3 realities. The everyday consensual. The Eleven Islands. The future.
Author: Rita de Heer
Writing is what I do. What I think about. What I meditate on. What I dream up. Listen to. Imagine. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I eat. And I walk. Pull out environmental weeds. There are a thousand more things I do, though writing comes into a fair few of those things too.
Training again, I believe. A new thing, and the old woman hopes to tempt me to touch it with a round of kibbles? Huh.
As if that’s going to work. I showed her what I thought by eating the goods and walking away, out of sight out of mind. If only humans were so normal.
But of course she can’t leave well alone. She lay out another round of kibbles and because I was peckish—it is nearly lunchtime—I soon snaffled them up.
And would you believe the old woman put the next round inside the object, whatever you call it? I had a go. She video’d me, 38 seconds worth. Will take you forever to load. Worth it for me. Got most of them out.
I’m often in the same boat—wondering what to write about—and I suspect most of us are. Some of you turn to WP Prompts, and OK, there’s a whole prompt culture out there for people in the I-must-write-something-everyday brigade.
I’ve left those times behind. Both because I’m no longer trying to put myself on the so-called map, and because I’m no longer physically able … age and infirmities will keep me honest.
I found the Tony’s Bologna post again this morning, and discovering my star on it already, thought next is sharing it… it’s such a good message!
I’ve been in training. The first new habit I’m supposed to pick up is to scratch either one of the three objects she got into the house for that purpose—to be scratched!
I really don’t know why she bothers? I scratch the uprights of the couch and after she told me NO! a few too many times, I graduated onto the vinyl chairs.
Look at me, I’m thinking. This after the old woman said NO! about the couch. I want her to see my expression which says I am not pleased to hear NO! when I’m trying to get her attention.
She didn’t stop and I switched to the vinyl chairs. Too bad the vinyl is so strong I can only make holes. She said a blind woman could read these, and she’d be saying NO! just as many times.
She also said, this is the last straw. Whatever that means. She collected the three things to be scratched and lay them out …
The cardboardy thing is in the middle, it’s useless because I get my claws stuck. The thing with rope around it is just too weird for me. The thing on the left is the board the old woman found on the riverbank after a flood.
That’s the one we settled on for training. She lays it beside her on the couch. The first session she dragged a cord over it and every time I touched the cord, she’d go all gooey, slathering me with praise.
But more importantly she gave me a kibble everytime I touched the cord. After about twenty toes worth of kibbles, she said that’s enough today. We both relaxed then.
Rita de Heer 