verge (vʉrj)
noun
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

verg′·ing
to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight




Monday, February 8, 2010

Hot Diggity Dad



Dear Dad Dawg,

Happy birthday today!
You win Best in Show.
I love you.

Alice Dawg


Saturday, February 6, 2010

Take a Nap, Will Ya?



Confession:  I can't tell the difference.  Some people are good at it.  They have a natural-born instinct for telling one thing from another.  But with me, I might be driving down the road with not a single thought in my head and I think, Oh wow--Serenity!  No sooner after that thought exits, I think again. Uh-oh--or is this denial?  I keep driving but now I'm not in serenity OR denial.  I'm just somewhere in between. Or I laugh so hard I cry.  Wait a minute.  Is it funny?  Or sad?  Or both? Is it Sunday or Monday?  Am I fifty or sixty?  Is that my car?  Or is it that one?

Once I did the unthinkable.  I went to retrieve Stickers from the groomer.  She hated going but I hated trimming her nails more.  At pick up time, I went in to the shop, thanked the lady and paid.  C'mon, Stix!  In the car!  Up she jumped into the back seat.  The whole way home I congratulated her for looking so beee-u-tee-ful and sho-sho-shpecial.  Oddly, she had turned away from me as far as she could get. As we pulled into the driveway I gasped.  I had the wrong dog! WHOA--I had the wrong, wrong dog!   Poor, Poor Who-Ever-You-Are!  And where is Stickers???  Needless to say, I put the car in reverse and floored it back to the shop.  They all died laughing when I admitted my mistake.  Poor, Poor Stranger Dog high-tailed it for the groomer while Stickers stared at me from her crate with sad, droopy eyes.  How could you....she said with those eyes.  How, God, how could I, indeed.

So you see, I have trouble with differentiation.  And this week, I really got bogged down with it. I got so tired this week that I fell asleep mid-sentence (and not mine, to my embarrassment).  I got so seriously tired that I seemed to turn to liquid.  Liquid brain, liquid words, liquid bones, and liquid eyes.  But I don't decode these symptoms as fatigue. No, instead I think it's Armageddon out there.  The world is going to hell in a hand basket. It's the climate, it's the war, it's the pharmaceuticals, it's the road rage, it's the price of oil, it's the ex, it's the other ex, it's the Facebook changes, it's the dining hall, it's the snow, it's the cold, it's the broken dishwasher, it's the economy, it's Scott Brown, it's the damn Christmas tree still in the yard.  That's what I think it is.

And then this happens:  I go to walk Boo(dha).  He's all flaked out on the couch.  Yup?  You here, Alice?  You wanna walk?  (Long, long pause).  Yeah, let's walk, Baby.  Let's you-n-me walk, he says.  And then forever goes by while he stretches, and he yawns, and he licks his paws.  Another yawn.  Blink the eyes for a few minutes.  Big exhale.  One more yawn.  Strrrretch those front legs.  Blink some more. Ok, yeah.  Let's walk.  We wander to the door.  Actually, we waaaannn-der to the door.  We do the walk.  I bark nonstop about the dump, and the move, and the progress I'm making, and how I worked way too many hours. And then I rant and I rave about the state of the union and I make sure I tell him Every Little Thing for the whole entire walk.  He nods his head and every so often says Yup.  Or Yep, which is the more informal version of Yup.  I yap myself from one end of the route to the other, until we arrive back at the farm.  In we go.  I give him a couple treats.  He scarfs them down, and then it's back to the couch to continue his nap.  Big humongous exhale.

As I head out the door, he lifts his head.

Alice?
What, Boo?
Try taking a nap. Just try it.  A nap.  That's all you need.  Just a nap.  Trust me.

I drive away.  A nap?  With all I got going on? But it's a jungle out there.  I have to be on guard. Hell, there's no time for sleep, I silently retort.

And then, in spite of myself,  I actually try it.  I shut up just long enough to try it. When I wake up, to my amazement, Armageddon has been postponed.  Every Little Thing is A.O.K.  The world is suddenly quieter.

Yep, it was the nap, Boo-Man.  It was a sweet and simple nap.  It was just the right thing.