By Anita Garner
These aren’t my dogs. They belong to my daughter, Cathleen and granddaughter, Caedan Ray, and I’m babysitting them.
They’re both rescues. I believe Charlie’s some kind of terrier mixed with other stuff. Benny’s chihuahua and something else. I can testify that Benny is mostly mouth. You look at this tiny body and wonder where does that big sound come from?
Charlie Brown came from a shelter years ago. She was named by four-year-old Caedan at Christmas time. Benny came later and Cath insisted it was her turn to choose the name. If you know how much Cath loves Benecio del Toro, there’s where you’ll find the answer.
I’m a writer working in an office in the far corner of the house. I don’t speak dog as well as Cath and Caedan do. Here’s a glimpse of my average work day. This is not an exaggeration. Don’t even ask about the day the garbage trucks come, three different trucks for three different bins.
Every time you see the word “Benny” below, please know these are very loud barks. Charlie has a small woof, but is equally insistent about pawing the leg of the person in the desk chair.
Benny – MAIL!
I get up and check the mailbox. Nope.
Benny: I MEANT MAIL TRUCK IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER AND MIGHT BE HERE SOON!
Charlie: Paw paw paw on the knee.
Me: What? Do you need outside? I open the door. Nobody goes out.
Benny: WOMAN WITH A STROLLER OUTSIDE!
Me. Benny, please be quiet.
Charlie: Paw Paw Paw
Me: Do you need outside? Up again and open the door. Nope, she was asking for a friend. It’s Benny who needs out and gets Charlie to ask me. Benny goes out and immediately runs back in to say,
Benny: BOY ON A SKATEBOARD!
Me: Please be quiet.
Benny: DOG WALKING BY! WAIT! IT’S TWO DOGS AND A PERSON!
Me. Benny, stop.
Charlie: Paw paw paw on the knee
Me: You don’t need out. Benny doesn’t need out. The mailman isn’t here. It’s okay for other people to walk around the neighborhood. WHAT?
Charlie: Skips out to the kitchen. Woofs by the fridge. Translation: Do we have any more of those tiny carrots in the veggie crisper?
Me: Here ya go, Charles. Here ya go, Ben. Good doggies.
Even Pinocchio would be impressed by the number of whoppers people tell their dogs.
*****
Very entertaining – and funny – and true. I jump up to check the laundry, make another cup of tea, rescue the Roomba from underneath the sofa, where it’s stuck, and empty the dishwasher, etc. I’ve been writing this chapter forever. Oh, yes, grocery shopping, bills, and cleaning the bathrooms. What’s wrong with this picture?
Good luck on your writing today!
Lisa
You’ve just answered another question that comes up often around here. Should we own a Roomba? What happens if your Roomba gets stuck and no one’s home to rescue it? And how’s a person expected to write while worrying about this?
I’m laughing because it’s the same here. I love our girls but they demand so much attention I can’t concentrate on my writing more than a couple of minutes at a time. It’s why I leave home to write. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
I get it. Plus leaving home to write, when it means that little cabin you go to sometimes, is a lovely idea. Cath and Caedan Ray are more successful than I at getting the pups to be quiet. It doesn’t matter what I say, they won’t quit until I get up to go see about the latest alert. Carrot alerts included.