Today Rexie and I walked all the way to Kate's Cat and Dog Salon to pick up Sanchi. It's more accurate to say that Rex ran, rather than walked, because halfway there he spied a major construction project in the distance and began to sprint. So our little afternoon jaunt became an eight-block baby race. Fun. And I guess I should point out he's not really a baby any more, since he's almost two, but I still like to call him the baby.
The construction project involved ten or twelve guys in orange vests and hats standing around watching one other guy operate a lift-loader, or backhoe, or digger or scoop-thingy (apparently my first child was a girl, who referred to all of them simply as 'trucks') in order to put large steel beams vertically into a large hole in the middle of the street. Fascinating. And then the boss lady (I am not making this up) came out of her car and started screaming at the one guy to "do it faster, because you're taking too long and time is money!" No kidding. I wanted to ask her if the other guys, standing around doing nothing but obviously not wasting any time, were just actors or there for moral support, but I was legitimately afraid Rex would run into the large hole. He's like that, enthusiastic about everything.
So we watched for what seemed like hours and then went to pick up the dog. Sanchi always smells and looks great after leaving the groomer's, and Rex couldn't keep his hands (and mouth) off of him. I guess this is the right time to note that in almost two years, Rex has bitten Sanchi approximately 47 times, and Sanchi has bitten Rex only about three times, and never very hard, while Rex usually puts his whole body into it. It's a wonder Sanchi has any fur left. We always thought Sanchi was such a freeloader until our kids were born and he began to earn his keep, first (and still) by sleeping in Veronica's room to ward off nightmares and second, by not killing Rex.
As an aside, Rexie has always behaved like a dog, like a young, roly-poly pack-animal cub. In his young life we have witnessed him bark, lift his leg to pee (in the tub), lay down on Sanchi's bed, chew Sanchi's toys (even, no especially, the disgusting mallard), gnaw on the windowsill, pant repeatedly, chase birds and ducks, eat food off of the floor, tree squirrels, eat dog food from the dog bowl, drink the dog's water, growl, attempt to stick his head out the window of a moving car and hump many objects, both animate and inanimate. There are more I can't recall right now, and the most amazing thing about all of this is that Rex has done most of it without seeing Sanchi do it first. He's a natural.
Of course we had to watch the whole construction thing again on the way back. Two guys were working this time, and the boss lady was in her car, steaming up the windows, flinging her permed ponytail back and forth while yelling into a cell phone. (By the way, you never want to mess with a lady construction captain. Those chicks are fierce.) Eventually Sanchi and I got bored and I had to drag Rex away, past all of the other bored-looking mothers and captivated little boys. Sanchi was the only dog.
All three of us ran home, with Rex yelling, "Dig the dirt! Dig the dirt!" the whole way and stopping, every so often, to molest the dog. I thought of turning Sanchi loose, the way you do with livestock when the barn's on fire (at least that's how Pa did it on Little House) but then realized I had not one, but two animals to keep track of. Better keep at least one of them on the leash.
Oh yeah, that's another one. Rex has tried to wear Sanchi's leash.
