The dogs wonder why I haven't crawled into bed. And why Beve's outside trying to change a headlight so J can drive to Seattle. That is, drive to Seattle as soon as that headlight gets changed. And why SK is wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat. None of us are doing what we're supposed to be doing at 10:30 at night. And it's a most unsettling state of affairs.
They're creatures of habit, our dogs are. We've had Kincade for a year now, and though he hasn't run out of puppy-hood, he's a whole lot closer to the end of the race than he was even six months ago. 120 lbs of friendly, he meets a new best friend every time someone walks through our front door. Today it was the Comcast guy. Yesterday, it was a teaching colleague of Beve's, who would have gladly taken Cade to Minnesota for the summer. "He's just so sweet," he said, as tennis ball after tennis ball was dropped into his lap. To Kincade, it's like a praise-offering to allow YOU to be the one to throw those balls for him. He's indiscriminate with his affections, too. He'll climb into the lap of anyone who happens to sit down on our deck. He is, after all, a GIANT lap dog.
Meanwhile, Jamaica watches from a cautious distance, not trusting anyone she hasn't been properly introduced to--she is an ENGLISH Springer Spaniel, after all, and you know how proper certain classes of English society are. Or have I been reading too much Jane Austen lately? Anyway, Maica likes her people, and only her people, thank you very much. And she wants all of us to do exactly what we're supposed to all the time, like play ball with them first thing every morning, take her for plenty of rides, not go on trips with out her, and GO to BED when she's tired!!!
That's all I have to say tonight.
Tomorrow, remind me--I've been thinking about the word hubris. It's what I intended to write about, but I'm just too tired now.
Our dogs are thankful that I'm saying goodnight.