This is Peter. He’s at ease with statues, cats, and graduate students (unless they have facial piercings), but he’s unsure about entering a house where dogs live. He says that dogs are like four-year-old humans—attention seekers, snack gobblers, man trippers, and, well, just plain exhausting.
On the basis of such timidity, such angst, such energy-draining anticipation, you have to give him credit for visiting at all. But, visit he did.
At first, he sat in the sunroom with his new-found friends, the statues (see the picture). He gazed into their eyes; they gazed into his. All was right with Peter’s world. Shane and I knew right away that he wasn’t interested in us, so we left him be.
Well, after an hour of eating veggie burgers, spooning smoothies, and arguing with Joan about the nature of pretense, Gnosticism’s influence on medieval literature, and the speed of the sunroom fan, he actually thought he’d like to make a friendly gesture toward me and Shane. In other words, just like a man, as soon as he realized we weren’t interested in joining his anti-dog, pro-cat cha-cha-cha, he was ready and eager to have his portrait done with us. And here we are, a happy trio. Yup. We win them over every time.
Best wishes, Juno
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