tag archive: dogs

Angry. Irritated. And then I feel bad about subjecting her to the thing. It doesn’t work as well with her stubby Boxer snout. I angrily and guiltily say, “Why can’t you just walk nice? You’re doing this to yourself, you dumb dog.”

I wanted to name the cat Stinky Pete. Tugger isn’t a bad name, but Stinky Pete would have been perfect. Not that he farts much, that I’m aware of. It’s just that he’s totally a Stinky Pete.

Whenever we brought a new pet into the house, Morgan would welcome and love the new family member intensely. Her joy at a new playmate was… very joyful.

It was going well. The dogs’ tails were up. I had yet to yell at them for not walking perfectly. The temperature was right in the Goldilocks zone. Comfortable for walking, but cold enough that not many people were out.

There are so many problems with encountering people on a walk. I’m a fairly hardcore introvert. I can be friendly to passing strangers, and I think it’s good to be friendly — I really do — but when I have my headphones on, I want to stay in my own head. If I see where I’m going to pass or be passed by someone, it disrupts everything I have going on up there. I have to shift into anticipating the social dynamics of our interaction. Are they going to say something? Will it be more than just a brief pleasantry or head nod? Will I be able to hear with my headphones on and will I appear rude if I don’t respond appropriately? And if they’re walking dogs also, then it all goes to hell because my two dogs will start pulling and jumping around like idiots, aggravating me and totally wrecking my spiritual enlightenment.

With 36 days, December is so long. Especially when you’ve said you want to post every day. And, when you’re not a Christmas shopper. There isn’t the threat of that deadline. The constant reminder of a dwindling number of “shopping days” doesn’t feel so much like the days of your life running out. That’s not totally true. My mom refuses to give up Christmas gift exchanges, and there are a few kids in the family to shop for. With just those few people, it’s worrisome enough.

I wanted to title this post, “Look! Puppies!,” but as I looked for a photo to go with it, I ran across this one from 1999. This is Morgan the Boxer and Sprite the Tabby.

We “lost” Morgan in 2006 to cancer, suddenly and so, so heartbreakingly. We loved that dog so much. And… hey! That brings me to the book I’m reading: The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein.

When the sun falls on her little couch.