Today I consider the anxious personality – he who is overwrought, nervous, always on the move, casting quick, desperate glances out of windows. This is one who stays at home, a shut-in for all intents and purposes, who draws fresh air but twice a day, in the company of a solid, calming soul whose steady voice guides him along. This being finds respite from his worries in the company of a filthy, stuffed pink bear which he carries about in his mouth. I’d like you to meet Buttons, my eight-year-old fawn pug. Buttons possesses a keen intellect. He knows how to push open doors, how to raid trash cans. He has a passion for used Kleenex and the stuffing he pulls from an old sofa cushion. He has a discriminating palette that favors raw lettuce, and Cheerios. His personal habits are trying. His bladder is not well-controlled. A low-flying airplane can cause him to run, barking through the house, and then a few moments later to lift his leg on my leather couch. The air traffic controllers at Sea-Tac airport bring me much misery when they alter the flight path. There are days when Buttons runs and barks so much, I’m wont to buy him a ticket for another clime. This behavior of his I call “barkage.” One of these days, ticket in-hand bound for Tahiti, he’ll be asked, “Sir, may we check your barkage?”
