My daughter's French Bulldog, Emma, has been my constant companion in the sewing room the last few months. During the evenings when her mistress is at work, Emma's presence has been a source of amusement and frustration at times.
You see, I'm one of those strange people who talk to their pets. Of all four of our family pets, Emma is the only one who seems to listen; she cocks her head and looks at me rather stupidly, but heck, she does listen. The cats? They never give me the impression they EVER listen - they're cats and they're known for ignoring their humans.
Emma has dragged all her toys and a fleece bed into the sewing room. If I get busy and don't hear her chomping on a chew toy or terrorizing the cats, I know she's wandered to the front door and wants outside. I have to drop what I'm doing, put a leash on the dog and take her out. Surely don't want that dog messing in the house -she smells!
Oh, my word, she does stink at times! I've never, ever had a dog fart as much as she does and they are d-e-a-d-l-y.
Except for the interruptions and the occasional smell, she's a good companion and she chases the cats off the quilts I'm working on. Once she and I have achieved our sewing goals for the night, we watch television together. Emma puts her head on my lap and rests....until her "mom" comes home.
The odd thing is until the last few months, I truly resented that I had to care for this animal whilst Andrea was at work. Somehow, this odd dog who snorts and grunts like a pig, eats like there's no tomorrow and has a mile-long stubborn streak has wormed her way into my heart. There's just something endearing about an animal who gets excited when the door to the sewing room is open and dashes into the room ahead of me.
I guess we're both happy to be in there.