Baby and Momma Time

Mom is at it again. I can always tell when she is getting ready to cook because she starts with washing the leftover dishes in the sink. Well, more accurately, she starts by playing something noisy. Sometimes it’s random sounds, sometimes its other humans talking…although I never know what they’re saying.

One thing is certain: Mom starts by touching that thing she calls her phone. That glowing eyesore steals her attention. (Attention that belongs to me.) But many of Mom’s activities start this way. I’m never sure what’s next by phone usage alone.

Today she has something white in her ears, and I notice Mom speaking occasionally. Maybe she’s talking to one of those voices again. So strange. Sometimes she’ll talk to it, and other times Mom doesn’t speak at all.

I walk over to the room Mom calls the kitchen just to confirm, in fact, no food making has occurred. Nope, just water being splashed everywhere. Mom is quite clumsy and she’s always dropping things. That’s why I keep a safe distance from her in the kitchen, until the food makes an appearance, of course.

Now begins the waiting game and there is so much to ponder. How many dishes does Mom have to wash? What is she going to make when she’s done? Will there be cheese? I jump up onto the couch, the one with a perfect view of Mom.

One of the many things Mom does right is ensure there are enough pillows to go around. Although nudging them into the perfect position with my snout can be a chore. Regardless, I am now perfectly situated to lay down and watch Mom.

Just then, I startle at the sound of a knock. My brow furrows and my body tenses. Was it the door? I look at Mom, making sure to use my stern face, and she eventually starts looking back at me. She gasps, followed by a high-pitched “who is it?!” This is serious business. Mom regularly points out bunnies, cats, and the occasional deer when she sees them first. She’s a real team player that way. But sometimes there is another human at the door. The possibilities are too great to bear. I take off running and barking.

There is something so fulfilling about barking. It puts the world on notice. This is my house, and you need to contend with me. I run first to the window by the door. It’s nice that this window is low enough for me to look out of. I don’t see anyone by the door, so I run to the front room Mom calls her office. There is an armchair in the corner next to the window that is perfect for comfy neighborhood watching. I frequently find myself napping in this chair while Mom sits at her desk doing whatever she does on the device she calls a computer.

I don’t see anything outside. This event is not rare, but I still bark for good measure. Mom regularly acts like someone is at the door when there isn’t anyone around. Yet sometimes strangers come by and leave food on the front step. Mom never acts like anyone is here when food is delivered. I’m afraid she’s losing her touch.

I saunter on back towards Mom. I’m hopeful she’s moving towards the food portion of the evening. I can already smell she is close to done washing the dishes. As I walk to and sit in the doorway of the kitchen, I see Mom opening the cold box she calls the fridge. Nothing is more interesting than seeing her go to the place where she keeps the cheese.

Mom grabs multiple food items and puts them on the kitchen counter. I don’t know what the items are, but I know Mom will make something heavenly with them. And then…wait. Mom is walking towards the rice bag. She’s making rice?! Oh, tonight is going to be a great night!

Mom always saves some rice for me. At first, Mom tells me it’s too hot to eat, whatever that means. She makes me wait before sharing the delicious morsels. Waiting is a large part of my life, but I know everything will work out in the end.

I watch Mom from the doorway for a little longer before I turn back to the couch to watch her in comfort. I can hear her voice as she talks. Its soothing.

A BANG followed by “oh fuck” from Mom startles me awake. My body tenses up again. I’m immediately concerned. Do I go to her? Should I hide? I can smell the air is fragrant, filled with the scent of food. I wait for more sounds to help make the decision for me, but none come. I decide to walk to the kitchen where Mom is crouching down picking up food and a pan. One look from Mom, and I know it’s best I don’t try to approach and eat some of the floor food.

Following what felt like years of clean-up, Mom turns to me and says “you’re such a good girl Ziggy! You did so good.” My tail begins to wag. I feel so happy when she talks to me, especially when she calls me a good girl.

Mom opens the fridge again to take out more food and begins chopping. But then she turns to me…is it? It is! Cheese!

Not too long later beeping noises start to drift from the kitchen. I know from experience that means the food is done. I watch eagerly as Mom plates rice, meat and vegetables. She is still talking to that voice and says, “I’m so glad we got to catch up, love you too” and then takes the white objects out of her ears. Time to eat!

