Monday, August 18, 2008
When Dogs Decorate
I've collected ironstone for years, and I'm always reshuffling it.
The clinking attracts a four-legged designer--he runs over to investigate. "What's this?" he says. "She's moving the dishes again--ooh, I don't like it."
"Less is more," he says and knocks down one of the apples.
"Oops, it fell."
And it rolls!
"I"ll take my payment in Milk Bones," says Mister.
Mister trots off to chase a fly, and the human immediately replaces the apple.
By the time Mister returns, he's stunned. She's removed all of the edibles," says Mister. "And added orange flowers. I'm not sure I like this!"
"No, wait, I smell something rottingly divine."
How to tell my mistress that the pottery, not to mention the orange flowers, look wrong, wrong, wrong? How to gently encourage her to group them? Maybe if I run to the bedroom, she'll follow.
One bark means No, don't put it there, and two barks mean, yes, try it there. Three means, Stop! You've gone too far! Four, your scale is off. Five, count your accessories--3s, 5, 7s, 9s. Six, it's time for a break.
It worked! She's catching on.
"If I DO say so myself, it looks much better. Everyone should have a decorating dog."
"Now that I straightened HER out, now it's time to nap.Unless someone wants to hire me, that is."