Dogsitting

The Charly I miss!

Yes, I feel like I'm dogsitting my own dog. She's not supposed to socialize for another week or so, even though she's not coughing or sneezing at all any longer. All those dog park calories burned up every day make for a much happier and more peaceful Charly. Today she wants in/out/in/out/in/out/in/out, and though I try to say no to the outs, what if she really does need to pee, and she pees inside and it's all my fault? And to the ins because she makes a lot of noise barking (I taught her to "speak" to get in but if it doesn't work she's assaulting the door with ever-increasing desperation), and I'm trying to do something important like listen to Fresh Air on NPR because Terry Gross is doing a long interview with Tom Waits about his new album, and why the hell can't Charly just lie around for a change!? And then, with Charly complaining outside the door, the mailman knocks loudly (and so Charly escalates) to have me sign for a threatening letter from the IRS, and then I have to call him back because I kept his pen, missing hugely significant interview highlights, I'm sure, and I know I can listen to it later by merely clicking on the "listen" button, but goddam it I want to listen RIGHT NOW!

Sigh. I finally took Charly for a walk, and any minute now I'm off to a restorative yoga class, which is guaranteed to return me to a state of serenity. (The teacher always warns to be careful driving home after a restorative class.)

I'll be back!