April 6, 2009

White Dog helped Steve assemble his new rowing machine after dinner tonight. They dragged the box, which was nearly as tall as Steve, into to front room and cut it open. Steve methodically arrayed all of the pieces around where the two sat on the floor. White Dog pulled the wadded packing paper into the kitchen. White Dog laid on Steve's lap as both read the instruction sheet. As the assembly grew, White Dog made sure the little plastic baggies that once contained bolts and widgets were properly thrown away (by bringing them to me one at a time for "trades") and she batted run away screws back to Steve. 45 minutes later, they carried the machine out to the Studio where it replaced the 25-year-old rower which had finally just given up. White Dog beat Steve back into the house to tell me that the shiny silver new machine had been tested (she watched from a chair as Steve rowed) and that it had performed wonderfully.