“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”― Eckhart Tolle

Monday, July 9, 2007

Day 2

Things are not going exactly as planned. First of all, we have not been allowed to actually go in with Mr. Watson. It is my belief that someone, who shall remain nameless, but whose ancestry includes the word 'Nubian', is largely responsible for this. Right from the get go, someone stuck her big old head through the fence and bit poor Watson. Barbaric, if I do say so myself. That was bad enough in itself, but it scared the guy and he immediately went into a half-faint. He spent the rest of the night in the stall next to ours, no doubt ruminating over the idea of a world-gone-mad and inhabited by rude, aggressive Amazon warrior women. This isn't exactly how I expected to make my introduction.

Then this morning, the goatmother took the Mighty Quinn in, on leash, of course, to introduce him to Watson. Decidedly, Watson has never seen a dog or anything even remotely resembling a dog. Things went pretty well, though, despite the fact that the Mighty Quinn refused to quit barking. Watson backed himself into a corner, as one might expect, but the ever vigilant Boo took advantage of his disadvantage by again trying to bite him through the fence. She takes her supposed 'herd queen' position far, far too seriously, if you ask me. I mean every time I tried to get close enough to the fence to begin discussing possible sleuthing strategies, Boo effectively knocked me out of the way. Really!

The Mighty Quinn finally quit barking. Watson attempted an approach and was repaid for his obvious compliment by the resurrection of the bark. Oy. He again backed off against the fence, keeping one wary eye on the Mighty Quinn while simultaneously sidestepping 'Jaws', the Nubian. Hmmm...not only a sleuthing side-kick, but a possible dance partner? Possibly not, seeing as how when the goatmother got up to leave, the Mighty Quinn took a step toward him and Watson fell down in a full stiff-legged faint. I repeat. Oy. Did I say, 'Oy'? Oy.

Take heart, dear Watson! Very soon it shall all be 'old hat'. "
Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!"

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