figuring it out

 As a parent, you try hard not to give labels to your kids. "Math is not your forte!" "You're such a whiner!" "You are shy" -- words to avoid. The same principle applies to the pets in your life and yet, here I am, convinced that Henry is the more challenging canine and Sadey is a breeze. It's not that I haven't good reasons for the labels, but keeping an open mind allows you to see where the labels just don't fit.

For example, Henry is far easier to take out for a potty run. He does his stuff quickly. Unless there's a mouse scent or a squirrel movement or a strange human, he does not pull. I've not bothered with the harness lately because he is just so good out there. And in the morning and evening-- it's in and out for him. Sadey, on the other hand, is more in the learning stages of a leash walk. Small wonder -- in her foster family, she had a fenced yard. I learned today that she never went for walks to do her stuff. Here, she has to learn that her chance at relieving herself comes only when we pace back and forth on suburban green strips. And since she doesn't associate our walks with potty stuff, she takes forever!  And, too, she pulls harder. I will have to concentrate leash training on her, not on Henry, who by comparison, is a pro! (Though even that is an unwarranted generalization: once he does his stuff, Henry wants the leash to come off so that he can play. Tug of war can ensue. Try breaking that habit when you have a second dog with you wondering what the hell is going on!)

Sadey, the friendly dog who approaches everyone with a smile, is no wilting flower. After breakfast, the poor girl was whining to get out. Henry seemed eager to give it a try. I put away his toys and took her out of her playroom, keeping her on a leash in case things got dicey. Henry was exuberant. They chased, mouthed each other and all that was fine -- Henry and Goose do it all the time. But Henry and Goose can read each others signals splendidly. They know when to stop. With  these two, it seemed that they might be escalating (it's hard to tell with dogs -- sometimes it's all fun and games, but these two weren't yet reliable), so after just five minutes of roughhousing, I took Sadey back into her fenced-off room. 

To me it seems that it's a workable solution, but it does, I think, stall the bonding that surely must take place between her and the rest of us.  She's there alone, whining. How can that be good? Yes, I go in and stay with her in bits and pieces, but it's not the same. 

So, morning walks? Separate but not equal. His is short, hers is long and often unproductive!

Breakfast. His first, then hers, then mine. 

And the whining continues.

It's a beautiful, record breaking day today! I keep the porch door open to let the house gases out!

 

 

Eventually I try opening the gate again. And this time they're good. A little roughhousing but also a lot of peace.

And you'd think I passed the trial period stunningly, with total success. 

You'd be wrong. I take them out for a walk, together, but stopping when they pull too hard. All good, though once more she does nothing, We come inside. I give them each a treat. And I'm not sure if this is the precipitating factor or if it's something entirely different, but a real fight ensues. And dumb me had taken off her leash, feeling a misplaced confidence in their ability to maintain peace. I managed to pull her away without having my hand chopped off and put her back in the play room. And I remind myself: they warned us again and again -- do not rush this. They are not reading signals well yet. Give it more time. Much more time.

It would be easy to blame Henry. I had labeled him half jokingly the "neurotic" one -- a perhaps unfortunate label we used to give to anxious others when we were kids. And I do think he was the first to ward Sadey off yesterday. I saw that. She wanted his toy, he said a firm no, with a snap. But as I take her out of the room now for leash walks around the house (I cant just leave her in her room -- she's too unhappy there), I see that she is the one fending off his play attempts. Dogs dont hold grudges, but she may well be too stressed to do anything but growl when he tries to engage her. Stress hormones can take several days to get back to normal after an arousal. The trip itself raised her anxiety levels to high levels. The question out there is if there is a chance that they will never get along. That both pups are too hungry for love and too possessive of it once they get it (Sadey always pushes herself into the cuddle I may be giving Henry). That is, of course, possible. I can't rule it out. But I'm optimistic. I have two dogs who need help and I will try my hardest to make this work. 

For the rest of the day I take many indoor and outdoor walks. Taking each pooch outside sometimes separately, sometimes together, on short leashes, keeping both to one side. Aside from the pulling, they actually are quite compatible on a walk. And I resume watching the Olympics. And the dogs whine at the fence, but with apologies to them, I am keeping them separated for the next week. I observe them both, offer reassuring words, and wait for everyone to calm down. 

With all that I still have to figure out, I am nonetheless so very happy to have Sadey with us! 

 

Ed comes over in the evening with a pizza. We watch a show. He biked today so rather predictably, he dozes off on the couch. I exhale.

The big changes are behind me for now. But the work to make this a great transition is very much still before me.

with so much love... 

love's challenge

It's hard not to fall back on platitudes and banalities when writing about love. On the other hand, it's hard today for me to not write about love at all. Love is at the forefront of all my thoughts as I try to figure out best courses of action for the weeks ahead. Love is the culprit here. Without it, I would shrug and let the days unfold. But I cannot do that. I have to stick with a plan to maximize our chances for a good outcome. 

Two beings frame the day for me: Ed and Henry. Yes, that's right, the men in my life.

Ed has developed an asthmatic reaction to being in Sally's House. He believes that the new house is "burping" and the settling gases are aggravating his bronchial tubes. In the middle of the night, he was enough short on breath that he went home.

I know what you're thinking -- he may be allergic to the dogs. We are almost certain that they are not the culprit. He spent plenty of time at the Edge with Henry virtually sitting on top of him and he felt nothing, nothing at all. Of course, I myself do not care for self-diagnosing and yes, this could be an event that requires medical intervention, but he is so convinced that he is right ("I walked home and was fine immediately") that I just have to accept it as a hard truth.

Until we can keep the windows open, his visits can be frequent, but necessarily shorter. That could be classified as love's challenge, don't you think? I moved here for Henry and to be close to Ed. Henry's anxieties have lessened, though they're not nearly cured. Ed -- well arguably this is better, despite this setback. We see each other a lot, but most definitely the flare up is costing us some. Still, you could say it's good that he lives almost within my field of vision. Hop on.a bike and you're there. 

 

About Henry now: I have myself a calm and easy dog -- that would be Sadey -- and a passionately neurotic pup -- Henry.  

Henry spent the night downstairs rather than in his usual doggie bed. That could be because he really loves the new Ikea couch. Or because Ed dozed off on the older couch and Henry has a total crush on Ed. Or he stayed to keep tabs on Sadey in the fenced off playroom. When Ed left in the middle of the night, Henry remained on the couch downstairs, coming in to wake me at sunrise -- just before 7. Here, you can see it from the upstairs bedroom.

Obviously both dogs need to go out ASAP. Would one at a time work? I didn't see myself taking Sadey and leaving Henry with heightened feeling of jealousy. And she is the newbie, so I need to walk her often until she sniffs out the area. So, I clip on two leashes. I'm thinking it may be the last time that I go out with them on two separate leashes.

(from hot steamy Texas to snow!)

(Ha! They both like to bark at other people walking dogs!)

 

The number of times they got tangled up in their leads, around me, around themselves is... a bit unnerving. They are both strong, enthusiastic dogs and neither Sadey nor Henry is shy about pulling toward a scent. One trip around the block and I take them in.

The greatest challenge is to get Henry to accept her inside his house. It wont happen overnight. For now, he's fine with her being in her room. He believes the rest of the house is his. The canine introduction protocols are such that you might have to keep this going for several weeks.

Overall, I would say that at this point we have just a modest amount of territorial jealousy. There was a lot of positive energy in their exchanges. But Henry issued a warning, especially when she reached for his toys,  and that was enough for me to put up the gate. And there it shall stay for a while. If you just let go of these baby steps and let the dogs loose in the house, there may be a fight and it will then take far longer to restore calm. So, my assignment is to not rush things. To go slow for the love to grow.

 

Breakfast.

The grandkids once again want to spend time with the dogs. We had tentatively arranged a walk for today -- two dogs off leash, Sadey on leash, in the local dog park -- but my daughter seems to have picked up their bug now. Still, Snowdrop's persuasive powers are as strong as they come. The dad caves and brings the kids over to the park. Ed takes Sadey in the car  (she needs to be apart from Henry, just in case). I take Henry, and we meet up with the three kids and Goose at our local dog park.

