My life, with dog.

After the first faculty meeting of the year, in years past, I've gone back to my office and worked until 8 or 9 p.m.  Tonight, I packed up my things and came home to the Monster, who was so overjoyed to see me that he leapt backwards from the front door, just on his back legs, and proceeded to demand--as was his due--his trip to the back yard and his dinner and his evening walk, in rapid succession. 

When he demanded his longer evening walk within an hour of the first, I complied, and on this one we ran part of the way.  Lately, I've been feeling an urge to run, a bit strange since I've never been a runner.  We go in bursts, depending on what each of us prompts the other to do.  Home again, we did a tiny bit of grooming, and now he is lying on the floor once more, stretched out on his side and ready to run in his sleep.

Yesterday, while I worked in my office, I heard a sudden whimper and realized that he was barking in his sleep, there on the floor on the other side of my desk. 

Living with the dog means that when I'm on my way home and see three deer straight ahead of the end of a road, I think, "It would have been terrific to have come upon these deer with the dog."  This dog doesn't seem to notice deer--at least not yet, in my experience--even though they notice him immediately.