Baggage

The four-footed one decided she wasn’t going to be left behind. I’m sure that’s why she climbed into Beloved’s bag. Now and then, she will crawl into a suitcase or overnight bag and fall asleep while waiting for one of us to pick it up.

This time she climbed into the bag while we were sleeping and made herself comfortable. Beloved never noticed until he went to pick up the bag and her little head popped up as if to say good morning to him. He put the bag down, lifted her out of it and carried her to where I was sitting.

When he’s gone overnight, he tells the four-footed one to be a wee good lassie for me. But, frankly, there are times it gets confusing in this house who he is referring to because sometimes he calls me lassie instead of lass.

So the four-footed one curled up in my lap, ignored Beloved’s goodbyes and promptly fell back asleep. I wasn’t complaining much because she will not often nap in anyone’s lap anymore. And I knew that when he came home the next morning, she would be all over him and act like staying home with me was the worst thing in the world.

Well Placed

The four-footed one is very particular about where her toys go. Some toys belong in a wicker basket, others on her bed, and more must stay in her kennel. She will find and put them where they belong if you give them new places. She will also give you the stink eye while putting them back.

Beloved frequently gives them new homes when he is cleaning the floor. His theory is to move everything and do a thorough cleaning. Unfortunately, sometimes this results in certain toys ending up in the wrong location. The four-footed one is never amused when this happens.

Not only does she treat Beloved to the stink eye, but she also ignores him when he tries to make up to her. That is until he pulls out his secret weapon, a yogurt bone. She cannot resist yogurt bones; no matter how angry she is, she will still come to him and let him love on her while she eats her bone. Once the bone is finished, she’s back to ignoring him with the strength of a million versions of herself.

I guess when you know where something should be, you know it with all your heart, and you work hard to ensure it stays there.

Leaky Sink

Beloved was stretched out on the floor, working under the sink, when the four-footed one decided that she needed to rest on something soft and warm. Now in some worlds, this means that the four-footed one would find a bed or at least a blanket to curl up on.

The four-footed one, however, chose to jump onto Beloved stretched-out body and curl up. She didn’t care that Beloved was working or found the floor hard and uncomfortable. Oh no, she most certainly did not. You see, the four-footed one knows what she wants and doesn’t care how she gets it.

In fact, she was so comfortable and content that she promptly fell asleep on Beloved. He was, in some ways, essentially trapped until she woke up, moved, or was moved. Fortunately for him, I was at hand so that I could pick her up and carry her away. And I did just that.

Of course, in moving her, I woke the four-footed one up, which caused her to look for a new spot to settle down and nap. Unfortunately, unfortunatley only lasted for a short period before she found Beloved still on the floor. Once more, she settled down upon him, so he gave up what he was doing. At least, that’s the excuse he gave me when I asked why the sink still leaks.

Suprised You

The four-footed one had an appointment with her veterinarian today. Typically these visits result in a very grumpy four-footed one, but this time was different. She marched herself through the open door as if she owned the place.

The four-footed one jumped on the scale and did a small turn around before sitting pretty for all to admire her. In the past, we have had to plead with her to remain still long enough for the numbers to settle. And the weigh-in is the easy part of this.

After getting her weight, we go into an exam room where she normally tries to hide under a chair. The last time she switched it up and tried to dig through the wall or the floor, anything she could do to get away from the vet.

However, this time, as I said, it was different. The four-footed one happily smelled around the room with no shaking or nervousness. Instead, she let the vet check her eyes, ears, and mouth with a calmness that made me wonder if she was the same dog.

Little Ms. Four-Feet let the vet check her lungs, heart, legs, and all the rest without a fuss. When we were finished, she didn’t bolt for the door. Instead, she sat calmly, waiting for me to pay and when we got home, she had a nice long nap.

Cut Trick

The four-footed one has a new trick, or rather routine. First, she sleeps on our bed, usually starting between us. Then, over the course of the night, the four-footed one migrates across the bed, sometimes snuggling into us and other times heading toward the bottom.

The new trick courtesy of little Ms. Four-Feet is to migrate back up the bed early in the morning. She will crawl upon our body, getting her face near our necks and wait for us to wake up with her cute face in ours.

Usually, when she is pulling out this trick, she is patient and will be still until we wake up. However, now and then, she has needs that must be addressed on her schedule, not ours.

During these more pressing occasions, she will wiggle her body, maybe pat us with a paw or bark if circumstances warrant she will bark. So when the four-footed one must have her needs addressed immediately, it will be between one am and four am.

Inevitably after we wake up and help the four-footed one do whatever she needs to do, she will join us back on the bed and promptly fall back asleep. Her humans, however, do not get back to sleep, nor do they get to nap throughout the day the way the four-footed one does.

