I never seem to set aside enough time to accomplish everything. I anticipate ahead, but still find myself going back at the last moment for my keys, my water, a plastic sack, or the dog.
“Pokey calm” is the newest phrase we have been working on here. I have improved. Before a loved one arrives, I manage to put Pokey on a leash, prepared to chain him down to the sofa to keep him from going wild. That only brings about whining. I do not want to stop him from being excited and expressing his happiness when people he loves arrive, I just need to keep him under control or I end up paying for it.
He can go crazy every day at the dog park, not in my living room around all my papers spread out on the table.
He’s a puppy outgrowing his skin. I need to be there to support him, as he becomes a mature dog. Then there are the cats, making my life more difficult and at the same time, more rewarding. Miao came into the living room the other day, getting such a kick out of tossing about my silicone mouth guard. It’s broken now. She had been climbing my furniture again, helping herself to shiny things, and all I can say is:
“Fluffy (I call her by her first name, Fluffy, when I need to get my point across), “Fluffy” I say, “you know I have told you to stay off the furniture. Now get down.”
“What she hears is, “Fluffy (. . . . . . . . . .), “. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”
Later, she sits on the sofa and looks up at me, innocently, and says, “I am your cat.” You cat lovers know of which I speak. They’re obnoxious critters, always looking for trouble, but so cuddly, clean, warm, and therapeutic.
God bless my cat.
And the dog who chases her.
And the man who feeds them.
Amen.
AmerIcanValuesRestored 