Saki: Pen Eater

At least he didn't eat the wires—this time.

Saki eats whatever’s available. A sock, a couch, a banana, a pen. He doesn’t distinguish. It’s all good. See those paw prints on the floor? Those are Saki prints left over from his pen-eating endeavor. We all thought he was chewing on one of his toys—of which he has like one hundred, or maybe just ten. But, all the time, he was sitting under Joan’s computer desk—chomp, chomp, chomp—chewing on a black fine-point Uniball pen, dribbling ink all over his front paws, turning his tongue an unsightly somewhat Chow-Chow gray, looking very cute, looking like a little doggy angel who could do no wrong.

A long bath ensued. Then came the blow-drying, the tub scrubbing, and the ink removal. He still doesn’t get it. A toy, a pen, a ball, a tree, a chair leg—it’s all within the realm of juicy eating possibilities.

I marvel at the way the world itself is Saki’s silver lining. It's a special talent, I guess.

Best wishes, Juno

Reaching 116 (pounds)

I’m still recovering from Thursday. Joan comes in from work, sniffs me, chucks me under the chin, and announces it’s time for a bath. I’m quite dutiful about stepping into the tub and wonder if she realizes that I have the power to refuse. She’d never be able to lift me. Yet, I’m silent on this matter.

Well, after the bath I underwent the usual fluffing with the hairdryer, the fifty towels trying to absorb leftover moisture, the remarks about the flying fur. But, then came the surprise trip to the Babylon Animal Hospital where I was scheduled to undergo my annual ordeal of poking and prying by the vet. Shane came along for the ride, and he did his usual growling behind his muzzle, scaring the personnel—and you’d think they’d be used to nervous dogs by now. I mean, not everyone can be even tempered like I am.

Saki stayed behind with Shana, and it’s just as well, because we did a lot of waiting around, and I think Saki would have driven everyone a little mad with his abundance of energy.

But, here’s the real news. Remember how I used to be called words related to “plump”? (If not, you can read about it here.) Well, I’ll have you all know that I’ve lost my baby fat and now weigh only 116 pounds! That’s ten pounds less than Shane! What with bikini season another seven months away, who knows what possibilities lie in my future!

Best wishes, Juno

Brrrrr!

Brrrrrrr. Love it. Joan’s thinks that if she’s cold, I must be cold, too. But, it’s not so. Give me your chilly whipping wind from the North, a blast of Antarctica, a big splash of rain from what’s left of the Polar Caps. Yeah. Cold rain and ice are my solace.

Best wishes, Juno

Memories of Summer (we'll get a picture of the cat when health permits)

I haven’t left the yard for days. Joan’s fault. Something about the flu. But, it’s okay since there’s enough activity to keep my interest—that huge striped cat for example. She teases me, entices me, intrigues me with her great balloon of a belly and the way she struts along the chain-link fence acting as though she owns that particular strip of grass, as though she owns the air we breathe.

I admire her audacity. I like the way she doesn’t try to act like Saki or Shane. She’s her own cat. Sometimes I sit in the corner of the yard, and that cat sits on top of the fence and stares at me. We have a silent agreement—she doesn’t jump on my head; I don’t bark.

Best wishes, Juno

Old Age So Far

November has been perfect so far. Warm outside weather—even the cool weather is warm as long as the sun shines. I’m easing into old age with great aplomb. No complaints, no regrets, no nightmarish reminiscences, no wish-I-hads. Shane’s like me in this respect. We don’t lament the passing of time like humans do; we just make note of the breezes, the storms, the springing up of flowers in the spring and falling of leaves in the fall. And, it just is.

I tried to walk the entire way around the block today, but someone in the distance was hammering. It sounded like anger, like gunshots; it just ruined my equilibrium. So, we turned around and came home.

And so here I sit. I note the leaves rushing down the street and wonder if they know why they hurry or even know where they’ll end up.

Overnight, everything looks like autumn—the clouds are thin, the leaves suddenly yellow and red, the air clear and dry. Oh, and the ice-cream truck comes no more down the block playing that silly little tune. Ish is still imprisoned in the backyard, the people still yell at one another, the cars still speed by.

Somehow, though, it’s just a lot more peaceful.

Best wishes, Juno