Coconut is here for doggie Spring Break. She’s enjoying a break from the hectic pace of life imposed upon a city dog. She was here at Christmas, leaving white hairs everywhere. She peed where she wasn’t supposed to just once. She wouldn’t look at me after she did it. I took her little face between my two hands and explained the Rules of Tidiness to her. Falling white hairs can’t be prevented but pee can.
Coconut belongs to an obscure, red-haired, philosopher, who has impending finals and must move from a flea infested roommate situation into the dorm until graduation. Initially, my husband was opposed to entertaining Coconut for doggie Spring Break. There was grumbling and disharmony on Hippy Hill earlier today.
Coconut and I were in the woods living like “real” dogs when my husband returned from errands. Coconut, who had been sniffing his belongings and looking sadly at me, recognized his truck and took off at an alarming run to get to him. (They bonded over the holidays when Coconut was fed lots of forbidden goodies.) She was just beside herself, falling all over him, like the little doggie tramp she is.
Once we were all inside, my husband announced that he had fried clams from the dairy barn. Before I knew what happened Coconut, the little floozy, was at his feet while he fed her fried clams and they watched basketball. After she’d eaten and I took her outside to the powder room, she stretched out in front of the stove. My husband insisted I turn the stove on because “she likes it”.
To state the obvious- I’m working like a dog.