Dusty is staring longingly at my coffee cup. Bear is chewing her rawhide. The floor-heater just banged on. The sky is pale blue with a tinge of pink. I take a drink of coffee while it’s still hot, sorrowful about two things; it doesn’t stay hot and the second cup doesn’t taste as good as the first. I never make a second cup because I’ve learned that. Bear gets another rawhide. Apparently the first, second, and all subsequent rawhides are as yummy as the first.
The sun rises higher in what is every day more a wintry sky. Mindy finishes her rawhide. Dusty goes into the kitchen to reconnoiter. Did Mindy drop any? All of it? Nope. He’s disappointed. Mindy takes a drink of water then goes to all the dog dishes looking for scraps (there are no scraps, ever). I give Dusty one of Bear’s rawhides and he’s happy. Bear won’t know the difference. My coffee gets colder.
Mindy wants to go out to the front yard for her morning constitutional, so I will get up and open the front door. Outside I see my trash can hasn’t moved. I have a sinking feeling they didn’t collect it. I worry if they took the payment out or not — but the website says they did. Oh man, I’m probably going to have to call them…
As the great philosophy professor, Dr. Mueller, often said, “Life is a catalog of woe.”
At least Dusty gets his coffee.