Life Before Dog

     I think I had one.  A life.  It is somewhere in the milky haze of a year gone by, but for the life of me, I'm not sure exactly what it was.

     One thing I know for sure, whatever it was, it is gone.  Lost in the pages of my history and I'm beginning to think it must have been just a paragraph, or two, long.

     With the arrival of a small white puppy, life is now different.  I am never alone, unless I can get the door shut to the bathroom before the dog gets in there.  Watching the water go round and round in the bowl is most entertaining.

     I have discovered many things by having a dog.  

     The scent of hair color is obviously heavier than air.  I can tell this by the whining that goes on behind me at my feet.  Yes, Runtly, it stinks.

     There is a monster that lives in a closet.  A special closet.  He knows exactly which one.  The dreaded vacuum sweeper sits behind those bi-fold doors, waiting patiently.  It has been used more in a month than it has in several.  I do not understand how one small creature with very short hair can lose so much of it and not be completely hairless.  He is usually afraid of anything that makes noise, except the vacuum.  It doesn't matter if it is turned on or not, when it emerges from the closet, the battle begins.

     Sorting laundry takes twice as long as usual.  He does not care if the whites are with the darks and proceeds to make his own pile.

     Loading the dishwasher is a special treat.  When I'm not looking he will be on the opened door, inspecting the dirty silverware.  I may never have dinner guests again.

     Sitting down in my chair, by myself, has become extinct.  

     There are toys strung about the house, daily.  And blankets, baby blankets.  Baby blankets that fly from one room to another and are sometimes mysteriously wound around the legs of my office chair.  I've yet to see how he does that.

     I thought the days of finding a grandchild half way up the spiral staircase, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, making my heart skip a beat, were over.  They are not.  He has done this twice and the descent has not been pretty.  Yes, he grins like a Cheshire Cat.

     Dogs watch TV.  I never knew that.

     There is something fascinating under my bed.  It must be the dust because there is nothing under there.  He doesn't know this fact and continues a search every chance he gets.  If I could figure out how to hook a dust rag to him, I'd be set.

     I used to think I wrote interesting blog content.  Now I seem to blah, blah on about a dog.  A dog who is happy to see me if I've been gone a couple of hours or 30 seconds.  A dog that has completely turned my world upside down.  A dog that loves nap time in my lap, upside down, with all four feet sticking up in the air.  A dog.

     I love this dog.