I watch Mom bring the plate of divine food over to the dining table. My mouth begins to water. I’m on patrol looking to catch anything that falls. I know exactly where she’s going, I want to lead her to the table and walk with her at the same time.

I start out in front of Mom and stop. She doesn’t see me and…ouch! Mom stepped on my paw. “I’m so sorry Ziggy” she coos. It’s impossible to be mad at her, and maybe she’ll give me some food early. My paw doesn’t hurt, but Mom still bends down and checks me out to make sure I’m ok. I give her the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes I can muster, and moments later she cuts a piece of meat and hands it to me. Best day ever.

Now begins the delicate dance of begging while Mom eats. Too much begging and I risk getting nothing. Too little begging and she might forget to give me something. The art is in reminding the human you’re there without being intrusive about it. I’ve seen dogs bark and howl, harassing people for food, even dogs that try to jump on the table to eat what’s not theirs. Those moves don’t usually lead to success.

Instead, I start with eye contact. Humans notice when I stare at them. If there are no opportunities to make direct eye contact, then I tend to nudge their leg gently with my nose. Sometimes I’ll stomp my front legs around while giving a low little grunt and wagging my tail. I know I’ve got a human’s attention when they ooh and ahh over me. Cuteness increases food scraps.

Tonight I stick with the old reliable tap dance. I approach Mom’s side and make sure she sees me. Once we make eye contact, I begin to react. “Ooh Ziggy means business” Mom says in her gentle voice she only uses with me. I watch her shovel bite after bite into her mouth. I become worried Mom won’t save any for me. I do a little more grunting, more stomping, and then I wait while looking for eye contact. “Ok, ok! If you insist.” Mom can’t resist giving me food scraps when I stomp my legs. She made pork chops tonight, and they are delicious.

It is dark outside now, right around the time I go on my evening walk. I’m still wondering when I’ll get some rice when Mom says my favorite words: “Ziggy, do you want to go outside?” Heck yes! Like that’s a real question, my answer is always yes. Unless it’s raining. Or there’s thunder. Or fireworks. Or snow.

I run to the front door, my tail wagging so hard my body wiggles. I love nighttime walks; way more bugs and reptiles to check out, far fewer dogs to fight with. It’s a win-win. We walk down the driveway, and I can already smell that something was here. I immediately put my nose to the ground and sniff. My fur begins to raise as I pace, following the scent of the...squirrel? Yes, squirrel. I follow the scent from my house to the neighbor’s yard. Mom won’t let me follow the entire scent, instead she pulls me in the direction of the sidewalk while explaining “that’s not our yard, we don’t live there.”

I begin walking down the sidewalk slightly in front of Mom, when I see a dark, cat-shaped figure up ahead. Mom never notices animals at night. I’m worried she’s going blind.

I pull on the leash with my full, muscular body. I will do anything to get close to that cat. Maybe even catch it one day. I start kicking up dirt and grass when Mom begins laughing. “Ziggy, that’s a garbage bag.” Lies. I know what I see. I keep pulling and reaching towards the cat. Mom pulls out that glowing brick and casts light from above. Somehow the cat shape-shifted into a bag, but I still pull close enough to sniff it. Bummer.

Soon after I catch another scent. This time it’s a bunny. My favorite animal to chase. And they leave delicious brown snacks too.

Before I know it, we’re back home again. The glorious scent of dinner greets us at the door. Mom removes my leash, washes her hands, and goes straight to the kitchen. I follow and watch as she scoops some rice into a bowl. “Ziggy” Mom says, and time stops as I wait for her next words with bated breath, “do you want a good-night treat?” I begin jumping with joy. Mom puts the rest of the food away as I gobble down the rice.

Nighttime is my favorite time of day. It’s special because it’s filled with food and quality time with Mom. There’s no more work, no more waiting, just what Mom calls “baby and momma time.”

Mom finishes up in the kitchen and then goes to the place where we sleep. She calls it the bedroom. She changes into different clothes and begins her nighttime routine. It won’t be long now.

I go back to the couch and wait for Mom. She joins me and I crawl onto her lap as she pets me. Mom is an expert belly scratcher. I can’t help but sigh out of bliss. Today was a great day, and I can’t wait to do it all over again tomorrow.