Instagram for Dave, my guide dog

 

I haven’t blogged for a while because I’m becoming so addicted to posting on Instagram, I don’t have time. I’m actually speaking for Dave, my guide dog, who astoundingly communicates his thoughts and wishes and his needs and obsessions very clearly.   For instance, he stretches intensely on the sidewalk to greet a fellow canine, even a female canine. He actually stretches toward many things he wants to sniff, ladies, for instance, flowers, garbage. He stretches like a pointer dog toward anything he wants—a ball underneath a chest, and today–the ocean waves. He actually didn’t simply point, he pulled himself loose and had a quick body surf in the cold waves. He was pretty surprised by the northern Atlantic’s temps. If he wishes to play ball, and if he’s indoors with his harness off, he always wants to play ball, (a few Pirate baseball players need his obsession), he thumps his tennis ball at my feet. If I pretend I haven’t heard in order to do some of MY work, he squeaks it intolerably, so that I have to snatch it and toss it to kingdom come. If thumping and squeaking don’t work, he whines. You get the idea.

So, I can really channel Dave in my Instagram posts. And that’s my explanation for the blogging silence. Somehow Instagram seems more addicting, at least at the moment. I’m channeling Dave in the obsession department, actually. I’m counting my followers. Honestly, the loss of one or a dozen followers is a rejection I hardly can cope with. But I’ve found a cure or at least a coping mechanism. I unfollow those who’ve dropped me with a gusto reserved for revenge criminals. “Ha, take that!” I hear myself yelling. And I do really think technology is bringing down the human race! But if you’re in the vicinity, drop into @davetheguidedog and say hello. Better yet, follow Dave.