Daily Dose of Cute

Doggies at Battlestations:


Zelda: "I will be RIGHT HERE if you need me. RIGHT HERE. I am not moving as long as you feel less than perfect. Just whatever you need, you let me know. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be RIGHT HERE."


Dudley: "Yeah, me too, totally. I'm going to be right he—zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

This was pretty much the dog-scene at Shakes Manor for the past week. It's funny how each of the animals had their own way of being supportive: Olivia, who is normally sticking her ass in my face demanding attention anytime she's within two feet of me, has been hovering close, just keeping an eye on me. Sophie magically appears every time I get a particularly strong wave of nausea, as if figuratively offering to hold my hair. Matilda shows up to sit on me whenever I get chilled—and the jockeying for position in which she and Zelly typically engage has been set aside. For now, ahem. *raised eyebrow*

In an extremely fortunate bit of timing, the fence we had put in the backyard (rendered an expensive necessity by the ongoing construction which will soon leave us with no sidewalks at all, not even crappy ones, for as long as six months) was completed just days before I got ill, so instead of having to walk the dogs, I was able to let them out into the newly-fenced garden. They love it like whoa, basically believing they've now got their own private dog park, and they jet out the back door like two shots when it's time to go out.

But when I was feeling rubbishy, they ambled out slowly and stood beside me, looking up at me. "Go on, go pee," I told them. Zelda squatted where she stood, and peed in a pile of leaves, never taking her eyes off of me. "Go on!" I laughed, waving them into the yard. They stood next to me. Dudley peed against the edge of the stone patio. "Go play!" I said. If dogs could shake their heads, they would have. Nuh-uh, Two-Legs. We ain't going anywhere.

I turned to go back inside, figuring if I left them, they'd play. I closed the screen door behind me, and turned to shut the storm door. There they sat, on the other side of the screen door, patiently waiting to be let back in. "Go on, I'm fine!" I assured them.

Dudley whined. Zelda nudged the door with her nose. I opened it and let them in.