Friday, March 23, 2018

Silky is in her Terrible Twos. 
     I know this because sometimes she runs off in a mostly straight line away from me, and keeps on running even after she’s too far to hear me calling for her to stop, which is a very long ways. 
   I know this because sometimes she tears up the emergency potty pads, and then has her emergency on the wooden floor. 
     I know this because she chewed the shoe molding trying to catch a ladybird that was on the ceiling. 
     I know this because I’ve filled the very holes that I instructed her not to unfill at least twelve times in the past three days. 
     I know this because I have blankets now with fringes that didn’t have fringes before. 
     I know too, that if it weren’t for Silky's Terriffic Twos, I wouldn’t make it through her Terrible Twos, and I’ll tell you about those next, just to be fair. 

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

As you might have guessed, Silky grew. Upward first ...taller. Then longways. Then outward slightly. Then upward a little more, which was promising, but she began to grow outward again, steadily, until she was noticeably more round than she was tall and long, and it was suggested that she might have an 'issue', one that would require a drastic reduction in her much loved treats, and ice cream, and any sort of feed that is even mildly palatable to the most deprived of dogs, which clearly, Silky is not. 


Friday, January 5, 2018

These nights, so cold, I reach for Peter Pan, a lucky coin, deep in the warmth of my pocket.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

"There's a dog in the oven," Silky says. 
     She's standing at the oven's door, staring into its darkened glass behind which I know there resides only a thin cookie sheet and the cast iron skillet in which we make our breakfast. 
     "Silky," I say, seeing the sparkle of her eyes reflected in the glass. "It's you." 
     Silky is adamant. "No," she says, shaking her head, "There's a dog in the oven. I can see it." 
     "Silky," I say, "Wag your tail." 
     She does. 
     "Is the dog in the oven wagging it's tail?" I ask. 
     "Yes!" Silky says, "Yes!" 
    But it's clear that Silky believes that this is only some magical coincidence, and that she wants even more to let the dog inside  the oven come out so that the two of them can play. 
     "Silky," I ask, "Is the dog in the oven pretty?" 
     Silky studies her new friend. She tilts here head to the left and then to the right. "Oh yes," she replies. "The prettiest dog I've ever seen." 
     "Well that proves it then," I tell her, and come tap the nose in the glass. 
     And inside the oven, with the skillet and cookie sheet, happiness ignites on the face of the most beautiful girl in the world.


Sunday, November 5, 2017

This morning Silky did the Sun Salutation in its entirety ... using me as her yoga mat. 


Friday, November 3, 2017

When the squirrel that you stop for, holds up the acorn he was busy eating and motions for you to use the other lane and go on around ... you do exactly that. No questions asked. 


Tuesday, October 31, 2017

From Silky, I’ve learned that girls don’t like to be stuffed into sweaters like sausages, no matter how cold the morning, and that hearing that their tummies sound like ripe watermelons when patted, is best forgiven with ice cream. Plain vanilla.