Poor Remy hasn’t gotten much FSI time lately. But fear not, he is still loved. Especially by Nora. He and she are BFF. Anytime Nora is playing on the floor, Remy’s right there. Planning a way to get close enough to launch a lickfest all over her face and hands. I’ll turn my back for one minute, pick Nora up, go to kiss her cheek and smell doggy-slobber on her face.

He’s a great, great “baby dog.” Very gentle, allows Nora to pull out clumps of fur, and doesn’t seem to be all that jealous. If anything, he’s happy for the new playmate. He doesn’t seem to grasp her abilities though. He continues to drop his tennis ball at her feet and has not given up that one of these times she’ll pick it up and throw it for him. Any day now.

Here’s a random story from this past week that I hope you enjoy.

A few nights ago, I woke up and felt the bed shaking. My first thought is that we were having another earthquake. That didn’t seem to pan out since nothing else seemed to be moving. My second thought was that Josh was moving around in his quasi-awake state. (It’s been known to happen. Remember the air guitar incident?) But no, he was fast asleep. I rolled over to check on my other side and there was a brown face locked on mine.

Of course, I gasped even as I identified that it was Remy. He was staring at me with his front paws shaking on the bed. And right then, I knew exactly what was going on. I dragged myself out of the bed, stumbled into the living room, found my purse, dug around for my cell phone, crawled under the desk to get the phone charger, plugged it in, and dove back into bed.

Because Remy’s greatest terror on this earth is the sound my phone makes when it’s dying. This is the fourth or fifth time he has done this. The alert scares him so much, he comes into our room, walks around to my side, and just waits for me to wake up. He doesn’t bark, he doesn’t paw at me, he simply trembles with an agonizing fear until I realize he’s there.

The very first time this happened, our door was shut. He jumped against it, ran his nails down it, and leaned against it until we finally let him in. He circled the bed a few times, antsy and anxious. We had watched a suspenseful movie that night, and I naively assumed that he sensed I was still tense and was eager to comfort me. He had no idea what caused the sound he found so terrifying and had no way of knowing how to make it stop.

We have both become wiser.

I’m still trying to decide if this story shows how intelligent he is, or if it reveals that he’s a little nonsensical. On one hand, he shows some problem solving that he knows how to make the noise stop. On the other hand—why on earth is he so petrified of the sound of a phone battery dying?