11. The adventures of Martha Jane and the Television

Bob and I have turned into the old people we used to make fun of when it comes to our dog, Maggie  She is a bundle of loving, kinetic energy.  Her velocity of mass is unparalleled in dogdom.  She runs for the sheer pleasure of the activity and fairly grins while doing so and it is almost impossible not to laugh at her.  I vaguely remember such pleasures in my youth.  As she makes her third lap around the house and then leaps over the picnic bench, I tell Bob that we should have named her Calamity Jane.  

Maggie has definitely  inherited her hunter genes.  She stalks things quietly at first then starts a low rumble in her throat.  If we haven't noticed yet, she gives a sharp bark.  Now, keep in mind this might be a picture of a cowgirl hanging on the wall that she hadn't noticed before or a skull ( we went through a collecting phase and have many, many animal specimens) that has just caught her attention.  The large buffalo in the living room really put her in a tail spin.  You have to tell her it's ok and let her smell it, even if this means picking up all thirty pounds of her so she can get a closer look and a sniff.  By doing this, she has learned to warn us, but doesn't just bark obsessively.  Neither Bob nor I have a tolerance for dogs that just bark for the pleasure of it.  A well loved dog will alert you to what they perceive as danger and protect you to the death, if need be, just because they love you.  In my estimation, a dog that barks obsessively is poorly adjusted and needs a tuneup.

This morning, though, she out did herself.  I was in the living room and heard her low rumbling  growl.  She was on our bed "pointing" at the armoire which holds a small television.  There is a mirror on the front of the door.  I'm not sure what caught her attention, her reflection or the big bad television, but by the time I had said "It's ok, girlie girl" she was in mid-air, locked and loaded for a rare attack.  She slammed into the front of the armoire and the television flew out and hit the floor.  How she escaped mortal injury is a mystery to me, but she did.  Lo and behold!  The television did, as well.  I had been thinking about dusting behind and around it, but not necessarily today. 

I did take advantage of the potentially bad situation and gave everything the once over.  Both Maggie and I felt better then and decided it was time to get a bite of lunch.  Over sandwiches, Bob and I considered the possible repercussions of changing her name to Calamity, but decide that dressing her in the chicken suit was confusing enough.

                                       I know it's sick, but she is so darned accommodating!

Footnote**
It turns out that Calamity's given name was Martha Jane.  We didn't know that until we heard the song, "Me and Martha Jane," written and performed by our friend Juni Fisher.    Juni is an amazing balladeer whose music evokes great happiness and according to the back of the cd case says "listening to this album, you should experience symptoms of intelligence and coolness, repeated listening may help prolong the symptoms." Well, that explains a lot.  Check out her web site.     www.junifisher.net