 

I'd say that of the three kids, only one really wants to be there. The terrain is awfully muddy (not to Sparrow's liking), the dogs are fast and they splash and sometimes knock you over (which is exactly what happened when a St. Bernard jumped on Sandpiper in the most "friendly" greeting). Then too, there's the dilemma of what to do with Sadey. It's a gorgeous day -- we're having record warm weather with plenty of sunshine (hence the mud). Obviously this is the day to exercise your dog (if you dont mind the mud afterwards). But the adoption instructions warn you about overstimulating your adoptee on what is effectively her first day. Besides, how much does she knows us? How much does she trust Henry? Will I be able to call her back? For all these reasons, I start off with keeping her on the leash. 

 

 

 

But it's an impossible assignment. She wants to be with the running dogs! She pulls hard. I can't torture her like this --  as if dangling ice cream, but ultimately delivering water.  So I take a deep breath and, recognizing the risk, I release her.

 

 

 

I call her back once just to see if she will listen. She does. I relax. Too soon. Sadey runs off far far ahead. So do Gosse and Henry, but of course, they know to return.

 

 

 

I ask Ed -- do you think we'll get her back? Eventually! -- he answers. The park is of course enclosed. She seems to recognize us as her caregivers. What can go wrong??

What can go wrong is that she is capable of running so far ahead that we can't really see her. In the meantime, the boys are slogging through the mud letting me know that life is not good at all. Snowdrop, who is unfazed by any of it, runs ahead and eventually leashes my dog. Sadey stays for the remaining walk on leash, but at least I do know now that she is that much closer to learning what's at stake. Prairie Morraine is too big a park for now, but our local doggie place is perfect. If muddy.

So muddy is it that both dogs are covered with dirt. Caked up bellies, paws that look like they walked through a swamp. What to do! 

I pull up into the garage and fill a bucket with soapy water and attack one dog at a time. They come out almost squeaky clean!  Almost. And then, back she goes into her little room. Sadey would like to come out. But I don't think they're ready for an unrestricted run of the house. For now, she is safer in her space, with Henry resting by the gate.

In the late afternoon I take the two out for a walk. I remember how little I knew about Henry when I first walked him. It took a while to make it an easy adventure. Well, I'm learning that I actually know very little about walking these two dogs together. I purchased a leash with two separate leads coming out of one long leash. 

This is a disaster. Sure, they did not tangle around themselves. They did tangle around me. I went down once to learn that! 

More importantly, whereas Henry was pretty easy to walk by now, Sadey and Henry together are a whole other ballpark. They feed off of each other and pull harder than you would think possible. Add to it Henry's barking at strangers and you have yourself a walk from hell.

I realized right away that there will have to be separate walks. And when I join them at some point, it will be on two leashes, both dogs to one side, Henry as the taller guy near me, Sadey on the outer side. And if they pull, I stop and go no further. That is my current plan. Will I modify it? Oh for sure! We are just figuring it out. It will take time! 

 

Evening. My first day with two dogs is behind me. Apple music has a playlist called calming music for dogs. Just a touch boring, but maybe effective! After a while I'll switch to "Ina Garten's favorite love songs" -- my Valentine's Day treat. Are Ed and I celebrating? Well, I could twist his arm to do something, but these days I dont do much arm twisting at all so perhaps we'll make do with a phone call! We had our sweet embrace earlier in the day.

I survived my two pooches! 

 

 

 

 

 

And I hope made things better for both of them! And for our family. Eventually all this will be peanuts. For now, there is a challenge to loving someone. (I'm lookin' at you Henry, Ed!)  Don't I know it! 

with so much love... 

 

sunshine

For a brief hour, just after breakfast, sunshine makes its way between the roofs of houses in the new development and streams brilliantly across the porch, and into the living room of Sally's House. It's a fabulous time. Henry is at peace, on the new and very wide couch.

I have shed all my anxieties about his barking. (He hasn't barked at all since we moved here.)  What incredible luck to have found this place! Yes, it's too big for me, but the owners put it on the rental market at a dead time (winter in Madison is not a good time to sell a home) and so they were willing to rent it to me at a lower the price if I kept it until the hot summer rental period. Talk about luck! It's what they needed, it's what I needed. At the same time, I have little doubt that my unit at the Edge will be rented out quickly. There aren't many such units there and the rental team is fabulous at its job. Yes, it's a gamble on my part, but not a very big one. And honestly, I would give up a year of travel to have made this move -- it has made that much of a difference! Henry cannot live in an apartment building. I have strong images of him walking through the loud garage -- while the machines blasted the air flow, he would hug the walls, the cars, anything to quickly get out of there. Similarly, once off the elevator, he would pull toward the wall as we walked to the apartment. And, of course, it would only have been a matter of time before he freaked out a resident and caused a calamity for them, for me. Here, in Sally's House, he lives in peace, and I can see the tension seeping out of him.

