My time is short as I sort out
Because of the time situation, I am going to break with my tradition and only going to address one of the topics this week. But you should hurry over to Mama Kat's and join in the fun while I dredge yet more
4.) If your pet could talk, what would you want to know? (inspired by KK from Kamp KK (but not the KKK))
First off, i suspect Molly would take issue with the idea that she can't talk. After all, if someone can gaze at you with these guilt inducing peepers, how can you claim they can't talk?
In any case, here are three things I'd really appreciate Molly deigning to answer for me. It's not that I haven't asked her, it's more that I haven't been able to grok the answer. (Go ahead and look that word up, we'll wait. To all the Heinlein fans out there who caught the reference, let us share water!)
The first question is simple: Why do you find it vitally important to try and herd the birds and squirrels in the back yard? It's not like you have any purpose in bouncing around like mad trying to get them to obey you. Admittedly, it may serve as your doggie version of a daily aerobics class - after all, jumping higher than your head a few hundred times a day has to keep you in pretty good shape. But you are a much smarter dog than that. You have to have figured out by now that you cannot reach the power line where the squirrels run to and fro and you certainly can't catch the birds as they twit back and forth.
The second question is a bit more philosophical: What do you think about as you spend hours scanning the horizon? I know that you are hoping that a bunch of sheep will suddenly materialize in front of you to fulfill your inbred herding fantasies, but like me and my fantasy of a beautiful harem of lovely ladies suddenly appearing in my den, it just isn't going to happen. We're both old enough to realize that now. So why do you sit and stare for hours like this?
And finally, what is it that turns you from she-who-must-investigate-everything and she-who-must-protect-all-in-her-domain into the quivering mass of nerves acting like a needy 2 year old when there is thunder in the area. It's not that I don't enjoy the quivering wet nose on my leg. It's not that I dislike the whimpering and the putting of your head and then paws on me to make sure I'm ready to give you reassurance. But it just doesn't fit in with the fearless way you investiate every thing you see and the protective way you guard L and myself from the unknown. Besides, it leaves you so worn out after the storm. It's really hard to see you looking so wasted after the storm has passed.