Friday Dog Blogging

Lest you form the erroneous impression that I play favorites, I offer you this Friday Dog Blog of the esteemed Lovable Mutt. This dog's entire life strategy, with a single exception involving her regard for high value food items, can be expressed by the words go with the flow. Because I am wholly unacquainted with that philosophy myself, this at once inspires in me respect and annoyance. At times I can see that she desires something, but is maddeningly unwilling to expend the slightest effort to pursue it. When I pick up the leash, she jumps about excitedly, but when I attempt to get her out the door, she demurs. When her dogly counterparts (both current and past) have received treats, she has stared at her companions intently while they ate them. But when offered her own, she invariably sniffs in a bored manner and wanders away.

Her attitude is almost uniformly deferential, especially to me. But occasionally she will become interested in a toy, rawhide, or other food item, and will act as though she would happily take off my hand if interfered with. (Interestingly, this does not extend to TK, though I've drilled it enough into his head to leave her alone at those times.)

There is also a touch of mental vacancy to her that I have concluded is really a front for stubbornness. She is a dedicated wanderer when allowed outside, and will pretend to be unable to hear or understand a command to return.


Though ancient enough now to be extremely sedate, she was capable of much tomfoolery in her youth, especially in cahoots with our dear and departed Golden Retriever, who was of an age with her. Mr. T and I would return to our crappy student apartment after a day of toil to find coffee tables overturned, phones off hooks, and household items shredded to tiny, unidentifiable bits. The two little brown ponies would be reclining nonchalantly on the couch, completely oblivious to the state of the living room. Butter, had they managed to steal it from the refrigerator, would not melt in their mouths.



These days I call her the Last Dog Standing. Her much feistier contemporaries have gone to the great bark park in the sky, and yet still she remains, unobtrusive and silently shadowing me around the house. At the age of 14, I'm afraid that won't be so much longer.