LATER NEWS – JUST A VERY QUICK WORD …

Our little girl Bonnie is definitely not well today. Yesterday, she threw up and refused dinner. But previously, this usually passes overnight and she’s fine by morning.

She isn’t fine this morning. I called the vet and of course, no appointments (Saturday is a half day), but the vet will call me back. I’m not asking for a load of sympathy and I’m turning off the comments key because a lot of comments will just make me even more twitchy than I already am.

Bonnie

She has something with her gut and it is (believe it or not) constipation that has always been the culprit. No matter what we do (and we have done a lot), we wind up waiting. After a day or two, it’s okay. Usually a 3-day cycle and this is day two. I suspect it will be fine, but in the meantime, I reserve the right to anxiously bite my lip. And wait for the vet to call back.

So that is my day, so far. Sorry. Not my best morning. Hopefully later will work out for us. Meanwhile, it simply waiting.

LATER | DAILY POST

BONNIE AND HER BFF

Photography by Garry and Marilyn Armstrong

It takes a village to raise a child. It take two photographers and a lot of coaxing to photograph a Scottish Terrier.

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You could say that Garry and I teamed up … but I think if you were Bonnie, you’d say we ganged up. On her.

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Forced her to sit still. Coerced her into letting us see her eyes. How undignified!

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Although more than half the shots were blurry, we got a few we like. Presenting Bonnie. With and without her favorite person.

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DEAR BONNIE

Literate for a Day — Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them? (Thanks for the suggestion, Chic Prune!)


Dear Bonnie,

I know you are a Scottie and have an inbred tendency to attack life head first. It’s charming, in its own way but I’m going to suggest it’s time to moderate your behavior.

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Lately, you’ve been showing up in the house looking like Druid Dog. You’re so covered with leaves and twigs and stuff, it’s hard to recognize you as a dog. You look like a piece of the forest floor that has grown legs. Also, attacking the hall gate by ramming it with you head can’t be healthy. Doesn’t it hurt? It’s not helping the gate stay on its hinges either.

I’m sorry that we can’t have all of you sleeping in our bed, but the bed isn’t big enough and you guys are all much too icky and smelly; frankly, we are too old.

Bonnie Resting

And finally, there’s the whole matter of treats. We humans are not as stupid as you think we are. We do remember having given you a treat mere minutes ago, so hitting us each up for another if we are near the kitchen, is ruining your credibility. How can we trust you when you lie to our faces?

You cannot have an unlimited number of daily treats. It’s unhealthy and will make you fat. You wouldn’t want to lose your girlish figure, now do you?

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I’m glad we had this opportunity to chat.

Tomorrow the well guy is going to be here and we will have to do some serious negotiating about not running up into the road. And not getting in the way of the big machines, or falling into the well (that would be really terrible). It’s just one day … surely you can behave for that long, can’t you? Please?

BONNIE IS BACK!!

BONNIE IS BACK.

It was a long day for us, but Bonnie is fine. She had, I gather, a lovely day full of biscuits and romping with her new pal, a Boston Terrier. Garry and I are finally breathing!! Yay.

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Thanks to everyone who kept an eye out. She was apparently picked up by a motorist on Rt. 98 and taken home to Douglas where she had a fine mini vacation. Many thanks to the Uxbridge and Douglas Police, both of whom helped make sure she found her way back to us.

And especially thanks to Joyce, Uxbridge’s intrepid Animal Control officer for her support and assistance.

PROTECTION DETAIL

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This is Bonnie’s spot, her lookout post. Up on the top of the sofa back, on her own cushion. Nose on glass with the picture window … which is so covered with nose prints, it is very nearly opaque.

She can see everything. She sleeps here, unless she is on the sofa with us and she would probably only leave there to eat or go outside and bark (and bark and bark and bark) if only we would join her rather than stubbornly insisting on sitting on the reclining loveseat — from which we can watch TV.

All the dogs have a “spot” that is their own. Nan’s is at my feet, under my desk in the office — if I’m in the office. Otherwise, on the foot of the recliner if I’m in the living room. Bishop sleeps outside when there’s snow cover. He really likes the snow. A lot. Inside, he sleeps on the landing at the head of the stairs or on the landing between upper and lower floors. I think it’s a guard dog thing.

