Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-01-10 9:16 PM
Slumber Balls.
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The People bought us beds that are round and stuffed with cotton and cedar chips. They call them slumber balls. I call them heaven. They’re all over my house. The best one is by the fire in the den. It’s big enough for me, for Poodle, and for Labrador all at once. It’s big enough for Cat, too, if he decides he wants to curl up there with us. He won’t. Or if he did curl up there, he wouldn’t shut his eyes.
I never had a slumber ball before I came to live here. The best bed I had before now was some rags I found under the porch of the old house on Ojai Street. But there was also Chow, who thought those rags were his, not mine, and he put me out from under that porch more nights than not. Here, I don’t worry about Chow or food or cars in the street. I own the place. I own the slumber balls. I own the People. Here, I sleep in front of the fire or the heater, and I come into the house and go into the yard as I please. Here, there is no Chow or rags under the porch. Good living, this. Important to remember.
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