My Little Shadows

I'm a big woman, tall and fat, but I cast two little shadows all around the house. Their names are Ruby and Sally, our mini-dachshunds. Without Skip here as anchor (she doesn't move from place to place too often through the day so they can roost near her for big chunks of time), they're forced to shadow me wherever I go.

I am not one to sit too long in any one place during the work day. I think it's my short attention span that makes me go from room to room as I come up with a myriad of things to fill my day. When I head into the living room to sit on the couch and use my personal laptop, they stroll in soon after I'm in position. Sally, smaller and pretty athletic, will jump up on the couch like a cat and take up the primo position, laying alongside me, sharing body heat. Ruby will saunter in behind and come up meekly to the couch, waiting to be invited and then lifted up (she's the biggest "mini" dachshund on earth, weighing in at 20 lbs, so not a jumper by any means). She lies a bit to the side, soon falling fast asleep, issuing deep, contented snores.

When I get up from the couch, they both look up at me with expressions that seem to say, "what are you doing, we're warm and comfortable here ..." But, they give in to the greater need to be with human companionship and follow me to wherever I'm going.

In the kitchen, they have a big dog bed right near my work table. It's on the ground, near the kitchen door, so it's none too warm and, whenever I look down to see how they're doing, Sally is shivering. I try to put a throw over them to keep them warm, but often the act of getting up to get the throw causes them to be on the move again. Then, I get them settled back on their pillow and cover Sally from head to paw. Ruby doesn't get cold, so she doesn't get the full body covering.

They're all too familiar with the month-long routine of me heading out in the evening to visit Skip. Just before I head out, I'll send them out to pee. When they come back in, Ruby knows to go right into the crate. Sally has to be cajoled in, she's trying to delay the inevitable. When I come home, and open the crate door, they are so excited, jumping and showing their delight. It makes an otherwise empty house a lovely home to return to.