Jezebel

I am an animal person. Not the sort who kisses their dog or shares a bed with them. (Cal and I have had too many babies/sick toddlers share our bed over the years, so there’s no way we’re sharing the bed with an animal.) And I’m allergic to most animals. But I am an animal person.

I’ve never owned a cat, but from what I’ve observed they do their thing and let you think you own them. They deign to grace you with their presence, and you’re supposed to be grateful. And that obviously works for cats and their owners.

Dogs are different. They’re pack animals and they want to be part of the family. They have emotional needs. Sometimes it’s getting their ears scratched. Sometimes it’s attention, which may be by demanding water for their water bowl. And if that means tipping over their full bowl of water, so they can “make” it empty and demand water, so be it. Sometimes they just want to be near “The Master.” Calvin is the master. And our dog Jezebel will do anything/everything necessary to be with The Master. Even if it means being naughty.

Normally, Jezebel sleeps on a big blanket in the boys’ room. But she’d rather sleep in the master’s room. So she made plans.

I woke up during the middle of the night to strange noises. I had the inevitable thought: Burglars. But then, it didn’t sound like people. And no hooded figure walked in our dark room. So I thought I was dreaming and went back to sleep. And I woke up later. Noises again.  From underneath the bed. And I knew. Jez’d surreptitiously snuck out of the boys’ room. Crossed the house. Crept through Ariel’s room. Slunk across our bedroom and buried herself under our bed—that way no one would see her and banish her to the boys’ room.

In the morning we couldn’t quite figure out how she did it. There were three closed doors between where Jez was sleeping and where we sleep. But Labs are quite handy with their noses and very persevering. (Our previous Lab Jill could open the backdoor, which, like the rest of our doors, has a knob and not a handle. Though she did it through brute force. If you apply enough pressure at just the right spot, a door knob will “pop” open.)

In the morning, Jez was rebuked and made appropriate gestures of shame, i.e. sad eyes. Though secretly she was giddy.  And now, she’s carrying her tail a bit more arrogantly, and I know she’s thinking, “I’ve done it once, you silly humans. I’ll do it again.”


Yesterday I posted "Ten Things You'd Probably Rather Not Know About Me" on my book blog.


I also did a guess post on the challenges and rewards of writing historical fiction on Word for Words blog. 


Here are some photos of Jezebel.