Lying in bed with my eyes open, wearing my glasses. As I stare out my bedroom doors, the painting on the wall looks like the distorted face of an old man staring back at me aglow from the bird night light. I shift my eyes to the top of the stairs. With my sheet and comforter covering my body in an orderly fashion, I listen to the house sounds. The nature sounds. The mini fridge by my bed. The ending of a wash cycle. The furnace cycling on & off. Pretty quiet otherwise. I can hear vehicles in the distance, on the main roads. The revolver is at my side.
It's four in the morning. It's supposed to be quiet. I'm sleepy but I can't give in to my exhaustion. I may drift off with my iPhone on my chest when suddenly the rhythm of those last keystrokes lull me to sleep.
I remember a neighbor telling me how she could snot leep after. I think of her when I pass the house where she no longer lives.
I stay. Emboldened by my feelings of safety. Now, security envelope has been breached. It's no longer a neighbors' problem but mine.
My sweet Grace who is normally by my side has been traumaticized. Her front left paw is swollen from an unknown problem & she's barely uttered a sound since I returned home from work.
The sink full of dishes won't go away on its own so I decide to tackle the stack before iPad games/Instagram time.
My large German Shepherd Dog is on patrol in the kitchen area to find food, crumbs, juice on the floor and anything else deemed tasty from the canine point of view. As a large, long dog, this process of Grace searching for food becomes a hazard & annoying. Sure, she's helpful this way in that I rarely have to pick up anything I drop but unloading the dishwasher & putting away the dishes can be tricky with a big, slow-moving dog under foot.
This is when I resort to my go-to-line of "Go lay down." It is sometimes met with a stare. Sometimes, I need to herd her to her bed. At other times, there's quiet compliance with or without sulking.
I often wonder what she would say if she could really talk. I encourage her to be vocal & she loves to express herself. Her body language speaks loudly.
Let's imagine the exchange goes something like this:
[Grace roams the kitchen as she methodically searches for food. Note: she ate 2 hours ago as soon as I got home from work.]
Me: Go lay down.
Grace: Go lay down. You go lay down, MF-er. Always telling me what to do. Why don't you go lay your @$$ down. [additional expletive]
Me: [grateful to unload & reload dishwasher in peace without worry of tripping over large sensitive dog]
Of course, Grace can't talk really. She doesn't tap her paws to communicate. Once for 'yes' & twice for 'no'. She hasn't learned to draw letters in the nap of the carpet. If that we're possible, then the word 'treat' would be scrawled across the floor and 'gimme treat' would be scratched into the pantry door.
Grace can be subtle by sitting in front of the pantry or guiding the humans to the door with a flirtatious bark. I love the bark & look around as if to see how effective her method of persuasion is. Cause & effect. Research for future treat getting times.
Grace relies upon patterns, the light of the sun, and other clues to know my next move and what she thinks is supposed to happen, i.e. treat time.
So until she masters doggy sign language or the ability to cuss for real, Grace must pray that the humans will comply with her wishes. Although she mostly complies with my commands I feel certain her defiance is accompanied by colorful language and sharp retorts.
(Atlanta - February 6, 2013 13:59)
It's truly a southern example of hospitality that greets patrons at the Chick-fil-A on Howell Mill in Buckhead. Miss Linda floats around to the tables and booths to make sure everyone has plenty of lemonade, yum and sweet tea. You almost hate to bother Miss Linda but she enjoys making sure all of her guests have full cups and clean tables.
From my downtown office at the courthouse, I drive about four miles on the interstate and bypass the CFA at CNN to come to this pleasant establishment. On a sunny day or any, it is nice to decompress after a day of crisis management.
Saturday during my excursion to the local Costco, I decided to buy a giant rotisserie chicken. As a single person, I fear that some of this bird is going to waste although I plan to have chicken & rice, chicken salad, chicken sandwiches, chicken soup(?). You get the idea. I can eat from this one chicken all week until I cluck to work.
Costco must do something special to these chickens to make them so large.
Wish me luck!
1. Sequester & banks sparingly paying out to customers from a tapestry sack
2. Going home to TX with an old friend from work I barely know & haven't seen in years. Meeting his mom & hearing about simple things she did to comfort him as a little boy.
3. Can't remember right now