UNITED STATES—The readability analysis is good. I haven’t yet barked out anything yet for her master to type out. Though there are no bad days, yet there can be horrendous ones. And yesterday was one such day for my master pitted against an old adversary, stemming from a primal fear of being shut out.
This crisis was triggered by an annually recurring battle with a password attached to a job he likes but has long outgrown. Last year’s completion of job training directly affected me, his beloved pit-bull. The master was gone for hours, neglected to feed me and got home wanting to kick the walls. It was dread and fury to fulfill all the canned trainings yearly associated with the job. The master started out hung-ho to get them out of the way and by the time it was concluded, just wanted to roll up in a ball and cry.
I, Luna, am content to be a dog. Free to give hugs, scare people rather than be a cog in an unwieldy human institution. I’m doing my best to mature and be easier on the owner. The master has got his hands full with the Chihuahua-Terrier mix. The master used to turn over his will to the Chihuahua, thinking the victory was a successful pee-stop along the way, oblivious to where the pee-stop may be. Since then, the master has been scolded by valet parkers and local business owners, albeit in a polite way, about the unpleasant effects DeVille’s pee was having on their sidewalk and shrubbery.
The master implemented a novel dog-walk mode: sticking to the gutter side of the sidewalk when passing to zone of clubs and eateries.
Meanwhile, I the hyperactive pit-bull remain unresponsive when the master entices me with a dangle of a leash. A furry blob on the floor or couch–and with the heat wave, who doesn’t want to be a blob.
The master was worried about me, troubled about my lethargic state. He darn near booked an appointment with the veterinarian. It was nice to see the concern. The lethargy was due entirely to my natural aversion to movement in the thick of these fan-cooled July days.
To be continued…
