November 17, 2015

White Dog sat with me on the bed as I matched and folded together pairs of socks then sorted them into "his" and "hers." Zsofia came and rested her chin on the bed near the pile to be done and wooed that she wanted to help.

"Oh no, my itty bitty baby girl," I told her, "you will grab a sock and run outside with it. To prove me wrong, she pulled out a sock and handed it to me. "Thank you." I looked through the mound until I found its mate and then added it to the pairs.

White Dog had turned to rest her head on the pillow, and to presumably watch over the finished work. Zsofia continued to hand me single socks which we then mated. I was surprised, the Dark One made it nearly five minutes before she wanted to play "Tug" instead of handing over the sock. I sent her outside with Sachi and turned to White Dog.

White Dog, it turns out, had been "helping" too. She had carefully unfolded the matched pairs and resorted them with other socks and then folded them neatly back over as a new Eske style of mismatched socks.  She was quite proud of her improvement to the human's dressing potential and put her paw protectively on top of a pair when I tried to right the pairing. I sighed and turned back to the pile.

Steve is going to wonder why half of his socks are mismatched...the ones I did as I continued I put right at my side to guarantee they remained my slow, boring, organized, by the rules way.

I know what White Dog will tell him. "The ones I rearranged are for those days when you feel as free as an Eskie but don't want to shout it too loudly."  Who knows? Maybe he might just save a few for those wild break all the rules days.