While I’ve been setting up this blog, my lab/husky dog, Tux, has been pacing the halls, nails click-clacking back and forth across the hardwood floors, whining pitifully as he goes. He’s begging to go outside into the 90 degree heat. Not to pee, but to sun himself and watch the neighborhood hub-bub. His guilt trip is so thick, it makes it difficult to write. Well, that and he intermittently lays his sad face on the keyboard, letting out a silent string of aok;idfnsdfnisdo.
Tux and I recently moved from a house we rented in the country to the suburban home of my husband. It’s a big change for him. Before, he was outside all day, free to roam around the property with only an invisible electric fence to pen him in. Here at his new home, there’s no fence. He must be kept inside the house when I go off to work and allowed outside only with close supervision while on a cable tie-out. It’s a major life change for my dog that I sometimes forget about as I adjust to married life.
To further complicate my dog’s life, I’ve recently cut my work hours so that I can write during the other part of the time. Now I’m home for half of the week, tapping away at my keyboard while he stares at me, silently wondering why I won’t sit outside and observe the neighborhood with him.
But without my dog, I wouldn’t have quite as many story ideas. I wouldn’t have come up with a 21st century witch secretly living in the suburbs had Tux and I not passed a house with more than 10 cats lazing about in the driveway while 3 ginormous vultures lurked on the same house’s roof. And without Tux, I wouldn’t have conjured up a dog that can time travel as a short story.
Though he tries my patience at times with unnecessary whining, perhaps my dog knows best and I should sit outside and observe the world with him. After all, it might lead to an amazing story…if he ever gave me the chance to write it.