“Next time you go,” Brian huffed, “leave Nancy at home.” He was talking about me and the “go” referred to Good Will because we’d called him to help John lug a new purchase, an old armoire, up the porch steps into the house.
“Nancy didn’t buy it; I did.” John said in a way that marked him down as honest but hopefully wouldn’t be heard. John and I decided where the new piece of furniture would live, but it still stands in the middle of the room as John buys and applies more and more products to condition the old patina and to wrestle with the old SMELL. He’s worked most of the day and night for a couple of days and when he’s not working he’s staring at it and planning.
Give a cat an empty box and that cat wouldn’t be have half as much fun as John is having, in fact he reminds me of my favorite dog Zoey. She was a small dog and loved cows, expressing her joy in various ways. She barked, panted and scratched the windows as we passed the bovines in the car. The first time Zoey was on the ground with the big things she didn’t back down as I thought she would, but raced around a calf or cow and as they curiously bent their heads low to inspect all the action. So Zoey sniffed their noses. She even approached a bull, but we grabbed her and ran before she could greet him properly.
Her favorite expression of the bovine interest was to pick up dried cow pies and prance with her tail proudly straight up. The gloopy shaped cow pies looked like giant Frisbees as she stacked them up around our tent. I’m sure her [plan was to take them home as souvenirs!
At least John has limits.nancymauerman.com