I saw it first at 4a.m.
I’m drawn to all this because my mom, Alice, was born in May, 1918, in Bisbee, Arizona and while the infant mortality rate hurled high, while thousands were dying and many more suffered the flu, my mom and her parents, survived.
Now, about Scooter Sublime. This yet growing twenty pound pup my husband privately calls “Frenzy,”
“Scooter! NO! Release! Bad Scooter!” said I, body extended on the floor, hand reaching to retrieve that which is forbidden.
it was Monday, February third, when I first approached my computer’s keyboard, meaning to tell the exciting news that Scooter Sublime had “lifted his leg.
It was a good thing, the giving of this hard-to-break-into-chewing-tossing-hiding-in-the-sofa-pillows-toy. Bravo!
Coffee, computer, and a quiet house this pre-dawn Christmas morning . It’s Scooter Sublime time in my mind. I’m tapping thoughts of his tail from the tips of my fingers. I’ve been wondering, is it possible that his tail could be broken? You know, benevolently.
This isn’t Christmas card suitable, this thought. It’s more like, “Merry Christmas! Let me mess up the traditional message.”
An unpredictable pulse of energy — a jump from one interaction to another.” Yep, Scooter!
I saw darling dog stretched out on the carpet, chewing. Chewing what? I wondered. Not his green ball, no. it wasn’t his stuffed Lamb, hedgehog, or teddy-bear; not his “safe, unflavored teething ring,” not the blue Kong tire, or the yellow monkey’s knot rope toy. What was it?
Ah! I open my computer and in the upper right-hand corner (ding!) comes the announcement: Today is Barb Pine’s Birthday. And so it is. I woke (4:48am) with that thought and here was my second (as I climbed over the bed’s end-board so as not to wake the now twelve week old puppy, Scooter, whose sleeping crate is situated on the floor next to my side of the bed and who would love to wake and keep me in playful company in this early hour. But, no. I have morning thoughts I wish to record in my mostly neglected 2019 journal, and so to coffee and computer I quietly, ungracefully, adjourn.
Not that we needed oxygen. No, no. Perhaps the carpet needs +Oxygen but we are following the wisdom of Cesar Millan. We are creating “perfect obedience from day one through rules, boundaries, and calm-assertive leadership.”