So, here's the thing: we live here too.
We know that and we know that our mama knows that and four times out of three, all is good. But that fourth time...well, we're treated like we're just objects. Like you can just place us wherever you want and that we'll be fine, like a plant that you move from the window sill to the basement and it still makes blueberries (sorry if we're not quite right about that; the TV station that we watch when no one is here comes in and out a lot and we're also trying to remember all this on empty stomachs since we have not eaten anything except dry food since breakfast and it's nearly noon).
It seems to happen every time someone comes to visit us: we're put into the bedroom or - worse! - the bathroom and told to "stay out of the way" and "be good girls" and "don't bite anyone, Rozi" (always Rozi, never Izzi... did you notice?). We don't like that one bit. This is our house and we don't understand why we are just "things" and that we have to be at the receiving end of "I pick things up and put them down," expecially when the "down" place is not where we want to be. Sometimes, we're taken from one of our six or so warm and cozy puppy beds just to be put into a room with cold floors.
Is it just that mama and everyone else who lives here is embarrassed by us? We're really good girls and we love to have people visit and we can't really be faulted (it's in our genes) if we like to jump up and try to see what the clothing of visitors to our house feels like when you nibble at it. Everyone knows that once we get used to having someone around us, we're as calm and relaxed as the United States Congress. But, when we're even the slightest bit uncomfortable about a situation, we let everyone know.
Anyway, what's more important to us is that if we've been trapped (and, that's what it is: trapped!) in the bedroom with only a few places to rest (the bed. the closet. the other closet. the bathroom. the little puppy bed. the other warm things on the floor) we cannot wait to get out and be free:
But, that's only part of the story. See, we always know when we've had someone over that we were not told about. And, once we are set free, we make it our focussed task to figure out (a) who it was and (b) the place or places in the house that they walked through. It's fortunate that we each have such keen senses of smell, since there is nothing that we cannot figure out by the way that it smells. So, once we are free to run around, we run to the front of the house and then we run around in circles in the rooms and then we run to the back of the house and then we run to the front and then we need to rest for a few hours. But, we want you to know that we do not give up! We simply find that after one or two good "back and forths" we need to catch our collective breath and what better place to do that than in our little beds (and/or, if you're Izzi, the closet)?
It's true that we never quite close these investigations; the number of "cold cases" we have is in the thousands or maybe dozens. That does not, though, mean that we have forgotten. We know that today alone there were three or six or maybe zero people who came into the house and did things and then were not in the house anymore and even though we were trapped behind 3/4 of an inch of particleboard door, we warned everyone in the house about the danger and barked warning signals as loudly as we could. And, so, while we were disappointed that we did not find the culprits (yet more cold cases for our files!) we knew that we'd done our jobs and could once again relax and enjoy doing absolutely nothing.
Except, of course, waiting for our dinners.
Arf, Yip, Yip, Arf,
Izzi & Rozi
We know that and we know that our mama knows that and four times out of three, all is good. But that fourth time...well, we're treated like we're just objects. Like you can just place us wherever you want and that we'll be fine, like a plant that you move from the window sill to the basement and it still makes blueberries (sorry if we're not quite right about that; the TV station that we watch when no one is here comes in and out a lot and we're also trying to remember all this on empty stomachs since we have not eaten anything except dry food since breakfast and it's nearly noon).
It seems to happen every time someone comes to visit us: we're put into the bedroom or - worse! - the bathroom and told to "stay out of the way" and "be good girls" and "don't bite anyone, Rozi" (always Rozi, never Izzi... did you notice?). We don't like that one bit. This is our house and we don't understand why we are just "things" and that we have to be at the receiving end of "I pick things up and put them down," expecially when the "down" place is not where we want to be. Sometimes, we're taken from one of our six or so warm and cozy puppy beds just to be put into a room with cold floors.
Is it just that mama and everyone else who lives here is embarrassed by us? We're really good girls and we love to have people visit and we can't really be faulted (it's in our genes) if we like to jump up and try to see what the clothing of visitors to our house feels like when you nibble at it. Everyone knows that once we get used to having someone around us, we're as calm and relaxed as the United States Congress. But, when we're even the slightest bit uncomfortable about a situation, we let everyone know.
Anyway, what's more important to us is that if we've been trapped (and, that's what it is: trapped!) in the bedroom with only a few places to rest (the bed. the closet. the other closet. the bathroom. the little puppy bed. the other warm things on the floor) we cannot wait to get out and be free:
But, that's only part of the story. See, we always know when we've had someone over that we were not told about. And, once we are set free, we make it our focussed task to figure out (a) who it was and (b) the place or places in the house that they walked through. It's fortunate that we each have such keen senses of smell, since there is nothing that we cannot figure out by the way that it smells. So, once we are free to run around, we run to the front of the house and then we run around in circles in the rooms and then we run to the back of the house and then we run to the front and then we need to rest for a few hours. But, we want you to know that we do not give up! We simply find that after one or two good "back and forths" we need to catch our collective breath and what better place to do that than in our little beds (and/or, if you're Izzi, the closet)?
It's true that we never quite close these investigations; the number of "cold cases" we have is in the thousands or maybe dozens. That does not, though, mean that we have forgotten. We know that today alone there were three or six or maybe zero people who came into the house and did things and then were not in the house anymore and even though we were trapped behind 3/4 of an inch of particleboard door, we warned everyone in the house about the danger and barked warning signals as loudly as we could. And, so, while we were disappointed that we did not find the culprits (yet more cold cases for our files!) we knew that we'd done our jobs and could once again relax and enjoy doing absolutely nothing.
Except, of course, waiting for our dinners.
Arf, Yip, Yip, Arf,
Izzi & Rozi
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