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What Dreams May Come

Last night I had a dream wherein I drank exactly one, perfectly poured, measured, shot of Maker’s Mark. It was delicious. I woke up in a (silent) panic that I had broken my prescribed course of action. Nope. In dreams, friends, anything is possible. (For evidence see assorted poetry, Debbie Gibson, and Russian personals ads)

Someone said to me (you are on this list, forgive me that I’ve forgotten which of you it is) that it would be hardest to refrain from speaking to the dog. That has proven to be very much the case. Its a reflex to say, “No!” or “good sit!” or “are you ok?” and as a result I have to be most careful around Jasper.

I was worried Jasper would be troubled by my inability to speak. My fears were ill-founded. He seems only too happy to trot around beside me and bark at birds and grass and such. People, however, continue to act strangely around me. Some only speak to me in a whisper, as if my inability to produce sound has also made me suffer from hyperacusis and they are afraid of popping my eardrums with their booming voices. One person even decided it would be more efficient to refrain from speaking all together and just pass my notebook back and forth. I suppose he felt by restricting himself to writing he was leveling the playing field. Nah. It was merely annoying. I walked away with my pad and that was the end of his grand experiment. He attempted to perseverate but was denied. Yep, I took my ball and went home.

My back and hamstrings are totally tight and awful from all the time spent under general anesthesia. A long swim is generally my solution but, of course, I’m not allowed to swim. So I’m restricted to a few downward dogs and such.

Speaking of dogs, Sir Jasper is enjoying himself up here immensely. Nova Scotia is filled with his favorite playmates in the whole wide world: bugs. He loves biting, swatting, and carousing with just about any bug that crosses his path. Those critters that make me curse (silently!) and reach for the OFF fill him with canine delight. He is one happy camper.

Unfortunately for me, he has lots to be thrilled by. The wet summer has afforded us a surfeit of seventeen-legged creatures. I desperately want one of those huge standing bug zappers that entice mosquitoes and flies in with a tempting blue light and then electrocute them with a satisfying sizzle. Yes, I know, respect all living things. No.


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