A Picture of His Papa

When I came home tonight, after a long drive in the cold and ice, Duncan was curled up on the couch as he often is, his chin supported on the arm-rest so that he can look out the patio doors at the world below. I've seen him there more times than I could count, but what made me smile and broke my heart all at once was what he'd brought with him.

More often than not his toys are scattered on the floor around him, Bash, the blue hammerhead laying under the coffee table, dropped when Duncan dozed, a fuzzy green tennis ball not far away. Sometimes one or two will be resting near his head or propped on his hip in the same manner that Duncan cuddles against me when I lay on the couch. None of his toys were near him tonight, though. Instead, he'd pulled my sweater from the doorknob where I'd lazily hung it last night, carried it down the hall into the living room, placed it on the couch and laid on top of it, using it as a sort of pillow while he slept away the afternoon waiting for me to come home.

I have several pictures of him on my desk at work so that every time I look up I can see him grinning back at me, but he laid on my sweater all day, breathing me in and perhaps dreaming about the moment I arrived home to take him out to play in the snow. Sometimes the evidence of his love for me is overwhelming and I am reminded again to count my blessings.

Hammerhead

With many of Duncan's pals still locked safely away in ICU and showing no signs of immediate recovery (read: I haven't exactly made stitching them up a high priority), I figured it was time to see if we couldn't make him some new friends so I took him over to Hero's so he could pick out someone new to bring home. After trying out a couple of plush lions, one or two plastic squeaky things and licking the basket of bully sticks every time he walked by, Dunc finally settled on something unusual and unexpected, a bright blue hammerhead shark with orange and white flowers sprinkled along his back and a rather deep and raspy squeak when squeezed. He's made of sturdy fiber and floats in water so he makes a nice toy to bring into the tub.

It took awhile to settle on a name for his new pal, especially since we tend to stick primarily to the B's (Buddy, Baby, Bah-Bah, Blue Buddha, Beaker and Berry) but Duncan eventually picked out the perfect name himself. After a day or two of carrying the shark around the apartment by the tail and shaking him furiously back and forth, knocking over anything and everything not tied down, we settled on Bash.

I'm just happy he's soft otherwise my shins would be bruised and Pip––who has also showed an interest in Bash––would be in the ICU with Roo's other friends.

Morning Mischief Managed

Perhaps because I never saw my basket of yarn as anything other than benevolent until it turned on me and almost destroyed my dog, I now look at every object I own with a suspicious eye. What if the couch––solid and immovable––were to suddenly tip under the soft weight of Winnie and fall back and crush the children in one, quick blow? What if I left the stove on and cooked every animal and beloved object not only in my apartment but the entire building? Or what if I didn't make the bed and the cats crawled under the covers and, trapped by a maze of twisted blankets and a wall of pillows, suffocated, their plaintive cries unheard by the only person who could save them? It's absurd (and more than a bit of an exaggeration, I might add!) but after the skein of red yarn I bought for a scarf intended for my sister ended up in Duncan's intestines, let's just say I'm cautious.

That's why every morning, after making my tea and preparing my five fruit breakfast, I take all of Duncan's toys––Percy, his penguin, the Bah-Bah, the Birdy, Buddy and the Baby, and perch them atop my DVD shelf where he can't get to them, rip them open and choke on their fluffy innards. He doesn't like it one bit and upon my arrival home in the evening,  insists emphatically that they all immediately be returned to the ground where he can play with and terrorize them. I leave only the tennis balls for him to play with, while I'm gone and perhaps, if he's very sly, a stray kiwi.

This morning after tending to my rituals I went in search of the toys and discovered that Duncan had taken action while I showered, spending that valuable time hiding his little, armless and legless, and sometimes faceless friends, all over the apartment. Percy was tucked away on his pillow, nestled down between the blanket Chelsea gave him for Christmas and the throw mom knitted for him. If it hadn't been for Percy's bright yellow beak I may not have noticed him at all. The blue bone was concealed in Winnie's fort, an old shoe box I keep under an end table where she hides for hours, peeking up slowly and carefully so that just the green of her big eyes are visible. Buddy was stashed between the bed and the window, down among the blankets where it would've been all too easy to miss him. After a careful search of the entire apartment I'd rounded everyone up except Bah-Bah, who remained unaccounted for. Duncan ate his breakfast, indifferent to my search, or so it seemed, until I returned to the bedroom to find him curled up on the bed, the mangled lamb tucked under one paw while he received a very attentive and thorough bath.

He was not happy when I took him away and placed him up on the tower with the rest of them. He sighed loudly, harumphed and wouldn't look at me when I left. I'll make it up to him and stop by Hero's for a bully stick before I come home.

It's the time away from home that alarms me. He and the cats have all day to plot and plan and I'm beginning to doubt I'm smart enough to keep up with them.

