I was inexplicably attached to Pooka's first collar. When I bought it, it was bright green, a deep grass green, with reflective stitching. Simple, pet-store staple. As the days stretched into weeks, the collar grew faded, dusty, stinky and more stinky. I washed the collar. The collar got stinkier. I felt a little bit of panic at the thought of getting Pooka a new collar, like her identity might be tied somehow to this ratty green thing. Like giving up blankie, that was the feeling.
Then, I thought, well, I could get her another green collar...
And then I got over it. At Bark, I found this fabulous bright red and blue lobster collar, perfect for summer, despite being so far away from beloved Cape Cod. Pooka has gotten lots of compliments. (By the way, you can click on the "Jessica Jessica" link under the photo to see the rest of the recent Flickr uploads.)
This morning, I woke at 6am to find her sitting up, ears perked, staring at the closet door. A few minutes later, she was whining at the closet. Sarah's kitties must have been scratching around on the other side of the wall, but Pooka was insistent that she investigate. I feel very safe from whatever horrors might haunt us in the closet now.
In other news, the toenail is growing in -- a bit splotchy and crooked, but starting once again to resemble toenail in shape and length.
Also, I thought I left my carefully prepared lunch sandwich within Pooka's reach yesterday (it's nowhere to be found), but I came home to no sign of sandwich or the large plastic bag, originally from a package of English muffins, in which I had stashed it. So far, no evidence that she stashed it or tried to digest it. I am puzzled.
Also, Pooka is really shaping up to be a Very Good Dog. She's much less anxious than in the early days, as evidenced by her seeming contentedness to flop down wherever I happen to be and chill, rather than pace endlessly through the house. She still does her insane-dance when I come home after a long stretch away, but I think it's overall a sign of happiness, rather than pent-up neurosis. These days when I get home, she has been running to grab a toy, then invites me to a game of "chase me in tight circles around the couch, first one direction and then the other, but I won't chase you if you get the toy, but you can chase me again if you give it back to me," which is our favorite.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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