REGGIE

Reggie was a friend and near-relation I never got to meet. She was in charge of a household in California, the one containing my cousins, Willa and Talia. We made cyber-acquaintance when she contributed to my blog on a post about the girls' visit here in North Carolina. I think she appreciated that while they were out of her sight, there was a dedicated dog on the job, looking after their interests. I couldn't really substitute for the attention Reggie would have given, but I did lick and paw and jump on them. It is possible that in our brief time together, the girls came to appreciate Reggie more than ever.

MB knew Reggie and visited her a couple of times in Los Angeles. She said it was an honor to rub Reggie's tummy, and that giving Reg' strokes and tummy-rubs was a tonic for homesickness.

This post is to salute Reggie, who has passed on to more ethereal responsibilities. MB and I are very sad about her departure, but we will remember her with affection and respect.

P. S. This is a picture of Reggie scratching her back on the grass. It is not, contrary to some viewer suggestions, a picture of her in her last moments, or after her last moment.

Eighty-something in early March

What gives? It was practically hot today. In fact, if I had been exerting myself the way MB and Clem were, it would have been almost uncomfortable. MB swept, dusted, even scrubbed (though not so much that anyone would notice), and Clem was sorting rocks from the clay of the flower bed in the front yard. I guess it's a flower bed. MB came out and looked at it and said it used to be a berm against water erosion. Clem says it will still be a berm, but it's looking a little flat now. We haven't had much rain lately, anyway.

I did my part. Clem says he thinks I could get as far as Singapore if I keep at it with my new hole. I've found that I can actually use my head against an interior wall of the hole to get traction for deeper and more forceful digging. Also, I like the cool of the mud that is pressed into my forehead and nose when I do this. MB looked at me and shouted in astonishment at the progress I was able to make with this new maneuver.

They gave me my inaugural Spring bath and it isn't even Spring yet.

MB warmed the bath with jugs full of hot water from the sink mixed with hose water. It felt great when she rubbed under my toes and between my pads with that warm soapy water. The water turned the orange-red of the clay from my Singapore portal. They dumped it out across the concrete and it ran into the backyard. I can't wait to meet that mud when Clem throws the ball for me after supper. When it came time for rinsing they didn't bother with temperature adjustments -- just sprayed me down straight from the hose. YEEEOOOOWSAH~ The air was hot but the water was still plenty cold. They pulled me out of the tub, and MB wrapped me with a towel and held me close to dry me off. MB has her faults, but when she holds me on my back on her lap and rubs my feet and belly and chest up and down and back and forth, I find myself thinking that my lot in life is not all bad. Later, after I've been fed and played ball with Clem, she'll comb me and talk about what a good boy I am.

They seem to have exhausted themselves. Clem has Santana on the CD and he and MB are puttering on their computers. I'm licking MB's sandals, which taste so good I don't understand why she and Clem never lick their footwear.

This is the perfect snooze time. My eyes are feeling heavy and the smell of MB's feet is mixing with that of my wet fur for a lullaby of scent. When I wake up it will be time for supper.

What a beautiful Sunday.

Clem shakes his head

I asked Clem for his input on this whole, "Lokey has been indiscreet and heads could roll (or at least spin like Linda Blair's)" thing. He told me he had his own reservations about that entry himself, but added "I know the players," and concluded that there were so many, many other opportunities that MB had presented to past, present and future employers, co-workers, friends, acquaintances, neighbors, fellow shoppers, clerks, pedestrians, drivers, health care professionals, and other citizens of earth for objecting to her actions, words, thoughts and existence, that my humble blog observations have little chance of making an impression.

March wanders in

March has wandered in with shuffling feet and limp-wristed salutes. This winter, there has been no ice, no snow, no pine limbs crashing into the yard or onto the house. December, January, February, mild, apologetic and ineffectual. And now here's March, all friendly and under-stated.

MB took the day off from work to get a head start on weekend chores. It didn't work out. I knew it wouldn't. We kept finding errands to stall us from home activities. I was glad to accompany MB on what were clearly unnecessary errands; I think we both got more pleasure out of riding around together in the car than we would have if MB had chosen to dust or sweep. Besides, as MB likes to point out, any shopping trip that results in no purchases is a successful shopping trip.

Toward the end of the day she called the office to find out who was there. Usually there's no one there on a Friday afternoon who would object to my presence -- and that was the case today. So off we went. MB had gotten into a plant-care mode and had a new batch of fertilizer she just had to spread.

We didn't realize that the receptionist had also counted on the absence of anyone who would care about a dog's visit, and had brought her own inferior mutt in. When MB threw the football down the hall, I took a detour for the yapping yorkie-poo, or whatever he is, and of course the receptionist over-reacted. She snatched the mongrel up in her arms, gave me a terrible glare and stormed off to stash him in her car. MB said we taught her an important lesson about bringing her non-neutered dog to work. Exactly. What was he doing there?

It was late in the afternoon, and there wasn't much time to kill. MB watered and fertilized and misted and shifted the plants and we left.

MB was really excited to see a letter from her Dad awaiting our return home. She refused to read it aloud but I gave it a glance when she was distracted in the kitchen.

Oh, everyone's a critic, but in the face of objections, warnings and literary quibbles, I stand on all fours and count myself lucky for a thick skull and a double-coat of fur. I will add that I've been to MB's office and I've smelled her co-workers' desks, fingers and groins. It is thus with some authority that I can assure the fretful reader that there's nothing in my blog that poses a threat to anyone's emotional well-being, job security or career options.

It does matter to me, after all, that MB continue to keep me in biscuits and filtered water. I've asked her to be mindful of my interests as she makes choices, and she has assured me that she will.