Mad Dog

Stella, cranky at having been outside all week, won’t go outside but gives meaning to the expression “dogging me.”

I think the way I smell, post-surgical, is making her nervous. I also think she is mad at me for shutting her out.

I also think that she went into Georgia’s closet and got out Georgia’s giant dog slippers. I woke up from a nap on the sofa upstairs to find her on the floor next to me, curled up, hugging the slippers.

This is the dog who can barely master “sit.”

I’m thinking that how we define intelligence is slipperier than I thought.