Now, about Scooter Sublime. This yet growing twenty pound pup my husband privately calls “Frenzy,”

“Scooter! NO! Release! Bad Scooter!” said I, body extended on the floor, hand reaching to retrieve that which is forbidden.

it was Monday, February third, when I first approached my computer’s keyboard, meaning to tell the exciting news that Scooter Sublime had “lifted his leg.

“Scooter, darling, come out from under the sofa with my sock.”

Coffee, computer, and a quiet house this pre-dawn Christmas morning . It’s Scooter Sublime time in my mind. I’m tapping thoughts of his tail from the tips of my fingers. I’ve been wondering, is it possible that his tail could be broken?  You know, benevolently.

An unpredictable pulse of energy — a jump from one interaction to another.” Yep, Scooter!

“Give it an hour,” said my husband as we watched . . .”

You’d think we would know better . . .

I saw darling dog stretched out on the carpet, chewing. Chewing what? I wondered. Not his green ball, no. it wasn’t his stuffed Lamb, hedgehog, or teddy-bear; not his “safe, unflavored teething ring,” not the blue Kong tire, or the yellow monkey’s knot rope toy. What was it?

Not that we needed oxygen. No, no. Perhaps the carpet needs +Oxygen but we are following the wisdom of Cesar Millan. We are creating “perfect obedience from day one through rules, boundaries, and calm-assertive leadership.”

When Scooter rolls from his crate to lift his wiggling self into the lap of the person who so kindly rose at 5am, as he plants licks on the person’s cheeks, plans change.