thinking and singing

What is the well known admonishment? You can't change someone's behavior, but you can change your reaction toward it? I'll be working on that today.

Henry had a late night of agitated barking. My calm as pie pup who had issued no howl or woof all day long, let it out starting at around 10, when once again there were comings and goings out in the hallway. It lasted until 12:30 -- the time the last person left an apartment across the way from mine.

I could tell that Henry was agitated. I'd turned out the lights already but he would not, could not settle down. And he kept coming to my bedside, putting his paws up on it, licking my hand -- not typical behavior for him at all. Was he looking for reassurance, or giving reassurance to me? I honestly can't tell. I was really tempted to let him come up on the bed (it is the one place where I do not allow him and he is scrupulous in following my rules here), so that I could stroke him, rub his tummy, calm him down. But I knew it would be a mistake. In the long run he'd stay with me in the bed but would not be reassured by it. Evening prowling out in the hallway puts him on alert and I doubt I can make that go away in one act or one day or even as the trainer said -- in the 6 months I am to be here still.

At the same time, I do have great sympathy for the innocent people in my building (even for my upstairs neighbors, who right on cue, resumed sex last night, though mercifully it was very brief, possibly because it had been so long...). People are allowed to leave late and talk quietly in the hallways. Henry's barks, on the other hand, are loud. They bother me and I love my dog! After a day of a blissfully silent dog, I had two hours of frazzled nerves -- his and mine. 

This morning, I see myself as having three choices: the fist is an already scheduled consultation with the vet. I doubt that drugging Henry for my six Edge months is the answer, but maybe? The owner of the training school thinks this is what I should do, at least for the elevator people problem, but for this late night howling too I suppose. My second answer it to proactively move out before they kick me out of here. I have to assume that they would allow me to break the lease given the problem I'm having with his noise level, though it may be that they'd want me out, but keep my rent til the end of the lease anyway. That is of course a nonstarter. I don't have that kind of money to waste. The third option is for me to stay despite notices and warnings from management that I'm sure they're writing as we speak. It's very hard to actually evict a renter under the laws we have in the state. It would take months -- perhaps enough time for my lease to run out and for me to have a place to move to. Steffi's house is available midsummer. I'm needling the person who lives there to move out sooner, but he's got a good deal going and I can't see him giving it up voluntarily.

No, the fourth option of giving Henry up is not on the table. If Henry were at all aggressive, I'd reluctantly go that route. But I know him to be exactly the opposite: loving, kind, smart, making every effort to please. I love him, he loves me. It ends there.

Were I to move out, by force , or on my own initiative, where would I go? Having Henry makes a return to the farmhouse not only unlikely but impossible. What would happen to the cats there in the dead of winter? Too, Ed loves quiet. Pancake scratching Henry's eyes out would not be a quiet scene. 

Henry and I could hang out in my daughter's basement, but for many many many reasons, I'd like not to have to do that. Yes I would go there rather than pack my belongings and live in the back seat of the car, but otherwise, I need to be on my own.

Another apartment? That's just plain silly. Henry is not an apartment boy. Rent a house? I actually looked at what's out there in my price range. I would positively HATE moving to someone's house rental in the dead of winter and for only 6 months. And of course, in Madison's tight housing market, there are slim pickings.

So where do I go with this? I return to the "change my attitude," because unless I get some miracle meds into my boy, I sure am not going to change Henry in a short period of time. I need to accept that this is him now. That his fear of the unknown is part of who he is. I need to find a way to get enough sleep anyway. I need to not fret endlessly about what the neighbors will say. There are other barking dogs in the building. Perhaps equally hated. Let the people complain. They have a right to do it. I will do my best to calm him, but that is all I will do. 

 

Henry slept later this morning. I wouldn't say it was a total zonk out until the brunch hour, but it was a good solid hour behind his normal schedule. Not surprised -- he needs his sleep just as much as I need mine.

By the time we go out, the sun is out.

