I am now an instructor at our local two-year college. Jacques hates how much time I have to spend working on lesson plans and lecture notes. He doesn’t like or understand that he can’t sit in my lap while I feverishly work on my next lesson. There’s a lot of grumbling and mumbling coming from the little pork chop as he voices his displeasure. In contrast, there’s a lot of giggling and border-line hysterical laughter coming from my husband, A3. Why is that? Well, amongst my school supplies, he’s found a new toy. This “toy” has turned a grown man into a giggling little boy who just can’t help himself.
I’m not going to lie – it’s pretty hilarious. (I mean, it took my late German shepherd about 30 seconds to figure out that I was messing with him.) But I also feel a little bad for my totally neurotic, OCD Westie who will look for that light for close to an hour at a time. (I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m not.) Not even an offer of a treat or a snuggle will break his Westie focus. He. Must. Get. The. Light.
“Must. Get. Light.” (a few minutes later) “Wait! Where did it go??” (20 minutes later) “I know it is here somewhere!”
A3’s argument is that it keeps Jacques occupied and keeps him out of my lap while I work. That is a true statement. I just worry about the potential “harm” it may do to his already insane-too-tightly-wound-neurotic-OCD brain.