The Helper

The four-footed one happily munched away on her alligator while I got to work getting the house sorted out. These days, no matter how hard I try to stay on top of the housekeeping chores, it’s always a disaster.

Do the laundry you forgot to do for a few days, and suddenly you have a mountain of clean clothes to fold and put away. The good news is that they’ve gone from being a mountain of dirty clothes to fresh-smelling, clean items.

Sweep and mop the floor, and the after a few hours, you have to do it all again or deal with a dirty floor. But, of course, if you have a four-footed one in your life, she may help you clean the floor by licking up the tasty crumbs she finds. So naturally, little Ms. Four-Feet is of no use when it comes to the laundry or dusting.

Well, the four-footed does help with the dusting in her way. She uses her tail to help dust and re-arrange things on the tables. Sometimes she does it even when you don’t ask for her help.

So while I dealt with the laundry, the four-footed contentedly chewed on her alligator, probably prepared to chase it with crumbs off the floor.

Zealous A Bit

Do you know how you can be going along doing all sorts of things and suddenly realize you need to stop and rest? Typically these things happen when you have been doing physically active things.

And then, when you sit down for a few moments, there is no energy to get back up again. So instead, you sit there and realize your muscles are sore or need to stretch or be stretched out flat on your back. But it’s going to take energy to do anything, so you sit there thinking about how good it would be to do what you need to, but you can’t.

The four-footed one seems to live her life by that motto. She will run around, play with toys, or go on adventures, and then she will suddenly lose all her energy and collapse into a small pile of a dog on the floor. She will stay there for thirty minutes to a few hours, whatever length it takes to recover her energy levels.

Now some of us, at least those more practical, will take more time to repeat the energy drain. The four-footed one isn’t a practical thinking dog; she happily throws herself into all adventures with zeal and joy.

When You Get Left Alone

The four-footed one does not like to be left home alone. Part of this is our doing in that we tend to take her with us everywhere we can. The other part, however, has to do with her breed, which is prone to separation anxiety.

We usually leave on a radio, tuned to some type of talk show, for her if we have to leave her at home. The sound of human voices talking somewhere in the house allows the four-footed one to keep her anxiety in check.

I used the word usually because now and then, we forget to turn on the radio if we are heading out mid-day or so. Anytime we’ve forgotten, including the other day, we come home to a very worked-up little Ms. Four-Feet.

By worked up, I mean she is panting and squirming to be released from her kennel. It will take her a good hour to settle back down and be calm again if we come home tother. If only one of us returns home, the four-footed one will remain on alert until the other person is home too.

During the time it takes for the four-footed one to settle down, she runs around the house, sticking close to us; she runs outside when we let her out but insists on running back to us. She is panting and wriggling the whole time as she tries to glue herself to our legs. Finally, after she calms down, she is ready for a nap. A nap she insists on taking in a room where we are, but she won’t be anywhere near us.

Scary Stuff Indeed

Beloved’s most recent trip to the store resulted in him coming home with several turnips, two rutabagas, and four pumpkins. Naturally, he wanted to make sure he had enough things to carve for Halloween.

After he showed me his purchases, he said that he might need three more pumpkins and extra spider webbing. But, rather than not have enough for his vision, he’d rather have “a little extra,” as he put it.

He purchased cheap plastic skeletons to age with brown paper, some heat, and I don’t know what else. We also have large bowls of slime reaching maturity in the pantry.

The four-footed one is giving the skeletons and slime a wide berth. She isn’t a fan of the turnips or the rutabagas, but the pumpkins are getting lots of kisses. That may change once Beloved carves them, but then again, it may not. The four-footed one loves to eat pumpkin, after all.

Thankfully Beloved hasn’t started to spread the spider webbing because I don’t think it is durable enough to withstand the four-footed one’s attention. I know it isn’t waterproof, so her kisses may be too much. However, it also doesn’t appear rugged enough to handle the four-footed one rolling around in it. Now, that would truly scare Beloved!

This Is The Life

The four-footed one sighed, stretched, and slipped back to sleep. There is something to be said about being so content and calm that you can rest easy no matter where you are.

She’d already put in a full day’s worth of exploring in the morning, from scuffing her paws through the leaf piles to rooting around in the dirt. By noon she had done it all, plus walked for a few hours. No wonder she was ready to have a good drink, gobble down her kibble and get into deep rest mode.

There was a part of me that wished I could join her in getting into that kind of relaxed and comfortable mode, but there were things that needed doing when I got home. You see, I have yet to find a way to get the dishes to clean themselves. The clothes also don’t seem to know how to get themselves into the washer or the dryer.

So while I contemplated all that needed to be done on our bumpy ride home, the four-footed one slumbered without care. And why would she have any cares when her humans attend to her every whim and desire? Maybe I need to switch roles with her for a few days.