My Dog is Sensitive

Yeah, I’m posting this out of the regular schedule of daily 8:00 a.m.  That’s because I already have Thursday’s and Friday’s posts planned out.

A little background, first.  Our dog, Shasta, has grown increasingly needy and anxious as my wife’s pregnancy has progressed.  We’re certain she knows that something is changing, but doesn’t quite understand what.  We try to make sure we give her a lot of loving and hugging her and giving her affection so she knows she’s still loved, even if we spend a little extra time doting on Dear Wife’s belly, too.

Also, Shasta has always had a bit of a gas problem.  From the first day we brought her home from the animal shelter, we were driving along when we smelled something rather foul.  We looked at each other, and looked back at our new dog, and said to each other “What have we got ourselves into?”  Shasta’s always taken our gentle teasing about her problem pretty well.  I mean… she is a dog, and even though we learned she probably has a vocabulary of 50 to 100 words that she understands, we were pretty sure she couldn’t understand complex sentences in which we gently jibed her about the smells she shares with us.

So, last night, as is often the case, Shasta farted.  Not the first time, and not the first time we’ve groaned aloud at the smell.  But this time, Shasta’s ears drooped, and she started skulking away like we’d just scolded her.  We were pretty surprised, so I called her over to come sit on the couch in my lap.  Now, she’s a 50-pound dog who can easily jump straight onto the couch, but she’s always acted like climbing onto the couch is terribly difficult for her (we know it’s simply not true, because we’ve seen her jump onto it in a single bound to pursue a flying tennis ball).  This time was no different, except she farted again as she “struggled” onto the couch!  I groaned again, and made a typically snide remark about her farts.

I’d never offended her before, but this time, she jumped back down, skulked away, and hid behind the easy chair like I’d yelled at her!  I was so sad for her.  It took some coaxing to call her back, but we got her up on the couch (this time without her farting) and cuddled her and told her we loved her and we were sorry.  She seemed pretty satisfied with that, and her usual grin promptly returned.  All was forgiven.

And that’s that.  Other than to celebrate the posting of my 100th post on this blog (yeah me, and yeah consistency!), and my 1,000th hit!

Games With My Son

So, over the weekend, I think I got to play my first baby games with my son.  I’ll refer to him here as B.T. (to my wife: that’s a replacement cipher for B.T.’s actual first two initials.)  My wife has been playing some of these games with B.T. for the last few weeks already.  When I poked my wife’s belly, B.T. poked back, and if I poked 2 or 3 times, he poked back 2 or 3 times.  Frankly, it was kind of cool.  It’s like an in-utero version of peek-a-boo or something.  We hope B.T. will be an avid player of games as he grows older, because we have a nice collection of board games, many of which can’t really be played with only two players.

At this point, you can kind of tell where B.T.’s head is at any given time, because it’s a big, hard round thing that pokes out of my wife’s belly.  Sometimes you can tell where the butt-end is, because it’s round but not quite as hard, and has small hard things coming off of it.  He spends a lot of time rolling around, but mostly seems to hang out on my wife’s right side.

Anyway, that’s enough of my gushing over impending fatherhood.  I just wanted to take this break to talk about that since it gave me such a fine feeling.  I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled whatever-it-is-I-usually-talk-about on this blog.