Rental Dogs

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Today I am grateful for rental dogs. We are watching (Miss) Ziggy while friends are away on an adventure. What a hoot. I forgot how nice it was to have an animal in the house.

(Her Majesty) Ziggy, queen of all she rules, does not move around much. She makes me look like Suzanne Somers and Jane Fonda morphed into one neurotic fitness geek. Miss Thang barely looked at the door when her owners left. She “vacuumed up a few stray popcorn crumbs, curled herself up in her kitchen bed and that was that. For an hour.

I paid bills at the kitchen table and listened to her buzz-sawing away. She would send a snoring-sleep-apnea-machine into tilt. We went out for lunch and left her home. When we opened the door she rose, like Venus from the ashes, greeted us in a sort of blasé way, then went to sleep in her living room bed. Change of scenery.

We keep a few of our last dog, Frieda’s toys in a cabinet for visiting pooches. It’s our version of Grandma’s Toy Box. John got out a favorite, squeaked it and threw it for Queen Ziggy. She looked at it as if to say, “What in the HELL is that? A toy!? You want me to play with that thing? Seriously?”, then off she padded, back to her bed. Kitchen this time.

I don’t think Her Majesty Miss Queen Ziggy is going to wear us out too much. And we probably won’t have to sweep, or vacuum our crumbs up while she’s here either. She is our temporary Hoover! If we can wake her up! BING! Heartprint!

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