The word well, which sometimes has a limited reserve to begin with, was tapped dry early. Today’s depletion was not due to grand and philosophical writings or grandiloquent musings. It was a small number of words, repeated over and over with the cumulative draining effect. These included:
- Who wants to go out? Let’s go potty! (Approximately 1,250 times.)
- Good boy, [Boo, Bubba, Bubs] now go lay down.
- Such a good boy!
- What’s up [Boo, Buddy, Bubba]?
- Good job Winnie, now lay down and stop barking. (After each of 100 incidences of sounding the alarm at some mysterious thing outside.)
- Hyvä poika! ("Good boy", in Finnish. And me being braggadocious.)
Yes, the dogs have multiple names, but calling them "Boo" or "Bubba" leaves me feeling less guilty than calling them by the wrong name and then wondering why there is no response. They know their names. And they know when I screw them up.
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| Two against one. |
The two adorable aging and exhausting pups usually give each other wide berth. At night, they might accidentally end up sleeping close to each other on the couch or in bed, and once they realize it, they growl and scramble to create a healthy distance.
During the day they stake out turf in separate rooms or separate areas of the same room. Then, on some signal not perceived by humans, they'll suddenly look at each other, and be side by side, staring at me. A silent communication passes between them and you can feel the energy shift. Then, they give me “the face.” The irresistible face that turns me to putty and has me handing them biscuits or zucchini, blueberries, the keys to the car, my credit card numbers for more biscuits, whatever. When it’s one dog giving the face, it’s adorable. When it’s both, I don’t stand a chance.
This is what I’m up against. No wonder I’m tired.
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