Friday, October 14, 2016

Dull chores on a dull day

Sophie watching from living room chair where she
keeps an eye on me at my desk
            Today thunder and lightning woke me about six and continued well int the morning, after which it turned drippy and stayed dull. A wet dog jumped into my bed about seven and snuggled as close to me as it was possible to get. We both slept until almost eight-thirty, cozy in the covers.

A perfect day I thought for dealing with that stack of miscellaneous problems on my desk—the editing bill whose check went astray, the water bill payment credited to the old account when we needed it on the new account, property taxes that I don’t intend to pay until December but have to be able to find at that time, Insurance problems. The telephone bill. Thank-you notes. It’s endless, and you could probably write 100 pages in the time it takes you to plow through that stack.

But I dug in. Some days everyone you deal with, particularly at utility companies, seems determined to keep secret whatever information you need. But today people were friendly, cheerful and helpful—a huge bonus. By noon I was almost through with the stack, and the sun had come out.

A friend wrote she hated to see the sun come out because she loved a rainy Friday. I almost agreed with her. But the sunshine helped me over the sleepies. I finished the stack, satisfied with the answers I’d gotten, and prowled on Facebook for a while.

Nap time—for a short nap. Wakened this time by a clean, soft dog with a brand new haircut. She rooted around in the covers and finally settled with her head on my shoulder where she could gaze into my eyes. We had a great visit, with me scratching the ears, talking to her, and generally as content as she was.

Soon, she knew, it would be time for a treat and then supper—the Cavalier spaniels come out and the three eat dinner in companionable silence, but everyone has to wait for Sophie to finish before the after-dinner snack bones come out. The dogs know the routine perfectly but still become anxious and impatient.

Sophie is at the center of my household. I don’t think I’d take to living alone at all well without her company. She listens to me talk to myself, follows me around the cottage, lies at my feet while I work, and is generally underfoot—a way of making sure I know she/s still here. She gives me the sense of another presence in the cottage.

On the other hand, she is so freaking darn cute and adorable that when she kicks u; her heels I just sit and laugh. I couldn’t live without a dog, but I don’t think just any dog would do. My doodle dog (half border collie, half poodle) is the perfect combination of clown, helper, and worshipful slave.

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