 

He wakes me at 6:30 -- his usual. But because there is no passage through the corridors and rides in the elevator, and because he is getting older (nearly a year now!), I dont rush to go out. I take a shower first. He waits. We go.

Again we see a person -- this one with two dogs. Henry so wants to meet and greet, but they are on the other side of the street and frankly, this is no time for dog play. People who walk their animals at this hour are in a hurry to get to work. 

 

Breakfast. With joyful classical music streaming, along with the sunshine.

I still have clothes and books to unpack. It should be easy, but there's so much else to do. Sadey's coming in the middle of the night and I need to be ready for all that her arrival will bring with it. Well you might ask -- does Henry really need a sibling right now, and I will say that my best guess is yes. very much so. We are a pack of two. Much as Henry loves quiet, he also needs play and I find this to be the toughest job for me. Not the walks, not the challenging anxiety issues, but keeping his mind occupied on the days he is not at doggie daycare. What I know to be true with kids, is also true with dogs, at least with this dog: having two is at once harder and easier than having just one. At first, when you introduce the second, you feel yourself to be overwhelmed with the challenge that it presents. But gradually, every ounce of you is grateful for the additional life you are privileged to care for. What they contribute outweighs the hardship by a ratio of about a million to one. I hope this to be true with Sadey and Henry. Cross your fingers and rub a rabbit's foot on this Friday the 13th!

 

 

I take Henry to day care and return to organizing and unpacking and hanging art work. Yes, even for a half a year stay, I put up art. Just nine pieces -- I want the color pop! A final big push to get everything in order. No kids today. Still sick, still wrecking the work schedules of their parents.

As for the Olympics? I'm never watching them again! I hate it when deserving people who should have won don't win. Ah well, it's only a game. The Olympic Game.

 

I pick up Henry, I bring him home. No, he's not my perfect pup tonight. It's muddy. He doesn't like mud. Neither do I, but hey, these are the bathroom conditions available to you right now! And, as people come home from work, they take out their dogs. Tonight he notices the people more than the dogs. Well, at least I can spin him around and go in a different direction. 

Ed comes over. Sadey's transport is running on the early side. We discuss if he should drive the hour to Portage -- the drop off location for Sadey -- while I babysit Henry, or the other way around. I desperately want to see her, to be the pickup person, but I hate driving on a dark highway at night. To me it's like driving in a fog (which I also hate): you can't see where the road bends. I slow down, just as I would in a dense fog, but this isn't proper driving. You cant go 45 mph on a superhighway. 

In the end, he goes. At 8:30, he brings Sadey home. I take out Henry to meet her. They sniff outside (as per recommendation) and then both come in. She has a fenced off space -- the playroom -- but initially, she's not interested in staying in it. I walk her around on a leash as she sniffs the place out. 

Sadey is the most chill dog I have ever met. The girl with wings instead of ears!

 

 

After thirty hours on the road, she has every right to be tired, scared, cranky, distressed. She is none of those things. All smiles and wags and licks.

And Henry? Oh, I'd say he is 95% on board with her. True, three times he thought it best to assert himself, but mostly he was curious and not complaining. 

It is quite late when I get a message from Snowdrop -- gaga, can I please meet Sadey tonight? Please?!! I'll be quiet! We're not sick any more! 

I agree, thinking that a quick quiet visit should be okay. 

Of course, everyone wants to come meet her. The kids, parents, dog...

The little guys adore her sweetness!

 

 

 And she adores them right back. There's no shyness in this pup!

Several times the kids sneak open the gate and the three dogs have the run of the place. With Goose here, Henry forgets his issues with the new sib. It's chaotic, it's not by the book, but in watching Sadey very closely, I see that she is a happy pup. Well, a two year old happy pup! And when they all insist on a photo of them with all three dogs, everyone is very obliging and agreeable.

 

 

When everyone leaves, I close the gate on her again. She'd gotten out before, so I put chairs in front of it for added strength. She needs to decompress. She'll keep that room as her space for a while, until I'm sure Henry is fully on board with this new addition to our family. 

