Weekends

Just a few days ago, this is what Seattle looked like from one of our favorite view parks. It's too early to walk up there today, but I imagine if we took a photo of this same view, Seattle would not be visible. We're socked in at the moment with rain and low hanging clouds.

These are the times I wish I was a dog allowed up on the couch. That's where I'd be at this very moment stretched out with my head on a throw pillow, one eye focused on the window that looks out on all the church-goers covering their heads on their way to the early service. But I am not a dog that is allowed on the couch, and only by invitation am I allowed on the bed. Of course lately, I've nudged my moms for an invitation every night and they have obliged. That's because I know when and how to ask.

See, I can't ask when everyone first goes to bed. That gets me no where. Instead, I wait for everyone to be in those first stages of sleep, an hour or two after they go to bed, and then I sit at the end of the bed, stomp my feet ever so slightly and give a gentle moan. The moan is crucial. It must be a moan that sounds almost like the moan alerting my moms that I need to go out, that I MUST go out or something bad will happen. It can't be that exact moan, but close enough to get their attention.

Then, once they hear me, there is a plaintive look, a look of innocence and love, a look on the verge of begging, but the cute begging look, not the annoying begging look. The other night, I crossed over the line and my request looked too much like begging so I was sent back to my bed. Grumpily, I obeyed, but I learned my lesson -- be subtle, be patient, and most importantly, be politely persistent.

It worked last night and the night before last, but that's partly because it's the weekend and my moms are always a little more willing on the weekends. They know they get to sleep in so even though I dominate the end of the bed and they must sleep in curled up balls, they are willing to endure it because they know they get to sleep in.

Oh, how I love to sleep in. That's why now, though I'm not allowed, I would love to be lounging on the couch while one mom reads the morning paper and the other makes a grocery list.

But I am not allowed on the couch. I have yet to figure out a way to be invited, but given time, I'm certain I'll come up with something.

Me as a puppy -- 6 weeks old.