Today, she used a shovel to dig in the ground. I guess her hands do not work as my paws do, because I have no problem digging in the ground. Only, she doesn't want me to do so. She dug and dug, up and down before the fence, and then scooted along the ground pulling up all the green growing things there. Well...the brown wilted things.
I thought this was a great idea, though, because it meant that I could get right up next to the fence when I run back and forth with my neighbor dog. Only Myrtle didn't want me doing that either. In fact, she kept muttering how stupid she was, but since she started, she'd have to finish.
What's wrong with dirt? We both clearly like to play in it!
Of course playing in the dirt meant baths for us both. And that brings up another thing we share besides dirt fun. Scars. We both got them from that terrible pit bull. Myrtle has more than I do. Hers bother her. The one in my side does me. I lick it to make it better. Myrtle doesn't like me to do that. I chew the hair around it to make it better. Myrtle doesn't like me to do that either.
[As much as I think Myrtle's the bee's knees, there sure seems to be an awful lot of stuff she doesn't like me doing. Me, I don't like her cutting my nails or cleaning my ears or touching my scar. Simple, eh? Three little itty bitty things to remember. Easy as pie.]
Our scars make her sad. Our scars make her tremble. Our scars make her hold me tighter that she usually does.
We share a lot of good things, Myrtle and I. We share a bed filled with pillows. We share a comfortable couch. We share meals. We share baths. We share babies and balls and even bowls. We also share some bad things.
Myrtle likes to watch Doctor Who. I guess I like watching it with her because it makes her happy. Mostly. One day, it made her sad and quiet. Really quiet. The Doctor spoke these words, and she wrote them down:
The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things or make them unimportant.
Sometimes, when Myrtle is clutching me tight, she whispers softly in my ear: You're a good thing, Amos. You're momma's good thing.
This is my life with Myrtle. Amos Adams signing off!
Good to see you back at the keyboard again, Amos. You and your Myrtle do share a lot. Hey, here's something to make you both wag your tails. One day soon you'll be sharing LIVERMUSH!!!!
ReplyDeleteCalm down, Amos! Shhh! Enough with racing up and down the steps in your excitement and glee. You'll wake Myrtle up and after yesterday she needs her sleep.