Working Sick Day

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Luke taking care of his momma.

Yesterday, I came home from school sick. An impressive feat for a school teacher since it involved obtain the principal’s permission. I slept most of the day with Luke on my feet preventing me from going anywhere.  Thanks to Sonia, I had dinner made for me while I continued napping on her sofa. A nice and yummy change of napping venues.  Life is good and friends are blessings.

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Booger helping me write

Today, I am home again resting with my old writing partner sitting on my lap. His poppa went on a fishing trip so last night on my way home I brought him over to my house.  Bogger felt asleep quickly, even snoozing under the covers for a bit. This morning, they woke me up and demanded attention. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan given my health.  But, the boys won out and outside we ventured at 3:30am.  They sniffed, did their business and came back into bed.

Today, I am feeling world’s better and determined to rest. Resting taking the form of bathing two puppies (puppies being a term of endearment not denoting size) and taking one to get his nails clipped.  The bathroom is now clean, the living room straightened and the kitchen mostly clean. A nap is in order soon. Progress will be made on Blood Child, today.  There is an ending to be written.

Yesterday, I had one puppy on feet helping me to rest and today, there is another puppy on my lap helping me to work.  I will rest and I will write, repeating as necessary until Blood Child is done.

Booger’s Tale cont.

My mistress was always aggravated by the two men’s presence but her annoyance never seemed to disturb them. I believe one of them had some sort of leverage over her.  They never ceased in their attempts to converse with her. The large harry man smelled like another of my canine brethren, a female if my olfactory senses were precise.

Mistress called him Dog in a most disrespectful manner.  I did not comprehend why that was an insult. Mistress, however, seemed to think it was and so I let it go. There wasn’t much I could do anyway, the month or so I had been with Mistress we had never managed to communicate more than a word or two.  She seemed to be getting better, but there were times when I felt like she expected me to behave like one of her precious feline companions.

I tried my best to assimilate myself to their culture. My efforts were for the most part in vain.  The felines weren’t interested in bridging our cultural riff.  My abandonment had also led me to having a deficit in my own canine culture.

A deficit that was soon to be remedied; one afternoon, the tall man and the man named Dog, convened a meeting to discuss my future with Mistress.  We walked into Mr. Dog’s home and I was greeted by the female canine I smelled early. Her name was Mackie.

When I told her my name, she just chuckled.  Don’t worry, Dog and Stew will fix that little problem for you. She won’t explain just sniffed my rectal area.   It was a most disconcerting at first, the whole olfactory inspection, but oddly familiar.  Mackie completed her inspection while the hominids began their negotiations.

The tall man, whose name Mackie confirmed was Stew, was holding a strange leash and collar.  Mackie went to sit

by dog and I lay at the feet of my Mistress.  She was trying to protest, but Dog finally gave her an ultimatum, either she give me to the tall man or get rid of me.  She didn’t fight much after that, just handed me over to the tall man.  I was fond of him, he was my friend, and now my master.  I titled my head towards Mistress. She did nothing.

The new collar was metallic and seemed to pinch my neck, it wasn’t comfortable but I was delighted to be receiving the pets from the tall man,oh, I mean Stew,, no… Master. He had some treats and feed them to me while Mistress left.  I called after her, whimpered in hominid terms. I waited but she didn’t come back.

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Mackie came over to me and licked my face. It’s ok, kid, Stew is your Pappa now, like Dog is mine.  Pappa? I didn’t comprehend what this new word meant or how it would change my life. Pappa led me out of the apartment and down the hall to his home.  His scent coated the apartment.  It wasn’t at all like Mistress home.

Pappa had food for me.  Good food, not that blasted Sam’s choice. Real food.  Fifteen minutes later, he led me to the yard to do my business.  “Go to potty .. Go poop..” it was a cruel command, however, I did feel a certain urge and so complied with the command.

Over the next week, I learned that the collar was meant to discipline me. It caused me to be reminiscent of when my mother would nip my neck for the same purpose.  Something that mistress had never done.  It was somewhat unpleasant, but it felt oddly right and Pappa was more gracious to me than her.  I didn’t have to sleep at the foot of the bed.  I now cuddled under the covers with him.  Cuddling…that is what he called it. A simple, but appropriate word.

Booger’s Tale

Once a upon a time, I had a really stupid name.  An incredibly stupid name. In fact, I believe this name lowered my IQ to the point where a formal education would have been a waste. It is good thing that I was born a canine.

In the icy land of Chicago, I was unceremonious dumped in the snow of the ghetto (pronounced ghet-toe) after being weaned from my mother, a lovely golden bitch.  How mother protected me that long, I will never know.  Nor, will I know why a dizzy brunette with a spray-on tan picked me up or why she was there on Christmas Eve, but never the less, I was rescued and taken to the suburbs.

I was introduced into an entirely feline and most assuredly feminine household.  The feline obsessiveness with cleanliness was obvious. Food scraps were never allowed to linger on the floor and the toilet lid was always shut.   The denial of the ability to forage for food and the lack of access to fresh water was intolerable.

It was here, that I was named Noel.  Yep, Noel, which in canine parlance basically means no.  Naturally, I was confused nearly all the time. No…Noel…No.. good boy Noel…It was insane.  I screamed constantly and was rewarded with treats and pets.  The insanity would only deepen in the months to come.

Naturally, I did not even understand the concept of time.  My adopted mother would explain all of these things to me. Her time, however, has not come in my story.   Timing, she taught me was very important; therefore, I must continue in order to respect the lessons that she taught me.

The felines interacted most cruelly with while the mistress was out, but shunned me the moment she walked in the door. Or worse, they would at times, feign interest and play with me in her presence.  Sometimes, they would even attempt to bathe me.

Soon, I developed a fear of any separation from her.  At night, I would snuggle as close as I could without upsetting the feline forces at the head of the bed.  The felines did teach me how satisfying compulsive licking can be.  It has been a coping mechanism that has served me well over the years.

The mistress thought it was cute along with everything else I did, except for when I urinated in the house.  The felines did it, but it was clear on this point my mistress displayed favoritism. They, however, were never chained outside while the mistress attempted to sunbathe in Chicago.

Mistress showered me with praise when I whined or expressed my dissatisfaction in anyway. When I was tied to the lead, she would smile and praise me for trying to reach her. I could never reach her no matter how I tried and this infuriated my sense of justice. How could she praise me when I never completed the task provided; I believe that humans call this having issues.

Occasionally, I would see a tall man shaking his head at her and another man would come up to Mistress and speak with her. I don’t know what they said, but the tall man was generous with his pets and I loved them both. Mistress, however, dismissed them each time they spoke to her. They would turn and walk away, but not before saying farewell to me.