September 12, 2017

White Dog left the room first when I offered.

"Opal, why are you chewing at your back furs? Come over here and let me brush for you." Opal, unlike the Queen, LOVES being brushed and will stand turning this way and that so that I get exactly the right spot. But this afternoon she gave me the blank stare and fearful body language that strangers would read as, "Please don't beat me again, momma!"

Zsofia sat safely across the room on the couch and telegraphed not to even offer. "What is it?" I asked her. "Seems if you are SO itchy that you are biting yourself that a nice soothing grooming would be relaxing. I am certainly NOT plotting to hurt anyone."

Bella scooted out from under the chair. I lifted the brush knowing the answer. She look the long way around the coffee table to get to the door, just in case I might reach out and grab her.

I had managed to clear the room just by offering to provide relief.

From the kitchen, Benson groaned as he stood and walked into the room where I sat. He came directly to me and presented himself for brushing. I knew it was an act of charity.

"Thank you, Ben-Ben," I told him. "I can always count on you to participate and make momma feel like she is needed." He settled into a position lying on his side and let me pull the brush through his long furs from  neck to tail. I gave extra attention to the spot on his haunches that seemed to release tufts; he stretched his leg to maximize the area.

When we finished his side he lifted his head to receive a treat then rested it on my foot. "My Baby Boy," I began but noticed that he had already gone back to the nap he had interrupted to accommodate me.