dog days

You’ve already been introduced to my dog, Miley. The other dog in this picture is Chamine, my daughter’s daughter. Yes, she calls her dog her daughter. I guess that makes her my grandchild. I was sort of hoping for my first grandchild to have a little hair, but really this is too much.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be a dog? I have sometimes wished that I was a dog. I mean here they are lounging their time away, not a care in the world, and I’m rushing about, doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, making dinner, you know, the like.

Sometimes they look so downright bored, I suggest to them that they learn to read. I tell them that the world opens up to you when you can read. They stare at me blankly, heads cocking back and forth, waiting for a word like, "treat," "walk," "go," "car ride," or "hungry?" to come out of my mouth. Then I suggest they develop a talent like playing the piano, dancing the tango, or whistling through their noses. Nothing. In desperation, I suggest if neither of those two are really great options for them, maybe they could take up a hobby, such as knitting, photography, beekeeping. Still the blank stares, heads cocking back and forth, and waiting on edge for a wonderful magic word that means something to them.

Yes, it would be very nice to be a dog. Sometimes, I really think I’d like that, but then I remember if you’re a dog you can’t read. They can keep their dog days, and I’ll keep my books, cuz after all, words really are magic.