true life: woe is penny
August 5, 2011 § 1 Comment
It’s a hard knock life around here sometimes. In addition to the partial bath she was subjected to the other day when she wandered into something smelly, Penelope had an unfortunate experience yesterday as well.
I was working on my syllabus for the year and on the phone with a coworker for at least 30 minutes. P is always nearby during the day, either sleeping at my feet or chewing a bone on top of them (Yes, on my feet. If you’ve been a guest in my house, you know bonetoy on foot chewing is P’s stamp of approval.) Anyway, whenever I wander into another room, she follows me. As long as I’m there for at least 90 seconds, she will usually lay down on the floor wherever I end up, folding laundry or even just reading something from the printer in the study.
As I was on the phone, I walked into the study a few times and then back into the “kids wing” of our house that we keep closed up and at about 80 degrees since no one is ever in there except if we’re retrieving books from our excessive collection on bookshelves in one of those rooms. During the phone convo, I headed back there to look at some books we were discussing and shut the hall door again when I left. We usually keep this hall door closed, but sometimes if it’s not closed all the way, it will pull shut with a knock each time the air conditioning kicks on in that part of the house to maintain its balmy 80. As you can imagine, it doesn’t kick on very often. Phone convo ended and I resumed working on my syllabus. I heard the familiar door knock back there sometime well after the convo ended, but didn’t feel like getting up and leaving my train of thought to fix the door. When I heard the ol’ knock again, about an hour or so after the convo ended, it sounded different. More like a knockscratch. little doubleknock.
Was that the dog? Why’d she go back there? What’s that door doing?
Wait, not on her bed. Not under my chair.
Two little feet on the floor behind the door making two little shadows in the sunlight coming from the other side. Little sniffy nose moving around.
Oh well hey there! Guess you knew I’d find you and didn’t feel like making a racket. Thanks for the tiny little scratch after an hour had passed to patiently request exit from the lonely sauna back here.
Sorry you have a bad mommy.
Let’s hope I’m a better mother to humans.
Why you lock me up?