated by these colorful bugs. When she was a puppy, she chased them until they’d fly away.
These days she pushes the along with her nose or sneaks up on them so she can “taste” one. It is this time of year that I question her intelligence. Typically she’s a quick study; she can watch me do something once or twice, and then the four-footed one will try to figure out how she too can open a door or such.
Each year, she will taste a few of these insects, spitting them out almost as soon as she’s got it in. I assume they are not to her palate, or they bite. Those are the only reasons I can think of for why she spits them out. It does make me wonder why she expends all that energy in the first place, catching them.
Today she pushed the ladybug along with her nose, and in the blink of an eye, she shot out her tongue, capturing the ladybug. Before she could chew, she spat the ladybug out. She pounced on it, trapping it with her paws before batting it around. When she grew bored, she left it to fly away. I’m sure we will be repeating this a few more times in the coming days.
Tiny footprints danced across the now dried mud. You could sense energy, joy, pure happiness even from those footprints. Not that the owner of those footprints was full of happiness now. You see, the four-footed one had been thrilled to be dancing in the mud just a short time ago. She was no longer happy with her situation which involved a lot of water, sudsy soap, and a towel.
She’s not the type of girl to hide her feelings. She’s not the type of girl to let someone know when they have pushed her into something she doesn’t like. For the record, she didn’t like her bath because it cut into playing time. By playing time, I really mean spreading mud all across the tiled floor.
I know, I’m a bit of a killjoy, but I did not want to spend my time cleaning mud off the floor repeatedly. She did not care what I felt like doing or not doing. She was having too much fun in the mud to be concerned about any additional work it might create for someone else.
Have no fear dear readers. In no time at all, I am sure she will be back at making footprints in the mud. This time, I hope she won’t bring it into the house.
The four-footed one has a new game she likes to play. We refer to it as ‘tormenting the humans’, although I’m fairly certain she calls is something like ‘Such Fun’! To us this is anything but fun. The game consists of us telling her it is time to go and she finds the smallest place to hide in. Small, low to the ground, and most importantly, impossible for us to fit into.
The game surely has points, and from how she plays I have to assume the harder the hiding place is to reach, the higher the points. There are no doubt other points to acquire, such as the more awkward it is for the human to reach inside, the greater the points. And naturally, extra points are awarded based on the duration she stays in her place.
I’m not sure how she figured out this game, or how it started, but it now a daily favorite of hers.
We’ve tried to bribe her o of her spot, we’ve tried to threaten to leave her behind, and we’ve even begged her to stop. We aren’t the least bit successful with any of these approaches. I guess you could say she runs the house and you’d be absolutely right.
It is a frustrating habit, especially when we are in a hurry to go somewhere with her such as the vet. For the record, we don’t mention the word when we are going there. We just tell her we are going out and does she want to come for a ride. And now she just hides.
If this continues, I may have to take up my own version of this game!
The first year the four-footed one came to live with us, we bought and wrapped her Christmas presents. (Yes, we are that kind of people who buy their dog presents to unwrap, sweaters to wear, and booties to kick off. No, we never thought we would become that type of people.)
She was a puppy, so her idea of Christmas presents was to eat the wrapping paper. Or at least try to, except we prevented too much from being consumed.
These days we use bags for her presents, although I suspect she has outgrown the whole eating everything in sight stage. Still, one can never be too safe! Each year she dives headfirst into the bag and pulls out her presents, whining for the ones that must be squeaked and carried around. She barks for those that are of the food variety.
This year was no exception! There was whining over the stuffed baby she got, barking for the treat, and energy for the puzzle game she needs to figure out to get her treats.
It was the night before infusions, and all through the house, nothing dared to stir not even the blouse I dug out for tomorrow morning.
The dog was tuck in bed, with visions of who knows what running through her head.
Beloved was fast asleep and so it seemed okay for me to weep quietly.
There would be no clatter for Beloved to awake and ask what was the matter. Instead. there was an alarm to wake us when we were nice and warm.
This, of course, is how it always works. Infusion days seem to behave like jerks.
I cannot sleep at the night before, and yet in the early morning hours, I am all a-snore.
There are no gifts under a tree, just infusions dripping steadily into me. Because it’s not Christmas, just an infusion which is regular business, for me.
There are days where I can’t help but wonder if Beloved is making up for his harsh childhood. Today I discovered he, a grown man, was building a pillow fort when I got home. He claimed it was for the four-footed one, however, I couldn’t help but notice he could easily fit inside the fort.
When it comes to four-feet, Beloved happily joins her on the floor for regular playtime. Her toys will fight her, “jump” on her, or tickle her when he is playing on the floor.
If she should get tired while he is on the floor, she doesn’t think twice about jumping up onto him to fall asleep. Now and then, the two of them will be sound asleep on the floor. He claims it’s because her warm little body puts him to sleep, or they have played too hard and needed a rest.
If he doesn’t get down on the floor with her, she will hop into his lap while he is doing “adult” work. Sometimes, when she does that, she settles down for a nap. Other times, she will use his lap as her strategic place to engage him in play. She has learned that if she wags her tail just so, and puts her paws on his shoulders, he will give in and be on the floor for a little bit of playtime before he goes back to work. She also knows that after he has worked for a few hours, she is guaranteed to get his undivided attention while they play on the floor or ground. Their bond is strong and special.
I am a slave to technology. Or is it my electronics? You know when I acquired them ( the laptop, the tablet, the cell phone, and the virtual reality headset) the idea was that these things were there to improve my life.
But these are needy creatures of their accord. They need to be plugged in, they need to be updated, and so on. If I fail to do these, they fail to keep me happy. It is an odd dance of backward and forwards. Or is it a case of giving and taking?
At any rate, lately, I have noticed that these darling distractions of mine are demanding. I had not anticipated the level of commitment on my part when I brought them into my life. I was distracted by the hopes of what they could do for me. Surely I am not the only person who has started to feel this way with electronics. (Or am I? If so, please do not tell me and let me feel comforted in my state of delusion.)
So here I sit, sharing my feelings with you on the laptop as it doesn’t require my attention while I keep my eye on the tablet, virtual reality headset, and phone as they charge or update. It’s just a matter of time before the laptop also joins in on ganging up on me!