I saw a thing about doing a Zen walk with a dog. This made me wonder what a Zen walk with Betty would be like. Maybe it would be perfect Zen: Going nowhere, doing nothing.
All posts by Scott
Where People Know Your Name–Part V
Betty and I were playing keep-away in the front yard (her favorite game) when a car pulled up and parked in front of a neighbor’s house. A woman whom I’d never seen before stepped out of the car and spotted Betty. The woman ran over to the fence surrounding my yard and said, “Oh Betty, come on over here. You’re so gorgeous. I love you.” Betty, of course, dashed over to the fence, did her little dance of joy, and took in all of that love.
I stood a good distance away mystified. Yet one more stranger knows about Betty. Why? What is the source of this inscrutable power Betty uses to create so much adoration? Is it the ears? The long nose? The short legs? The deep bark? The hypnotic dance of joy followed by sprinting around in delight? There must be some sort of double-blind scientific experiment that I can do to figure out what is going on. I can’t accept that Betty has a paranormal ability undetectable to science. If she has such an ability, then why hasn’t this loving, gorgeous, and darling of a dog had any effect on me?
Poor Betty Zing
Betty has been acting strangely. She whines and cries frequently, and she treats her dog food like it is poison (though she gobbles up treats). When she is in my room, she goes under my bed or under my desk and digs at the carpet. In the bathroom, she sits in a corner staring at the wall and whimpering. She went behind the recliner in Carol’s office the other night and made what looked like a nest with a blanket. She took this little space alien rubber toy and gently laid it in the nest. She carries the toy around the house and gets very indignant if one of us touches or moves it.
I deduced that Betty is nesting and Carol agreed, but we were worried about her not eating, so I took her to the vet. No problem since Betty loves going to see the vet.
Employees are the only humans permitted inside the vet’s building, so Betty and I waited in the car until a technician came to take her inside. Betty watched the building door impatiently and went crazy with joy every time someone came out.
Betty was not happy that it took so long for a technician to come to our car, but she forgot all about it when the technician finally arrived. I’m sure Betty had great fun with all of her vet friends while she was being examined.
When the examination was finished, the vet called Carol (who was at home) despite the explicit instructions he was given to call me. It seems that my role is as a mere chauffeur for Betty.
Anyway, the vet told Carol that Betty is suffering from a false pregnancy. Nesting and not eating are part of the deal. She should be fine in a week or two.
Now, before all of you start thinking “Poor Betty,” or “How cute,” consider this: The vet says it is a false pregnancy, but he didn’t do any sort of pregnancy test. How does he know for certain that this pregnancy is false? Betty just might be sneaking out of the house late at night to go party with the other dogs in the neighborhood. Unlocking and opening the front door appears to be an obstacle given Betty’s short legs, but maybe she just pretends she can’t open it whenever we are awake. Betty is a sly dog after all. Teen dogs like her get bored by old farts like me who sit in front of a computer all the time. The logical conclusion is that Betty is a party animal.
