So I am up at some ungodly hour for the second time this week, but for different reasons. Yesterday Johanna came in crying at 6 a.m. and crawled into bed with us--she'd dreamed that Eric and I left her and Abby on a picnic table with one raspberry while we went to fight in a war. The girls could hear the fighting from the table, so they went to the car and locked the doors and closed the curtains. (Our car has curtains in the dreamworld, I guess.) I tried to tell her, as I wiped those little tears, that I would NEVER leave her, I would ALWAYS protect her, and that we are blessed not to live somewhere that war touches us intimately. She just kept crying and declared she didn't want to talk about it anymore.
Good lord, people. These war dreams are heartbreaking and I have no idea what to do about them, assuming there's anything I could do.
My poor, poor baby.
This morning I woke up at 6 with Eric's alarm, and figured I may as well get up (and even dressed, although it's just in the tank top I slept in and a pair of slacks that I somehow stained and haven't gotten around to making into shorts or capri pants yet. Hey, first thing I grabbed) and take the dog outside to do her business.
What's that, you say? We don't have a dog?
Let me introduce Lucy:
And also, you're totally right. We don't have a dog. Lucy is on loan, so to speak, while her owners are on vacation. Lucy is eight (although she wasn't supposed to live past five, apparently) and totally blind. Well, maybe she can see light and dark because she spends a lot of time looking at the light, and when we took her out last night she was way more careful going down the steps than she had been in the afternoon. I can't remember the breed, but she is one laid back chick. Low energy is just what we like around here, so that's working out fine, although I must admit having a dog three years past her sell by date is nerve wracking. I am not kidding, last night we all prayed that Lucy would survive her stay with us.
The cats are f.r.e.a.k.i.n.g.o.u.t. Which is sort of hilarious because the dog can't even see you, cats! She doesn't care what you're doing. Skilly is getting braver, but still, he spent all day yesterday in our bedroom, sneaking out occasionally for food and water and litter box access. Madie we're just keeping outside because she put a claw into Lucy (literally, it stuck in her poor nose) when Lucy came for an introductory visit last month. Poor Lucy was shaking and upset, and Madie unrepentant. Well, Madie is like that with everyone, Lucy, so don't take it personally.
Johanna followed Lucy around yesterday, interviewing her about what she likes about being a dog, and then making observations into her notebook. Abby was stressed out when I came home from work and needed a doggy break because she'd spent the day looking at Lucy making sure she didn't die.
Anyway, though, since I'm up anyway I thought I'd take on Lucy duty. She was ever so happy to see me. We went out, we came back in, and as I was making my coffee she stood by her dish ever so expectantly. Abby is technically the one with the doggy responsibility, but I was all like, is this the routine, Luce? And fed her anyway. Because we won't see Abby this morning until after nine, I can guarantee you that.
So now I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and listening to Lucy snore as she takes her first nap of the day (she sleeps A LOT) and wondering how it came to be that I'm writing about our loaner dog when I meant to write about the little camping trip we took last week.
Words are interesting like that.
Miracle Legion, Out to Play. Because I love this song. I could quote the whole thing. But also: I get nervous when Lucy is out to play.