Everyone’s worried about the recession. And I’ll concede sure, I’m one of those as well. However, I’m also worried about another “r” word – regression. Just look at this mess. Disaster! You can’t see how the shreds went from one end of my long hallway to the other and also managed to be in other such locations as Dixie’s beard itself. Grrrrrrr.
Dixie’s face wilted as I walked in, put up my coat on the hook, shook my head at her, and went to shoving the shreddings into my dust bin. I heard a dull roar followed by a louder “RUFF!”, as if to say “hey hey, um hello, look at me!”. I shook my head again at her and said several loud sharp no no no’s, pointing at the mess strewn about. She just shrunk further back into the futon, quietly waiting to see when and if I’d come over to her.
After cleaning up, I calmly sat down and ate my salad. I’m learning that Dixie’s increased jumping capabilities are negating the presence for me of ANY form of safe table for eating. I’ve been eating at my computer table, but Dixie can now hop up on the seat even when it’s up at it’s highest position. When she hopped up, she got another “no” and was plopped down to the ground.
By the time I finished eating and turned around to acknowledge her, she looked mortified that I was not going to speak to her again. This is where I *want* to cave. To give her a big big hug and attention. I held back though. Played with her a little bit, but definitely didn’t give her any excuse to think there was any upside to that foolishness.
I think this is the universe’s way for trying to scold me for getting that fabulous new dress at Anthropologie but you know what? ISN’T WORKING. Cause the dress is too amazing. I’m not accepting any shame. Nyah.