This isn’t about MacBooks or politics…

It’s about my all-natural antidepressant:  Chai.  No, not the incredible spiced tea treat (of which I am a devout fan) but rather the tea’s namesake, my cocker spaniel.

I’ve never been a big TV watcher.  I just don’t care much for it.  I’d rather read or listen to an audiobook or music or (gasp) have some silence.  My dog?  Not so much.  My dog watches TV.

I don’t mean to say that she’ll stare at what’s on.  I mean she has opinions about it, she has her favorite shows and she gets upset if we skip them in favor of something else.  She has movies she likes and movies she doesn’t.  We watched the debate the other night and the dog earnestly followed along and growled at McCain — and I wish I were making that up, because it’s high maintenance to determine what a non-speaking creature is requesting the channel be changed to.

What’s more, if I leave for the day for any number of reasons, I’ve come back to the main television having been turned on and the channel having been changed.  It perplexed me for a while:  odd stalker?  possessed set?  Nope.  Just an opinionated dog.  More than once, I’ve seen her take the remote from the coffee table, place it on the floor in front of the television and step on it until the channel begins to change.  She’ll continue stepping on the remote until something sparks in her doggy brain and she finds something she wants to watch.  Then she’ll lie down, paws crossed over the remote (guarding it) while she watches her show.

In the evenings, her favorite place is the foot of my bed — if I consent to turn on my bedroom television.  And if she approves of the program.  Her favorite show, a show for which she will come running from another room to see, is Will & Grace.  She doesn’t care much for Grace, but Will is entertaining to her and if she hears Jack’s voice, she (honestly) does a weird little dance before plopping down for her evening of viewing bliss.  Last night, she chose (yes, chose) a chick flick of some sort, grabbed her favorite toy and propped her head up on the foot of the bed to settle in for the next hour or so.  Want a picture?  I thought you might.

Chick flicks and squeaky toys. Life is good.

My dog is a television critic reincarnated.