Dreams and Devotion

Although Duncan didn't hide under the bed at my departure this morning, he wouldn't leave it. As I gathered my things, packed my lunch and mixed myself a nice iced chai, he curled up next to Winnie and wouldn't move, and even when I came in to scratch behind his ears and give him a kiss on top of his head he barely stirred. Now that he's gotten a taste of how his days could be spent, knows that not too far away is a land of tall trees, glorious water reflecting all the colors of the day and instant four-legged friendships, where dogs run free and everyone carries a tennis ball or two in his or her pocket, I won't be able to compete. Unless, of course, I call in the troops, which even Duncan, in all his infinite wisdom, is helpless against. They've shared far too many times together, battled afternoon boredom and the conspiracies of the cats, somehow muddled through together on long trips to and from Idaho, been steadfast friends during my weekend vacuuming duty. They don't go on walks with us, and these days several of them––the faceless and limbless ones, especially––have been relieved of duty, but he's fiercely loyal to them and can't resist their call.

As long as these guys are on my side, Duncan will always be true to me, and even though he won't get daily swims and trips to the backyards of my friends where he can consume seemingly bottomless bowls of their dog's kibble, his heart will belong right here at home.

(From left to right: Berry, Blue Bone, Baby, Bah-Bah and Buddy)

Working with Duncan

When the boss is away the dogs will play. Duncan made another guest appearance at work today, enjoying a leisurely afternoon of being fawned over by everyone, listening to some rockin' good tunes and chasing his ball and his blue bone up and down the aisles. He wasn't quite as reserved as he has been in the past, so I'd toss a toy down a long aisle and work furiously for a minute or so while he searched for it then brought it back, plopping it down at my feet and pawing at the back of my chair for more attention. When he grew tired of his own toys he vanished for a bit and returned with a tiny, stuffed pig which was attired in a t-shirt emblazoned with the school's name (a fitting symbol if ever there was one!). He did that last Summer, which resulted in our adoption of his Berry, but seeing as he's still ripping through his Bah-Bah I thought it best to return the pig to its spot on the shelf. Besides, all of his toys start with the letter B and I couldn't think of anything fitting for the pig. Some things just aren't meant to be.

Bah-Bah

Duncan fell in love with his Berry the moment he first laid eyes on him and they've been inseparable ever since. I try to rotate his toys––The Baby (a squirrel, now missing most of its face and two paws), The Buddy (an opossum which scared the hell out of him when they first met, but once its rather creepy tail was dispatched he warmed right up to it), The Blue Bone (a bright blue plastic toy shaped like a bone) and his Berry (the teddy bear he met while on a brief field trip to the college bookstore where I work)––but he just won't let go of the Berry. He carries it with him all over the house, grooming it, gnawing on the stub that was once its tail, keeping it nice and moist at all times. He curls up with it on the couch, tosses it around when I'm too busy blogging to play, and takes particular joy in slapping it down on my head when I'm in bed, leaving wet little smears across my cheek. He's quite fond of it.

Recently we welcomed a new member of The Duncan Clan, a soft, white sheep with floppy ears and narrow little nostrils we're calling his Bah-Bah. It's a cute thing, and although he's been reluctant to give up any time with Berry, Bah-Bah has slowly been making her way into his heart. He's been very careful not to favor her and has offered Berry equal licking and grooming time, but tonight I caught him cuddling with her on the couch. Berry was nowhere to be found.

One Voice

Sometimes, especially after long days and when the nights are dark and very cold, it's difficult knowing that once I finally get home I have to change my shoes and venture out once again, sometimes for more than an hour. As I lug my backpack up the breezeway I can often hear Duncan chirping at the door for me, doing the little dance he does, his Berry or his blue bone clutched in his mouth, his tail wagging and his back-end swaying side to side. Sometimes I pause, take a deep breath and visualize his joy and excitement at searching out the bunnies huddled under the trees or near the shrubs that grow along the edges of the building. I imagine the way he climbs the piles of snow along the parking lot which have been drudged up by the ploughs. I try to see these things to remind myself that his happiness brings me happiness. But tonight, as I listened to him, his nails dancing on the tiles on the other side of the door, his voice rising and falling in that bird-like chirrup of his, I realized that he's singing to me, welcoming me home with a song, and before I knew what I was doing, I slipped the key into the lock and turned the knob. He was on me in a flash, jumping and chirping, dancing and grabbing at the cuff of my shirt to guide me through the apartment.

I am lucky indeed and there was no need to convince myself I had to do anything. I get to do it.

Comfort and Joy

Ever prepared, Duncan sits close by me on the couch while I recoup, his Berry and his Blue Bone nearby, should I feel well enough to play.

How could a face this gorgeous not help me feel better?

My Dog, the Genius

Duncan, who amazes me every day, who knows how to sit and stay and come and fetch, who can not only give you a high five, but can also give you ten, Duncan, who can differentiate between his Baby (a squirrel), his Buddy (an opossum) and his Berry (a teddy bear), who knows his yellow bone from his blue bone, Duncan, who tended to me two years ago when I was sick and kept his weight against me when I was so dizzy I had to crawl to the bathroom, who, during several of my attacks climbed up on the couch, laid down on top of me and taught me to match my breathing to his in order to calm down, Duncan, who consoles me on those occasions when I watch the sad movie (or TV show or–okay, already!– the occasional commercial), my dog, the insane genius who I've praised and praised and talked up and down, got his head stuck between the bars in the fence tonight.

My son makes me proud. Yes indeedy! Quick, call MENSA!