I’ve been living with a poodle for two weeks now, and everything has been going swimmingly. I’ve discovered what people mean when they talk about “puppy eyes,” because they hold a strange power. Luckily my poodle has emo hair and her eyes are very rarely visible (Angi’s initial reaction to meeting her was to recoil and say “You don’t have eyes”), but I know they are there, silently forcing me to do her bidding. We hit our first major hiccup in our coexistence on Wednesday, when I came home and realized she ate a pair of my underwear. I’m not sure how to respond to this; my brain, having never before processed the thought “My poodle ate my panties,” kind of froze. I think I actually went up to Cybil and said, “Is this what dogs do?” She did not say anything, which does not help this situation but is probably a good thing overall. I also discovered a sock that is now open on both ends, so maybe I will turn it into a legwarmer (it is pink and has a picture of a cat on it and says “Diva,” and my former roommates bought a pair of them for me at, I think, a gas station. For some reason the cat diva made them think of me. You can’t throw away memories like that). And I think I may have solved last week’s mystery of “what happened to my other glove.”
She has not devoured any more of my clothing since, but that’s probably because we spent all day together yesterday, staring at each other. I probably could have tried to drive out as the snow wasn’t all that deep, but my roads (and my driving) are not good under the most ideal conditions, so I just decided to wait for the plow. The plow did not arrive until about 6 p.m., so I spent the day working from home and totally freaking out C-dog with my musical choices. I filled my 5-disc CD player (remember those? CD players? I still enjoy them, because I am an anti-iPod luddite. I do have earbuds now, but only because they came free with a razor. I marvel at this marketing decision) with movie music, because that is my policy: whenever life gets too dull, throw on some danger music! This policy does not work with dogs, who seem to think danger music signals actual danger.
So that was how my Valentine’s day was spent. Watching a poodle do eight thousand laps around the house in a search for danger or possibly Milkbones. Aside from the underwear- and sock-eating, Cybil is basically me in dog form.