 

It is a bitter cold day. Highs in the single digits (so -13C maybe). Henry's paws are hurting so our walk is brief.

I haven't even given him breakfast and he goes straight  to the couch to rest.

My poor, tired pup.

I eat as he snoozes...

And then I take stock. We'll need to walk, but not just yet. Henry continues to rest while I process in my head  these two nights of a scared puppy. Big dog that he is, he's just a puppy, trying to understand his place in this world.

 

We go out for some exercise at Penni Klein dog park.  Initially we are alone. He does run, but he also engages me in play -- of the type for which I am a poor candidate.

I am glad when suddenly two dogs show up. The chase is on. 

My pup is tired afterwards. To be expected. I use the time to prepare dinner for the young family. Henry and I are over at their place, with my dinner. And it's great to let the dogs cavort without anyone being bothered by them. Oh, the luxury of a house!

Two of the three kids (including the one who had his hair cut to meet his own scissor work) are reading, one is pretending he is one of the dogs.

 

 

 

 

 

Somehow the dinner conversation worked it's way to music. And singing. (And yes, that's Henry, sitting patiently and wondering if someone would throw him some food.)

 

 

None of the kids are confident singers and unfortunately it has become a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy. They mostly do not like to sing. It turns out the parents haven't given up on them. My daughter has been sporadically teaching herself guitar and she is determined to someday have the family singing.

And then she says -- you know gaga plays the guitar... We should all sing with her on the guitar. I had to laugh. Two days ago Ed had finally disposed of my guitar on Craigslist. I hadn't touched it in years -- indeed ever since I figured out that the kids don't really like to sing. My daughter wasn't deterred. You can play mine!

To say I'm rusty is sort of like saying Henry only occasionally barks. Both are true, but they hide a bigger reality. Still, I put on my cap, the one that came in the mail for me today (it says "Resist Together' -- I figured I might like it during my forthcoming travels) and we sit down to sing. Songs of peace, songs for kids, silly ones, serious ones.

 

 

And the kids join in. And it is wonderful!

 

At home, I am prepared for a rerun of the past two nights, though perhaps some people are working tomorrow, so they wont keep such late hours. Henry, my darling love, you need your beauty rest! As do I...

 

 

with so much love... 

oh Henry!

I published my post last night, floating in a sea of calm. I'm thinking -- everything is moving forward, with purpose, and with ideas on how to address the most pressing dog issues. Our routine is predictable and reassuring. Always easy, always wonderful. Every night, I go out with Henry for one last bathroom run, maybe around 9:30. It's usually a short walk. We go out, we come in. We move then to the bedroom. He's in a dozy state. I get ready for bed, read a little more, say goodnight, turn off the light. He sleeps, either on the floor, or in his bed at my feet. Contentment reigns. 

That's not what happened last night.

On our last walk, he was distracted. By the snow. By a car. By everything. Well okay, I get it, it's a blustery night. Puts you on edge! We come back inside, and now the barking begins. I think someone on my floor was having a party. Nothing loud. You never hear noise coming from the other units. Upstairs maybe, if they stomp around too much. Their sex must have come to a standstill, or they fixed their bed because I dont even hear them creaking rhythmically anymore. The only time you may remember you're in an apartment building is when people go in and out of their units. A muffled sound of voices, a door closing quietly.

Yesterday, there were muffled sounds of voices and door closings late into the night. They bothered me not at all. They agitated Henry like only an elevator full of screaming people might have done. He'd bark at the door, then run to the bedroom and look outside, waiting for someone to appear. And I guess people did come out, because he would then bark some more. (It was a white winter night and visibility was good, too good I would say.) He did not calm down until close to midnight. You know how middle of the night thoughts drive you nuts? Yeah, mine did. I truly believed then that Henry was getting to be like Marley in the book -- sweet and lovable, sure, but also a big pain in the ass. 

As if recalling his late evening of great fury, Henry woke up early and gave one big woof at the snow outside. I let out one loud "Henry!" and rolled back to the other side. Sleep was not going to come back, but at least I could ignore my pup for a little bit longer. 

