Doggone happy

Barney barndog jumps on my lap while I’m typing. That is, he puts his paws on the arm of the recliner and waits for me to haul him up. In the week I’ve had him he’s become such a lump I can hardly lift him.
‘What am I going to do when you’re fully grown?’ I ask him. He remains silent, focused on licking my chin. He has enormous paws. It looks like I’ve adopted a monster.

My mind drifts from my writing to what I will do next. I’m halfway through a romance with George Clooney (on DVD, that is). Then there’s the history of the Rolling Stones, a book I’m finding strangely gripping. Plus I’m keen to watch their ‘Bridges to Babylon’ DVD for the third time this week. I’d also like to ring a dog-owning friend back home and talk about dog training. (Barney is bringing me closer to other dog owners – I had dinner with a couple of friends and their three pooches on Saturday night and we had a ball.) Also there’s the ‘Dog Listener’ DVD I’m eager to watch again for more tips. Not to mention a heap of novels that are lying neglected while I study dog care. But right now I’m enjoying writing and it’s going well, so I’ll keep going. It’s almost 9pm and I have so much I want to do I could be up til the early hours of tomorrow.

A strange, grating sound penetrates my consciousness and I look over to the sofa to see what the dog is chewing. Kindling – that’s OK. I look back to the screen and suddenly a heavy black body lands in my lap. A quick hug and lick and he’s off. Boots to chew, a fire to lie by – such a busy life. We went out to the dam late this afternoon – a foggy, misty day with mountains in the distance, a still lake in the foreground, swans honking among the reeds, a world in moody shades of brown and green. One of my new friends had invited me to lunch, but then realised she had a client coming over, so it was on to plan B. Now we’re home in front of the fire. He’s happy, and so am I. Not ecstatic. Not rapturous. Not elated. Just a gentle, quiet kind of happiness that means I don’t have to constantly check my emotional temperature but can relax and enjoy all there is to enjoy. And there’s so much. Life feels easy (apart from taxes!) Now I’m yawning. My DVD player is in the bedroom so it’s time for bed with George.