By a small white German Schnauzer. Mornings now belong to Daisy. Routine has set in. I no longer just get to have my coffee and read what news I care to read on the computer. Between clicks to see how things are going on the coast and, though I swore to not get involved, in seeing how the Texas Rangers did, I am at the mercy of a 15 pound creature. She brings me one of her toys and lays at my feet, biting it where the squeeker is so that it makes the most irritating noise on earth. The most urgent thing on her mind is having me get the toy and proceed to throw it down the hallway so that she can get it and bring it back. She stops long enough to go to her box and maybe change toys. Her biggest decision of the day is which one to chose and who can know why she choses one over the other.
Sometimes she has the attention span of a mite (not that I know how long that was measured or by whom, but it sounds very small); other times she is tenacious and will stand for what must seem like hours to her, but actually it is only minutes, looking up into the tree in our neighbors yard. She once went outside as a squirrel ran along the top of our fence and jumped into that huge oak. She is convinced it is still there. Each time she goes out she takes her stand and looks upward into that tree. I feel safe knowing she is protecting us.
Something in her mind snaps and she wants me to make yet another trip with her, down the hallway, to stand outside the bedroom where Mate lies sleeping. She looks mournfully under the door while making a wailing sound. She wants her best friend to get up. She wants to play "Where's Daisy" while we make the bed. She now waits for us to hold up the sheet so that she can "hide" under it. She lays spread eagle on her stomach and watches Mate perform his morning ritual of brushing teeth, combing what hairs are left and washing his face. All the while talking to him about what their plans for the day should be. She will not leave his side for long at a time for the rest of the day,only going outside, but wishing him to go with her. He usually goes.
Good grief. It this were a television show now the sound of a needle scratching across a record would be heard and the narrator would say, "What am I thinking!!!!. We have to get a life".
You know before we rescued Daisy, I thought we had a life. For a couple in their 70s we are pretty active. Mate can't do what he used to do because of health reasons, but he volunteers for several things. I go to work every day and do pretty much what I always did at work, except I don't climb up on the ladder to retrieve a file like I did for years (somehow you become aware that when older persons fall there is usually a knee or hip replacement in the future). We go out to eat all the time with good friends, we go to plays and concerts. I am pretty active on Facebook and Mate texts with son and grandson. Unlike what you may have thought from watching him drive, HE DOES NOT TEXT while driving. (I just had to stick that in, I think the Devil made me do it) He is very good on the Mac and can do anything we need to do using technology we didn't know would exist 10 years ago. We spend a lot of time at the Church building, and we relish an evening at home from time to time because frankly we don't stay at home a lot in the evening.
Wait Just A Minute (as Jimmy Durante used to say)we do have a life, Daisy has just enhanced it. Oh thank goodness.
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