It is the last woof I hear for a long, long time. 

He "wakes" me again at about 7. He waits patiently to go out. He is a model outside dog. Despite the fact that it snowed, and it continues to snow for the better part of the day.

He waits for his breakfast, plays a little while I putz around with mine, then settles in to rest as I eat, with my music on, book opened.

We start the Intermediate level training class today and I have to admit, as we set out for it, I am feeling a little apprehensive: if Henry has upped his level of barking, he's going to have a hard time being in a room full of strange people (with their dogs). I pack along his "calming collar," just in case. 

So, did we get thrown out of class for bad behavior?

Heck no!

 

 

 

Henry never barked once. The trainer upped the commands, extending them somewhat, making them more difficult. Henry did his so smoothly that you would think he'd done this class before and was there only to show others how to do it.

Was he good at "Sit" on the spot, even when commanded from a distance? Yes.  Was he great at "Leave it?" Perfection itself. Was he able to "Stay" for a longer period of time, with distractions? Absolutely. Did he "Come" immediately and with joy? Totally.

When the instructor came over to watch us, he wagged his tale and outperformed himself. 

I explained to her that Henry was an A+ dog when in a training session, whether here or at home. He is a little less than perfect when the training is stopped and we go back to normal life. Tell him to sit while he's barking at strangers on the street and he doesn't even try to listen. "Come" is useless as well, and if by chance I got him over with some dangle of a treat, it would not be with joy, it would be a momentary thing, just so he could grab his money and run. But, put us back in the apartment and have me start in on a training session, and that boy is all mine. Eyes focused on my face, positioned to do his best. Just not when I need him to do a little better. Not when it matters.

As I thought about all this much later, I also remembered today's initial class introductions. Some dogs were older than him, but many were younger -- maybe 7 or 8 months. When I introduced Henry I said that he had a famously loud bark. 

They never heard it once. But I also said that he was probably about 10.5 months old. And I realized on the one hand that he is so much older than when I first got him, but, too, that he is only 10.5 months. So much more to learn! So much more to surprise me with!

 

In the afternoon, we drive over to the farmette. It's bitter cold outside, but Henry does need his exercise so Ed and I take him to the nearby dog park. 

Henry runs so much and with such great speed that Ed asks  -- have you been locking your dog in a closet? He sure has a lot of pent up energy. 

Of course, the answer is that Henry is simply a very high energy dog. In the parks, he chases, but more often he is chased, as dogs try to keep up with him.

Henry is devilishly quick. And smart: he'll do a reversal if he feels they're getting close. It slows them down and sows momentary confusion. 

You feel you've put in your own exercise for the day just by watching him leap and lope across the fields.

 

After, we stop at Steffi's house, so that I can take some photos of it for the Home Owners Association -- for fence approval. Don't even ask me how that's going. I'm going to wind up with a court case if things don't settle down there. Yes, it's that ridiculous.

From there, we go to Tati's Cafe -- the place where they still appear to allow dogs. 

The coffee shop isn't packed, but there are at least a half a dozen tables with strangers -- Henry, strangers, eating, sipping, talking. 

Henry stays by the door, refusing to budge. 

But as I point him to the couch, he has a moment of clarity. A light bulb goes off: I know this place! He walks daintily over and hops onto the couch. Ed brings over a lunch for himself, I sip a coffee. Henry sits snugly, half hidden behind Ed. 

He doesn't exactly relax, but nor does he protest being there and not once, not once does he bark. 

First, the grand behavior at training and now this? Is it really Henry we're talking about? The dog that kept me up (and possibly my neighbors as well) until nearly midnight?

Unbelievable! 

And home again.  

I hope that no one is having visitors tonight.  That everyone stays in their homes because of the bitter cold. That Henry hears no strange sounds coming in from anywhere. 

I'll let you know tomorrow how that went!

with so much love... 

