Barking at a memory

Tassi, our 'middle' dog, is a feisty little dachshund. She is like one of those people who never run out of interesting things to say - interesting, at least to themselves (I wonder where she gets it from, not me for sure ;D)... So she's always talking, not just barking, but in a continued non-bark syntactic sounding sort of way. And she will never stop barking at people or animals outside our gates. Usually she calms down a while after they're inside the house - except for some people.

But I will write about Tassi in length, another day. There's a little story I want to tell. There is a family with three little boys near here. Whenever they visited, Tassi's whole day was ruined. Her world would crumble into dry, sour lemon flakes before her very beautiful eyes. She could get used to most people, but not the three boys. It must have been a season of peace for her when the sight of those three boys became a rarity. We loved them - they stayed here for hours, eating, hearing my mother's and my stories, playing with Shadow, chilling with my father, even sleeping on the odd occasion... perhaps to Tassi they were competition. Their presence was a bitter pill. To her, they had no right of entry. She felt victimised. I think we were good with her on that score - we made sure we petted her and played with her. I usually talked gibberish to her afterward so she'd understand my tone. I was basically asking her why she had to feel let down. It is inexplicable and extremely funny too - no one else had such an effect on her, and the three boys did not have that effect on any of the other dogs. They were just children, when she was a pup herself. They were therefore the enemy, a threat to her favoured position. She resented it, she was hurt, she was angry and she was not going to forget!

A few days ago, the oldest boy came over. I guess Tassi never did get over them. She had a lot to say. She stood at the gate and tortured herself by watching her hated enemy constantly; she denounced him, abused him, rebuked him. Maybe he wasn't the enemy at all. Funny. Because when S left, Tassi was allowed inside the house, to make up for her bad morning. She came in, the wrinkles on her worried little forehead and snout clearing cautiously. And then her eye fell on the armchair and she rushed to it in fury, her hair bristling along her spine! It was laughable - she was so cute and funny, but so nonsensical! It was the chair S had been sitting in. And she barked at that chair for all she was worth. Make amends she said - I was angry, redeem that time!! Perceptive little girl, she knew she would get a cuddle if we saw her hurt. Funny little sweetheart, barking at the old chair! LOL

I am like Tassi sometimes, barking at memories, old hurts, pain I carefully preserve to give myself a feeling of righteous victimisation. But I know my Redeemer lives.