January 30, 2019
Among the many things that bewilder a rescued greyhound – things we never see at the track, like balloons and bicycles and stairs – the worst are these invisible walls. They’re everywhere. You’re cavorting along and suddenly you plow into an invisible wall. My landlady says it’s called “glass.” I don’t care what you call it, it's maddening, especially in the morning. My landlady steps into the tub and turns on the shower. Of course I must join her. Whap, I bang my nose on an invisible wall. I’m so frustrated, I roo. (Look up “greyhound rooing” on YouTube. Turn the volume down so your neighbors don’t call the cops.) Often my landlady joins me in a roo. Usually we roo songs about water. This morning we rooed The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. “The captain wired in he had water comin’ in and the good ship and crew was in peril….” It didn't help.
