Chocolate, My Friend

Being as that Fio doesn't drink tea or coffee, chocolate is her only source of caffeine, and she had her fill of it last week during her prolonged birthday celebration.  In fact, the chocolate dessert she had when being treated by Brother and his wife had her doing everything but swinging from the rafters.  And when she got home at about 8:00, she still had the time and the ENERGY to take Sonya on her twice around walk on the 1-o-n-g driveway. Then she stayed up till midnight writing, writing, writing.

If chocolate isn't  one of the major food groups, it darn well should be.

Boondocks Denizens

When Fiorella took Sonya Dog out for a walk yesterday morning, they came across a dead baby possum lying on the gravel driveway.  Sonya was curious, but obeyed Fiorella's command to "leave it."  The second time around the driveway, the possum was gone.  Was there a mysterious predator in the woods that had carried it off--maybe a fox, like at the White House?

Or had the baby just been . . . playing possum?

People Puppies

Sonya Dog is becoming accustomed to high-pitched voices and little beings who dart unexpectedly hither and thither.  Becoming accustomed at a distance, that is.

Remember how Fiorella lamented the lack of a rent-a-kid business that she would patronize in order to teach Sonya about children?  Well, the new neighbors across the street have supplied her need.  They have two active boys, about eight and eleven, both in constant motion.  The older one shoots baskets when he isn't zooming his motorized bike all around the property  The younger one recently hosted a birthday party--about ten of those little beings with high-pitched voices darting up and down the driveway.

Sonya quivered in fear and excitement, but she didn't bark at them, which is a good sign.  After all, she's become inured to the rude dogs next door who hurl themselves against the fence in a vain effort to tear her throat out.  Surely she will eventually be able to deal with people puppies.

Birthday, Welcome, Gifts

Yesterday was Sonya's second birthday and she celebrated by controlling herself while workmen were banging around on the roof, restraining herself while a doe and two fawns cavorted in the yard, and eating her fill of leftover pancakes and bacon.
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Fio received a nice welcoming note from the president of Hatchette Group, the parent company for Grand Central, which is her publisher.  Of course, she panics whenever she sees there's something from her agent or her publisher in her in box.  Are they going to dump her?  Is the magic carpet ride over?  Your Fio is not one to take things for granted--or, as her students used to write, "for granite."
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This is weird, but this year Fiorella has started buying Christmas gifts early, like normal people do, instead of at the last minute.  Could it be that Fio has finally turned into . . . an adult?  Nah.
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Sonya's Chewy Snack

Where, oh where, has my other shoe gone?
Not the one she's been chewing on--
Now without the inner sole
That Fio bought from Dr. Scholl--
But the other one, its lifelong mate,
Which Fio fears met a much worse fate.

Contagion

Husband is sick, Younger Son is sick, and Fio doesn't feel quite right.  Older Son and his wife arrived for a holiday visit, bringing their Staffordshire  to co-reside with pug Bosco and mastiff Sonya.  This could be an interesting next couple of days.  But it's nothing new--last year Older Son got pneumonia when they visited.

Hmmm. 

Rawhide Addict

Every morning after breakfast, Sonya leads Fio to the kitchen and points at the pantry, whence she knows all good things come.  But Sonya doesn't want more kibble--she wants a rawhide bone that she will tear to shreds by the end of the day.  The bones are fairly expensive, but Fiorella shells out gladly because Sonya's other options have been metal screwdrivers, wireless landline phones, the television changer, Fio's shoes, and her eyeglasses (two pairs so far).

Just give Sonya another year, say the experts, and she'll be through teething.

Rawhide!

Sonya Dog sees the pantry as the womb whence issues rawhide bones, and Fiorella as the one who delivers them. Yes, our doggie is a rawhide addict.  Every morning after breakfast, she stands in front of the pantry doors and waits--and yelps if Fio has left her waiting longer than she deems necessary.

Oh well, it's better than when she was chewing on shoes.

