Friday, January 13, 2006
Phoebe has a finger puppet we like a lot. You stick your fingers down through her body and then put these tiny toe shoes on them, and your fingers become her legs. When I play with her, she looks like she has a grave circulation problem, and drinks way too much whole milk. Chet is bewitched by this little toy. At first, he wouldn't look at it, the way some dogs won't look directly at a kitten or a baby chick. It's as if the temptation is just too great to snap the wee thing up, so they look away. It makes them uncomfortable. I am the same way around hot tortilla chips at the Mexican restaurant we frequent.
So we tease him, dancing the ballerina around him like a saucy Lilliputian, until he falls for it. Once he realizes it's OK to go after the ballerina, he bars no holds. He dances on his hind legs, a peculiar puckered expression on his face, and rockets up to grab her. Last night, he got ahold of her, and wouldn't let go for love or money.
Chet has a stubborn face: his ears laid flat back, his eyes wide. He stiffens so he's really hard to pick up, and the bulldog in him comes out. (Boston terriers are half white rat terrier, an extinct breed, and half bulldog. He gets his incredible energy from the rat terrier, and his sweet nature and doggedness from the bulldog half).
No amount of cajoling or loving would free the poor ballerina. Finally, Phoebe brandished the rosewater spray bottle she's been using to lessen the skunkstink, and Chet relenquished the now sodden dancer.
Poor Chet. The dog just doesn't get enough attention.
It was a good way to end a wonderful day. Just before bed, I took the camera outside, set it on the deck, and let a three-second exposure record the moonlight shining on the meadow. I really wanted to go for a woodswalk, but I was afraid I'd run into a sharp twig or low-hanging branch. I've done that before, hiking after dark, and but for my nice bony brow ridge, I'd have lost my right eye. It was at that moment that I understood why we have eyebrows. I could use a bit more prognathous profile, as much hiking as I do. It's an experience I don't want to repeat. So I'll wait for that moonlit snow!
Posted by Julie Zickefoose at 7:28 PM