As a writer, I find that certain things need to be in order for me to create, most especially important is this: location, location, coffee. It’s bad enough that my creative mind wanders away (waaaaay far away and off tangent), but external distractions are everywhere! If I am trying to write at home (keyword ‘try’) this is even more true.
Enter Finn. He’s six years old, with red hair, brown eyes, and he is completely bent on having my constant attention. Did I mention he’s my dog?
You may be thinking, big deal, just tie him up or put him in another room. Sure, that could work… except that he absolutely detests it and that will result in him baying loudly until I finally give in and release him. You may also think that he could just lie quietly at my side while I type away. Sadly, no. The scene goes something like this:
I’m at my desk writing. I type away at my keyboard. My hand is on the mouse moving my cursor. POP! My elbow is thrust upward by a dark brown nose and my hand flies off my mouse. It lands on top of a soft velvety head. My dog’s big sad eyes look up at me. “Pet me,” they say.
I have two options at this point: pet him and positively reinforce this behavior or ignore him. You may think ignoring him is the answer. Surely it is… not. If I ignore him he will find other and more drastic means of getting my attention. Now you’re intrigued. What lengths will he go to?
If I ignore this first round of pleading I will be slapped. Yes, that’s right, an open paw slap. Should I continue in my resolve to ignore him, he ups his resolve in being noticed.
*PLEASE REMOVE CHILDREN FROM THE ROOM. THIS SCENE CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENT IMAGES*
What happens next? He goes over to my boots, picks one up in his mouth, invariably the heaviest one there, and FLINGS it at me so that it hits me. Yes, that’s right; my dog throws shoes at me. Oww!
(Let’s note here that I am impressed by his athletic skill to fling a shoe with such force and precision.)
As I write this, it occurs to me that I haven’t been bothered by him for at least a solid twenty minutes. With him, as it is with children, silence does not bode well.
However, I find him, and he is asleep in our Layzboy quietly snoring… like a grown man. He looks so sweet and peaceful. I think I’ll go pet him.