You would have laughed until your face hurt Monday.
I was on the phone - long distance - to a criminal court clerk in Kentucky, trying to get some information on a witness in a rather sordid murder. The clerk was going through the file for me, giving me little bytes of information here and there which I then typed onto my WordPerfect document while balancing the phone on my shoulder like a contortionist.
Suddenly - CLONK - something swacked me in the side of the head, knocking the phone loose.
I grabbed the phone and jerked my neck around to see what Shiva was into.
There she stood, proud as any five year old with her first fingerpainting . . . the broom firmly clutched in her jaws.
Imagine yourself looking into a set of big melancholy brown eyes, regarding you with the most profound trust and adoration, tail slowly swinging to and fro questioningly, making a valiant attempt to puppy-grin around a mouthful of broom handle, all the while a voice on the telephone is telling you about a murder trial.
Shiva is supposed to be a working dog; she wants to work. I just don?t think she?s found her area of expertise yet. I doubt it will have anything to do with house cleaning (although I?m sure she would be most obliging about the dishes) or brooms. I suspect it?s going to have something to do with hunting, rather than herding, as Calypso, our ?pet bull? (that?s pet, not pit bull) thinks it?s great fun to chase her. She shows great promise of being an adept and enthusiastic hunter. When I give her a cookie, she places it on the ground in front of her, then makes several feints at it before pouncing on it and gleefully crunching it up bite by bite. She stalks her toys. She stalks Bimmer. She stalks anything that moves (except Calypso). She loves to make her toys squeak then toss them in the air and pounce on them, eerily, in much the same way a cat plays with a mouse. Already, she?s brought in barn rats. I know she had to be the one who caught them, as Bimmer wouldn?t touch them. He just looked askance at her when she picked up her trophies and brought them to me. He seems to consider rats to be something that should be exterminated then discarded in expeditious fashion. His idea of good hunting is a nice, tasty groundhog.
I was on the phone - long distance - to a criminal court clerk in Kentucky, trying to get some information on a witness in a rather sordid murder. The clerk was going through the file for me, giving me little bytes of information here and there which I then typed onto my WordPerfect document while balancing the phone on my shoulder like a contortionist.
Suddenly - CLONK - something swacked me in the side of the head, knocking the phone loose.
I grabbed the phone and jerked my neck around to see what Shiva was into.
There she stood, proud as any five year old with her first fingerpainting . . . the broom firmly clutched in her jaws.
Imagine yourself looking into a set of big melancholy brown eyes, regarding you with the most profound trust and adoration, tail slowly swinging to and fro questioningly, making a valiant attempt to puppy-grin around a mouthful of broom handle, all the while a voice on the telephone is telling you about a murder trial.
Shiva is supposed to be a working dog; she wants to work. I just don?t think she?s found her area of expertise yet. I doubt it will have anything to do with house cleaning (although I?m sure she would be most obliging about the dishes) or brooms. I suspect it?s going to have something to do with hunting, rather than herding, as Calypso, our ?pet bull? (that?s pet, not pit bull) thinks it?s great fun to chase her. She shows great promise of being an adept and enthusiastic hunter. When I give her a cookie, she places it on the ground in front of her, then makes several feints at it before pouncing on it and gleefully crunching it up bite by bite. She stalks her toys. She stalks Bimmer. She stalks anything that moves (except Calypso). She loves to make her toys squeak then toss them in the air and pounce on them, eerily, in much the same way a cat plays with a mouse. Already, she?s brought in barn rats. I know she had to be the one who caught them, as Bimmer wouldn?t touch them. He just looked askance at her when she picked up her trophies and brought them to me. He seems to consider rats to be something that should be exterminated then discarded in expeditious fashion. His idea of good hunting is a nice, tasty groundhog.