 

snow again

Enough snow fell to make things pretty once again, not enough to take out the skis, plenty though for Henry to enjoy, though please, not on our early morning walk.

I am, if you can believe it, still thinking about my dog. A lot. About his fears and reactions when he is suddenly confronted with a person coming at him exiting or entering the elevator. 

 

(waiting for the elevator, with trepidation) 

 

 

We have lived together in the apartment building for nearly three months and I can't say he is getting any better at it. I speculated with Ed just now about whether he'd ever shed those elevator fears. Perhaps they are part and parcel of his shy and just a little fearful and protective nature. Ed reminded me that Pancake, our most (!) stray feral cat, used to be extremely terrified of us and only his need for food had him come as far as the porch. Two years later, Pancake is purring on the carpet, at ease with us even inside the farmhouse. 

Two years though. It took him that long to (almost) completely relax. He, too, had been in battles with those who meant to fight and harm him. He carried very visible wounds, often coming to us with bruises all over his face. Henry, I don't think, had it that bad. He has no visible scars or bruises. And for all his fear of strangers being thrust upon him, he is extremely lovable and sweet to those he knows and trusts. He had no trouble cuddling up to me from the getgo... 

 

... and he is sweet as can be with Ed and with family members and with the staff of doggie daycare. He is one adored boy over there. So maybe not two years until he accepts a strange person entering his space? Our space?

I was joking with my friend Bee, who is a dog person herself (meaning she had a shy dog as well), that I am going to get evicted from the Edge because of Henry! Well that would be an adventure! I can't say that I would blame those hapless souls who are terrified of his bark and who would feel compelled to complain to management. We will see where this whole saga will lead us all!

Breakfast, so peaceful, so fine...

I drop Henry off at doggie daycare and then go on a medicine run. First, to the vet's for Henry's pills. I dont care what the tests showed, (They showed nothing.) I found worms! Next, to my old pharmacy for renewals. Then to the farmette.

I was to drop in for a brief visit, but Ed is lost to a technical Zoom call, so I do not linger. I go to the bird store and pick up more bird feed instead. And to another pharmacy and then home again. A regular loop of necessities! Well, Ed was to be the pleasurable part, but that went nowhere.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop.

 

(No elevator fears here!)

 

 

And I pick up Henry at doggie day care. My pup that has me puzzling over him so much! I had just talked to the training school where he was signed up for two separate training programs, both starting this weekend. The problem? I will have to miss two classes of each program because I'm going to be away for the last two weekends of January. They weren't sure it was a good idea for me to take the one class on Calming Skills for High Arousal Dogs or Situations if I had to skip two in the middle (the other one I could catch up the required work).  I explained that the Calming Skills one was a necessity! I need help developing techniques that will calm him in the elevator. 

Aimee, the owner and director of the school is one of Henry's fans (she knows him from doggie daycare, which is in the same building), but she told me a hard truth: his initial shyness, which she knows and understands, wont go away in six or seven months (my remaining time living in a building with an elevator). The training I was doing in and out of the elevator (the sitting, hanging back, waiting) -- those were exactly right. He doesn't need another training class. However, she is fairly certain they wont make the problem go away anytime soon. In her view, he needs additional calming help in the meantime. And my vet should be able to help me with that.

Well good! I schedule an appointment for next week, with a smile: I can't believe my dog will have had more doctor's visits in one month than me! 

And of course, at home, at the Edge, all is calm in the evening. So very calm...

 

with  so much love...

Thursday chats and childish impulses

There is a fine line that separates those who resist authority (because, just as an example, an authoritative figure is breaking the laws/norms/core values of a society) from those who are merely churlish and obstinate and uncivilized for no good reason, except that they get some satisfaction and even pleasure from being churlish, obstinate and uncivilized. I suppose we all think that we are on the side of the good. But aren't there bits of the contrarian in all of us as well? Rebels sometimes without a cause? Pushing boundaries and even crossing the boundaries of what is permissible, for no good reason? (I dont mean by mistake. I mean on purpose.)

