I’m never alone when I’m writing. Even if there are no actual people around, there’s always my delicate li’l peach blossom, Princess Callie Roo Roo. Callie or Roo Roo. She’s a Princess because she is. If she’s not keeping my leg warm, she’s curled up at my side, or curled up under a blankie, or glued to my shoulder, giving me loves. She valiantly protects me from such dangers as my oldest son, my brother-in-law, and BIL’s Whippet-Australian Cattle Dog – a Big Baby named Storm. She rooo-rooooo-rooooo barks at doorbells on the TV, the above listed dangers, The Spouse when he gets home from work, Neighbor Bob when he has the temerity to leave his home to get in his car (or when he comes home from being gone, and has the nerve to alight from his car to go into his house). She stares at my chocolate, begging for a bite – like that’s going to happen. She likes bacon, Doritos and anything I *will* share.
Callie’s a sweetheart of a dog, but don’t call her a dog. Not to her face. She thinks she’s a people – a furry, four-legged people.