Mellow Moments

A small black paw reaches from under the desk and snags my sleeve.  Trying to focus on my writing, I absent mindedly scratch his ears but this doesn't satisfy him.  He meows loudly and insistently, head butting my thigh with considerable force for a small cat until I stop typing and look down.  Two wide open yellow eyes look directly back at me and I sense a little resentment along with a suggestion of stubbornness.  I slip my hands under his front paws and lift him into my lap but once there he immediately wants down.  He looks mildly offended that I would think he could be bought off so easily and exits without another sound except to take an almost indifferent swat at the the black dog as he goes by.  She's unimpressed and curls an obligatory lip but for once, doesn't take the bait and the cat is allowed to pass safely.  It's a mellow moment, rare in this crowded, competitive household and it doesn't last long.  Only seconds later the kitten and the old tabby clash briefly and this time the black dog does intervene, chasing and snapping at their heels as if she were herding sheep.  The small brown dog instantly dives deeper into the pillows and the drama-disliking little dachshund promptly trots under the bed to safety.  So much for mellow.

There's not a lot of golden rule in this house but for the most part I'm willing to settle for maintaining the balance of power and a superficial peaceful coexistence.  Unless it gets howlingly out of control, I try to let the little ones sort out their differences on their own.  It's a small house and there are eight of them and only one of me - a lifetime of Kodak moments is unreasonable - but there are still mornings when I dream (though never for long) of an animal free existence.  Of what it would be like to go to bed early and get up late, of buying actual groceries at the grocery store, of a knock at the door not bringing complete and utter chaos, of un-saliva-smeared windows and cat-hair free furniture, of not having to time an evening out to match an old dog's bladder.  Of the inevitable certainty that one day they will all be gone.

I'm not sure if I chose this life or it chose me or even if there ever was a choice, but I can't imagine living differently.

So I stock up on Pedigree and Blue Buffalo and flea spray and keep an eye on my watch.  I learn to assemble pet gates.  I keep track of heart worm medications and oatmeal shampoo and watch for holes in the fence.  I keep the peace and try not to play favorites - not very successfully since the arrival of the little dachshund, I admit - I clean kennels and wash bedding, tread carefully over small, sleeping bodies, wait for the random mellow moment and try to appreciate it.  As has been demonstrated to me recently, life can be cut short at a moment's notice - snatched away by a handgun or a lethal injection - and there's no going back.

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet ~ Emily Dickinson