At our suggestion, our grandson Robert l

At our suggestion, our grandson Robert lives with us to lower expenses while starting a business. So his dog, Bailey, lives here too, and when Robert is gone, like last night, she’s ours.
As I sat on the couch last evening, she jumped up beside me, stuck her face in mine to make sure we had eye-to-eye contact and started barking. And howling. And whimpering. She had something to say and didn’t care that I don’t understand Dog.
She’d already done her business so what was her problem? As I listened to her talk, I realized that, as an unusually well-behaved dog, she’d been quiet and considerate for over a month while all the humans in the house were either ill or incapacitated. Maybe she needed to run.
I put our coats on, Bailey’s on her and mine on me. Than I grabbed a ball and stood in the doorway and threw it down the driveway, the only part of our property not two feet deep in snow and into the inky black of the night where it was immediately lost in the few inches of new snow.
Bailey ran into the night and found it and I waited for her to lose it in the snow, which would be normal for her, or to bring it back so I could throw it again.
She did neither. With that ball in her mouth she charged up and down the driveway, passing me in the doorway with the speed of a jet plane. Back and forth, over and over again, up and down the driveway.
As I watched, I was reminded of myself and other writers I know who often are amazed when we read reviews of our works and, even though they may be wonderfully positive, often they describe stories that we’d not recognize as the ones we wrote. Because we don’t always read a story the way the writer wrote it. I’m not sure what Bailey was trying to say but her barks drew a response from me. Maybe not the right one, but what I did worked for her.
Bailey ran and ran and ran until, knowing that her paws are easily torn in the cold, I called her back. We came back inside where she carefully added the ball to the line of boots in the hallway where it would be available for the next time. Then I returned to the couch.
Bailey jumped up beside me and, again making sure she had my complete attention, she barked again. Sharply, loudly, for a few times. Then she lay down beside me, put her head on my lap, and went to sleep.
Though the details might have been muddled because, like I said before, I don’t understand Dog all t hat well, communication took place. As a writer, I can only hope that the same thing happens when someone reads what I write.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Mimi On Life

It's always a story with the Hendersons!

Elan Mudrow

The Ridges of Intertextuallity

Florence Witkop's free stories

a gift for signing up for my newsletter

Oscar Relentos

Welcome to my catharsis

Clean Indie Reads

Home of Flinch-Free Fiction

A mom's blog

“A child is God's opinion that the world should go on.”

Wiley's Wisdom

Joy: From the Ground Up

Life with Tess

Living, Loving and Sharing Life ...

Love Conquers


Pamela D. Beverly

Just my opinion!

Folio and Ink

Literature, Poetry, Commentary, and Literary Criticism


And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds HEB. 10:24

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog


Kristen James

Top 100 Bestselling Romance Author

Pepper Phillips

Southern sass with a touch of heart...

C.S. Wilde

Epic battles & love stories larger than life.


easy reading is damn hard writing


Photographs from my world. - Product Reviews

Clean romances with hunky heroes and resourceful heroines

%d bloggers like this: