Griffin

The first two mornings that I awoke after getting here, this dog is what I saw at the foot of my bed.

Well, really the dog was on the bed, not down at the foot of the bed.

I grew up with dogs, but they were kept outside in a kennel.

Over the years I have known dogs:  Frisky, Snowball, Vegas, Cosette and Kiwi. 

I only considered myself an acquaintance of the dogs, and not a good friend of dogs.

I feel the same about Griffin.

I am only an acquaintance.

I step back in the kitchen and can feel my foot going down on his paw.

He looks soulfully at me in the morning when it is time for his food. When someone asks me, "Have you fed Grifftin this morning?", I wonder why they are asking for I have never fed him. I am trying to stave him to death.  It is the other people who keep feeding him.

I don't like any of this.

He still gives me that mournful look every morning because I beat everyone else awake.

I do however get fed up with Griffin.

How would you like to be loading the dishwasher and have that hound right in there with you as I do?

Here Mary is putting a dish in the dishwasher and that dog get to the dish before it can even hit the rack.

When I complained to her she said, "Look, Arta, I have to tell you something.  There was an old man who was serving dinner to his guests and he said, 'I am sorry about the dishes.  That is as clean as cold water can get them'.  That is sad, said his guests.  Why do you have to wash them in cold water.  Oh, I don't do that, said that man.  Cold Water is the name of my dog."

Arta