So this week was all about testing the dogs’ survival skills in the midst of perpetual sensory onslaught. They had their last dose of the work crew yesterday (well, for a little while, anyway). I’d hoped that I’d only have to tolerate a couple of hours of barking, whining, prowling, yada yada yada…but that this would be the extent of the drama. There was a brief moment, though, when I though Phoebe might leap right through a window. Not Good.
After being gone all morning (where the hell has she gone AGAIN, they must have wondered), I’d returned with groceries (finally!!) and eventually managed to settle in the family room. The sun had actually come out — praise Jesus and all the little sun angels — so I thought I’d let the dogs run in the backyard. That seemed like a great idea until I let them out the back door and they went ballistic at the sight of a ladder leaning up against our house.
Oh, yeah…the shingles. Oops.
I swept them back into the house quickly (miraculously without startling anyone off the roof) and things were par for the course. They ran around the house, searching for the source of each thump, and then acted like lunatics when Tim knocked at the front door. It’s very illuminating to see a large man stand on your doorstep, watch him take in the dogs’ rabid reaction, and then slowly back down the steps to wait for me at a distance.
And, just like every other dog owner on the planet, I’m all “They’re actually very nice, they just SOUND like ferocious hounds from hell.” Which I’m sure is not reassuring at all to the object of their fury.
So I finally get Phoebe relaxed completely onto the couch beside me. It’s almost as if the dogs have forgotten the workers; the occasional thumps from the roof don’t seem to register with Gracie, who has passed out behind a chair. Phoebe is flopped upside down, grinning while I scratch her neck and chest, completely exhausted by her week. And just as I think things are finally calm, all hell breaks loose.
(Visual notes: So if you’re sitting on my couch facing the fireplace, the front doors are to your right. The top half of these have glass with beautiful iron scrollwork in them — lovely to look at, and also incredibly useful for the dogs when they’re on high alert. To your left are the door and windows to the backyard, and above the large window is what can best be described as a charming crescent window.
This window has been a source of beauty for me — through the glass I’ve watched lightning flashes, blue skies with fluffy clouds, snowflakes, and glowing moons. Much sweetness and light. Let’s just say that Phoebe had a different experience yesterday.)
All right, you have the context. Now picture this: happy writer curled up on the end of the couch with laptop, serene pup flopped on her back, drowsily enjoying scratches as she relaxed beside me. Then, just as she squints her eyes open, she spots a man crossing through the window’s space. We are talking DEFCON 1 here.
Have you seen “The Matrix?” (Yes, I’ve watched them. All three. Don’t judge.) You know that fight scene in the first movie? The one where he’s in the subway station and “he’s beginning to believe” (so much wisdom, Morpheus!), so instead of running he fights the agent chasing him? At one point they end up with empty guns pointed at each other’s heads, and then Neo does that way cool triple-flippy thing to fling himself away from the agent and land on his feet. (And now I’ve eliminated all doubt about my being a super-geek when it comes to the Matrix movies.)
Anyway, that was Phoebe. For real. One second she’s on her back next to me, toes curled, blissed out in her happy place. The next second she’s seen that guy hovering outside our window and somehow flipped herself off the couch, landing a good three feet away, hair standing on end as she barked like a demon. It was crazy cakes.
To be fair, it was somewhat startling to look up and see a man moving through that space. It was seriously bad luck that a) the ladder cut through at that angle, and b) Phoebe just happened to peek up at that moment.
On the plus side, if someone ever decides to try to break in by climbing a ladder and cutting through our crescent-shaped window, Phoebe’s ready.
Riddle from the Middle 