I sit at my keyboard, engrossed in my writing. My story is just beginning to unfold. I’m on a roll and my fingers are flying. Images and words match up with ease. I love these moments – my creativity unleashed. As I glance up, to ponder, something catches my attention.
It’s dark outside – where did the sunlight go? It’s been raining too, and hard! Beautiful, inspiring rain! How did I not notice? But it wasn’t the rain that distracted me. What else?
I turn my head to the doorway. A face peers around the corner. A BLACK, slighty familiar, canine face. But I don’t own a black dog? As my vision pans wider, I notice similar black blotches, spaced at regular intervals along my carpet. They are large, muddy, and very elaborate...PAWPRINTS!
“TOBY,” I shout. ”What have you done!”
I push back my chair, and rise in utter exasperation. Adrenalin pumps through my body and fury engulfs me. He darts backwards. More pawprints!
I go and investigate the damage. He’s been everywhere – the kitchen, dining room, lounge and he’s lingered at the dustbin in the bathroom. Tissues scatter the floor. He’s played with Aunt Tam’ too and she has also changed colour. And he’s chewed up our alarm system, in triumph. How did all this go unnoticed?
With head downcast, he looks up at me. Guilt is etched on his face, but the whites of his eyes suggest utter innocence. He shuffles around – still making pawprints!
I shudder. Anger, frustration and utter fury – a cacophony of emotions – fight against the knowledge that it’s pointless getting angry with him.
He continues to follow me, while inspect his artwork . He grabs one of the mats and sits, and stares at me. It’s a simple peace offering.
I shrug my shoulders in resignation, letting out a deep sigh in the process. He wags his tail. My writing is long forgotten. It’s bath time for him and he darts down the passage, in excitement.
Who can get angry with this
Sending lotsaluv and wishing you all a wonderful weekend.