2/16/09: Took Emily to the airport, and returned to our own dog-in-a-box, who was sweetly happy to see us and be let out. We practiced walking on the leash, without much success.
While I was at rehearsal, Wrenny and Collins played laser tag nonstop. When he tired of it, she tried to get the pointer from the coffee table to give back to him. ("Do again!")
Home afterwards, she and I went out back. Peed but no poop? Walked around keeping an eye on her, in case she should figure out how to get out of the yard. Suddenly she began rolling frantically on her back, grabbed something and raced away from me, circling at high speed and stopping to roll. I couldn't catch her so I just went inside. When she finally came to the back door she was horribly pungent. We ambushed her and slid her into the bathroom for a late-night bath. Later, damp and clean-smelling again, she stuck close to me, sitting right by my side while getting as much stuffing as she could out of her squirrel. As bedtime came closer she seemed to worry until I showed her her bed next to ours, and brought her Emily's fleece blanket. Then she lay down gladly and slept.
2/17 morning: I went into the bathroom and when I came out, Collins was softly complaining and Wrenny was curled blissfully in the depression my body had made in the featherbed. Collins muttered about sleeping in the other room. The dog ignored him but got down when I insisted.
Observation: Plastic beads inside Beanie Babies do not vacuum up. The machine just pushes them ahead of it, or sprays them out to the side.
Conclusion: Beanie Babies do not make good dog toys.
2/18: In the night, dog-body steps hopefully onto bed. Humans react instantly:
Human #1: "Oohh, nooo."
Human #2: Come on, girl, OFF. get down. OK. Here's your bed. Good girl.
Dog: Sigh.
How can I cuddle Thee? Let me count the ways: I'll just climb up here -- no, I keep slipping off. Maybe I'll poke my snoot here and push --nope, not exactly right. Ooo-- body not so bendy. I'll lean harder. Maybe if I turn over and stretch out. Oh, scratch there please? Ah.
Dog-owner's haiku
Backyard, late at night:
Tired human with a shovel.
Just where was that poop?
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