Dog racing

It’s interesting what one can learn about your furry friends when you stay home from work on a Friday.  The house is too warm at 70 degrees Fahrenheit  (22 C) for these guys. A lot of puffing and panting inside intrudes on my writing Zen-state.   A mystery sound only they hear – probably the neighbor’s golden retriever – sends Dexter into a high velocity whiny growl charging out the back door followed by Comet.  A sound of galloping feet outside is soon followed by the banging of the doggie-door flap.  A moment later a thunderous rush and  Dexter and Comet bounce into me.   And all this occurring after we come back from a walk up and down my neighborhood hills.  A moment later they are calm and snoozing.  I pick up the shreds of my Zen-state and start again.

It’s understandable that a fastidious person probably doesn’t have dogs living with him. Someone uncomfortable with things out of control definitely would not.  Fridays and in fact every day is a chance to pick up the house enough to have a visitor not assume I am a slob.  And then that moment is gone.  Couch cushions are again dislodged and the cushions and blanket are in a pile on the living room floor.  Dog pillows in the office are dislodged and in a pile in the corner.   The unoccupied  office chair is spun around backwards.

Then again, my friends all appreciate dog racing.

 

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