Thursday, April 30, 2009

Animal Life

As promised, here's a picture of our new addition, Spokey (left)--a five-year-old toy fox terrier. He's standing with Max, our five-year-old Pomeranian mix, who has been in our lives for about three years. This makes dog number three. Our other pup is 13-year-old Rozzie, a Border Collie mix who is very sweet but super-sensitive. When we bring out the camera she slinks away, so we have to do things like pet her and speak softly to her to get a decent picture.

It's too cute how side-by-side, Spokey looks like Rozzie's Mini-Me. We'll have to get a picture of that if we can get Rozzie to go for it.

Even though I was excited about Spokey joining our lives, I was a little nervous, too. Nervous about the adjustment phase. Nervous about the added responsibility.

I needn't have been. Spokey is pure joy. He easily joined the pack. He's very playful but not over-excitable. He loves walking with us. He sleeps with the other dogs on their beds. He climbs on my lap, my legs while I'm seated, the back of my chair, just to hang out with me. At about six pounds, he's even smaller than our cat, Emily.

Speaking of Emily, this morning while I was in the living room, I heard a ruckus. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that Emily had some kind of little being in her mouth. We got Emily as a kitten 15 years ago, and have had to contend with her hunterly ways over the years. We've encountered all kinds of rodent and bird body parts in the bathroom and kitchen that she has proudly displayed for us.

Once, about eight years ago when we were living in Seattle, we came home to find blood streaked on the inside windows and feathers scattered under the dining room table. We sleuthed through the house, nervous about what we'd find. When I opened the door to the guest room, a large starling burst out into the living room. We opened the front door and it flew out.

Today there was a similar happy ending. I grabbed Emily, she dropped from her mouth what turned out to be a tiny brown bird (which may have been a baby), and it flew out the back door. No blood, no feathers, just a little bird poop on the windowsill.

In human years, Emily is a senior citizen. But obviously she's raging against the dying of the light.

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