My dog is not unhappy

Everyone is worrying about their dogs not getting enough exercise.

I am not.

Every time I get up to do something my dog follows me.  He comes with me to check the fridge 127000 times a day.  We go to the loo together and sometimes the shower. When I do yoga, he does yoga. And when I spend time outside to admire the birds and bees, so does he.

He’s recognising the carpenter bees and nudges me to say look Mom, they’re here. While I watch them, he tries to eat them.  

He burns about 150 calories per bee.

We spend our days sewing on the couch and soon I expect him to be good at threading a needle.

He doesn’t join in when I’m writing but prompts me with his paws. ‘Hey look,’ he says.’I have another brilliant idea, listen, listen.’ And promptly paws me again.

Soon I’m gonna have to credit him.

He recognises my friends when they pop up on my screen, especially when he sees Frederika. Oh my dog god oh holy dog oh man oh wow oh look at this oh my oh whooohooo it’s the lady who gives me treats at the park, let me just go insane for ten minutes.

I give him my own treats to calm him down. 

And then I shove him outside so I can PLEASE JUST HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF PEACE AND QUIET.

We come together again over cooking.  We’ve made a few omelettes and sometimes drop an egg or two, but he’s really good at cleaning up. Our cheese platters are the bomb, he excels at taking salami off the counter, and happily helps with hummus. When I make chicken he looks at me like ‘Oh man, someone should really marry you for that chicken, Mom.’

We’re even thinking of BAKING BREAD and I can almost hear him saying to the neighbours, where’s your bread at bitches, ours is fantastic.

Mostly he’s so busy that when we go to bed at night he’s shattered.  He snuggles close to let me know how happy he is to have me home for 24 hours a day.

Twenty-four hours a day.

For twenty-one days in a row.

Maybe longer.

He thinks he’ll just get a little bit closer. Closer, closer, just a teeny bit closer, okay  perfect, excellent,  I’ll sleep on your head.

I don’t know what he’s going to do when this is all over. I suppose I could leave him at home to sew and cook and clean and write and vacuum.

I could go for long walks on my own.

Without a dog around my ankles.

‘Oh. Look. You’re coming with me. Fine, bring the ball, bring the sewing, don’t forget your notebook, a couple of snacks, salami, fetch your lead, and the bread, yes I love you, who’s a good boy, you’re a good boy, you’re the goodest boy Fred, I LOVE YOU, you’re so cute, the cutest dog, the smartest dog, come my baby dog, my best dog.

Just 21 days to go.

Walkies…

Fred 1

 

7 thoughts on “My dog is not unhappy

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