I noticed the place where I sit on the couch each night is getting very worn, so I thought why not switch ends? Instead of sitting on the right-hand side of the couch, I moved over to the left, where the dogs hang out. I guess I didn’t think that through well enough because both dogs are completely perplexed and unable to navigate the new system.
I put their stool on the opposite end, and so nothing is really all that different, except the orientation. So even though Louie could use the stool to get up onto the couch when his spot was on the left, now that I switched, he’s unable to use it. It’s quite upsetting to see how very rigid these little dogs are.
But then they say dogs resemble their owners, right? I dislike change intensely, so why I blame the dogs for their zealous adherence to their habits I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit insulting to have one’s weaknesses mirrored back at them like that. At this point it’s a battle of wills because I’m not sitting on that flattened end of the couch anymore, so we’ll see how long it takes to wear them down.
Everyone who knows me is aware that at 4:00 PM a Caesar is mixed, and sipped with great appreciation. The dogs know this is when their mom heads toward the television set and couch. They used to beat me to it, but now they’re wary, looking up at me sitting in their spots and wondering why I’m so mean and confusing. I can coax Frieda, the no-brained dog, but I have to pick Louie up and put his large grith onto the new spot.
And speaking of small brains, two years ago I thought it’d be fun to get a long white couch. When no-one’s visiting it’s covered as the animals enjoy using it. It’s very thin fabric though so the other day when Frieda decided it’d be fun to vomit somewhere, rather than the wood floors she decided the white couch was perfect.
I was doing yoga and heard the retching, but even before I could get the cover off the couch the vomit had soaked through and left a stain. I’ve worked at it with Folex, a stain remover, and it’s fading, but it’s just so mysterious that of all places in the house where an animal wants to puke, it must be on the white couch.
I’ve made no resolutions as I won’t keep them so why do it? Just last night I ate an entire fruitcake and had I made the mistake of swearing off poisonous foods, I’d be all disappointed today, and guess what, I’m not. I’m happy as a clam knowing I didn’t let myself down.
I’ve cut down on thrift store visits though as we all know there’s a fine line between collecting and hoarding. If I must go, and some days I simply have to as it’s a great endorphin booster, I try to stick to books. The other day I read an excellent tale of deep sea diving, called Deep Dive, that was comparable to other favourites such as Into Thin Air and A Perfect Storm.
And as we begin 2023 perhaps one thing I could wish for is less rigidity from the animals and myself. I’ve even conditioned the chickens with my adherence to routines so that they’re already looking over at the house at dusk, going where in the hell is that woman with our special snacks. Probably not going to happen is it?