Recently in animals Category

Anyone who has spent a lazy morning or afternoon at H&H has probably encountered Ebola. No, not talking about the highly communicable and deadly virus of central Africa, but the black and white dog that cruises up and down Oak street, shaking down the businesses for treats. Ebola belongs to Charlie, owner of Counter Media next door. She's at least nine years old, and more partial to men than women, unless there are treats involved in which case she's gender-blind. I recall Charlie once saying that she's part rat terrier, but in my mind, Ebola is barely a dog. Sure, she loves snacks, and she will sit, lie down, even play dead for a slice of ham or turkey. But she's more like a 7-year old kid--big enough to walk to the store all by herself. Smart enough to wait in her spot, not walk behind the counter and risk getting kicked out. Cunning enough to turn on the charm while withholding affection until her snack is dispensed. But while this regimen is testament her superior intelligence over other dogs that would never have the self control to stay behind the counter, it lacks any spontaneity. In our first couple of years in business, my old partner Keith and I would enjoy getting her riled up and watching her bark and dance in circles. But our relationship has--I don't want to say it's dwindled, it's just become very routine:

8:30 am: Scratch at door, prance into Half & Half, demand ham, sit if required, eat reward, go back to bookstore.

Repeat at 11am and 3pm

I'm not saying I don't like Ebola, I do. I love her. She's a good girl. She is the ultimate regular--our pattern does not change. And if there is a sadness, it is precisely that there is no change. Neither one of us evolves beyond our same roles, day after day. After day. I guess this is why we also have human relationships.