I woke up at noon today and decoded a string of dreams before rolling over and forgetting every one of them.
It put me in a bad mood. A sad mood. A wish that I were glad mood.
I'll brighten up as soon as I eat something. But what to eat? I'm slowly working my way through this weird box of oatmeal somebody bought and abandoned, and it would be alright, with enough brown sugar and milk, if it weren't filled with little chunks of nut. I can't say why, but nutty oatmeal doesn't do it for me. So I labor, I labor at the oatmeal. I dream of better days, of other hot cereals. Of ice cream. I like ice cream.
Geez. I wish "Happy" (huh... pfeh...) hadn't growled and snapped at Jeremy. It's really bugging me. It reminds me of those tests they do in shelters to find out if a dog is adoptable. Temperament tests. Because "You can change behavior but you can't change temperament". They grab at the dog's food dish while it's eating with a rubber hand on a stick, and baff it about the ears to see if it will growl or bite. I have never had a dog that would pass that test. Which, in a way, makes me angry, because I LOVE the dogs I've had. I loved my last dog when she nipped at the postal worker's pants (she was the size of a foot) and bit Derek's hand at a party, and I love my stupid Happy despite her acting like a complete shit whenever a loud kid, or a grabby kid, or Jeremy (neither loud nor grabby) walks in. I mean, I wish she wouldn't. I wish she'd go wagging up to toddlers and lick their faces and, okay listen to this. It's from "A Dog Year", by Jon Katz, who's written of couple of books about his dogs:
When a kid came near, even a toddler, both dogs would sit down, tails wagging, and let the child approach, then gently lean over to give him or her a lick.
You see what I mean? But those were golden labs! Not every dog is a golden lab! And, okay, Katz admits this. Most of the book is about him adopting a jumpy border collie and rapidly descending into hell. In a nice way. But, god, it's awful to feel ashamed of the way your dog acts.
It sucks. IT SUCKS BUTT.
I resisted the capitals until now. But it does.
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2 comments:
Jeremy's take on this:
"It's alright, it's not like Claire bit me".
Let's not even go there.
Anyway, Jeremy, although he has plenty of good points, unfortunately is not a dog person. Happy is just perceptive, is all.
Oh, you! You're kind to say so, and Jeremy was really nice about it too. I forgot to mention that in my post(s). But my dog is clearly manic, and I'm deeply troubled. Just for the record.
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