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The World According to Star

Dad Behind the Wheel

Last night, Dad joined us on our evening walk! He took Winnie’s leash as we were leaving the house and said, “I’ll take the easy one!”

Poor Winnie. She hates to be singled out like that. Unless it’s Mom doing the singling out, that is. We all love it when Mom takes us on individual walks. But when Dad comes with us, it’s different. I don’t exactly know how to explain it, either. We took Mom and Dad down the street a few blocks, over a couple more, and back through the Wesleyan campus. We were going to stop to see the Manorites, but only one was out, and he waved as he got up to go inside, so we just continued on our way. The Manorites are warm-weather folk, you see. When it starts getting chilly out, they disappear. I hope we get to see them a few more times before the snow flies!

So, anyway, we were probably half-way through the walk when Mom finally took pity on Winnie, who was plodding along, a pathetic, long-suffering look on her face, just pacing Dad. Tim and I were exploring, sniffing bushes, peeing on stuff, rolling in the grass - we were having a grand old time, but not Winnie. So Mom finally said, “Hon, why don’t we trade - I’ll give you Tim and I’ll take Winnie.”

The instant the leashes changed hands, you should have seen Winnie! She ranged out at the end of her leash, ears up and that long tail of hers swishing in the evening air. She sniffed stuff, she peed on stuff, and I swear, once she even looked like she was going to ro–”

“That’s enough, Star,” Winnie said severely. She had her front legs crossed primly and she was looking down her nose at me. “I won’t have you besmirch my noble reputation with your silly stories.”

“But that’s just it, Winnie,” I whined. “They aren’t stories - it’s the truth! I thought you looked so happy that you might even join me in a roll in the grass!”

“Well, I will admit I was glad when Mom traded,” she conceded thoughtfully. “I don’t know why it is that I’m so much more comfortable with Mom at the other end of the leash, but it is a fact.” She put her head down on her front legs and sighed. “Maybe that’s something you could Ponder for me, Star!”

Oooo! Something new to Ponder! I’d better get busy!

Love,
Star.

The Voice of Doom

“CAT!”

I roared and lunged at the little black cat in the bushes. I don’t know why. I think seeing it triggered some sort of ancient response deep within me.

All I know is that when I lunged like that, it triggered some sort of ancient response deep within Mom, too.

“STAR! STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!” she said.

Dang. She used the Voice of Doom. I immediately stopped what I was doing and sat down. You just can’t disobey the Voice of Doom. In fact, when Mom used the Voice of Doom on me at the Dog Run once, Everybody stopped what they were doing - Furfolk and Skinfolk alike! It kind of embarrassed Mom at the time, I believe.

The little black cat scooted off across the street to whatever hidey hole it uses in the daylight hours. Actually come to think of it, I may have chased it away from its hidey hole when I saw it - I know that Something lives under the porch next door.

Other than that, we had a pretty good walk this morning. Mom made me walk right next to her most of the way, though. She said if she couldn’t trust me, I had to stick right by her.

Hah! Little does she know - she can trust me to stick right by her!

Love,
Star.

Pondering the Ponderables

So, all that Pondering yesterday (well, at least until I fell asleep) put me in a Pondering Place. A Ponderously Pondering Place...

“Oh, no - not again. Please? Pretty Please?” Tim was grinning as he lay on the rug in the foyer.

Ah-ha! I detect a challenge!

“Pondering on palates and pallets precipitated a preliminary Ponder on pullets and a possible Pulitzer Prize.” I drew a big breath to continue, but Winnie was there before me.

“Please! Your penchant for pondering is positively presumptive. Personally, I’d prefer prison.” She laid there, looking down her nose at me. "Or poison." She was as smug as she could be.

This may be a little tougher than I first thought. “Primarily, my periodical Pondering is prompted by a penchant toward pandering to perceptive Pup Pals,” I began...

“Not pigeons, porkers, ponies or platypuses?” Tim winked.

I gave him a proprietary poke with my nose. “Now you’re asking for it, my Pusillanimous Pup.” I closed my eyes in order to concentrate.

“Pray, prattle on,” Winnie said.

Wait a minute - this isn’t fair! It’s two against one!

Peeking out from under my eyelids, I tried to gauge my chances at winning this particular word joust. It didn’t look good. Both of them were sitting there staring at me, just waiting for my next words.

“How did I provoke this persecution?” I pouted. I got up and stretched. “I’m feeling peckish,” I said as I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

Behind me I heard Tim and Winnie laughing, and I peeked around the corner and saw them High-Fouring each other.

Pooh.

Love,
Star.