Whatever You Do, Don't Make Eye Contact

Little Scruffdog came into my life last week, from a rescue organization that saved his life in November after he was savagely attacked by a large dog. He weighs seven pounds. I don't know how much the attacker weighed, but I can see from the wounds on Scruffdog's tiny body that the attacker's teeth reached from his butt to the middle of his tummy. The right rear leg sometimes bears weight when he's standing, but he holds it close to his body when he does his endearing three-legged scoot-along.

Within two days of his joining my pack, the skies opened up and dumped several feet of snow all over the Pacific Northwest, a storm that hasn't been seen since--well, since ever. Three feet of snow and a 10" tall dog make for a poor combination any time. If said dog is new to the place, doesn't know the routine, and is injured, anything can happen. I would like to say he is starting to respond to my commands, but it turns out Little Scruffdog has his own sign language and is waiting patiently for me to figure it out.

It only took one accident on the rug for me to realize that when he puts one paw on top of my foot, it's time to go out. Young Geezer took him out into the tamped-down snow on the sidewalk and Scruffdog obliged within a few feet of our yard. When I took him out, he sat quivering in the snow, one front paw up, looking pitiful. (I think one paw up means, "Do I have to?") Try to understand: I'm in full-on nurse mode; I dress his wounds, administer five kinds of medicine, and hold him in my arms while I watch TV (which I do a lot right now, since we're snowed in). How could I drag this poor little creature onto the frozen tundra and demand he perform? I carried him back, apologizing profusely.

I told Young Geezer what happened. "You mean you turned around and looked at him?" he asked, incredulous. Apparently, Young Geezer walks without looking back until he feels enough drag on the leash to know his little charge has found an interesting spot. He knows the big pleading eyes and tiny raised paw will melt the hardest of hearts. "Whatever you do," he said, "Don't make eye contact!"

I might be able to do this. But do I have to?

With Thanks to the Chinese

It's Fall in the Pacific Northwest. Daylight is becoming almost non-existent, as people drive to and from work in the dark. It's hard to be cheery sometimes.

I recently bought a new full-length mirror that was made in China. Having a full-length mirror in my room doesn't help me be cheery. And when the glass slipped down in the frame and cracked within days, I was downright surly.

I don't have a happy history with Made-in-China products. In the last four months, I acquired an alarm clock that rang at the wrong time, a coffee maker that burned coffee (it was cheerfully replaced--with one that heats liquid to lukewarm,) and a lamp whose switch died in infancy so I have to plug and unplug it at the wall socket. I decided not to fight the system on the stupid mirror. I shoved it to the side of my bookcase.

A couple of days ago, I needed to rummage in the corner behind the mirror. I saw something out of the corner of my eye that confused me. A woman wearing my same clothes was moving about. She was probably four inches taller than I am, and 15 pounds lighter. Who the hell was that? (As I said, I've been a bit surly of late.) A second look revealed that my magic Chinese mirror was reflecting a new, improved version of me. Well, all right, then. That's much better!

I moved the mirror to a place I pass more often. Sometimes I walk past it when I don't really need to. I'm feeling much more cheerful these days!