Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Canis Major

Yowza! Did anyone else catch that crazy moon?! As I was driving to work this morning (can an hour that early really be called morning?), Ol' Mister came out from behind the clouds, bathed the mountainsides in silver, and cast bestial shadows below the pines. It was so pretty in such a spooky way. I could easily see how the Brothers Grimm, up and on the prowl at o'dark thirty, sipping whatever poor excuse for bean they had, came up with the gruesome fairy tails that they did - tales of girls being devoured by lascivious wolves, handsome princes having their eyes plucked out by birds, children being abandoned in the woods by their parents and left to fend for themselves in a nightmarish overload of the senses. Shiver. If only I could have stayed home and worked!

Midnight is very, very slowly warming to the idea of Nino. She actually came halfway down the steps from the loft last night. I was holding Nino’s collar and had one leg wrapped around his chest (that sucker is ALL muscle!). This morning she actually managed a little bit of a purr when I pet her. I don’t know if they’ll ever be friends, but it would be nice if they could at least maybe… uh… reach the shared disdain, but peaceable accord shared by, say England and France, rather than the helter skelter ferocity of the waring factions of the Middle East. I swear, last night I heard her yowl “Kill the Infidel!”

I haven't had a dog since I was 10 years old. I've shared households with others who've had dogs, and even babysat a kennel from time to time in my early 20's. But this is different and I love it. It was so great to come home, open the door and have Nino there, prancing around and acting as if I was his raison d'etre. Grim-faced Scott, clearly the worn caretaker waiting for a break, said, "He's been a bad dog - he wouldn't listen, he tried to chase the cat, he got into the garbage... twice! He snuck upstairs. He... he's been bad." Nino just sat, quivering excitedly and grinning as I patted him, as if to say, "He's not talking about me. I'm a good dog. Good good good. Good only. Look at me. How could this much cute not be good?!" I looked over at Scott and said, "Oh man, is he clever or what. Look at this... barely 24 hours and he's already got us boxed into the good cop / bad cop routine. You spend all day making him mind, then I come home and it's all about the love. We're so screwed." Nino just let out a happy dog sigh and licked my hand. Midnight, staring down from the safety of the loft, muttered, "Stinking Dogbreath Infidel."


I can only hope the epithet was intended for the canine and not either of the humans.

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