I was awakened from a weird dream in which I was rolling my face in a bowl of cool, red Jell-O only to discover the big tongue of a Labrador cleaning the side of my face. Rita doesn’t normally do that sort of thing late at night, but Chris and Cory are gone, and she’s used to sleeping with Cory, and so she gets a bit insecure. Well, that and I probably forgot to let her out for a while and she has to pee. Or poop. Or both. So I got up, got dressed and took her out to the yard. She peed, then sprinted around the yard a few times (I call it her “puppy sprint”) and then rolled in the snow for a bit. She loves rolling in the snow. I am guessing the cool snow feels good on her skin. A typical routine for her. I enjoyed the dark and quiet, the cloudy sky and the feel of the cold against my skin. My typical routine. We both have our routines. And the cold felt good, like Rita’s tongue, when she woke me up, and my first thought was, “oh, God, I saw her eating poop yesterday.” But I kiss her back, lick her on the face but then think how odd it might be to kiss a dog back the way they kiss (or what we perceive as a kiss), well, because we are not dogs. So I give her a big people kiss. Here’s my thinking on it: We appreciate dog kisses because they are dog kisses, and we know dogs are sincere, so I want to be sincere, and so I give a dog a people kiss thinking dogs might appreciate people kisses because they are people kisses, and dogs want badly (sometimes sadly naively) for people to be sincere like they are. So I try. But to cover all bases, I gave her a variety of kisses. And for good measure I even bugled like a bull elk and howled like a wolf (I do a pretty damn good wolf howl. I sometimes wonder if I fool Rita with it. I assume she’s impressed; that’s one of the great things about dogs – they let you do that), and so I howled, because somewhere behind the thick clouds is a moon.
Rita and I are headed into the mountains later today. We’re going to build a snow cave and bring in a wild winter New Year. Poor Chris and Cory; they are in Maui. I hope they’re not getting bit by snow-fleas, getting sand kicked in their faces, or getting salt-wager itchy but.
Happy New Year to All!
So I awoke Dave tonight licking his face. I don’t usually do that sort of thing late at night, but Chris and Cory are gone, I am used to sleeping with Cory, and so I get a bit insecure. I think that’s normal. Well, that and Dave never remembers to let me out as much as Chris does (she’s a lot better at that sort of thing) and I had to pee really bad. I don’t want to pee in the house. I did that long, long ago and got that whole “BAD DOG, BAD DOG, BAD DOG,” thing thrown at me. And to be honest: I HATE that. I want so bad to be a good dog. So I lick Dave in the face. At first, he looks at me strangely, like I smell like dog crap or something, but then he smiles, gets goofy, licks me on the cheek, rubs noses, does a silly butterfly kiss with our eyelids, and then sounds like a bull elk and tries to howl like a wolf . . . at least that’s my best guess at what he seems to think he might sound like. If so, it sounds nothing like a wolf. I am not impressed. But I pretend I am because I know he likes that and I want him to be happy. So we go outside, I pee, sprint around the yard a few times (it makes me feel like a puppy again), and then I roll in the snow. I love snow! The cool snow feels so good on my skin. Dave just stares at the sky, and says “Good girl!” to me, which makes me wag my tail a lot. It’s our routine.
Dave and I are going into the mountains later today. We are going to stay in a snow cave and bring in a wild winter New Year. I feel bad that Chris and Cory are missing out, but I hope they’re having fun wherever they are even if I am not with them. I like going into the wilds. I like all the different smells. I hope I hear my ancestors howl . . . I just don’t want them too close. They make me nervous.
Happy New Year to All!