I never seem to set aside enough time to accomplish everything. I anticipate ahead, but still find myself going back at the last moment for my keys, my water, a plastic sack, or the dog.
“Pokey calm” is the newest phrase we have been working on here. I have improved. Before a loved one arrives, I manage to put Pokey on a leash, prepared to chain him down to the sofa to keep him from going wild. That only brings about whining. I do not want to stop him from being excited and expressing his happiness when people he loves arrive, I just need to keep him under control or I end up paying for it.
He can go crazy every day at the dog park, not in my living room around all my papers spread out on the table.
He’s a puppy outgrowing his skin. I need to be there to support him, as he becomes a mature dog. Then there are the cats, making my life more difficult and at the same time, more rewarding. Miao came into the living room the other day, getting such a kick out of tossing about my silicone mouth guard. It’s broken now. She had been climbing my furniture again, helping herself to shiny things, and all I can say is:
“Fluffy (I call her by her first name, Fluffy, when I need to get my point across), “Fluffy” I say, “you know I have told you to stay off the furniture. Now get down.”
“What she hears is, “Fluffy (. . . . . . . . . .), “. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”
Later, she sits on the sofa and looks up at me, innocently, and says, “I am your cat.” You cat lovers know of which I speak. They’re obnoxious critters, always looking for trouble, but so cuddly, clean, warm, and therapeutic.
God bless my cat.
And the dog who chases her.
And the man who feeds them.