Comfort Zones

Sonya used to sleep on the bed with Daddy while Mommy took her prolonged nightly soak.  Then Mommy would grab a nice chunk of treat, lure sweet doggie into her roomy crate, and latch the door.  But a week ago, when Mommy was finally ready for bed, she discovered that Sonya had deserted Daddy and was already asleep in the crate.  All that Mommy still had to do was latch it.  After a week of this, Mommy asked herself why the heck she was bothering to lock the crate--so last night she didn't.  And Sonya remained sprawled and snoring in the crate at night long.  Obviously, having slept in it for seven months, she regards it as her own private boudoir.  It's her nest, her comfort zone.

We wonder why people who have been abused stay with their abusers, why Jaycee Dugard didn't take advantage of opportunities to escape Phillip Garrido.  But, like Sonya, Jaycee and her sisters have been trained to their crates, their comfort zones.

We're all like that in one way or another.  

Personally Speaking

Jealous of Mommy's attention, Sonya Dog regularly inserts her snout between Fio and her laptop, which means that Fio has to clean off the screen before taking it in for repair .  It's like being sure you have on  clean underwear when you go to the hospital.
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While normal people look for paintings for their walls, Fiorella searches for walls for her paintings.  Yes, she still has several in storage.
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When was it that Fiorella changed from a young filly to an old nag?
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Husband insists that Fiorella's tombstone will read, "She was easily amused," which would be fine with Fio.  In fact, it makes her laugh.  

Pondering Sonya

Fio's power cord is safe now.  Sonya has moved on to vacuum cleaner attachments.
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As alpha dog, Sonya bullies Bosco unmercifully, but she also depends on him for company, yelping and whining until he comes downstairs every morning.
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We lock our big girl into her crate while we sleep, but she'd probably stay in her appointed boudoir all night even if we removed the door. It's easy to accustom animals to captivity, to get them used to being in a cage, to convince them that's where they belong.  People are like that too, but we create our own cages.

Equivalencies

Tail, mouth, and nose make up for dogs not having hands.

The wagging tail represents a waving hand, of course, and Sonya uses her mouth to carry around rawhide bones and grab my wrist to turn my attention to whatever she considers more important than revising Princess of Bosque Bend.  The nose is an all-purpose tool, used not only for nudging rawhide bones between couch cushions, into a trough she has dug outside in the yard, or under my leg while I am involved in said revising, but also for smearing up my computer screen when she is, again, trying to get my attention.

Even as I write this, Sonya is probably wondering why I have two utterly redundant upper body appendages while she has four sturdy limbs to take her anywhere she wants to go.

 Poor Mommy.  No tail, a useless mouth, and such a tiny nose.

Backyard Safari

We have a hunter in the house, a mighty hunter who stalks the night, seizes his prey, and carries it off to his lair.

No, it's not Sonya, the mastiff, who has the equipment to do some mighty seizing herself, but Bosco, the pug, who last night chased down an errant frog hopping hell for leather down the backyard toward the pond.

Froggie never made it.

When Fio and Husband called Sonya and Bosco in for the night, Bosco didn't appear.  Panicked, Fiorella ran outside into the darkness and checked the gate to the yard to be sure it was locked while  Husband grabbed two big flashlights.  Sonya started barking at the narrow area between the barbecue and the fence, Bosco's favorite hidey hole, so Husband shone the light down into the darkness.  Sure enough, there was Bosco, growling fiercely, with a dead frog hanging from his mouth. 

Oh, yuck.

Fiorella took over the flashlights while Husband began poking at Bosco with a metal leaf broom to get him to give up his prey.  Sonya, of course, barked the whole time--she wanted the frog.  

The story ended happily.  Husband pried Bosco out of his den and flipped Froggie out of the yard, and Fio herded both dogs back into the house for the night.

But Bosco strutted.

Dog, Refocusing, Writing

Sonia has just now discovered the joy of a flexible vinyl ball that's a little too big for her jaws, allowing it to continuously escape her as if it has a life of its own. And Mama prefers Puppy experience the joy of a flexible vinyl ball rather than her recently-discovered joy of tearing up the corner of the Persian carpet in the den.
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After the excitement of the anniversary celebration and Older Son's visit, Casa Fiorella is settling into routine again. Having marked off everything on her old list, Fiorella has written out a new one, with stars beside the priorities.  Her primary focus today will be working on Princess of Bosque Bend for the divine Liza--and, she hopes, for you.

