I had one more load of laundry to finish this morning. In the process of running up and down stairs, bringing up clean, folded laundry to put away, I noticed Speedy standing at his dog door. He looked back over his shoulder with this really pleading face. "I have to go out, but nobody will open the flap for me."
"I'm on to you," I said. "You were running in and out of the house all yesterday afternoon. Just because it's cloudy outside today doesn't mean the flap won't open."
"Like I said, NOBODY will open the flap." and the eyes turned up the pathos of doghood to way past woeful.
Since my hands were empty at the moment, I pushed the flap until the magnets let loose. He put his nose under and went on out to find a squirrrel or cat to annoy. I went down for more laundry. Before I got back upstairs, I heard the clickety-click of his paws on the dining room floor. Probably won't be the last time for this performance, either.
After I got settled down to write, Speedy took his lookout position. He suddenly started barking like the mailman was outside. The doorbell rang, so I went to answer the door. The young couple who just moved into the neighborhood had a Jack Russell on a leash. They said he was a stray and wanted to know if he was ours. "We have a flight in a couple of hours," they said. "But we didn't want him to just be loose on the street."
"Nope, but there's a family down two blocks who have a Russell that looks similar to that. You might try there." I hope those are the dog's owners. Still, a Jack Russell gets a premium price at the Humane Society, so even if they turn him in, he'll probably have a good home within a week.
The word of the day for November 23, 2008 is "piteous" — Pronunciation: \ˈpi-tē-əs\
Date: 14th century.
: of a kind to move to pity or compassion
— pit·e·ous·ly adverb
— pit·e·ous·ness noun
Our quote for the day is from William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British dramatist, poet. Prospero, in The Tempest, act 1, sc. 2, l. 13-5:
No more amazement.
Tell your piteous heart
There’s no harm done.