Today at Tiny Tales, praise and gratitude continue for the Big Boy. He is just so funny. He truly is a guard dog, and very much enjoys monitoring my every move, from typing to peeing to hooping. I took the above photo whilst lying upon my yoga mat. It is very important to Tiny that he be able to guard me here, too, when I am executing up and down dogs, pigeons and happy baby poses. I suppose that, just as he doesn't want anyone else to injure me, he doesn't want me to injure myself. Thank you, Tiny.
I know I am jinxing myself by reporting that the ongoing indoor festival known informally as Poop-a-Palooza, has slowed considerably. I can't recall the last time Tiny dropped shit in the house, though let us all factor in that, now that I'm in my fifties, I often can't remember what I did five minutes ago. Still, I'm pretty sure it's been a solid three of four days since he left his trademark Hansel and Gretel ellipses of caca from his bed to the backdoor, as he has thus far been fond of doing. (Surely, sensing I've written this, it is only a matter of moments before he spells out Gotcha! in his signature softish stool all across the living room floor.)
In other news, I have had to admit that taking him on walks is kind of a bummer for Dante and Rebound and me. Tiny is so so so so SO slow that none of us actually gets exercise. Yesterday he was so unsteady on his feet that I cut our already shortened walk even shorter, dropped him off, then headed back out with the other two for a brisk jaunt around the park. We really needed it.
I worried a little that Tiny would be sad, home alone. Then I remembered an excellent t-shirt slogan I once saw that is this:
Quit Anthropomorphizing the Animals-- They Hate It.
He seemed perfectly fine when we got back yesterday, perhaps he even enjoyed a little alone time. So today, I'm trying another experiment. Tiny is in the backyard, in the sunshine. I just caught him peeking in the backdoor. I have hidden myself and the others (by which I mean we are in the butt magnet otherwise known as my king sized memory foam bed). Once I get a glimpse of Tiny hopefully frolicking (in his own manner) out back, I will reassure myself that he is just fine and attempt one of the long walks that was part of our daily routine prior to his arrival. I hope it goes okay. It WILL go okay!
Side note: Perhaps in an effort to compensate for the relative lack of shit in the house of late, Rebound is in a lower quadrant of The Bed farting up a doggdamn storm. Her capacity for releasing gas is surely The Eighth Wonder of the World.
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