Boy, is she bossy!
Imperious, demanding, insistent, determined. Exhaustingly high-energy. She runs reallyfast then plops down and passes out.
She rings a small bell, hung at her height at the back door, which she strikes whenever she wants to go out, no matter what time of day or night it is. If you don’t jump up immediately, she fixes you with an indignant stare.
And she has this weird habit of licking my ankles when I come out of the shower.
While house-sitting, I’m also dog-sitting. She’s a small, low-slung terrier, (like my late lamented Petra, who died in June 1996.)
One of my favorite get-well cards after my hip surgery this year came from her…a folded card, posed in front of her at dog height, that read “One step at a time.”
I’d forgotten what it’s like to have a dog. Oh, the cuddles! (Oh, the barking!) She jumps into my lap wherever I am and keeps a careful eye on me when I’m in the shower. (In case I melt?)
She climbs across me, little claws digging into my flesh. (Hello, I have a new six-inch scar!)
I do love the insane enthusiasm with which she greets a patch of grass. The smells! The excitement! Like Petra, she does these little gazelle-like leaps of joy.
But she’s a nervous little thing, forever chewing on her metal name tag attached to her collar or shredding one of her many toys.
Let’s review: curious, imperious, high-energy, not good at sitting still, nervous tics, crazy excited about her environment, loves cuddles.
As a dear French friend once said of me: “T’es charmante et chiante a la fois!”
Exactement.
We might be a very good match after all.
Broadside 