Dogs and Cats

Otis, by no direct fault but by his very nature, is stressful.

He prowls, wanders and generally doesn't come when he's called.  A dog suffering from A.D.D.

I can identify with small attention spans, but after the fourth time I'm forced to leave the porch to pull dog jowls off the neighbor's hosta plants, my patience is pushed.

Because the dog won't sit still, I'm continually swiveling in my lawn chair, looking for a tail popping out of the garden and asking, "where is that dog?"

We have also have a cat, Emerson.

Emerson is a left over relic of an 21 year-old female's $20 dollar impulse purchase. A purchase that, just a few short years later, would push the boundries of an engagement.

Emerson will attack your calves at 7:00 in the morning forcing explicitives and soccer swing in his general direction.

Otis, somehow, can eat the plaster out of the living room wall and still come out endearing.

I constantly ask, "where is that dog?"

I never ask, "where is that cat?"