ANIMAL CRUELTY

Things need cleaning. Cars, toilets, mouths that say curse-words, hair (sometimes), dishes, clothes. If only Sophies were an exception. Our dog would certainly like her life better if they were. The laundry room in our new house has a utility sink—a Soph sink, and when The Husband turns on that laundry room light, sets out the blow dryer, and unfolds a towel, our usually ubiquitous dog goes AWOL. Once wrangled, she punishes him with looks of torment and betrayal.



Too bad we love burying our mugs in her fresh fur after the weekly washing. If we didn’t so desire the scent of her shampoo, perhaps she’d have to experience such torture less frequently.

A perk of having a teddy-bear faced, fuzzy, cuddle-bug, teeny beast is dressing it up. The outfits available for such beings are innumerable. Sophie has frilly pink fairy dresses, rock star tank tops, cable knit sweaters, a hoodie, and various styles of collars (if I don’t have to wear the same outfit every day, why should she?). This year, she has a Halloween costume. Today we tried it on.


I love decorating the doggie. She’s recalcitrant. I pull a tiny top out of a Target bag and somehow, she’s divined it’s for her. She takes one look at the foolish garment and heads for the hills. Once I’ve brought the baby to my lap to dress her, she goes limp, trying her darndest to ke me feel that I’m abusive, making it tricky to push her paws through the armholes.

When the dressing’s done, it’s obvious the little one feels like an idiot. She won’t come for a treat. She won’t chase her Holy Lobster toy. She just stands there. In one spot. Unmoving. Unresponsive.

Until she does move. And then it’s to under the table to hide and pout.


Red-eye happens, but I can’t help but believe what Soph managed to do with her eyes for the photo shoot is a reflection of her animosity for me right now.