The attention span of a gnat… or too old to remember

Blue comes and stands by the side of my chair as I sit curled up under a blanket watching my nighttime shows. She can’t see much anymore but she knows instinctively that if it’s after dinner, I’m in my chair. She doesn’t whine. Doesn’t bark. Just stands there staring at me. Eventually I feel a cold chill down my spine and I look left to see her cataract filled eyes watching me with unblinking intent. It is her way of saying, “Get your fat ass off that chair, I need to pee.”

So I unwrap the blanket, go to the back porch door and open it for her. Then I return to my chair but I don’t wrap up because I know she will want back in within minutes.

But minutes pass and there is no scratch at the door. So I go check, only to find her merrily munching on the peanuts (with shells!) that I put out for the Stellar Jays. I yell at her to come in. She hastily gulps all she can between my yell and my reaching her to yank her back in.

I sit down, wrap up and get back to my show. Only minutes later I feel the death stare again. Apparently Blue got so caught up in the peanuts that she forgot to pee. This time, instead of letting her out the back door to the upstairs porch and expecting her to go DOWNSTAIRS AND PEE, I bring her downstairs through the house and let her out directly into the yard. She makes a beeline for her favorite spot, relieves herself and then proceeds to try and eat up every peanut and shell dropped by the Stellars on the lawn before I come screaming out the door into the cold autumn night dressed only in a nightgown and slippers to haul her sad butt back into the house.

I honestly don’t understand how people without dogs keep amused.