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I am back on the mainland and blogging from Seattle with South Austin in the rearview mirror. Don't worry Virgin Island fans, I will most certainly be back in the Caribbean for visits if not full-time. And I'm sure St. Thomas will creep it's way into many future posts. For now, it's all about living in the Pacific Northwest!

June 12, 2011

Called out at the Dog Park

From time to time (If I'm honest, it's quite often), when my little companion is misbehaving, I call her by her full name in an effort to get her full attention. I've heard parents do this in parks, grocery stores, and shopping malls and it seems to work. I think it's one of those things that is inherent when dealing with the young.  It just comes out as if the sheer fact that you are using more words denotes a level of formality and seriousness that must be paid attention to. I say inherent because I never experienced this when I was young. My parents did not have the foresight to provide me with a middle name. And without the bridge of a middle name, they were forever limited to two syllables at any running stretch. And, saying my first name alone had to be done at greatly increased decibels. I still get sheep-eyed and sullen whenever someone yells innocently after me.  I instantly feel I've taken a misstep and am immediately sorry for whatever it is that I might've done. I suppose I explore that clearly emotionally immature response someday... Anyway

so yesterday at the d-o-g-p-a-r-k, Izee had dropped her ball in front of an unsuspecting patron who was otherwise engaged in a conversation and failed to notice her whimsical dance and longing gaze meant to recruit him for a bit of a catch. So, that effort failed, Izee starts to bark. Without even raising my head from my book, I murmur "Izee, ENOUGH!" As if that effort ever had a chance. When the barking continues, I look up casually and say it again, more forcefully this time. She doesn't even glance at me. Again, still more forcefully, still nothing. There is no recognition at all. Hmmppffff. So now I say "Isabella Corgilini!". That gets her and she prances over to see what is happening. It's worked again.

As Izee dances her way across the park towards me, a familiar jack russell name Mischa runs toward Izee and rolls her like a hit and run, but then circles back and steps on her chest. Mischa's owner shouts "Mischa Barkin, NO!" Mischa looks over and ambles sheepishly toward her owner. Izee rolls over, gets up and wanders back towards her ball, forgetting completely that she was on her way to me to see what I might need or want.

Later that same morning, another dog owner exclaims "Eleanor Dogby!" as her shy basset hound has an enormous movement almost on top of another particularly annoying dog owner's flip flop. I guess it works for proud moments too.

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