Here I am at work with my faithful dog by my side. That's a nice compelling image, isn't it? A support dog, leading you through your day on the job - like the dogs who weave their sightless owners through complicated traffic patterns. Bolstering your fallen spirits when the day grows long. Perhaps helping you with that pesky press release by barking out some creative phrases.
Except it's more like a day of All Dog Nose, All The Time.
She's a little more overwhelmed by the office than I thought she would be. So instead of sitting on her bed with a dopey grin like she normally does, she scoots her big clumsy dog body under my desk and sits with her face pressed against my lap. Her wet, clammy, rubbery-nosed face.
Actually, as I type this, she is now lying on her blanket a few blessed feet away, where I hope she remains. It's a little too cramped to have her wedged up against me, plus I'm terrified I will roll over one of her paws with the wheels on my chair. It's also nice to have her be visible to my coworkers, who otherwise look in the empty office and wonder why the hell I have a kiddie gate in my doorway.
Oh, the kiddie gate? It's there to separate Dog from the office cats. But it's also been so amusing that I wish I would have installed in weeks ago, just for kicks. It's high enough that it's really difficult to step over - it's a lot easier to just push it aside. But NO ONE does. They ALL try to step over it. And everyone, except for one of our really tall engineers, has a brief moment of panic midway across when they realize the gate is going to wang them in the crotch if they don't do a little ungainly hop.
The last couple nights JB and I have let Dog sleep on the bed. In the wee hours of the today's morning I decided that was something we didn't need to perpetuate. Not only will it eventually result in layers of fur several feet deep on our comforter, but I simply cannot deal with the sound of a dog licking itself when I'm trying to sleep.
Me (just falling off into a wonderful dream about Nicholas Cage and pistachio ice cream): "Ahhh."
Dog: SHLUP. SHLUP. SHLUP. SHLUP. SHLUUUUUUUP.
Me: Dog? Dog. Good girl. Stop slurping. Go to sleep. Good girl.
Plus, the cat is usually the one who takes over the bed. She's been going out at night lately; JB maintains that she goes across the street to hang out with the neighbor's cat under their bushes. He says there is a Cat Bar & Grill over there. Ha ha! That's crazy! Everyone knows cats prefer cocktail lounges!
The cat seems to slowly be adjusting to the dog. She doesn't puff up anymore, just stares for a while before she flips us the bird and heads off to power-shed on something. Yeah, she's disgusted with us.
(And now - we float forwards, gently, through time....from Thursday to Friday, because I was too lazy to finish this entry yesterday.)
Tonight JB and I are going to see Chris Isaak perform at Seattle's Summer Nights at the Pier. I plan to screech like it's Beatlemania and maybe toss my panties up on stage. At least, that's what JB thinks I'm going to do. He's asked like fifty times if I don't have a girlfriend I could take to this concert instead. When I say I could probably find someone, he then retracts and claims he *does* want to go. Men. I swear, and they say women are confusing?
Have you been to 12 Percent Beer? You should, because despite the fact that I am linked on there, you can find some really great journal writers. Funny shit, seriously. So CuppaJoe, who runs 12percentbeer, arranged for the talented Mangus to create drawings of the journallers. Check out this page. Can you guess which one is me? Can you? Can you?
Did you guess yet?
Ok, you can see it here. How crazy is that, a drawing of my face. The last time someone drew me I was maybe 8, I was in Disney World, and the guy drew a hideous caricature of me holding a tennis racket, despite the fact that I didn't play tennis. I swear the same thing happened to Lisa on a Simpsons episode.
Did you take my stupid survey yet? (Come on, even *JB* took it.) I'll guess I'll forgive you if you don't, though. You kind of have to be in the mood for those things.
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004