Mrs. Pluto took the youngest Plutino (Plutinissimo) and headed off to see her mom and sister in North Idaho. (I’m sure it was just a coincidence that there was an Aryan Nation rally this weekend.) (Kidding.) (Haha!) The two older boys, Plutinus Primus and Secundus, are off at college. Our daughter, Plutina, is supposed to be home with me but I’m not a too-cool seventeen year-old girl with the latest dope on the other seventeen year-old girls, nor am I a sullen seventeen year-old boy so she has little time to waste on me!
Since Mrs. P. has been gone I have been doing without: being greeted at the door, undying love and affection, company at mealtimes, snuggling in bed and early morning kisses. That’s right, she took the dogs with her!
I hate to say it but Mrs. Pluto’s absence is less of a disruption than the absence of our two little dachshunds.
I have been well-trained:
Last thing at night and first thing in the morning a quick trip outside.
Every time I sit down with a plate, two pairs of brown eyes watching every bite I take.
Heaven forfend I should ever move over in bed at night, to leave a warm place which is quickly commandeered. And for some reason they are most comfortable when they have their paws in the small of my back – unless they get too warm in which case they noisily climb out from under the covers and settle in between Mrs. P. and I, stealing the covers and leaving us blaming each other.
They have some sort of built-in cheese detector. We can’t take any form of cheese out of the fridge without starting a stampede from whatever corner of the house they’re in, even if they were fast asleep, ending with them sliding across the kitchen floor and jostling for position in case a morsel of cheese should hit the floor. (It usually does.)
Every time I pick up my car keys, or put on my shoes, or even head to the top of the stairs, they come tearing over and I get the “We’re going with you, aren’t we? Sure we are, aren’t we? You wouldn’t leave us behind, would you? Really?” look.
They lay on the back of the couch and look out the front window in case any “strangers” should happen by. (A “stranger” is any human being outside, no matter how familiar, any other dogs and any small wildlife, i.e., squirrels.) Correct response upon discovering a stranger: 1) Bark like mad at the front window till they’re out of sight around the corner. 2) Bark like mad while running to the back door. 3) Bark at the back door till the humans can’t take it any more and let them out. 4) Bark as they run to the fence and bark at the strangers, who are gone by now, but, by golly, they were there just a little bit ago and a little barking never hurt anyone.
I’m worried.
I’ve been finding excuses to stroll by the dog groomers. And hanging out in front of pet stores, peeping in the windows. And I know if I don’t stop it, one of these times I’ll go inside and try to pet one of the dogs in there. Or even pretend I want to buy one and get them to let me hold it.
Sometimes when the neighbor’s dog is outside I find myself going out in the back yard with the lawn mower but not really mowing the lawn. Sometimes I even take a doggie treat with me, “just in case”.
Maybe this should go under the “confessionals” thread. If I were Catholic I could put it under the “I’m not going to make it through Lent” thread.
Mrs. Pluto will be back on Wednesday.
“I’ll tell him but I don’t think he’ll be very keen. He’s already got one, you see!”
