A Dog’s Take on Scenes (or See-ing)

In All About Me, Being Cute, Shelley Widhalm on April 15, 2012 at 11:30 am

Zoey the dachshund is proud of her storytelling abilities.

Call me Zoey (not Ishmael).

From the heights of my second-floor patio, I have the point of view of seeing everything onFifth Streetfrom the bar to the newspaper.

I smell cooking food from the restaurant below. It’s my Proustian cup of tea that brings about memories and longings of good human food.

Yep, I’m a dog who faces the eternal food dish of boring and organic (yuck!) dog pellets.

I prefer the more exciting scenes of my life that happen on weekends, i.e. when Shelley is not at her stupid work.

Here’s an example of a Sunday in storytelling format:

Scene 1: Zoey, curled against Shelley, stretches and leans her head back.

“Are her eyes open?” Zoey wonders.

They are!

Zoey kisses Shelley, and Shelley kisses Zoey, telling her, “You are such a cute girl.”

With a tail wiggle, Zoey hurries to the edge of the bed, scampers down her doggie staircase and runs to the patio door.

“Let me out!” she says with a bark.

(I know, I know, you’re not supposed to begin a story with a dream or waking up).

Scene 2: Shelley eats breakfast, not sharing (here is conflict no. 1, because she should share, duh).

After Shelley takes a shower (thank goodness I didn’t get a bath, because that would present conflict no. 2), she takes out the leash, and I do my let’s-go dance.

Out on the walk, I see three big dogs walked by one person, and I bark my loud bark ready to take them all on (conflict no. 3, or maybe not, because I weigh 9.5 pounds).

The rest of the scenes have to do with Shelley leaving me at home, so she can have fun, coming back and playing with me, and leaving again.

This is not what I want. I want her to pay attention to me, and the same with everyone else. (I know there was a point-of-view shift in the telling of the story, but I can’t talk about myself like that.)

The conclusion of the story is: my life kind of just happens. It’s not the stuff of bestsellers, though I am awfully cute. That is the real story, my extraordinary, extensive and ever-present cuteness, no matter what I’m doing.

So there, and woof!

  1. and a ‘woof’ to you, too, Miss Zoey. Gotta love a cute puppy who drinks Proustian cups of tea.

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