Owned by Dog

There are times I say I own a dog. The reality is the opposite. I am here only to do her bidding. Lydia, the boxer, has pet names that run the gamut from Demon Dog to Lady Lydia. Today was one of those Lady Lydia days. I got up earlier than usual to write. It was a nice dream while it lasted. I sat at the computer desk -- then comes the nose. poke poke. Potty time. Oh no, don't tie me out, mom. I want to go over there where I can watch for the rabbit and the groundhog while I do my business. I can multitask. We come in. Open a document. Chin on the arm. I'm hungry now. I didn't care for the biscuits. Never mind that she has food on her plate. I had to find something that she would like -- an appetizer -- to toss on the plate so she would eat it AND the food. Look at the document I have open. Now we've moved to dancing in a circle and stomping her feet and snorting. This is urgent. Go to the door. Nope, she doesn't want tied out. Diesel, the dog across the back yard, is waiting for her. Off we go for our near daily visit to Diesel. Finally, she comes in and settles down. I have no idea why I was looking at the document. Just a typical day.