Shrinking the Jakita

Every once in a while, I go back in time and like a Greek Philosopher, ponder how I got to BE or NOT  TO BE and of course, WHY? Although I now am a sensible five old, it wasn’t always that way.  It is that Type A Earth Dog Personality that can get me in trouble though I will swear it’s the Devil, my diet (Blame Momma), my DNA or even, you guessed it, Momma, were (and still are) the culprits.

You have to blame someone and I just can’t see my role in some of the disastrous choices I have made.  It is just that there is so much to see and do in this world.  I never pass up an opportunity to have fun along the way, even though Momma says I swivel my hips when I walk (it is that prednisone weight problem), yet still look sanctimonious (only idiots look happy-go-lucky).  I have to make some heavy-duty choices along life’s path especially since I wrote and distributed Policies and Procedures for All Creation.  I mean, even the squirrels, rabbits and raccoon have been known to lend credence to my authority on Territorial Rights for the Four Footed.

I remember being a wee puppy, a matter of ounces, staring at a patch of grass  or a flower all day, sprouting before my eyes. In the flower bed you could see tiny ants, insects, worms, busy, busy, busy, like Momma they were.  I would try to catch them but they would be in the next county by the time my furry paw touched down.  And who among us does not want to catch a butterfly to play with?

They tantalize us with their brilliant colours and torment us as they land on a flower, bomb diving our noses as they swoop up, up and away, like a helium balloon.

Enough, I said.  I graduated to chasing the Four Footed like myself.  Who knows what my intentions were if I caught something? I mean, I don’t fish, I don’t hunt.  My skill is in herding (ask the cats), finding solutions to problems not even on the radar and being bossy – like… My Will Be Done.

My only hang up (I know, I know there are doggy psychologists these days) is fire works or storms – basically, noisy nature.  I can hold off on bathroom duty a long time before I venture in to any noise generated by an unseen object.  For example: A massive piece of machinery clanging and spewing out high decibel, that I can see with my own eyes – I get it – it is a truck or a train or a lawnmower – it will cease and desist…at some point.  But….fireworks for like, Queen Victoria’s birthday  or Mother Nature’s fury, puts me in a tizzy. I have no idea where the noise comes from, or when it will end. I just see or hear a fire-ball jet high in to the night sky or in the midst of a storm, I see lightning flashes like a flashlight beam on steroids, hear the loud thunder, feel its vibrations and  I tremble, for hours, long after the party is over or the clouds have past and the sky is blue again.

All things considered, makes sense. I would have to be foolhardy to not feel the threat of the unknown.  You know me – I have never claimed to be the bravest soldier – I just have the best war chest.

Still, being me, I had to find a solution and mine was to go to bed with Momma and cover my ears with my fluffy paws so I did not whimper all night.  But something changed one day. I might as well tell you because someone is bound to let the cat out of the bag.  I, well, kind of switched my allegiance from Momma to Wonder Boy. I can’t help it.  He makes me feel so protected. Now I sleep at the bottom of his bed.  Momma is totally cool with it. After all, she is the original ‘been there, seen that.’  She has the inside tract.…And she knows.  The very first night Wonder Boy is unavailable and I am scared, I’ll be back.  I always am.