It happens almost every morning. My dog Bella and I go for a quick walkabout. Quick because I’ve not yet showered, had a sip of coffee or likely donned my bra. We return inside and I make a bee line for freshly brewed coffee.
Bella reports to the closed French doors that prevent her access to the backyard. She adopts a guard dog stance and focuses on the nest in our leafless maple tree. With four legs squared and slightly twitching, she’s at the ready. Quiet and barely blinking, she waits until Rocky, our resident squirrel, emerges from the nest and makes his descent to terra firma. Once down, Rocky stands on his hind legs and peers towards Bella in the doorway. Bella responds by exerting every ounce of her seventy pound body into threatening lunges, stomps, and deep, non-stop barking.
Admonishments, offers of treats, not even invitations for a car ride will divert her attention from Rocky. If forced to another room she will pace and whine. She will sit beside me, place her paw on my thigh, look into my eyes and dig her nails into my skin. She implores me to let her out.
Yesterday I acquiesced. Bella bolted over the threshold to the spot where Rocky had stood just a few seconds earlier. Nose down, she picked up his scent and followed it through the bed of English Ivy, under the evergreens, over the patio, past the bird feeders, and to the side yard where the scent continued beyond Bella’s restricted fence line. She returned to base of the tree and I watched as she followed this circuitous scent trail again and again and again. And I experienced this BFO*.
“This is what obsession looks like inside my brain.”
Continue reading “A New Year’s Resolution”
