Sometimes, you just need a picture of one of the best dogs in the world. This is our Scouty. He’s fiercely protective of us, and barks up a storm, yet he doesn’t have a mean bone in his oddly-assembled doggy body. Can’t you tell?
Yesterday, I was Skyping with Opera Poodle who is away studying in Quebec. When Scout came into the office, wanting me to throw the ball (again), I had a brief exchange with him. Opera Poodle observed, quite fairly, I thought, that I have a more intense relationship with our dogs and cat than I do with many people. I explained that I am often alone with our animals for entire days at a time–they are my constant companions, my protectors, my stinky-furry-carrion-eating-offal-rolling children. If I get too far into writing, they’re there to nose a ball onto my chair, or nudge me with a wet nose to let me know it’s time to go out, or startle me with announcements of invading aliens, UPS drivers, or wild turkeys in the yard. They help keep me sane, and grounded.
And whenever they suspect I might be getting above myself and all author-y, they empty the contents of the bathroom garbage can all over the floor, so I have to clean it up. Geniuses, they are.