I had a morning of messaging -- on My Chart, with my team that cut up my cheek last week. I got scolded for not wearing the bandage long enough. For not thinking about protecting the wound from sun exposure going forward. For wanting to go swimming soon. I suppose "scolded" is the wrong word, but since I'm being childish about my recovery, it doesn't seem that far off to view this as a battle between the child and the authority figure. 

I've been asked by my granddaughter if I was disobedient when I was a kid. And I answered honestly: at home, I was mostly very compliant. My parents had no disciplinary issues with me. But I had a lot of freedom and occasionally I would get away with stuff I knew was wrong. Not finishing homework before watching TV, eating junk candy, sampling my father's booze supply when they were out. And in school, I was a note passer. A doodler. An occasional chalk thrower. In retrospect, I wonder at the stuff I chose to disrespect. It seems now so pointless. I never wanted to do it because others were doing it. It was a personal rebellion, a testing of rules I suppose.

This was my morning then. Messaging and sending photos of my healing face and pushing back on suggestions on what should happen next.

 

It is cold outside. And by Monday, a polar blast will put us up there with the Inuit communities of the Arctic Circle. We will be that cold! 

My pup was a good pup on our walk. No person appeared out of nowhere. He was quiet.

And so he remained, before and after breakfast.

But let me not think for one minute that Henry is over his fear of the new. When I took him to doggie daycare, the staff asked me to put him in the office for a minute as they were taking a dog out and maybe due to the dog's illness, or maybe behavior issues, they did not want Henry to cross paths with him. 

Well good luck on that one! Asking Henry to break from his enthusiastic routine of bounding right into the room full of dogs proved to be an to big of an ask. He trembled with fear and dug in his heels. A real no-go. And after my battle with the scale at the vet's a few days back, I wasn't going to be a part of this drama. I handed the staff person the leash and said -- here, you do it. Bye!

 

In the afternoon I had both kids: first Sparrow...

... then Snowdrop, who had another teacher intervention today and so yet another serious discussion to be had in the car while Sparrow listened attentively. Is it that we are right in the thick of January, plunged into the coldest, darkest days of the year? The teachers seem more tense, the kids more lost in the confusion of demands, rules, boredom -- you name it. What can I say. This winter too shall pass. And besides, this is the year of the Winter Olympics and I, for one, am looking forward to tuning out the irritants of this world and doing some binge watching of sportif people coming down snow covered mountains in various ways at dizzying speeds. 

(Because it's been a mixed school week, I take them out to Hubbard Avenue Diner for a treat of their choice. She chooses french fries, he goes with a chocolate cream pie slice)

 

 

 

 

 

Later, we pick up Henry. It just so happens that the parents are there as well, picking up Goose. They ask if the two big ones want to switch cars, but they say no, they want that last ride with Henry. They'll have plenty of time with Goose at home, but there is something special about these few minutes with my dog, who leans as much forward as his seat belt will permit, taking in all that we pass and issuing an occasional lick, or bark, or tail wag. 

Home. Henry is in his evening mode: at first hungry, then simply content. Affectionate. My pup. Who will someday let go of his fears. I know he will. Once he understands that I am there to protect him. And I will never let anyone harm my pooch. He is safe. He is loved.

with so much love... 

 

photos

I am not having a bad hair day. Here, take a look -- I just took this selfie:

My hair looks normal. Slavic fine, with streaks of gray. What I am having is a bad photo day. I'm in a rut of poor weather, limited outdoor time, few opportunities, low interest. Usually when that happens, I take a few of my standards and call it a day, picture wise. But today, my standards were inexcusably poorly executed, my dog was only modestly cooperative on the morning walk and the winds were howling at speeds worthy of hurricane, so who could blame him. I shrugged it all off as a bad photo day. You will see what I mean.

It was a funny wake up. I dozed on and off in the early hours, hoping Henry would stay asleep. 6 am passed, 6:30, 7... I heard him get up, but he didn't come to my side initially. He went to the window and let out low rumbles at the cars that were pulling out of the garage. Really Henry? You're protesting cars now? 

