LETTERS FROM HOME: LIVING UNDER STRAIN OF TWO PAIRS OF WATCHFUL BROWN EYES

Dec. 2, 1999Dear Patty,Do you ever have the feeling you're being watched? I do.

From awakening until they are put to bed at night, Hank and Lucy watch us with a kind of devotion that is humbling. They love the way I artfully eat a piece of toast, two pairs of brown eyes in tandem tracing the arc from plate to lips. If possible, they are even more enthralled by the way I consume a full sandwich. It's a Blimpie's commercial made to order.

Sometimes, embarrassed by all the attention on my table manners, I make them leave the room.

Hank and Lucy also are taken with DC's cooking technique, to the extent that they literally study at her feet. The spatula is her baton, and they are her orchestra.

If she happens to spill something, they helpfully lap it up before she has a chance to bend down. But their admiration society isn't limited to the kitchen. Watching us get dressed in the morning, they are transfixed by the slipping on of each sock, fascinated by rhythm of ironing clothes. As I pull a sweatshirt over my head Hank often makes a little "umpf" sound of approval. Lucy just watches intently. The next thing you know, they're jumping up and down behind me on the stairs and barking as I open the door to let them outside, almost as if they know what I'm going to do.

They also love to hear DC excitedly say "Step in time," a phrase from the movie "Mary Poppins." Mary utters these words when she takes the children for a walk, but they mysteriously cause more jumping and barking in Hank and Lucy. DC is so pleased with their reaction that she unfailingly applies their leashes and walks them around the block.

She believes all this signifies true devotion on the dogs' part, but I have begun to suspect ulterior motives.

They watch me putt golf balls into a cup on the living room rug. They watch DC do her Kathy Smith aerobic workout on the same rug. When she is finished, they come upstairs to watch me write at the computer. Sometimes when DC thinks we've been neglecting them, they get to watch us sleep. There is nowhere to hide. I think they are trying to unsettle me, make me buy Alpo.

As you know, they have two very different personalities. Besides Prozac, Hank's requires a lot of reassurance but is uncomfortable with attention. He watches us with the wary eyes of someone who doesn't want to be approached but is afraid of being left behind. Lucy wants attention like a heat-seeking missile wants a target. Her eyes say, "Pet me first. On the belly." I wonder if they realize that humans have tender psyches themselves.

There is such a thing as too much devotion. Hank and Lucy are like paintings whose eyes follow you about the room. I feel like a little kid, about to scream "Stop looking at me."There now.

I guess living with anyone so attuned to your own actions can become a big responsibility. Hank and Lucy watch us watch TV. We are like actors on a stage who haven't been given a role.

Since little in the way of movement is required to watch television, DC worries that we're boring our dogs. I try to be an animated TV watcher, but as I said, it gets to be a responsibility.

Reading has become especially difficult.

Love, SamSam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian