Nerves and Vantage Points

Shane is nervous; I have allergies. And we contend with it all without lament.

From this spot on the couch, I watch Joan typing away in the computer room, her back to me, her mind all caught up in some story—real, not real; it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I can see her, but she can’t see me. I like that.

Now, Shane gets all upset when Joan can’t see him. He rises up on his haunches and pants in his nervous way, hoping she’ll turn around and tell him everything’s okay. And once in a while, she does just that, and she looks at me with a little smile, knowing that I know how things are with nervous dogs, knowing that I like my private vantage point.

When I get sleepy, I get off the couch—which is officially banned for dog use, but somehow we get away with it, which is due to our huge cute factor, something many humans have a hard time resisting.

As I was about to say, I prefer to sleep in my own dog bed in Joan’s bedroom. Somehow, when the lights go out, and there’s nothing to look at, the couch is but a lonely perch, and I am but a lonely dog. And then it’s off to bed until the light of day coaxes us back into the real world of daydreams and little romps with creativity.

Best wishes, Juno