What is there about this computer that Nemo doesn’t like? To be more specific, why is it, when I sit down to write, Nemo sits down beside me, stares at me, and jabs my leg with his nose until I get up and turn him outside in order to have some peace? Does he know something about the internet that I don’t know? Is it dangerous? Can it be the loud dings the computer sometimes makes when a message comes in? Is it the green light on my back-up pack that glows like a malevolent eye? Or is it simply that my attention is focused on something that is not Nemo?
Maybe I should ask his opinion about the blog post or cozy mystery or whatever it is that flows from beneath my fingers onto the computer’s wide-screen. Perhaps he has an opinion or an idea for a blockbuster cozy. If he does, I wish he would tell me! Or, maybe he’s a marketing expert and knows just the right path to great and wonderful sales.
Usually, he is my little shadow. He follows me from room to room, content, even anxious to be where I am. Anywhere but in the front room where the computer sits. He comes in briefly, pokes me with his nose, and if that doesn’t work, puts his front paws on my leg, then leaves. Soon, back he comes to repeat the process.
It seems to me that anything Nemo doesn’t understand makes him nervous. If, for some reason, the electricity blinks, he’s up, trotting around, anxious. If fireworks go off, he looks wild-eyed and will not settle down until he’s sure the loud noises are finished.
He evidently doesn’t understand what I’m doing at this strange machine that clicks as I type and sometimes emits these strange dings. Used to be, I’d imagine my dog lying docilely by my side, offering protection, contentment, and understanding as I clicked away at the current cozy mystery in progress. As they say, that was only in my mind. My dog does not like my computer! I do not know why. It’s one of those real life mysteries.
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