Skylar introduces herself to most people by jumping up in a vertical wiggle with her mouth wide open, aiming her giant-looking teeth at any body part she can latch onto. It’s a bit overwhelming.
When I come home, she groans this high-pitched nervous whine that, if emitted by a human, would be a strong indicator of a social anxiety, or perhaps a precursor to an epileptic fit.
She whacks her tail with the ferocity of a beaver against walls, legs, the floor or my face, when we are lying in my bed, feet-to-head.
Skylar assumes the position of a sprint runner at the start line when my morning alarm goes off and freezes herself in slobbery anticipation for me to roll my legs over the bed.
“Fooooood!” is the chorus I imagine is ringing through her minute brain. She takes off to the kitchen, slides her doggy toenails across the tile and jumps her front two feet, hops them is more like it, until I am kind enough to deposit two scoops of kibble in her bowl.
I think she just breathes in, using all her lung’s capacity. She doesn’t really chew, that takes too much time. And when you’re as excited as she is about eating, you don’t have time to enjoy whatever it is you’re eating. You just swallow, and hope you don’t later eat something your system rejects and cause all your kibble to come back up. Then again, if you’re Skylar, you eat throw-up too.
Skylar eats shoes, socks, bones, Goober (the kitten)’s toys, pine cones, pine needles, sometimes her own poop, depending on the day and flavour, I assume
As neurotic and “energetic” (that’s dog owner talk for crazy) as she is, Skylar is the best relaxant and cuddle partner. She wedges herself between my legs and the cough, propping her chin on my thigh, while we watch TV. When we go on walks in the beautiful trails behind our house, she darts from male pee spot to pee spot, but never strays too far from me, making the walk enjoyable for me, energy-spending for her. Then she collapses at home and I forget for a moment what an insane puppy she is.
Goober helps me forget this too, by acting as a diversion. He pops his little head out from behind couches and corners, providing a teeny-tiny target for Skylar to clumsily lunge at. She usually opens her mouth around the scruff of Goober’s next, but never causes harm, save for the slobber that acts as kitty hair gel. Goober’s hair is usually spiked these days.
The two of them chase each other. Don’t shake your head at me for exposing my kitty as prey to a larger animal. He makes her yelp with his needle claws, and they both have an understanding they share of when is play time, and when is cuddle together on the fluffy blanket in an adorable photo op time.
The two of them are both teaching me to enjoy simple pleasures, as that is the only luxuries to which they are accustomed, or that they understand. It is nice to know there are two furry creatures at home that live for the moment I walk in the door. And feed them.

Labels: kitten, puppy