Today was our 24th morning with below zero temps.
The weather’s getting old, both for me and my handsome man Rex.
Midwestern winters can get a lot worse than this one, still we both knew we needed to shake off our sour attitudes some.
Rex grabbed his napping brother Tucker’s letter jacket for an early Valentine’s date at our favorite coffee and crepe shop.
We immediately knew we’d scored a win as we walked in the door and smelled the sweet scents from the oven.
Though my glasses were steamed up as I approached the counter, I could see there was one chocolate chip cookie left just for us though Rex preferred the long, thin crispy wafer that came with our cappuccino.
Rex was attracting more than a few smiles in spite of a mohawk that’s gone radically rogue. In fact, I even thought I caught him winking back at a couple of stylish young ladies at the next table glancing his direction.
But then a slightly older, smiling woman walked up to us and said, “Oh, but I can tell he’s a good boy. In fact, a VERY good boy! I can see it in his eyes.”
Suddendly Rex looked up at me for a moment and gave me some sweet and gentle kisses on my hand.
I warmly nodded at the woman and told her, “Oh, yes. This loving Valentine is most definitely a winner.”
I should have asked for some comfort and joy.
Instead Santa brought me a new squeaky toy.
So I stole Mom’s scarf. Don’t you think I look nice?
I may do it again. Without thinking twice!
It was supposed to be my chihuahua Tinkerbelle’s costume.
A pretty tutu it was, bought second hand from the rescue group for Tink’s very first Halloween.
But Tink was terrified and absolutely refused to wear it.
Sometime on Halloween night my terrier Tucker found that tutu on the dining room table, and thinking it was some kind of a tasty treat pulled it right down on the rug.
Once I turned on the lights in the morning, I jumped.
I saw Tuck had learned a very spooky new trick.
Somehow he’d managed to get the tutu up on his head just like a crown.
Now Tuck’s a senior and has never been fond of Halloween. Typically he’d hide under the couch shaking his fears away until the last of the door knocking ghosts and goblins were gone.
But I guess you can always change, no matter if you’re young or old.
And looking at Tuck’s face I believe that my old boy is mighty proud of himself, just as he should be.
Fall’s so full of fun.
There’re leaves to chase and still some sun.
Oh, to be a dog.
Peace is what I crave.
Morning waves, a dog bone saved.
Think I’ll sit a while.
My terrier Tucker is tenacious in getting what he wants.
He’s also territorial.
Take this morning for example.
The canine clan and I were enjoying the cool morning breeze on the porch when I went into the kitchen to grab a refill of coffee.
I first stopped to move a few magnets on the refrigerator to accommodate my latest art acquisition.
It’s a cheery brightly colored portrait of a brown pup created by a little six year old friend of mine.
I’d left it on my writing desk out on the porch.
When I returned there with my coffee, I saw Tuck had grabbed my blanket and the new picture was up on the loveseat next to him.
Maybe the breeze had carried the art over in his direction.
Though my eleven year senior boy is still quite an athlete and counter surfs with the best of then.
When I tried to take away the picture, Tuck let our a gentle, guttural growl.
“All right, you can keep it for now but don’t let it get dog eared,” I told him. “And I get the blanket.”
I took his snoring as an acceptance of my compromise.
And soon this senior was softly snoring away as well.
When might she be back?
If we’re good she’ll bring us snacks.
Tell her we’ve been great!