a.k.a. It’s not over yet. Last night when I was doing the nightly pillow-moving routine before going to bed, Frica came in and did a little digging at the part of Watson’s bed under my bed. Then she noticed the yellow alien that was now on the floor next to purple one close to Watson’s bed. By then I had the two pillows on the bench at the end of my bed. She picked up the yellow alien and jumped onto the bench with it, stomped a few circles on the pillows to make a nest for herself, and then settled into it with the alien beside her.
Someone asked why the preference for the yellow alien. The most logical answer is because it’s easier for her to see. Dogs have motion-sensitive dichromatic vision with a very narrow range of detail vision. Because she sees the world in shades of blue, grey, and yellow and the purple aliens have a fair amount of red and pink in their coloration, they’d be harder to spot, especially in dim light against the brown wood floor or beige rug. She may also be attracted by its novelty because the other three aliens are the same color and two of them are, give or take a little grunge, identical.
Developmentally, Fric and the puppies have turned a bend. The helpless whimpers have given way to more purposeful demands as well as “How do I get out of this box?” mutterings. Simultaneously Fric seems to have decided that, if they’re going to be more active during the day, by golly they’re going to learn how to manage with fewer feedings at night. What’s interesting, even in my sleep-deprived state, is how obviously different the puppies’ night time cries are now. They’re no long the submissive whimpers of totally dependent creatures, but those of individuals who are discovering their power. Their seemingly greater activity at night also made me wonder if fetal development confers a nocturnal mindset that makes young animals more active in darkness.When their eyes first open and when dealing with light and developing the art of seeing is hard work, maybe nighttime frees up more energy to yell at your littermate when he/she steps on you, to stagger around the box, or call mom to come in a visit and maybe a snack.
I write this, I look at the do-list beside me, I hear the purposeful puppy noises in the box in the pen behind me. I fight the urge to turn, to forget about the list, to get up and remove the box from the pen. To put it on the floor. To sit on the floor beside it.
And just watch.