My Turn

Jay here – today this is from me since Rusty’s the one who’s not feeling too well. Sorry if it’s not up to the usual standard, but he’s not here to dictate. I’m flying solo.

He’s been here about – what – eight weeks now? I confess, in that time I’ve grown quite fond of him. It’s nice to have the little fella here. After some of my recent struggles it is so very nice to have such a happy little distraction running around the place, and it is especially nice to come home from whatever I’m doing (a lot of painting lately) and to find Rusty at the top of the stairs up from the back door, wagging his little ass hard enough you might swear it would fall off! I haven’t had that for quite some time.

Of course, he’s a little bit of work, too – early mornings for poop patrol, for example. Pee parties, feedings, brushings, walkies and whotnot. Quite a lot of whatnot. I have a new-found respect for parents who struggle to work with their children, to educate them, to encourage them and to love them unconditionally as it should be. I also have greater disdain, since Rusty’s arrival, for people who commit to a puppy, or a kitten, or any kind of pet, with no real intention of doing what needs to be done to give it a good space to live. There are many homeless pets out there, but the pacification of a child or a momentary sense of loneliness is not a good enough reason to indulge. True commitment is an absolute must.

Anyway, back to Rusty. I was trying to figure out what was the problem yesterday. This is pretty much how the conversation went:

“Rusty! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Rowwarrwewr!”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Rrowwererer!”

“Does it hurt here?”

“Rrwwerr.”

“And here?”

“Rru.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Rrroowwwrrrr!!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“Rru.”

“What about some water?”

“Rrr. ZZZ zzz ZZZ zzz…”

That was about it. It’s hard to figure out what’s going on when the lines of communication are so limited. As you can see, he uses far more consonants than I.

Anyway, at time of printing he seems to be feeling somewhat better. He’s back to his good, old (read young), happy, complaining self. He went “pooky-pooky” at 515 this morning, but since then he’s been eating a little, playing a little, and talking a lot.

It’s nice to have him back.

J.

20120819-094410.jpg
Yesterday the toy box was more comfortable than the bed.

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About James McDonall

I believe in laughing, especially at yourself, and as often possible. I believe in "live and let live". I believe that communication is the foundation of all our solutions. I believe that listening is more important than speaking, and that speaking should serve the cause of listening. If you like my writing, I'm available for hire. Please send me an Email to discuss your project. View all posts by James McDonall

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