There was supposed to be awful news today, but I didn't really watch the news. I heard Mom muttering about the headlines with the tens of thousands of jobs cut from a variety of companies. She said more than 71,400 were cut in one day.
The market was expected to drop at the news, but instead it barely stayed positive. Mom seems happy by small gains. The big losses make her a bit crazy.
I've learned a lot about the market over the last few months. Mom thinks I'm asleep on her lap as she munches on a snack and catches the latest news from Ali Velshi and the gang at CNN.
I knew we were in a recession before the "experts" said it. The daily sell offs. The daily "fears of a recession." The daily insanity as people worried and fretted about what the market would do next. I never understood why they just didn't say it. Mom didn't either. She yelled at the TV, "Say it is a recession already. Please." It took months for the "experts" to call it a recession.
I don't stay focused on Mom's rants for long. I move from her lap to my lookout atop the back of the loveseat. I gain height here. I can see all the birds that stop in our front yard. I can bark at them. I can howl when the stray neighborhood cats waltz into our domain.
Mauly-Bones, who is my dog stepsister, sits below me on her ottoman. She barks with me, especially when the cats walk by the window. She doesn't like them either. We call her Mauly, for short. She is almost seven times bigger than I am. I weigh a fierce eight pounds. I bark like a big dog.
The news may distract Mom, but Mauly and I remain vigilant at the window. Any chance of "awful" news ends around 5 p.m. when Mr. Food Boy arrives home from work. We bark and jump to greet him. Mom protests the noise, but she never calms us down until she lets us out. There we run down the concrete walkway to greet Mr. Food Boy. It's a great day.
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