February 19, 2010

White Dog and I decided that this afternoon was the perfect time for a Pity Party...it was grey...everyone around us was crabby...a hundred cats paraded up and down the street just out of reach and hearing...the computer printer died...AND it was Steve's late night. She put on her black and white Hana necklace and I wrapped a flowing black scarf around my neck. Then we followed Adam's sure fire cure for feeling sorry for yourself.

We sat on the foot of the bed side by side. I dramatically tossed the end of scarf over my shoulder; White Dog shook her fluff. I put my arm across my forehead and with a flourish cried, "Woe is me! The world is against me!" and I fell back onto the bed. White Dog yipped her woes and played "Dead Dog." We waited. Nothing. So we tried again.

This time White Dog rolled out of position and licked my face. I scratched her ears. She grabbed my scarf and pulled. I rolled her over and gave a belly rub. Suddenly, we were playing. We were happy and the woes were forgotten. She jumped down and grabbed Gotcha Chimp and we wrestled for control of the stuffie. White Dog dove under the blankets with him and dared me to "get her." After a while, we just lay on the pillows in the tangled blankets and watched the bamboo swaying in the yard, once again in balance...and for the moment quite content in the warm feeling of laying curled together.