November 27, 2012
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Trying
We are sitting in the foot well under Cheryl’s desk with our chin resting heavily on her knee. She is eating something. We would like to eat this thing too. We don’t really care what it is: whatever Cheryl eats, we eat. Last night we sat in her lap and ate Cutie slices.
This has been our pattern this morning: we dash outside and bark madly at nothing until Cheryl comes out and shakes that accursed can at us, then we run into the house, tear up the trash, taunt the cat, run a circle around the house and dash out the back door to bark madly at nothing.
Cheryl seems a little short-tempered today.
We accidentally got into the trash when Cheryl was sitting in her chair and she swung her hand at us and we panicked because we knew she was going to beat us and she said, “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay” and held us gently. We don’t know what to make of that. Can we eat trash now?
Riley’s no fun. We chewed on him for about an hour this morning and then he said, “I’m tired, go away now.”
We’re not tired.
We miss Lisa. Lisa takes us to meet Cash and Reggie (Cheryl doesn’t even KNOW Cash and Reggie) and lets us play in the back yard and then we watch TV together. Lisa is a wonderful human being and we love her. Cheryl says she has a bad back and needs to get better before we can play again.
Cheryl used to take us to the dog park and let us play when we were happy like this, but now she says we don’t ‘play well with others’ and we’re going to get her ‘sued’. And then Cheryl and Nancy sit at the kitchen table and they say to each other while they rub our ears, “She’ll be a good dog.”
It’s so hard to know what being a ‘good dog’means. We warn them of every danger we see, we take out the trash, we exercise the cat, we pre-eat everything they eat…what more can they want from us?
Someone should have told her: the bulldog is back. Across the street. Looking at us. She needs to know.