By 7:15 he finally came over to "wake me." We step out into the hallway. Two other dogs and their owner are just leaving their place. Henry is all woof woofing at them, not meanly, his tail is going full speed, but noticeably and more importantly -- audibly. 

Once again, I am glad our time at the Edge is limited to this one year. My daughters laugh at me, claiming that I am at an age where you tend to focus and obsess on one issue -- any issue -- and I suppose I am now officially fixated on Henry's barking. For a reason! He's such a grand dog and I want the world to love him. An impossible wish, given his loud greeting. 

My sweet gentle Henry, you are not making friends and influencing people! Sigh...

 

(I'm sorry your photos sucked this morning...)

 

Breakfast, calm, delightful.

After our morning time together he goes to doggie daycare, I go to the farmhouse. It's a visit, sure...

... but the real purpose is to keep two appointments I made in the neighborhood. With fencing contractors. 

Here's the scoop: remember Steffi's house? This one:

I was involved in the purchase of it and I saw to it that it was finished properly. And now I'm planning to move into it. Once the person who is currently occupying it moves out. The idea is for Steffi's house to become my next home. The virtues are enormous -- it's a brief walk to the farmhouse, and it doesn't have elevators with strangers riding in them. 

One issue I intend to address is that the house does not have a fenced yard. In fact, it doesn't have much of a yard, period. That is at once an asset (so little work required!) and a detriment (I can't let Henry out for a quick pee). I set up appointments today to get bids from fence people for a side enclosed space. It would just be enough for Henry's needs and my peace of mind.  

I'm quite excited about it all. What's life if you can't start new chapters in it again and again! 

 

And a general comment about living with a dog. If you have ever had a canine pet, perhaps you'll have felt this yourself: that dog will be whatever you want him or her to be for you. A beloved companion maybe, an outpost for your emotions, the tender ones I hope. Or nothing more (and nothing less) than a protector of your sheep flock. A playmate and a lesson in responsibility for your children. The dog is giving you something of himself for sure, but you cannot just take without learning about his quirks and personality traits and adapting yourself to them. Two stories for you. First one: I saw a guy this morning dropping his dog off at doggie daycare. It was a reasonably small fluffy thing. The guy was your poster child for a trucker and not only because he was in fact driving a pickup. Gruff, big, burly. Clothed like Ed only not wearing shorts in the dead of winter (an Ed habit). He cradled that pup in his arms and, not knowing I was watching from inside my car, gave him (her?) smooches all over to say good bye. Maybe he was that way with everyone. Hugs, kisses, cuddles. Maybe he'd be at the front-line of a protest against brutality in this world. Maybe he takes care of an ailing grandmother in his free time. Maybe it's her dog! One thing's for sure -- that dog brought joy and love into his life.

The more subtle point is well made in my second story -- one borrowed straight from the NYTimes today. This one, that I gifted for you. It's about a woman and her dog. one that she takes for walks in a stroller. If you read to its end, you'll maybe take heart as you watch people do nutty or at least unconventional things with their dogs. As someone in the comments said -- cut them some slack, you never know what's going on in people's lives. I would just add to it -- you never know what's going on in the dog's life either. Who he is and how he came to be that way. And why he barks. Loudly.

 

In the afternoon I attend to the other animals in my life. No, not these cats!

They're under Ed's care! I mean the birds outside. From what I see, it's still all about finches, sparrows and chickadees.

You're supposed to clean the feeder on a regular basis. It's a pain, but if you are serious about not spreading bird viruses, you'll do it. I also decided to turn off the camera for a while. The HiBird smart feeder has been working well (as opposed to the previous one which wasn't), but it takes an insane amount of photos. True, they get automatically deleted at some point, but I've been manually deleting them every few days and since I now know that I get those three bird species, with the occasional dove thrown in, I think I can give the camera a rest until the season changes and other birds flock to it. 

