I've never spent this much time on my floor. I've never even liked my floor. I haven't been able to get beyond the linoleum trying to be wood and falling short and frumpy of that goal. But lately I've been spending an incredible amount of time on my floor. I've probably been on my floor more in the last two weeks than in the last six years. It's all thanks, of course, to Etta the super pup. We're on the floor snuggling, scrubbing up accidents, training, coaxing, napping, luring and chasing a rotating assortment of dragons, hippos, frisbees, giraffes, squirrels, cupcakes, antlers and bone-looking squeaky toys.
And sometime, early last Saturday afternoon, in the sleepy daze of puppy parenthood, I found myself belly-down on the floor with my camera, ogling the swoopy swirls of my wood-looking linoleum. In the sunlight and through the camera, it looks warmer and more animate than ever before. And just beyond my right elbow was my sleeping pup. Slightly more animated than my floor, but not by much. Here she is at her most calm, with a soothing end table offering shelter and shade.
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