Sitting as close to Husband as is possible, Mr.Dog is paying attention to the weather. As he’s aged, the thunder bothers him less. He doesn’t much like the patter of raindrops, retreating to a room with out a sky light when they get too loud. Mr. Dog’s world is getting smaller, as I’ve written before, he is getting old. I say he’s one hundred and five in dog years,fifteen in human years,I calculated his age using a complicated system based on folklore and wag . You can’t beat WAG when telling a tale about dogs. He’s happy and looks good, and still chasing cats.
We have a new cat. I started calling him, Captain Midnight, when he got into the trash, he acquired the additional name of the Prince of Darkness. He’s not really our cat, but he seems to live here now. I don’t even know if he is really a he. He’s sleek and black and a fierce hunter. All the things I look for in a cat. We have been putting out some food for him, but have to wait until Mr. Dog is asleep.
Mr. Dog makes up in sneakiness what he lacks in visual acuity. Some how he figured out that we were doing something interesting outside. Once he’s gone to bed for the night, he rarely gets up again. The other night, he waited until he had seen Husband return from going outside. We realized what he had been doing when he trotted back into the bedroom, sat down and belched with a big doggy grin on his face. Now, we close the back door before putting out the cat food.
The captain is getting used to us and hangs around more and more. I think we have a cat, or maybe the cat has us?