Room with a View

My treadmill is in my dining room. I don't have dinner parties often, so this is not a big problem. Actually, I don't use my treadmill much, either, so that's not a problem, either. The only one that uses that room on a daily basis is Zoom, a.k.a. Pickles, the guinea pig. He lives under a huge bay window with views of sunflowers and butterflies--at least one month of the year. (You can see the green back wall of his cage below.)

Tonight I turned the treadmill on. I try to trick myself into exercising by rolling my big TV around into the division between my dining and living room, and watching a movie interesting enough to make me forget that I am--gasp!--exercising. Tonight's entertainment was Up in the Air. I didn't think it could hold my attention but the screenplay was better than I imagined and it did a fine job.

Since the treadmill faces into my living room I have a perfect view of the couch. Tonight it was almost as amusing as my DVD.

The living room in better times, before the death of the rug

We had a few small thunderstorms roll through town today. Dickens, not surprisingly, does not do well with thunder. I held him for part of the work day, and held him tight during our after-work nap, when it got kind of loud. I could see on the weather channel that everything had really moved through by the time I fired up the movie, so I left him on his own during my intensive cardio.

So, they didn't all roll through, apparently. As I watched the kids on the sofa over the movie, I noticed that Dickens kept crawling up to sit right on top of Ginger. Ginger was not thrilled about this. I watched her move--slowly, politely--out from under her new snuggie several times. Each time she repositioned herself, Dickens would be right there curling up on top of her. It was just like that Warner Bros. kitten that used to nestle into the wrinkled skin of the bulldog--only without the kneading, thankfully. (Even Ginger's Damn Cat never tortured her like that.)

After several moves, Ginger grew resigned to her fate. Small rolls of thunder made themselves heard and I watched Dickens trembling on top of Ginger, who perhaps viewed it as a sort of massage. I gotta give it up to her: she's a damn fine sport.

I walked for about an hour--2.73 miles--before turning the screen around and joining the dogs on the couch. Once I joined them, Dickens circled on the floor for a while until I relented and gave him a peanut butter Xanax. (That was for me, knowing he could very well keep me up all night in his condition.) He went in and out of his small kennel, which I encouraged (it's right by the couch) hoping it would bring a sense of security.

It did not. Soon enough, he was up on the sofa and headed for Ginger. And that is how we finished Up in the Air--which, by the way, is a fine movie indeed.

A little more relaxation post-Xanax. At least he's not on top of her.