Doggy telepathy, right?
Obviously, Ruby can see me sit down. Get comfortable. Open the computer on my lap. Start playing with it. But how does she know the exact moment when really, truly, I do not want to drop everything, get up, traipse across the house, open the back door, and let her out?
She does know. Absolutely.
And there will be no loafing for the human when this dawg is around. No chance!
Let her outside? Next chore is to wait around till she’s finished patrolling the backyard and then let her back in.
😀
Yuch! It is hot and wet out there. Not yet 9:30 and the weather is already ungodly. Way too hot and humid to leave the back door open so she can come back in at her whim.
The coyote issue is getting a bit more intense, too. As our local wild canids get more tame, I grow more reluctant to leave a 20-p0und corgi toddling around the backyard by herself, unobserved and unguarded.
****
Amusement 0f the day, later on, will be testing a new wine M’hijito showed up with. Uhm…make that “wine,” quote-marks included.
Understand: I have my main meal of the day between noon and 2:00 p.m. And because yes, I do like a glass of wine with a good meal, that is when I snort down my daily dose of what he regards as booze.
He gets all worried about this. Apparently he thinks I’m a lush, and that I’m swilling down half a bottle or more. Every day.
This is somewhat distant from the truth. Yes, I do snort down wine with lunch. I usually have a glass — at most a glass and a half — of wine with that mid-day meal.
Shocking, ain’t it?
This is a habit I picked up from an old boyfriend, a guy with European origins who did, indeed, start tippling his wine along about mid-day. Because…that was what his own people did.
Since it looked very much like I was going to marry this guy, “his own people” were fast evolving to become “my people.” And I wanted to fit in.
Lemme tellya: my parents about had 15 shit-fits.
Not that they didn’t drink themselves. They did, indeed. In fact, my father could (and did) brew his own.
Long story short: after some months, it became clear that if I married our guy, I would never see my parents again. They just hated the man, partly as a matter of racism and partly because they genuinely thought he was a jerk.
I deep-sixed that relationship…but did not deep-six the wine. 😀
And so, over the decades (and that’s what it’s been: decades), I’ve been in the habit of swilling a glass or two (or three…) of wine every day.
Shocking, eh?
Well, my son pretty much abhors this habit. And I will say…he probably has somethin’ there. It can’t be good for you to be gulping down a couple of glasses worth of wine every day.
No! Baaaaad basselope!
So I can’t get irked over his resentment of my swilling habits. But…neither do I feel much enthusiasm to knock them off…. 😀
He has tried to reform my evil ways. No luck, poor kid.
So now he’s found a new tack: deflect my boozing onto non-alcoholic booze!
Don’tcha love it?
Seriously, if this stuff is drinkable, you may be sure I’ll be switching over to it.
He just showed up with it a day ago, so I haven’t tried it yet. But this afternoon I will, with dinner. Should be innaresting to see (uhm…taste?) what happens.
{chortle!}
The real truth is, what I need to switch over to is iced tea. Or iced water.
This would require me to behave like a grown-up. And we know I have a moral objection to that, right?
😀