Indolent

Lazy, slothful, inert, sluggish, inactive, torpid.

I do believe we’ve found a one-word description for Odin the Large and Lazy.

Indolent.

I came across this word whilst reading Pride and Prejudice.  Jane Austen uses lots of words like indolent, words that are still around but not very commonly used. Most of them I understand well enough to let the flow of the thought sweep me along. But indolent, I’d always thought I understood but had never actually checked. And it was critical to understanding the plot device of the moment.

So this time, I looked it up. (Turns out, I was right, by the bye. Sniff!)

I looked up indolent. And immediately thought of Rachel’s favorite canine.

As I write this, he is stretched out on his dog bed about six feet from my right foot. Thoroughly engaged in enjoying whatever doggie dreams are flowing through his walnut. And other than breathing in and out, and that only occasionally, that’s about all he’s doing. Inert is pretty much spot on, descriptively speaking.

It’s not as if he didn’t come by his break time honestly. He had a busy day. He studiously observed me having morning coffee, then stood guard (okay, laid guard) while I swept and vacuumed. While I was putting up the molding in the family room, he was in constant standby and while I steamed the kitchen floor, it was he who ensured that no birds, squirrels or raccoons invaded the backyard.

He had a hard day. Ever vigilant. The fact that he discharged most of his duties from a prone position in no way detracts from the magnitude of his exertions.

His fatigue is manifest.

He deserves the occasional sojourn into indolence.