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Sunday, July 1, 2012

Adventures in Dog-Sitting

I am currently dogsitting one of my favorite canines. I just happen to be one of his favorite humans, so we are well matched. Bowie even has his own name for me. In his eyes, I am MyKatrina. When I come over, he scampers around to show his excitement. "MyKatrina is here, MyKatrina is here!" Then we go through our routine of me letting him out and petting him in the yard, and him coming back in and seeing if I will put something in his food dish.

Bozilla reminds me of the dog in the Mayhem commercial. When anyone comes to his house, they are, of course, coming to see him. He has never met a stranger, and loves to welcome people into his home. I have often joked that if anyone unsavory ever came into the house, he would be a very gracious host and make sure they knew where all of the valuable items were kept, followed by a request for a treat. You see, he is a lover and not a biter. But that's okay. I am not worried, because I know that I am here to protect him. Actually, I am sure if anyone did any of his humans any harm, he would release his inner wolf and chew them to bits. Well, I can dream, can't I?

Here's how a typical day with the Boze-monster goes. In the early hours of the morning, 7:30 at the latest, Bowie lays his head on me to let me know that I need to get up. It isn't because he wants to go out and answer nature's call, it is because he is so weak from hunger that he can't hold his own head up any more. Even though he is eager to eat, he wants to have a good-morning pet and scratch. It is amazing to me that a dog in the throes of starvation can force himself to wait for twenty minutes and still be kind enough to turn and move so that I am able to reach every part of his back and neck.

After his breakfast, he keeps an eye out to see what MyKatrina is going to be eating. Because if there is anything that goes well with food, it is more food! Then we settle in to do whatever is on the agenda for the day. I might read or watch a movie or get on the computer. Bowie catches up on his sleep. Although he is a good, sound sleeper, somehow the sound of the fridge door will always get him up. Usually at about mid-morning, he has his singing lesson. I play some notes on the piano, and he releases his inner wolf and lets him howl.

Bowie is fed twice a day, and I suspect that he figures he can fool all humans into thinking they cannot tell time. A couple of hours before his set mealtime, he will engage in what I call showing off. He will fling himself around the family room, barking loudly and wagging his tail. "I'm so darn cute and funny! You've got to feed me. Nobody could resist anything this cute!" When that doesn't work, he goes into the kitchen and uses his paw to drag his food bowl around just in case we are too dense to know what he is talking about. After dinner and some relaxation, his soft snores lure me to sleep, and I rest up for the next day's adventures in dog-sitting. I know we will both have a good time.