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At her last romance writers' meeting, Fiorella learned that publishing is wide open now--indie, self, e-.  To think that she wasted all that time, effort, and money in building up her street cred with contests  when, if she had just waited a couple of years, she could have gone straight to the people.  On the other hand, working with agent Liza D has strengthened her story, and Liza knows the highways and byways of the publishing world, which Fio does not. 

Dog Treats

The dog ate Fiorella's glasses.

With a teething puppy in the house, Fiorella's ears have become attuned to chomping sounds so when she thought she heard Sonya's teeth connecting with something other than rawhide, she tore herself away from writing a Fio to check, but too late.  The mangled remains of  her new glasses hung from baby dog's mouth.

Sonya is also attracted to shoes, especially the insoles.  And Fio has had to snake computer cords up between the couch cushions so Sonya can't get to them.  And she loves Husband's underwear.

Luckily, she never raises a fuss when any of these delicious treats are wrenched from her. mouth.  But she does look wounded.

Secret Ingrediant

Sonya Dog is hard to wake up in the mornings.  She lies in her crate for several minutes after it's been opened and tries to catch a few last minutes of rest until finally, at Fio's urging, she stretches her long body and staggers to her feet.  Fio lures her out of the crate and into the hall with slivers of what she and husband refer to as dog crack, but, at the top of the stairs, Sonya balks.  She's too big a dog to be comfortable with stairs, especially when she has to go down them, and especially when she's just awakened and is so uncoordinated that she's stumbling over her own paws.

Fio often walks her down the stairs by standing in front of her so she can't see the drop to the first floor, but Sonya wasn't buying it this morning so Fio left her sitting on the landing and placed a larger piece of treat at the bottom of the steps.  After a minute or so of contemplation, Sonya carefully navigated her way down and snatched up her reward.

Which makes you wonder--what the heck is in that dog treat?

Canine Mastication

Please don't chew
On Daddy's shoe
And unteeth Daddy's new belt too
Here, try this big ol'  rawhide bone
But leave the leather goods alone!

Acting Like a Dog

My name is Sonya Wendysdottir and I am a hoarder.  I've turned the area beneath my princess bed into a boneyard, and every time little Bosco latches onto a bone, I take it from him.  When I eat, I drop my current bone beside the feeding dish so I can keep an eye on it.  When Mommy gives Bosco and me each a bone, I drop mine, grab his, and stand guard over both of them.

I act the same way with toys. And with people, shoving Bosco out of the way if Mommy and Daddy try to pet him.

I am Sonya.  I am alpha.  You won't hear me roar, but I do covet.

Dogs Rule

Sonya has reached another stage of development.  She wants to play all the time so Mommy is teaching her "fetch," but she hasn't quite caught onto "drop it," which means the game ends up in a tug match, which Mommy does NOT want.
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Sonya's baby teeth are gone so she doesn't draw blood anymore, but she uses her new, larger teeth on Mommy's hands to try to get Mommy to do things for her.  Sort of like, "You have an opposable digit--do something with it!"
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Fio's household operates on a series of doggie gates.  The kitchen and den are partitioned off from the rest of the house to restrict Sonya and Bosco's activities.  We call that area doggiedom.

Far Flung Snippets

At the same time that Romney is sucking up to the tea party by speaking against gay marriage , he lambastes Obama for proffering amnesty to foreign-born children who've grown up in the United States, saying it was done out of political motives.  Let's face  it. In an election year, they're both pulling out the heavy artillery,  But are they saying/doing these things in order to get elected/re-elected?  Or are they trying to get elected/re-elected to further these causes?  As Shakespeare would say, that is the question.
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The phone that's supposed to be in the den is missing.  So is one of my beige, soft-soled Mary Janes.  I think they eloped.
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Sonya is sound asleep at my feet.  That won't last long when Husband discovers she's munched on his mouse.