A shoe. One of my good work shoes, actually. The edge of another shoe, the ones I wear out in the snow when it isn’t too deep.
One Christmas sock, the kind you wear, not the kind you hang.
A dishtowel. A plastic milk jug.
A bottle of Murphy’s oil soap, still with cap intact, thank goodness.
A shepherd from the nativity scene. I wonder why she picked….oh, I get it. Perhaps a little glue will save him.
This is yesterday’s list of the puppy victims. At my feet, I hear happy crunching sounds as another soda bottle gets pre-recycled.
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Yes, for those of you who have not made the connection, we have puppies from the same litter, so can compare developmental trends. I will have to try that kibble in the bottle thing, selectively since the old dogs don't need extra feeding.
Meanwhile, OS, looking at the damage strewn across my living room rug by one energetic girl, I cannot imagine two.
Cassie's ears do stand up most of the time, but like her mother, she expresses emotion by folding them this way and that, a veritable semaphore of dog-mood. Is there anything better in the world than silky dog ears?
I just read a stunning book about what it is like to live with dogs. Pam Houston’s Sight Hound, about a wolfhound named Dante. She writes about the joy of smelling his ears and about a lot of other stuff. A book so good I wish I had written it, but I cried the whole way through thinking of old Max, Toby who is gifted in loving, and upstart Cassie. When I recover a bit, I will write about what each of these wonderful dogs has brought into my life.
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