Like so
many other people in these uncertain times, we’ve sought
support from a higher power. We’ve searched our hearts,
and realized that what we once thought was so important,
isn’t.
So
in 2001 we dedicated our lives to a supreme being around
whom our entire existence revolves. Though we might be
accused of some metaphysical dyslexia, this being is:
Dog
More
specifically—Serena, the Wonder Dog. She is a wonderful
successor to Tasha, the Psycho Dog, who, though she had
some admirable qualities (none of which we can actually
recall at the moment), terrorized everyone she came in
contact with, including her owners (if not physically,
emotionally).
Serena,
being a perfect blend of German Shepherdness, where she
gets her markings, and Labradorness, where she gets her
personality, has no discernable defects apart from a
penchant for chasing deer, squirrels, and other
cute/fuzzy/defenseless animals.
When Brian
takes Serena for a walk at night, she wears a flashing red
light that enables him to catch glimpses of her
hyperactive bounding through the woods, across the
pasture, around the lake, and back again.
It’s like a
endlessly repeating magic show: “Follow the little red
dot, if you can. Is it here? There? No, it’s circled all
the way around and is right behind you. Whooosh!!,
it’s gone again. Follow the little red dot, if you
can….”
Laurel gets
to experience a doubledose of Serenaosity when she goes
for a walk during the day with Wonder Pet and her clone.
Words fail when it comes to describing the energy, speed,
stamina, and sheer craziness of not one, but two, maniacal
canines. Thankfully, only one serious injury has resulted
so far, and that was to Laurel—who was innocently jogging
when Wonder Pet I and Wonder Pet II slammed into her from
behind, causing her to perform what would have been a
graceful Aikido shoulder roll, if it had only been
graceful, and she had rolled.
These tiny
glitches in our relationship with Dog don’t stop us from
spending countless hours happily attending to Serena’s
every need: carefully cutting up bite-sized pieces of
squash to add variety to her nothing-but-the-best Eukanuba
diet, rubbing her furry little stomach as she lies
spread-eagled on her back (her adorable Playdog centerfold
pose), buying countless balls that light up and make
sounds for her nighttime playing pleasure (“countless,”
because she is only one-half Labrador Retriever, and the
half that got left out obviously was the retriever
part).
In
our ever-decreasing non-dog-devoted time, Brian continues
to write—cantankerously—about subjects nobody wants to
read about. His book about Plotinus looks like it will be
published commercially, but will probably sell just enough
copies to keep Serena’s cupboard filled with dog food and
play balls. Brian flew the Shotokan karate coop about a
year ago, and now pursues an eclectic style of martial
arts that ranges from Shaolin forms, to swords (wooden, so
far), to Tai Chi, to jujitsu.
Laurel is
still devoted both to enhancing the growth of trees and
other living things on our five acres, and doing the same
for the people in her psychotherapy practice.
Increasingly, she’s thinking that she’d rather do more of
one than the other—you can guess which (hint: do trees
need preauthorization to be
watered?)
We’re healthy and happy; we wish the same for you.
Praise
dog! Or any
other higher power you believe in.
