Martin Luther said, "Be thou comforted, little dog. Thou too, in Resurrection shall have a golden tail."
When my eyes open to the slowly increasing vibrating alarm of the Up Band on my wrist each morning, I wake slowly. I push the button on the band and reluctantly stretch out my toes, and then my legs. My legs always meet resistance rather quickly. Warm resistance. The resistance behind my knees makes a small groaning sound. I smile. "Good morning Denny." Now my feet make contact with the larger, immovable, unwakeable mass of eternal puppy, Truman. Truman is always asleep on his back, legs akimbo.
I get out of bed, more concerned about disrupting their sleep and comfort than the possibility I could injure myself climbing over and around them. I just need to get my meds, then I can get back into bed for a couple more hours. When I return, Denny is in the same place, but Truman has moved to my pillow. After I slide him out of the way, it's back in bed, back to sleep.
Just a couple of hours later, I hear things in the apartment moving around. Brian is up and starting his day, the boys and I are deciding if we want to get up. They wait for me, we get up together. Some days Denny stays in bed a little longer, the old snoring man, no rush.
I am always accused of anthropomorphizing my pets. I give them very "human" names: Denny Crane and Truman Capote are my current, amazing Shih Tzu fur babies (for the uninitiated). I talk to them about everything from what I am doing at the moment, to what I am planning to do for the day. When things are bothering me or things are making me laugh or happy, I tell them about it. I don't talk to them in a voice that is silly or babyish, I talk to them like they are people. And, you may not believe me, but they listen. Read More...
'via Blog this'
No comments:
Post a Comment