Sadey joined our pack today. What an amazing dog! What a day!

with so much love... 

 

a new day

Perhaps that's a platitude: a new day, standing in for massive changes in your life. Yet it is so fitting! I did wake up to a transformed home space. A new landscape. A different approach to the everyday. 

Yesterday was insane. (Granted -- all moves are insane.) I neared 20 000 steps and I wasn't even the one doing 90% of the moving. My watch tells me I climbed 33 flights of stairs. All in Sally's House, taking empty boxes to the basement, carrying stuff up to the bedrooms. But putting in all that work paid off. I still have boxes of clothes and bathroom stuff to unpack, there's still a couch missing in the living room, the books aren't up on the bookshelves yet, and despite all that, it already feels like home to me. 

Henry was up before 7. He'd slept in his bed, in our bedroom, as if it we were still at the Edge. Surely he must have been tired. After daycare, he's usually asleep by 8. Not last night. Each time I went to the basement, he'd follow and wait apprehensively. He doesn't like entering weird unfamiliar terrain and the basement is one such area. He wont go down. He'd stand at the top, back up, watching, as if waiting for the ax to fall.

*     *     * 

Morning. He and I go out. 

 

 

 

 

Just before 7 the construction workers are arriving at the site across the street. This is heartbreaking for me -- watching the way these guys work long hours, doing their job with such skill, yet also with the fear of being picked up and hauled away. When Henry sees the first guy emerge from his pickup, he lets out one woof, but as others come onto the scene he gives up. They're not walking toward us. There are many. Henry slides into exactly where I want him to be -- indifference. I smile.

As we head back to Sally's House, I see a guy coming toward us with a big black pooch nearly Henry's size. My dog perks up. A friend? Let's go greet him! But the owner gives us a wide girth, even stepping out onto the street to avoid us. And immediately I see why he does this -- his dog is reactive, but not to strangers (or not only to strangers) -- to dogs. As his canine barks and growls at us, the guy tugs him away, all the time saying -- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Oh, how I know that feeling! Of resignation, of an inability to get things under control, of failure at a very primal level. I smile at him, but I know he doesn't notice and doesn't care. All he wants is for his dog to calm down.

In this neighborhood, dog ownership is very common. I've biked and walked here so often and there are always dogs and owners out on the paths and sidewalks. This is a good thing for Henry, who knows his way around canines. In all, this whole move is so far a wonderful change for the better. 

 *     *     *

Breakfast. Ed eventually comes down for it, but he's not a breakfast eater anymore. Keeps me company for a few minutes, then retreats as I try to figure out where best to eat.

 

We are developing new routines, new habits. Much to Henry's disappointment, he goes off to take care of farmette animals. We will meet up again later, but even if we don't, I feel like we are already back in our bubble. A differently configured bubble, but in a good way. (Our issue of future planning remains unresolved, but at least we are dealing with a greater awareness that it's there, on the table, waiting for us to move on it. Soon I hope, but I wont be surprised if it's not soon at all.)

*     *     * 

I lost my couch buddy for the morning. I knew this would happen: there is only one window on the ground level that looks out on the street and on all the construction activity. That is where Henry wants to be. And for once he has more to take in than merely cars going in and out to the garage.

As I drop him off at doggie daycare, Aimee (the owner and person in charge) asks -- how did it go? And I had to say -- magnificently. Because it has been a magnificent transition, but with this caveat: I know my Henry. He starts out slow. Doesn't pass judgment until he understands the boundaries. His anxieties come out when he feels happy and comfortable. He doesn't want to lose then what he has achieved in life. So what I should have said was -- magnificently for now. Ask me again in a week.

*     *     * 

I unpack. Of course I do. And still, there are boxes. Many boxes. Well, I have an excuse -- today I had to give a chunk of time to grocery shopping and building a new IKEA couch (with Ed's help). We always needed two couches for when the young families come over, but I especially need a second one for when Sadey is here. It's already tight with Ed, Henry and me on the existing one. We need to make room for the new girl!

 

 

And I have to pick up Sparrow at school. I've been warned he's been a little off, what with the two sibs "enjoying" time at home (they have a light case of the flu). I was not prepared at how much this affected his mood. In the end, we decided it's better that he head home. A visit to Sally's House can come later. When Sadey is here!

