#132. IMAGINING MY DOG

by admin on February 21, 2011

hunter and his granny

 esme and mr. noir have been planning to go on a little road-trip to the pacific northwest.  the excuse is a wooden boat show in port townsend washington.  i am hoping there will be some shopping items in a smaller scale and softer fabrics! (not that i don’t love wood). 

while we are gone, hunter is going to over-night camp at his grandparents’ house. esme’s parents live on an acre of land (huge compared to what hunter is accustomed to) that has been over-run with wild-life.  squirrels are burrowing under their house.  mice have eaten the insulation on the wires in their volvos.  of course there are gophers, hawks, owls, and all manner of birds.  they even spot the occasional coyote, and (gasp) rattlesnake.  hunter’s granny is hoping he can get to the root of the squirrel problem and let the offending mice know who’s boss. 

i find myself imaging the life he will lead.  after years of strict no-digging training, what will he make of the permission, nay the command, to dig???  if he actually caught something, what would he do with it?  how dirty will he get, and will he leave little doggy footprints all over the sheets??  will he curl up next to the grandp’s and purr?  will he train them to feed him earlier and earlier each day by jumping on the bed and nuzzling his cold nose in their ears??  what i’m really hoping is that his granpa will let him swim in their pool.  not that he’s really a water-dog, but i’m sure he’d chase a ball into the shallow end.  that way he’ll stay nice and clean, and train for swimming laps with me!  maybe he could start a doggy triathalon:  dig, chase, swim.  

i do need to do a little shopping for him.  normally he goes sans collar (he does have a chip) but i think a collar and tags would be de rigeur for camp.  because he is tri-colored, it’s always been hard to find collars that are not too busy-looking.   i have a feeling he’ll end up in just his fur, sunning himself by the pool, the scent of chlorine and deer-poop wafting gently through the late-afternoon air.

using my imagination again,

esme

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