Thursday, January 26, 2012

Buddy and Olivia

Like most everyone, I enjoy an uninterrupted night’s sleep, and I usually get one. Before I retreat to my bedroom I let Buddy the dog out for the last sales call of the evening. We then have a conversation where I remind him not to bark unless it’s an emergency. He then spends the night in the garage below our bedroom, where he usually lays quietly.

Sometimes during the night he will bark to convince an outside trespasser to retreat to the woods. That kind of bark usually comes in a quick series of serious warnings, which gets me out of bed to survey the situation.

But more often it comes as a single sound meaning, “Are you awake?” If my feet don’t hit the floor within a minute or two, it changes to “Can you come down here for a minute?” “Please?” comes a few minutes later.

If I lay in bed long enough hoping that he’ll stop, his bark will change to “I’m not going to quit, so you may as well come down here so I can show you what I want.” Walking through a cold, dark house to check on a barking dog can test any man’s patience. Most often it’s nothing – he just wants to come in, and that’s against the night time rules. But once in a while he can’t wait for our early morning appointment.

I try to take Buddy for a walk the first thing most every morning and last Thursday, the coldest of the season, we gave it a good try. That morning’s walk was shorter and quicker than usual. Normally the half-mile takes a leisurely 15 minutes. But 11 below and a burning northwest wind sent Buddy running back to the house immediately after his two business appointments. I was content to follow him.

The morning routine is the same. I go out to the garage where Mr. Important (the name he prefers) greets me with a strong nudge. He’s a big dog – a cross between a black Labrador and a Great Dane. He’s not as big as an elephant, but when I am lacing my boots he almost pushes me off the step with his large head.

Usually we have two cats waiting outside the door for us. Pretzel, named one summer day by two young sisters who were visiting from town, and Olivia. Olivia and her two brothers, Newt and John, were given to me by a guy who had been in a band with a singer who had an Australian accent.

Pretzel prefers to sit in the warm garage on Buddy’s pillow purring loudly to show his appreciation, while he waits for our return. Olivia insists on walking with us. I have tried to dissuade her from what I consider an unnatural act for a cat, but she’s as stubborn as a mule, so she joins us. Staying close to the side of the road she trots to keep up. After about ten minutes she will casually cross my path, which is her way of asking for a lift.

The three of us walking together probably looks kind of strange; a cat and dog, sworn enemies, walking together on the same path with the same goal in mind. I suppose if a dog and cat can walk together, then it’s possible for elephants and mules (or donkeys) to get along as well. Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals should quit fighting like cats and dogs and treat each other respectfully as fellow humans.

I know it’s possible because I’ve seen it done. But, I’ve also read poisonous prose personally attacking someone because their politics differ. Hissing and snarling should be left to animals. Strive for clarity and civility in your communication, or take a walk to cool down. You’ll sleep better at night.

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