 

And in the evening I pick up my beloved Henry. Sweet pup. With a personality. That I am just beginning to know.

with so much love... 

sunshine

That I am not spending the day outside just tells you that I have a streak of laziness running through me. At times dormant, at other times, for example on a January Tuesday -- very much present. It's sunny and warm. 53F/11.5C, which is weird and unheard of and wont be repeated until in March at best. And yet, here I sit. (To my credit, I guess, I did do a 15 minute stint on the balcony again. For the sunshine. I felt like I do when I am in the mountains in the winter and the sun is out. I could almost imagine eating a blueberry tart and maybe sipping a glass of white wine. I have an active imagination.)

Despite yesterday's pledges to myself that I will go to sleep on the early side, I didn't do that. More book reading and puzzle doing. Oh, and I'll admit to watching four episodes of the limited series on Netflix -- North of North, which does give you an inside look at the Inuit culture up in the Arctic circle. I am just not keen on early bedtime when so much pulls at me. I can see myself getting roped into all three again tonight -- the show, the book, the puzzle. And then groan in the morning, because Henry just does not sleep in.

Henry. What a dog! He is so patient with me in the mornings! He wakes me and then waits nearby. No complaints, no yelps, just patient waiting. 

Speaking of waiting, I'm working now on adding the command "wait" in the elevator to the already present "hang back." But is that a good strategy to get him to not pull and bark at strangers? He now tenses up as the elevator doors open. As if I'm asking him to wait because something awful is about to happen. I'm out of ideas on how else to keep him quiet if there are people appearing suddenly as the door slowly opens. Luckily, at 7 a.m. there are rarely people up and about. It almost always is a quiet and calm walk for us then.  

I must say, for all the worrying I do about his rather fierce sounding greeting for strangers, He is far quieter than some of the pooches here. For example, there is a small yappy dog that lives on the ground floor, with the patio doors facing the street. He routinely barks his head off every time he sees Henry outside, for however long Henry is there. The difference is that annoying as the dog may be, he is not scary. Though I do feel sorry for the neighbors. Yap yap yap, nonstop!

Breakfast. Lovely.

My dog. Lovely.

 And big.

 

 

One of my favorite moments is to be with him in the morning, after our breakfasts, and to watch his eyes slowly close in total bliss as I rub his chest and belly.  

 

 

 

Birds outside. Lovely.

Sparrows finches chickadees. 

And here I sit, watching the day unfold. From the inside.

 

When Henry goes to doggie daycare, I do grocery shopping.  And I schedule some stuff that needs to be scheduled (more on that later in the week), and I pay quarterly taxes, and I take out travel medical insurance. There, have I bored you yet? I should have gone for a walk but without Henry by my side, a walk seems so unadventurous!

The kid pickup today is a bit convoluted, but they are both with me for a short visit.

(it's back to Lego for him)

(she's as addicted to these Back to Nature Crispy Wheats as I am)

Snowdrop had an incident in school, about which teachers notified parents, and Snowdrop's mom in turn passed it on to me. Though she is in middle school -- a time of such stress for so many girls -- things have been going rather smoothly for my grandgirl. Aside from the usual small stuff, I heard nothing about mean and denigrating comments. Until today. We talked about it in the car. The funny thing is that the entire incident completely passed the girl by. Must have been the group of kids I don't hang out with -- she said. She calls them the "popular kids" though I never understood this designation, not now, not when my own girls were in school. Sparrow, like any younger child, surely gets his share of older kid stories by coming along for the ride. You can view that as an advantage for him I suppose. Or, perhaps it strikes the fear of God into the poor boy!

In the evening the three of us go to pick up Henry and Goose. 

 

 

 

Their dog is tired after doggie daycare. Mine is hyper! Bouncy, barky, excited. He'll calm down once home, but it usually takes him a while. This is not the time to run into people in the elevator!

And the rest of the evening? Um, no comment. Too engrossed in the stories and dialogues and puzzle pieces. And my dog of course! 

 

 

With so much love...