Dogged [daw-gid] adj. determined, persistent

Here it is. The morning I have been both dreading and looking forward to.

As I slinked out of bed this morning, trying not to wake Becca, the thought raced across my mind that I could do the same thing with my Slice of Life – quietly sneak around it. I could leave it undisturbed, untouched, just where I left it last year. I could feign forgetfulness or claim preoccupation with work and household chores.

Sleepy-eyed I fed the dogs and let them outside. I made myself a latte, making sure to take extra time foaming the milk. I was crafting a plan for avoidance. I was too sleepy, and it was too cold, to do any of the projects on my list.

I settled into the couch with my heated blanket and feet propped up. I opened my computer, wiped off some Friday kid germs and had every intention of getting some of the never ending pile of school work done. I logged in and waited for the home screen to load.

As I sat quietly sipping my latte, conjuring up ideas for guided reading groups and math lessons, I realized that I had 2 fury companions who had joined me. When you are a dog mom you don’t always realize the jostling and maneuvering you do when they curl up beside you; our adjustments for our fur babies are as natural as breathing. The pups had flanked each side of me, claiming bits of the heated blanket. They rested their heads and had begun to breathe deeply, slipping off into their morning snooze.

I opened up my email, searched for the information I needed, opened a PowerPoint document and I was ready to roll on creating new reading groups. At the exact moment I began typing both dogs sat up, turned around and looked at me. Taken aback, I listened for the noise they must have been alarmed by. Nothing. I glanced back and forth between the two, searching their eyes for clues as to what they could possibly need. Nothing. They seemed to be in kahoots about whatever it was.

Defeated, I leaned back and pet their heads, pawing their soft ears. They just wanted attention, I’m sure. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, letting my chest rise and fall, matching Sadie’s slow, calm breath. My closed eyes automated images of WordPress and SOL icons. I cleared the thoughts and continued running my hands from their heads, down their backs again and again.

I opened my eyes to get back to work. As I placed my hands on the keyboard again, the tiny one nudged the screen. The big one nuzzled under my elbow, knocking it up and down. I took one last big, deep breath, rolled my eyes and thought, “Fine, here we go.” I opened a new browser and typed in “wordpress.com”. As I waited for the login credentials to clear I placed my hands on my head, assuming my pondering stance. With another deep breath I clicked the button with the tiny pencil.

“Write,” it told me. “Write,” my inner voice screamed. “Write,” the calendar dictated. “Write,” my friends pleaded. “Write,” my counselor prescribed. Everyone wants it but me.

“Just try,” I sighed aloud as I noticed the two relaxed, untroubled doggies snuggled into my sides.