~~Molly. She's wise in mysterious ways. ~~
There's an interesting post by Johnathan Morrow about the 3 writing lessons he learned at dog obedience school, which made me wonder if my very own Molly-dog couldn't teach me a thing or two about Getting On With The Novel.
I once decided in my wisdom, to eat like a dog after reading an article stating people could easily get leaner and fitter if they would only live like more their pooches - which I took to mean eating twice a day and walking a lot, rather than menacing the postman and breaking wind at inopportune moments. (More tea vicar?) Not a bad idea, I thought, typically grasping at straws.
Unfortunately, Molly chose that particular day to eat a tub of Flora, a six-pack of scones (I can see where she was going with this - shame she hadn't mastered the use of a butter-knife) and half a cow-pat as we tromped through fields of mud, before slumping queasily on her bed and glaring at me accusingly. Needless to say, she sicked it all up later on the living-room carpet. Behind an armchair, for maximum convenience. Nothing to be learnt here, I thought, scrubbing away grimly.
On a more constructive note, I have noticed that if Molly wants me to play Throw the Sock, she drops the smelly thing in front of me until I give in and throw it. When she senses tea-time is approaching, she rests her head in my lap and looks tortured until I get up and feed her. When it's time for walkies, she nudges my hand and makes funny noises in her throat until I cry, "alright, alright, I'm coming you furry tyrant!!" In other words, when she wants something, she blooming well persists until she gets it. So I suppose the moral is
get rid of the dog ...
Like you didn't know that already.