“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 604 (Wednesday)

November pansies?

It was another nice weather day. This morning before leaving for work, I noticed a couple pansies still blooming in a flower bed. I don't get it, but I like it. Note to self: plant more pansies next spring.

During the afternoon, I managed to get out of the office-office for a few minutes to run an errand. The habitual speed walking pace got the errand done in about 15 minutes. If I didn’t always insist on walking a million miles an hour it could have been enjoyed longer, but old habits die hard. I find it nearly impossible to walk slowly. 

Winston seemed happy and bouncy when I got home tonight. It’s been a long time since he’s been that perky, and it was good to see him so lively. After a month of it, the routine for downtown office days seems to be set. First, there is the cleanup of the pile of doggy displeasure on the kitchen floor. Then, it’s a climb up the stairs to find my guy. He waits at the top of the staircase at the edge of the top step, wearing his fabric wrap with a #3 baby diaper in it. The diaper fabric turns to gel and expands when wet, so it’s usually heavy, and I think the weight of it not only slows him down, but would make it hard for him to navigate the stairs. 

He waits at the top of the stairs until I ascend, tell him what a good boy he is, rub his silky head, and liberate him from his pants. Then he makes his way down the stairs to the front door.

While Winston is outside, his dinner is prepared. Prescription formula kibble is measured. He has refused to eat it unless it is enhanced with canned food or pumpkin puree, either of which solves the problem. While he’s eating, it’s insulin time. 

He knows when I have food.

After his entree, Winston stands in the kitchen, halfway between the bathroom doorway and the office area. He taps his front paws on the wood floor in a pattern. One, two three. Rest. One, two, three. Rest. It’s really cute. He’s telling me we’re not done yet. He will do this for however long it takes me to get the hint and deliver his dessert – a bit of doggy biscuit. It works. He has me trained well.

The next phase in Operation Suppertime is sticking close to me while I eat, edging closer and closer, silently like a ninja, nose twitching. It’s clear he is hoping for a morsel. Depending upon the meal, it sometimes works, but it’s rare, because nearly everything I make starts with onion, which is tasty for me but toxic for dogs. While cooking my own food, I have considered making an onion free version for Winston, but it never happens. There is a limit to the doting.