October 3, 2004
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This dog is an old soul, and she remembers all the dos and don’ts. Instead of coming to a complete halt, when leashed, she actually trots alongside like she knows what the word “heel” means. Most puppies, especially their first time out in the world, and on a busy street, no less, would flip out. There would be much whining, with a refusal to cooperate. She did better last night, too. We only got up to pee, once. And there wasn’t a lot of carrying on when the crate door closed, just a few whimpers to let me know she’d prefer the bed. But she awoke at that same unGodly hour so I’ve been to Starbucks already. The difference, this morning, is that, after her breakfast, she didn’t stand there quivering on the deck. She bound out into the yard looking for that perfect spot. She acclimates easily. I am loving her personality. Getting a dog is so hit and miss. You can’t interview them beforehand, like a prospective date. You just take one look, put them in the car and take them home for 12 years or however long they live.
This confirms my suspicion that there’s something to be said for just picking a man who seems reasonable, and working with him. Knowing it’s not perfect, by any means, I am sticking with my man, giving it a chance. After yesterday, I know that it’s wise to keep my distance on game day, if there’s not been a victory. Especially when golf has not gone well, that morning. Men identify so, with their teams. He takes it as a personal loss when his team loses.
I must tell you about the call I got, from the new owner of my house. Terse would best describe her tone. Apparently, she put five cats in the little bathroom, closed the door, and went to spend the night at a friends, as her furniture has not arrived yet. So when she gets there the next morning, she sees only one. Four of them had crawled up into the heating duct “because of the loose vent.” It wasn’t that loose. They must have clawed it off the wall in an effort to escape. All I could think about was the picture of five cats in that little space. “They could die!,” she exclaims. They sound like very skittish cats, as she describes their tendancy to run when someone approaches. So her friend’s efforts to put an arm up into the duct, with a treat in hand, only serves to move them further away. But she quickly moves on to the next irritant, the basketball hoop, left in the driveway. That and the fact that the sprinkler system can’t be turned on. When you fill out the disclaimers there is a checkbox for the sprinkler system. Either yes or no, as to whether it works. My realtor said to put yes. I mean if I knew where the turn-on valve was, it would work. My landscaper covered it up. I put in a call but I think he’s avoiding me. He hates that sprinkler system. He dug long hours, in the rain, fixing it. Or maybe it assured him of a job, with the new owner, knowing we’d have to call him. I see rain in the forecast, for Wednesday, so maybe it will not be an issue, just yet. I’m gonna go grab a shower while the puppy sleeps. Oh, by the way, we picked out a name, but I think I’ll just stick with “puppy” here.
