So, um, hi. I really don’t have much to say because life’s just been imperceptibly busy at work the last few weeks. And my personal life has been hampered by my dear, sweet, pregnant Kate who has been dutifully working and visiting family in the States. But I feel I should update you all on what’s been going on at the Wards. To make it more interesting, though, I’ll give the scoop to you from Pecos’s seemingly savant perspective.
Again, these are Pecos’s thoughts. Here's a picture of the author:
Philip left recently. Not a day passes when I don’t recall with fondness the times we napped together on the soft brown couch in the living room. My head snuggly wedged in his groin, which radiates heat like his heart radiates love. His strong hand – heavy with the deep, relaxing sleep that comes when scratching a dog’s chest – resting stoutly on my furry flank. His other hand still on the remote control … as if dialing in the channel for the most relaxing serenity man and dog can discover. I remember the times he woofed at me. So sudden and loud. But very masculine and alpha it made me want to belong to his pack. I still miss him, that Philip. Every day. I miss him.
Since then, I’ve taken the terrifying ride down to the grandparents new house (which actually more closely resembles a Swiss chalet) in Kindsbach twice – the first time with dad and his leggy friend Josh. And the second time with the grandparents, who seem to have a much better perspective on what a dog like me wants. Bouncy rubber balls to chase. A large bowl continually, liberally, and appreciatively filled with the tastiest old lady dog food. Treats from the table. Bones and fat scraps from freshly grilled porterhouses. A large yard to dig and jump and play in – accessible at almost all hours of the day. And a younger female dog named Dodger (who happens to be in heat) to whom I can make the most playful, passionate love to any time of the day. She’s quite dim, that one. And she has the most rancid, horse-killing breath. But we’re going to have wonderfully high-spirited (and perhaps slightly mischievous) puppies one day. Mark my word.
Again, these are Pecos’s thoughts. Here's a picture of the author:
Philip left recently. Not a day passes when I don’t recall with fondness the times we napped together on the soft brown couch in the living room. My head snuggly wedged in his groin, which radiates heat like his heart radiates love. His strong hand – heavy with the deep, relaxing sleep that comes when scratching a dog’s chest – resting stoutly on my furry flank. His other hand still on the remote control … as if dialing in the channel for the most relaxing serenity man and dog can discover. I remember the times he woofed at me. So sudden and loud. But very masculine and alpha it made me want to belong to his pack. I still miss him, that Philip. Every day. I miss him.Since then, I’ve taken the terrifying ride down to the grandparents new house (which actually more closely resembles a Swiss chalet) in Kindsbach twice – the first time with dad and his leggy friend Josh. And the second time with the grandparents, who seem to have a much better perspective on what a dog like me wants. Bouncy rubber balls to chase. A large bowl continually, liberally, and appreciatively filled with the tastiest old lady dog food. Treats from the table. Bones and fat scraps from freshly grilled porterhouses. A large yard to dig and jump and play in – accessible at almost all hours of the day. And a younger female dog named Dodger (who happens to be in heat) to whom I can make the most playful, passionate love to any time of the day. She’s quite dim, that one. And she has the most rancid, horse-killing breath. But we’re going to have wonderfully high-spirited (and perhaps slightly mischievous) puppies one day. Mark my word.
Justin has been coming home late, unpretentiously ignoring my modest desires to lick his face and go for walks in the woods. In fact, for two nights, there, he didn’t come home at all – saying something briefly about having to go to the States to eat Chipotle and drink bubble tea. What about my wants, Justin? Maybe I want some savory burritos, zested with just the right amount of cilantro. Maybe I want some bubble tea. Egg-flavored, if they have it.
He came back tired, but still continues to leave me for upwards of 11 hours a day. Sure, I’ve learned how to read, write, and use a Discover! card to send mystery bones to my darling Dodger. But I still sometimes need him by my side, just to assure me that everything’s all right. And that the towering baby stroller he constructed won’t unexpectedly dart out from behind the couch and run me down with the same amount of crazed zeal Justin shows for burritos.
Although it’s only Wednesday, I’m looking forward to the weekend. Justin said that all we’re going to do the whole weekend is sleep in, go for runs, eat, nap, and play tug of war with The Holy Mr. Holey, my blanket from my puphood. It’s not a bad life I have. But I still can’t wait for my mom to return.
He came back tired, but still continues to leave me for upwards of 11 hours a day. Sure, I’ve learned how to read, write, and use a Discover! card to send mystery bones to my darling Dodger. But I still sometimes need him by my side, just to assure me that everything’s all right. And that the towering baby stroller he constructed won’t unexpectedly dart out from behind the couch and run me down with the same amount of crazed zeal Justin shows for burritos.
Although it’s only Wednesday, I’m looking forward to the weekend. Justin said that all we’re going to do the whole weekend is sleep in, go for runs, eat, nap, and play tug of war with The Holy Mr. Holey, my blanket from my puphood. It’s not a bad life I have. But I still can’t wait for my mom to return.
2 comments:
Pecos is almost poetic in his descriptions and the cadence of his writing...Bravo Senor Dog
-rachele
Oh such musings of the lonely pup. And oh that he could summer again with me like in 2005. Oh but wait I spent all summer in Ohio. He would have been as lonely with me as he was with you except for the antics of Tudsey (Rudy) and JAX (Jackson).
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