I have a dog that dreams. No, I do not mean occasionally, I mean constantly. When she’s not awake stalking and devouring lizards, she is dreaming. Now, if you are inclined to believe, this diva has a flair for the dramatic. The theatrics that accompany her slumbered visions are nothing short of a performance. She is settled now at my feet, but her yips and yaps have her 2 years old again following that mama rabbit down the warren hole. She is satisfied with her efforts apparently, as indicated by the smile on her face and her prancing, dancing paws still going strong. I marvel at the unabashed joy Miss Bailey has within her soul. She certainly knows how to let go and allow sleep to deliver her some entertainment. I wish that were true of us humans who often fight sleep with a thousand thoughts spiraling around in our heads.
Yesterday, I took Pearl Bailey to the Bank with me. I believe she seriously thinks the drive-up window is a cookie machine wherein I put in money and the drawer comes back out with a piece of white paper and a cookie for Her Majesty. I suppose the idea of this formula is appealing to her, because as soon as I say to the Professor, “I’ll be back, I’m running to the Bank”, Pearl Bailey is hot on my heels. The antics of this canine are a constant reminder that as her guardian I need to be on my toes at all time!
It’s nearing day’s end here on the island, a soft rain has been falling for hours. I am sure our resident actress would be delighted to meet face-to-face with one of the new puddles that have formed, but she will have to wait, I just had the house cleaned! Jeez, Pearl Bailey – give it a day, would ya’?