August 2014

Sometimes, I catch myself gazing wistfully at the pups. I rewind the ticker-tape of my brain and pick up the most astounding threads of half-thinking. They usually go something like this…

Don’t you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. Except when you kick my leg when you’re doing that grumbly, twitchy thing. What are you seeing? Are you dreaming? Are you reliving a memory?

I know you’ve been gazing at the corner of the room, watching something intently and mouthing off at it. I don’t see anything there. Are there ghosts I should be worried about?

Why don’t you bark when we come home to you instead of barking at the outside when we’re in the house? Are you trying to protect us? You don’t have to. Except when I’m sleeping. You may bark to alert me then.

Taking turns licking the bottom of my right foot is making me uncomfortable. Switching to my left one isn’t any better.

Do you realize you’re flirting with your own reflection?

Is it weird to be jealous of your turnout? Because I am. No amount of stretching will help me; I know because I’ve tried.

Daddy doesn’t appreciate the gifts you leave in his shoes.  Especially when you freak out because you can’t find the toy you’ve left behind just moments after you left it… I’m not criticizing.  Out loud.

I don’t know when you became part cat and decided to drape yourself over the back of the couch.  I think it’s hysterical.  Don’t tell dad.

How about you all?  Any whimsical puzzles or observations cross your mind as you look at your furbabies?