The box arrived yesterday from Missouri Star, and naturally I was more excited than any reasonable quilter should be over my new Oliso Mini Pro. It’s a tiny iron—about the size of a plump squirrel—with a long white cord trailing behind it like a tail. To me, it looked like the perfect addition to my quilting studio. To Dixon, it apparently looked like a strange new creature that had wandered in and taken up residence on my cutting table.
Dixon Spots the Intruder
A few minutes later, my eighty-pound black Labrador Retriever wandered into the studio. He stopped in his tracks, locked eyes on the cutting table, and began barking. Now, barking isn’t unusual for Dixon. If the UPS driver appears, he considers it his sacred duty to announce the invasion. I looked out the window expecting to see the familiar man in the brown uniform or perhaps a squirrel racing through the yard.
Nothing.
“Dixon, settle down.”
He did not settle down. Instead, he kept barking while staring intently at my cutting table. Finally, I escorted him to his kennel—a place he considers his personal retreat—and the barking stopped immediately. Peace returned, or so I thought.
A little later, my husband felt sorry for the poor prisoner and let him out. Dixon trotted confidently back into the quilt studio, glanced toward the cutting table, and instantly retreated behind my chair, barking all the while. It was then that I realized the only new thing in the room was the little iron.
Surely not.
I picked it up and offered it to Dixon for inspection. He cautiously stretched out his neck, gave it a careful sniff, and then quickly leaned away as if to say, “Absolutely not.”
Dixon Tells His Side
Mom has made a terrible mistake. She brought it into the house herself. It arrived in one of those suspicious cardboard boxes, which is never a good sign. Then she took out . . . it.
It’s small. It’s shiny. It has a tail. It doesn’t blink. It doesn’t move. It just sits there. Waiting.
Naturally, I barked to warn her. She looked out the window. Mom! The danger isn’t out there. It’s standing on your cutting table.
I barked louder. She told me to calm down. Then she locked me in jail while the tiny monster remained loose in the quilting studio. I’m beginning to question her judgment.
Back to Bobbie
When dinner rolled around, Dixon finally relaxed, and I assumed the crisis had passed. After dinner, I returned to my quilting and, without thinking, set the iron on the ottoman instead of the cutting table. Unfortunately, that put the little creature right at Labrador eye level.
Dixon approached with extreme caution, gave it one more suspicious sniff, and quietly relocated to his newest safe place behind my chair. From there he couldn’t actually see the ottoman. Apparently, if you can’t see the monster, perhaps the monster can’t see you. He spent the rest of the evening tucked safely behind my chair, occasionally peeking around the corner just to make sure the strange little tailed creature hadn’t moved.
I still have no idea what Dixon thought my little Oliso Mini Pro was. A hedgehog? A robot? Some strange little creature with a long white tail? Whatever it was, he was absolutely convinced it didn’t belong there, and he took his job of protecting Mom very seriously.
In two weeks, my new longarm machine is scheduled to arrive. If a tiny iron inspired this much concern, I’m almost afraid to find out what Dixon thinks about eight feet of steel rolling through the front door.