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Working class dog…

Poke.

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It’s my dog, the quiet one. She doesn’t whine loudly like the other one, she’s a bit more subtle. Though, just as persistent as the other one… the one with the loud voice.

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She’s back, like a 9 month old, who can only give you garbley gook and crying. Though, to be fair, there is laughing too.

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I think it would be easier if she could talk. But, unlike the 9 month old, she’ll never grow into her words. As a result, I’m left to counting down my list of things she might want…

“Outside?? Do you want to go outside??”

“Hungry, are ya hungry girl?? Hungry??”

“Walk?? Do you want to go for a walk??”

Though, I never… under any circumstances…ask about the walk, unless I’m ready to commit. Because, of course, they ALWAYS want to go for a walk. We can come home from a walk and they’ll want to go for another walk, with as much enthusiasm as if they had not been for a walk in a month.

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I checked her food, it’s fine. Her water, fine. That leaves only two things: play time or walk time. The fact that I am running low on energy and have already had a glass of wine poses a big problem. The lack of energy suggests that I could easily not have enough strength to manage two dogs and the glass of wine suggests I might lack the coordination.

The only option left……. house cleaning.

My dogs only leave me alone under one situation. No, not sleep. No, not eating (duh). No, not while I’m talking on the phone. All the afore mentioned situations are not immune to the interruptions of either one of my dogs. The only way…. ONLY way…. I can assure not one interruption is if I’m house cleaning. What the frick? If I want total cooperation from either mutt, I need only pick up a dish, a dusting rag, a vacuum cleaner, or get to work with some kind of scrubbing and all of a sudden my attention whore dogs decide that they need to give me my space. If I had a husband, I would swear that they were in cahoots. But I don’t, so I’m baffled.

Poke.

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I’m devising a new plan. I’m wondering if they will catch on if I were to sprout a third arm, a mechanical one, complete with dusting rag and unending movement….

Poke.

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Poke.