A Dog's View of Mercury Retrograde

Dear Diary:

My Human can be so silly. And a little clueless. She knows that Mercury is in retrograde and still she tries to function as if life is normal. I don’t get it. We all know that Mercury is the fastest moving planet in the solar system. Anytime you have this kind of planetary ego showing off, life is bound to get a little messy.

I want to laugh at why she keeps trying to compete with Mercury’s ego, but I love My Human. She doesn’t deserve my teasing. She fills my food bowl three times a day without complaint. And all I have to do is woof at the door and she interrupts what she calls her morning meditation to let me back in. I like to wait until she enters the zone – she looks so peaceful as I watch her through the French doors – and then I like to see how much she loves me by popping up to let me in. Have I mentioned how much I love My Human?

And about the time that I think that she is a genius for doing the necessary research to buy me top-grade organic canned stew to be added to each one of my meals, she decides that today is a good day to buy what she calls “new earbuds” for the weird flat plastic package that she calls her “phone” and that she carries with her everywhere. I don’t get it. She pecks away at this phone incessantly and even talks to it. If I didn’t know the value of my existence, I would suspect that she thinks her phone is more important than I am. I know that My Human is a little weird for talking to an object that has no life. She looks a little bit crazy, but I only love her more because of this. She needs all the help and support I can give.

So, My Human bought these new earbuds during Retrograde and, no matter what she has tried to do, they won't talk into her ears. She had to watch the YouTube video at least eight times to get them charged properly and functioning. I don’t get it. They have only served to make her unhappy. I am just waiting for her to drop one of them, and I will rid her of her rabid concern over how to operate them. If one of them no longer exists, she will be released from its spell.

I am thinking I will probably bury it in the yard rather than eat it. I still remember what happened the time I ate her loofah. Not a fun time for me, as it meant that I had to go to the dog doctor and get “probed.” Turns out all’s well that ends well, and the dog doctor said that I should be fine and instructed My Human to watch my poops. It was fun to have this extra alone time together. I don’t think that I will ever eat another loofah again.

Then My Human lost her keys. Again. I don’t mind when this happens when I am being left at home, but today it interfered with our ritualistic preparation for going to what she calls “the dog park.” I call it moderate confinement. I am able to run and play there, but I have to put up with the likes of Frankie and Hot Dog and Biscuit. Not fun. I like to run wild and free, but it sometimes is a stiff price to pay, knowing the way that Hot Dog is obsessed with me.

Hot Dog tried to crawl on top of me once from behind, and my Human shouted, “NO!” so loudly that Hot Dog ran away. I think she is tired of him not leaving me alone. As an encore, I snapped at Hot Dog later when no one was looking and sent him yelping. I didn’t really hurt him, but I did surprise him. “Happy Retrograde, Hot Dog,” I sang. I don’t think that Hot Dog is going to bother me anymore.

The woman who is attached to Hot Dog is named Francine, and she couldn’t unravel the mystery of why her Hot Dog was behaving so well and minding his own business. I am glad that My Human is one of the smart ones. She gave me a sly smile when she knew that we had gotten away with it. We will try this again when we return to the dog park.

My Human keeps working and cussing at her computer, wondering why she has to keep clicking on what she calls “restart.” I know that computer is the word for the piece of equipment that she keeps on her desk. I am smart, and I pay attention to this sort of thing. Anything that gets more attention than the equivalent of two of my sleeps a day, I learn the word for.

Why? Because I can tell that it is important to her. I want to support her in any way that I can. I mean, it must be difficult to have to feed this contraption with her energy. Even when I can tell that it utterly exhausts her, she keeps feeding it. My Human is a good person, what can I say? She is devoted to the Cause of Feeding the Hungry Computer.

My Human keeps talking about the battery in her truck and how the Retrograde is messing with it. Or she thinks it could be the starter. It worries me, as this is how we get to the dog park. I can sense her tension whenever she straps herself into the comfy bucket that she sits on when we travel. She said that she is going to have to break down (which sounds ominous) and go into town to get a new battery. I like the word new, so I am guessing that this is a good thing and that our trips to the dog park will not be cancelled. Thank you, My Human. I love you for maintaining my dog mobile.

Then right before dinnertime, My Human started to do that thing where water comes out of her eyes and her nose gets runny. She sat right down on the floor in the kitchen and begged me to come give her a hug. She said that she needed it.

I went over and leaned into her with all my weight and rested my head on her left shoulder. She started to make even more bobbly noises when I licked her face. I know that this increase in the waterworks doesn’t mean to leave her alone. It means that she needs even more of me. I sometimes lie down and put my head in her lap and let her pet me, even if it means that my head gets wet.

She was unhappy today because she did something to the angry beast that lives under the sink. I heard her talk to the phone and say that she had tried to get rid of too many yam peels, whatever they are, and what should she do. The angry beast no longer growls but only hums a droning, low-pitched tune without any of the snarling and gnashing. The phone told her how to fix it, which led to more of the water coming out of her eyes and more leaning from me.

I am happy to say that her waterworks have turned off and My Human seems to have regained her equilibrium. Unfortunately, the angry beast has regained its grinding voice. My Human, once again, blamed the yam peelings incident on the Retrograde. I concur.

I want to tell My Human that this might be a good time to just chill. Play that piece of wood with the strings that makes me want to sing. Step away from the computer. Turn off the phone. Take a dog-sleep with me on the bed in the sunlight or pick up what she calls a book and get comfy and let me rest my head in her lap. If none of these ideas are working, she can always take me to the dog park.

Retrograde is not necessarily a good or a bad thing. Think of it like the weather, I want to tell her, like the wind is simply changing directions. No matter if it is sunny or rainy, we still get to go outside to run and play, don’t we? Mercury Retrograde will pass and all will be well. Promise.