As you know, I have two dogs (I’ve written about them before and their penchant for insisting that I play/pet them when I’m trying to write). Actually, they’re not really dogs (at least they don’t think they are). They are furry, four-legged reminders that my life belongs to them and not the other way around. Still, I love them!I have a doggy door, which is a necessity, in my opinion (otherwise, I’d never get a word written….I need to go out, I need to come in. Yes, I know I just came in but I really need to go out again...hence the doggy door).
So, I’m sitting here writing (or trying to) and I can hear my younger girl, Schatzie, running (like the puppy she still thinks she is) from one end of the house to the other, slide on the linoleum and barge through the doggy door like her tail is on fire. Thwap, thwap, as the door opens and closes…..bark, bark, bark then thwap, thwap as the door opens and closes again. Inside. Outside. Repeat.
It’s like the
500! Oh, and she’s bringing all her toys outside, too! Indianapolis
My older girl, Daisy, does not run in and out of the house like this. She’s much more dignified. No, what Daisy likes to do is stand with her nose outside and her tail end in the kitchen and look outside with the door open. Oddly, this made me think of my mother (I know, how weird is that!?!?!)
Now, my mother, never once in all her days, stood in a doggy door, half in the house, half out, but I can hear her voice clearly saying to us kids when we had the front door wide open: “In or out! I’m not heating (or cooling) Bloomingdale.”What’s funny is that I say this all the time. To the dogs! Actually, I say a lot of the things my mother used to say. “Don’t borrow trouble” and “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady!” (yes, she said this to me ALL THE TIME) but my favorite ‘momism’ (and I used this on my son when he was young.): “Because I’m your mother and I said so!” Hey, it worked although it was a little frightening when this phrase came out of my mouth the very first time…in her voice!
But I digress….I was thinking about my mother. She was not a big reader, probably because she couldn’t see well, but she would read to me when I was young. Our favorite book? The Chosen Baby (many of you may not know that I was adopted at the age of 5 days…the book was a gift that explained the adoption process so a child, like me when I was a little, could understand).
My mother is gone now, but I still have that book and I can still hear her voice. “Hey, in or out! I’m not cooling
As always, happy reading (and remembering)!Marie
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