I would like to introduce the new member of our household. Raisin Cane came to us from a foster home after her person died. She is living up to her name. My husband is the dog person, our other dog, Sugar, his general at arms. This has worked well for the last eight years. The two of them rise early and do their morning routine. I may or may not be up then, (4 am) may or may not have my head in the real world as opposed to some fictional realm.
I am a morning person. I rise according to a body clock rhythm that says sleep accomplished, let’s go write.
Now, however, Raisin has decided she’s my Raison D’être, reason for existence. No, she will not rise with the husband and dog–from the same bed no less. Hers is not to reason why. Hers is not to let me lie.
Paws on chest, trample, trample, tongue on chin and nose and eyes. Time to trot the property, woof and woof . Stag herd? Be gone, busters. Magpie, blue jay, take a flight. Nothing at all to bark at? Who cares? I’ll get the other dogs going no matter how far they may be. Her little Donald Duck bark isn’t much, truth be told, but she wields it mightily, throwing her head up like a wolf, paws lifting from the ground. And then to make her point, she leaps atop a boulder to woof like Rin Tin Tin in miniature.
To say the dynamic of our house has shifted is to put it lightly. If she could be in my arms 24/7, it would be only her due. Can’t think when I’ve laughed so much or melted so completely. Ah, well…
Last night it occurred to me that this is the impact the best characters have on a story. They arrive, worm themselves in, and take over. They disrupt, entertain, take hold of hearts and don’t let go. Here’s to Raisin Cane!