Momnesia

Dopey Dog

“So, how were the ruffers today?” I ask Scott, referring to the dogs.

“They were fine. We all took a nap together about 1 o’clock. Then, Scrabble leaped up onto my chest and went ‘RRUUF!!!!’ for no reason. And, of course, Barkley followed him.”

“Barkley is so stupid," I laughed. "He’s worse than a lemming. You don’t have to lead him over a cliff. You could just say, ‘Hey, meet me at the bottom,’ and he’d be there.”

Scott laughs and nods: “I love it when he wanders into the room, looks at nothing - I mean, at the wall, or something - and goes ‘RRUUFF!!!’ and then looks at you like, ‘Did you see that?!’”

I laugh, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Sometimes he runs from room to room, completely undone by some invisible predator, barking his fool head off and freaking me out.

“I think the reason he barks is because he too stupid to understand what’s going on around him, so he just gets frustrated,” I said.

Scott imitates Barkley, dopey look on his face, head cocked to the side: “Duhr, what’s going on? Who am I? What am I?”

I imitate him waving his paws in front of him in a panic: “What are these things at the end of my legs?!”

Incidentally, the baby is dropping, I’m measuring right on schedule with size and weight gain, and all of the other very personal, technical aspects of the process are where they’re supposed to be. Countdown: 21 days, if that. I had some contractions about 4 a.m. this morning. It was cool. I mean, it hurt, but it was still cool.