It struck me that morning that no task could be more pressing than watching Basil play.
And furthermore, I had no choice. The tennis ball toy squeaked ferociously and intermittently: What I’ve since learned, in my reading about the paleomammalian brain, to be called “orienting response.”1
Sirens and dump trucks, dryers, when they’re finished drying, are designed thusly. Intermittent and high-pitched to prompt the primal response of both predator and prey: “Should I kill it?” “Must I run?”
“Oh, the laundry is dry.”
And it was thusly that Basil captured my absolute presence. I could not look or listen away. She sprang and pounced and danced in rapture with her big, squeaky fleece ball.
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