Lisa is away this week. Writing in her stead is her dog, Baxter:
How pleasant it is to be with you again! Given my advanced age, it is pleasant to be anywhere, but it is particularly agreeable to be with you at the helm of this journalistic endeavor, as my opportunities to do so are limited.
In our past occasions, I have shared morsels about myself, such as my love for bacon, chewable footwear and, most especially, Owner Dear. She and I are currently working on our 16th year together, with all but my first eight weeks of life spent by her side.
In the 13th year of our association, Intruder came into our midst. I believe you know him by the moniker "Trapper John," and trapped, I felt indeed. Prior to his arrival, I was able to weed out those who attempted to thwart my place beside Owner Dear. Despite my best efforts, Intruder remained and took up permanent residency in our kennel. I lost my sight shortly thereafter. The timing of these events is not lost on me, as though the cosmos protected me from bearing witness.
While the loss of sight has been traumatic in its own right, it has complicated the fact that I feigned hardness of hearing for two years prior thereto. Alas, in blindness, when I first heard Owner Dear open the ice box to retrieve my dinner and I reacted with enthusiasm, well... Owner Dear is astute and was onto my ruse. In truth, my hearing is fine. I simply ignored certain demands. Age brings the latitude to not engage in the every whim of others.
I now spend much of my day seeking to be near Owner Dear, in slumber on her lap or by her feet, for I dream in Technicolor, with perfect vision and youthful joints. I run swiftly, the wind pinning back my ears as I chase mid-sized rodents of pestilence as I was wont to do as a pup. These times are good -- until an urge for the loo disrupts my utopia.
This awakening generally occurs in what some call the "wee" morning hours, and I now understand all too well how the term came to be. Intruder often wakes for the same reason, and since I can no longer take myself outside to conduct business, he has taken to carrying me down the stairs and into the garden. It is emasculating for both of us, but we carry on, living our best lives, protecting the bedding, and making Owner Dear happy. On the latter, we find common ground.
I hope life affords me the opportunity to be with you again, but our days are numbered -- quite literally, please see any calendar -- so I will leave you with this parting thought: We are never too old to learn something imprudent, even as imprudent as finding common ground with an interloper. Regardless of my disdain for him, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. But it is still on my list.