A strange new word...

Myrtle taught me a new word today.  Or a game.  Or both.  I am not sure what I think of it, but she laughed and laughed and laughed.  I like hearing my puppy momma laugh.

One of the things that Myrtle taught me is the word "where."  Where means find, actually, as I understand it.  That dawned on me tonight when Myrtle taught me her ... game. Definitely, I think it is a game.  Like Fetch.

Sometimes my puppy momma likes to distract me by asking me, "Where's your baby?"  Or she will ask, "Where's your ball?"  That sets me off to find one of my many babies or balls and bring it back so that we can play together.  Both babies and balls alike, Myrtle will throw them across the room, let me play with them a bit after I bring them back, and then take them from me to toss away again.  She knows.  My puppy momma knows that I would never just leave a baby lying by itself across the room.

Of course, when it comes to babies, one is never enough, so I like to bring two or three.  You need at least two because it is ever so comforting to tuck a baby beneath your chest as you lie on the floor nuzzling your baby and making it squeak.

Anyway, today, Myrtle taught me "Where's Momma?"

Myrtle hid herself from me and then called out.  The first time, she asked, "Where's Momma?" and then followed it up with words I know:  "Come-Come-Come!"  After some searching, I found her hiding behind one of the doors to the parlor.  She started toward the living room, and so I raced ahead.  Only Myrtle tricked me.  She didn't follow.  Instead, once more, I heard, "Where's Momma?" then a long pause followed by "Come-Come-Come."

I also found Myrtle hiding on the servant's stairs, in the half bath, and on the landing to the basement stairs.  By the last, Myrtle only had to ask, "Where's Momma?" and I would come find her. Each time I did, Myrtle laughed and picked me up to let me rest my head upon her shoulder, relax my body against hers, and just soak up all her loving of my canine self.  I don't get to do that as much as I'd like these days, being held that is.  She teases me that I am getting heavier, but really we both know she is getting weaker.

I was the one laughing when Myrtle, having squeezed herself in between the wall and a burled maple chest to hide had a very hard time squeezing herself back out.  Since she was down low, I squeezed myself in there, too, and climbed into her lap and gave her lots of kisses.  She laughed even harder.  Saying something that means something to her but not to me:  "Silly Amos, Trix are for kids!"

I do have my suspicions, though, about this game.  I mean, Myrtle does very little moving, whilst I'm racing all about the house.  It is kind of like when Myrtle sits at the top of the stairs and tosses one of my squeaky balls down the stairs for me to fetch and bring back to her.  She just sits there and I do all this climbing and descending of stairs.

Myrtle says it's good for me.
Why is it that things that are good for you are often hard work??


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!