Creatures of Habit
My youngest dog is a four-year-old, male basenji, Storm. We have two other dogs, females, a miniature pinscher, Hetty, seven, and a border terrier, Cory, thirteen. They all take a mile long walk in the morning. Then we come back to the house and they have their breakfast and then we take Storm for a two and a half mile walk on his own because he needs more exercise than the girls do. He particularly likes this walk because he seems to prefer the idea of being an only dog, even though he’s never been one.
Last Sunday, my husband and I had three of our friends over for brunch. After we ate, we sat around the table for a long time talking, which is a sign of both a successful brunch and interesting friends. Storm, however, felt like our friends overstayed their welcome. Half way through the meal he began to yawn and sigh in the kitchen. Then he started throwing himself against the back door and letting out soft moans of despair as he collapsed in a heap. Apparently, if you don’t have your second walk before noon, your legs are in danger of atrophying and falling off. You didn’t know that? Neither did I. Storm knew. This is apparently the sort of thing that keeps him awake at night. All along I thought that what kept him awake at night was the bunnies frolicking in the yard which he can see from the window behind our bed due to the streetlight on the other side of the road. Bunnies. Who knows what they’re up to? Suspicious.
Can you feel the ennui?