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Meet Starsky and Hutch. I’m babysitting these tiny little fluff balls for a couple of weeks. When their owner passed me what looked like a food cooler, I had no idea it was dog-carrier, because (a) it looked one of those insulated carryalls you use when you’re hauling food to the cottage, and (b) it was so damn light. Seriously? There’s a dog inside this bag? I am used to big dogs, with cropped tails, and slobbering mouths. Not miniature sized perma-pups with luxuriant plumes and dainty pink tongues.

They travel well, these two. They come with beds, food, treats, leashes, their carryalls and a blanket.  Also, toys, though I haven’t seen much gnawing of the beanie baby as yet.

Perhaps later. Right now, they’re very intrigued with their new digs and, of course, me. Who is this woman? She has bigger feet than our owner.  And she does a lot of sitting.  Doesn’t talk much unless she’s doing dialogue and then she sort of scares us because she speaks in two different voices.

As for me? I’m liking this. Even if I had to go shovel so that Starsky and Hutch didn’t get lost in a snowdrift. They’re great company–non-demanding, sweet smelling–and they follow me from room to room. Which sounds tiring, until one considers that I spend 3/4′s of the day in front of the computer. As I write now, Hutch is snoozing in her dog bed by my desk, and Starsky is doing sniff-patrol under my husband’s chair. He’s the curious one–first out of the door and first to do the kiss-me-I’m-adorable begging pose–so I have learned to keep one ear open to track his movements. Hutch has her points too. She’s a fragile beauty who is an absolute genius for finding the best place to catch forty winks.  The softest down pillow, the thickest blanket.  (I have been making nests for them. A folded towel here, a purloined throw pillow there.)

All is quiet. All is well. Yes, I am liking this.