Chimera Song Mosaic
Friday, May 23, 2003
Got there and was rewarded with the four dogs and their stiff, but silly, social behavior. My two dogs and my Mom’s dogs were raised together, but after a two-week separation, they act like they don’t even know each other. Actually, my dog, Lucy, knows my Mom’s dogs’ names. When you say, “Termite!” or “Zed!” she swivels her cute head in all kinds of silly ways.
Lucy’s chief cuteness is her poolside behavior: she wallows like a fuzzy black hippo. She ran straight for the pool today and dunked herself for a good 30 minutes. She lounges by the pool on hot days (not today), sitting up straight with one leg stretched out to the side.
My other dog, Lars, is an 11-year-old bully. He and Zed are old adversaries, but now that everyone is sterilized, they are mostly silly together. Lars likes to ambush people and other dogs—he “hides” behind something—like a pole or a tuft of grass—and waits until he can’t stand it any longer, and he charges out, barking and bouncing. When no one wants to play, he pushes bricks around with his nose.
Zed has a couple of charming behaviors—he makes a very cute cooing noise when greeting people (it sounds like, “AwwwEEEaaWWWAA!”). He must have something in his mouth while he does this, so he just picks up whatever’s handy—usually a dead leaf.
Termite is my Mom’s other dog, and unfortunately, she has little charm. She’s pushy, demanding, and she sheds a lot. She’s OCD over tennis balls and other things, so I guess that’s pretty cute. Guess where she got her name?
I don’t know why I am writing about these dogs. I guess I just like dogs. They help me write poems.
