Plus, let's be frank: our family is coming soon, and if the meaty, blood stains of these bones on their favorite lounging areas aren’t enough to convince the lads that this house is not theirs any more, the rancid smell will do it. As kids they were told to keep smelly socks on their feet, and not to leave the snacks they didn't finish lying around on the floor and in the sofa. So how did their childhood home become so dog-centric, and is it fair?
But then, just when I found this picture of Zoe with her bone and copied it from my I-Photo album, but before I started writing, I heard rustling. Zoe had run back downstairs from her crate, where she’d already bedded down for the night, with the bone in her jaw. She looked quite happy to be reunited with it, and she stared at me the whole time she gnawed on it, chewing it with something like pride as I composed these words.
We had a few moments of communion like this: a middle aged writer, a middle aged dog, two females of their species, watching one another intently as we did what we each like to do.