Wednesday, December 17.
Rain doesn’t bother me. At least you don’t have to shovel it. But rain really bothers Zuma. She bounced out of the hotel today and when the first raindrop landed on her, she was ready to race back inside. She doesn’t like to get wet, so it makes for a quick pee trip outside. Since we arrived, people in the shops have been talking about how the weather has been so nice they don’t feel like shopping or getting ready for Christmas, they’d rather be outside or on the beach. I hear ya, Ocean City Dwellers.
Now we have rain, the shops are likely overpopulated. It’s great for me to be peacefully confined to the hotel room with Blanca away at the garage; I am able to work on my book, attentively research the next leg of our journey and catch up on lost sleep.
Speaking of lost sleep, the reason I am sleep-deprived is that Zuma likes to bed-hop; she starts out in her own sleeping space, then decides she could improve it with some careful planning. Her plan begins with a mournful stare, tail slowly wagging its four foot wingspan and then slowly she plunks her feet into position in slow motion, one paw at a time. I move over to be accommodating. It would be easy to pretend to be sleeping but the tail wagging and staring makes me feel guilty. Once landed, she starts out small and is a nice warm snuggle partner, then, within a couple of minutes she realizes she is comfortable but it could be better. So she stretches out and kicks me in the kidneys and that’s my cue: I have no choice but to relocate. Thankfully, we booked a room with two queen beds; one for us, one for Zuma. Once comfortable, she ain’t budging. When she does dismount from the bed, she perfects her fancy yoga move: she plants her front feet on the floor, stretches, and yawns and lets out a soft Pffft. Doug and I always hurriedly duck under the covers, giggling.
Zuma is claustrophobic. When I emptied Blanca yesterday, I unloaded an array of our belongings in the entrance to our hotel room. Zuma had plenty of room to walk through/around it but she refused to budge and stiffly planted her feet outside the room. She thought she was too wide to get through the path between the bags.
Recognizing she is bored, I tried to entice Zuma to fetch a ball by tossing it up the hallway. On the first throw, she eagerly chased it and kept going beyond the ball. We are the only occupants in this wing of the second floor, so it’s a perfect playground for a dog who needs exercise. No chance she would lower herself to participating in normal dog activities. Back on the bed, HER personal bed. Here’s the remote, Zu, have at it.