Bonnie is the only one who cares about having a view. She watches. She looks asleep, but she is just resting, ready to spring into action in a heartbeat. Our little soldier, protecting her world and us.

A SERIOUS TALK WITH BONNIE

 I feel this is a perfect opportunity to air a grievance still fresh in my mind.

Although we are indulgent dog parents, we don’t sleep with dogs. They outnumber us two to one and the bed isn’t all that big.  Moreover, they hang with us on the loveseat in the living room and in the offices from morning till we toddle off to bed in the wee hours. The bed is ours. Ours alone. I refuse to feel guilty about it. Okay, a little guilty, but only a bit. We have enough trouble getting comfortable without trying to maneuver around you dogs.

Not to mention the dirt and fur that inevitably accompanies our beloved beasts. We have a gate across the hallway. We close it at night when we go to bed, confining our poor, oppressed pets to the living room, kitchen and of course the yard via the doggy door. For the 5 or 6 hours during which I try to catch some Zs, it’s No Dogs Allowed. You guys — yes, I mean you, my black-furred miscreant — know this is our time alone. You know perfectly well that when the gate is closed, it’s “give them a rest” time.

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Except last night, Bonnie, you didn’t feel like sleeping and proceeded to fling yourself at the gate. The whole house shook. I’m surprised you didn’t knock it right off its hinges. The howling and barking and yapping was bad enough, but this was like an earthquake. Totally uncool.

Bonnie, my beloved Scottish Terrier? Listen up. If you persist in flinging yourself at the gate through the night, it isn’t biscuits you’ll get. Just because you’re bored and think 3 am is a grand time for a romp and a treat, doesn’t mean we humans agree. You are going to wind up in a crate. Worse, I’ll take away your computer privileges. You won’t be able to use my laptop anymore. You know I can do it, darling Bonnie, so don’t test me. Last night, you were a wicked Scottie.

When you rousted me out of bed for that fourth and final time — was that just about 4 am?– you knew I wasn’t coming to give you a cookie. Because you ran out the doggy door and didn’t come back until I’d gone back to bed. How did you know I was mad at you? I didn’t say anything. The first three times you got your dad, then me up, you snagged a biscuit. That was supposed to shut you up. How did you know this wasn’t another goody on the way?

But you knew. You ran for the yard. Interesting. Was it the sound of steam coming out of my nose and ears? Or just the way I tread the floorboards?

Bonnie, my darling. You do that again, tonight — or any other night — and your spoiled rotten little life will be in serious peril. Do you understand? Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious. I’m mad at you!

Bonnie Annie Laurie

Bonnie, our proud and fierce Scottish Terrier, rules our world. With four iron paws encased in velvet gloves, she share her home with us. We are grateful.

Recently, we upgraded her sleeping arrangement and got her a new sofa. The back of the sofa is the perfect height to align her with the picture window. Of course, we have also put pillows along the back so that she will be more comfortable sitting there and viewing her realm.

We live to serve her royal self.

Undaunted by vacuüm cleaners or other machinery, she protects us from unrelated dogs that might wander near our property, especially the two mastiffs who live next door.

She saves us from the peril of evil socks and fuzzy blankets, steals those devil paper napkins (she knows the evil that lurks therein).  She will sleep next to us, her big head on our feet, and we know who is in favor today by where she lays her head. She will never sleep on a lap. She is a terrier and her feet need to be in contact with ground in case she needs to launch herself into action.

The Girls and Dad

Since we have a doggy door, she may need to fly out to protect her domain at any moment without warning.

The back of the sofa is Bonnie’s special place, the cushions on the back of the sofa her throne. From her lofty perch, she can see her domain.

Bonnie watches the storm - Marilyn Armstrong

I believe she has a secret Facebook account with thousands of friends. I just haven’t been able to prove it yet.

Meet Bonnie Annie Laurie, who loves us enough to let us fulfill her needs.