without our animals?
Pet Day. Ahhhh, I've been looking forward to this one. I'm one of those pet people. Well, that's an understatement. I don't think I've gone a day in my life without a pet at home. Even while away at college, I had a full fishbowl.
Hopefully, you'll remember my post on the passing of my beloved 13-year-old cat, Snowball, only two weeks ago. I'm still very sad about it. I even find myself calling her name - just because. My little Rosie, (see below) has been melancholy, as well. The night before Snowball died, Rosie could sense something was terribly wrong. She put her little head only an inch away from Snowball's and laid down right next to her. Rosie never left Snowball's side the whole night. It was one of the most precious, tender acts of love I've ever experienced.
And thank God for Rosie. She lifts my spirits. Rosie's a fireball - energetic and full of herself. She's hilarious, really. A feisty little thing, my Rosie or Rosebud as I frequently call her, is a natural born comedian and has no idea of her comedic talent. After she's been lying down for awhile, her beard gets smashed to one side and stays that way until she shakes herself out. She's sneaky, too. Since she lived with a cat for the last two years, she fancies herself a feline. Rosie thinks nothing of getting up on the counter (when I'm not looking of course) and as soon as she hears my footsteps, she scrambles to get down and all I hear is a big thump on the kitchen floor. When I walk in, she struts over to her water bowl acting as if she's as innocent as the day she was born.
I can't trust her with an open coffee cup, either. If I leave the room - only for a second - I return to an empty cup and Rosie licking her lips. She looks up at me like, "What?"
Rosie goes ballistic when I come home. Jumping all over me, and three feet off the ground, she turns into a little show-off. She walks all the way across the floor on her back legs and twirls around in hopes of a snagging a good treat. When my next-door neighbor, Kathy, comes over Rosie gets so excited she starts running all over the house. Up on the couch, down the hall, up onto my bed, and back again. I'll open the patio door and she leaps off the top step and starts racing around the yard in figure eights. I call it her greyhound run.
My novel, Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter, stars a 14-year-old Yorkie by the name of Princess Grace Kelly or Gracie, for short. Gracie gets herself into all kinds of trouble, like pooping in the dining room of Leelee's crowded Vermont inn.
Animals sure do make the whole world a lot sweeter - and funnier. Please feel free to reply with your own animal anecdotes! I'm sure we'd all love to hear them.