The Decompression of a Boomer

I’ve spent a lot of time in the house these past four weeks, keeping Megan company while she’s in her two casts. We’ve done okay. Pretty well, actually. I’m trying to read more, write, dream …

However, quite often as I’m settling in my chair to read or relax, I’ll get distracted by something, like the furniture arrangement across the room –

which just doesn’t look right, and I’m compelled to get up and rearrange it.

Then some other form of bad feng shui catches my eye, like this scene in the same formal living room:

That sharp purple corner of Megan’s bed sheet is emitting poison arrows which look to be shooting into the carpet, but in reality, the arrows are ricocheting off the carpet through the air toward my face. Bad feng shui! Bad energy! I must tuck that in.

However, whether minor or major, most distractions at home seem to involve our dog, Rudy.

For starters, I’ll be at the kitchen table trying to read when there he is at the back door, wanting in:

I don’t even recall letting him out. But I get up and let him in. Three minutes later, he wants out:

and back in.

I get up and let him in again. And try to ignore him. But it’s impossible. Because he’s bored. And hyper-energetic – he hasn’t been getting his walks. What Rudy needs is vigorous extended play with his ‘punky-monkey.’

Except a few weeks back, while I wasn’t looking, he ripped his punky monkey apart and de-stuffed it all over the house. I gradually collected all the scattered bits of white stuffing into a bag and shoved it and the limp monkey into the buffet. Well maybe now it was worth putting the thing back together. After all, this house confinement has been hard on the dog.

So I pulled the stuff out of the buffet and set it on the kitchen table. Was it really worth the effort to put the punky monkey back together?:

I had a little coaxing from the dog:

Off he goes!

He loves his punky monkey!

Hump the monkey!

This helps him compensate for the problem he has with our cat Tee-Box –

who dominates him, posing as ‘evil kitty’ daunting Rudy to just try and pass him on the stairs.

Which, overall, can be a good thing. Because Rudy is liable to get into something when he knows we’re not looking. Like the upstairs bathroom trash. He knows he’s being bad. He’ll sneak up to the trash bin and snatch the largest and most disgusting thing he can find and race into our bedroom with it and and dive under our bed

for a private chew fest. He’s in heaven here and I’m on my knees cleaning up his mess.

He’s humping his punky monkey again, mostly to raise his alpha index:

Uh oh! Punky monkey is giving out again.

There is only so much abuse a little stuffed monkey can take. It’s back to the clinic for the punky monkey.

No problem because Rudy has a second-favorite monkey, his “new monkey.” He has found it now.

Throw the monkey!

Which, I do, of course. Wish I could throw it five blocks.

Because, sure enough, he’s right back with it. I’ll throw it again. Anything to wear him out.

Oh no!!

Poor new monkey is nearly ripped to shreds. It’s off to the clinic for him too.

Luckily, David is home now and can take the dog for a walk.

In the Idaho spring arctic temperatures.

Hooray! The dog is finally worn out.

Okay, so we are too.

It’s a new day.

Here we go again.

Ah! Except we have invited Rudy’s girlfriend “LA” over to play with him.

She’ll wear him down!

I may not be writing a novel, but at least maybe now I can grab a few minutes upstairs on the computer to write on my blog.

Oh! I’ve just received a text message from Megan, from her recliner downstairs in the den:

“Rudy wants in.”

What? Dang! You’re kidding.

I pull myself away from the computer to go down there and see for myself:

Rudy and Little Angel are wanting in all right. Well, I surely don’t remember letting them out.

Tags: family dog

This entry was posted on April 5, 2010 at 9:37 pm and is filed under pets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.