Doggie Style?

I was home alone a few Wednesday nights ago for the first time in I can't remember how long. My sister was in Maryland praying or doing some other such nunly activity. Wendy was attending her employer's annual board of directors awards dinner. She was presenting an award and ever so excited to be a part of things. (Those of us who know and love Wendy realize she'd rather be home with me and the dogs on the couch watching baseball instead of wearing pantyhose and giving a speech in front of a roomful of bigwigs.)

My arrival at home precipitated a great deal of doggie enthusiasm.

Had I mentioned we were dog sitting for our neighbor? No? Well we were. We also had Nikita staying with us while my sister was off at the temple. So there were four dogs to greet me; four dogs to be petted, walked, fed, watered, talked to, snuggled.

Eventually we all settled down. Hanging out on the new couch, laptop in my lap surfing the internet, baseball on TV in the background. I was completely enjoying the peace and quiet and the feeling of being the only human in the house.

Then some thoughtless neighbor of mine had the nerve to walk down the sidewalk with their dog on a leash.

Nikki started it because she had the best view out the front window. Bonnie and Dudley were instantly alert, leaping up on the couch and lining up next to Nikki, their paws on the window sill. They bayed and barked and generally created a cacaphony that caused the very air around us to shimmer and shake.

Cosine, in her obliviousness, continued to pace large circles in the dining room, unaware of the excitement she was missing.

Ah, the simple life.

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