*     *     * 

Henry's return home from daycare is smooth as can be. We get out of the car and he immediately pulls toward the door. No, sweet pup, you need to do your walk first. 

Once again, he is surprised to see a new piece of furniture in the house. But what a great addition for two large dogs! The seat is incredibly wide. My big pooch right away favors it for nap.

 

 

Me? I make a cabbage potato soup that'll last a while. And in the time it took to cook it (90 minutes), I tuned in to a live feed (via Facebook) of the loading of the Texas rescue dogs (and cats) onto the buses and vans. 107 animals, on board for their journey to a new home. If I thought Wisconsin is far, I learn that some are going to Seattle. Others -- to Canada. They'll send them anywhere just to give them a chance at a good home. And I see Sadey! In a crate, ready to start her 30 hour trip (this is their estimate... updates will follow).

Tomorrow will be another huge day for all of us. We are on a roll!

with so much love... 

new twists

Remember how I said yesterday that Wednesday starts the downhill run -- all tough tasks will now be behind me? 

Ha. 

Last night, just after I posted my Ocean report, I got a message from Deedee (that in itself is a twist on her real name which will remain private). I don't know Deedee, but apparently she read my FaceBook Marketplace ad and is interested in subletting my apartment. Talk about a last minute rescue! Should she take the apartment, I will still lose a small amount each month (I obviously gave a discount), but overall, that's a better gamble than waiting for the Edge to find a new tenant, which may or may not happen very quickly.

She had a million questions, which of course I took the time to answer. She wants to see the unit. No of course I cannot show it now. So many boxes! On the upside, it's actually pretty clean (my professional guys saw to it), but I still want to wipe up water spots on the sink and Henry sniffa on the window pane. All my cleaning stuff is either packed or at Sally's House. I spent a good bit of time opening and closing boxes in search of something that would help. No luck. 

I schedule a visit for today. How that is going to work is a little bit of a puzzler. I need to work on the move. Still, I want her to have the chance to say yes and sign on. I tell her to come in the late afternoon. Somehow I will do this!

 

Morning. I am up very early. Henry is in total apprehensive mode. But, we have a nice empty ride in the elevator... 

(waiting...)

 

 

... for our last morning walk. 

And I pretend to have a relaxed breakfast.

Our last hug at the Edge...

And then I take him super early to doggie daycare. The owner there is so happy for him! She runs one of the best dog training schools in Wisconsin and she tells me that having the elevator and apartment triggers om repeat is too hard for him. He can't move on. Don't I know it! On his very last elevator ride, two people were with us. Henry, amazingly, did not tear their heads off with a bark. But the minute we got off and they followed us to the garage, he went full steam forward. Woof! Woof! Woof! All the way, until we reached our car. These residents were understanding. They ignored him. Others are too terrified to shrug it off. They back away and this just rewards his efforts to sound threatening (which of course is his goal).

Henry, you left the place with your signature loud Woof! The staff here tell me they'll miss him. I suppose to dog people he is the sweet dog that I see, with a bit of a hangup about first greetings. But I have to say, if you have ever had a reactive dog, you'll understand how your heart starts racing every time you see someone doing exactly the thing that you know will trigger his anxious barking. Coming at us. Appearing unexpectedly, with an unfamiliar scent. Because you hate these encounters too. And when your apologies and commands accomplish nothing, you feel like a total jerk. 

 

The movers are here by 8. I carry the last boxes of important stuff (like, for example, a tooth brush, my face cream, and my coffee machine) to the car and drive over to Sally's House. 

While there, I note the construction all around the property. Henry will have a field day barking at the workers!  

It takes the movers three hours to load the truck. Beds need to be taken apart, the elevator door can't be held open. It's a headache. I'm glad I dont have to do it on my own or with Ed. I ask them to leave behind the vacuum cleaner. I've brought over some cleaning solutions. I hope I can come back and polish things before DeeDee shows up.

 

It takes them an equal amount of time to carry it all into Sally's House. They are quick. Efficient. And still, there's so much to carry, to put together. Ed comes over and helps me set up WiFi. We talk about couch placement. And in the middle of the afternoon Deedee texts asking if I could leave behind some furniture, maybe a bed, because she needs to leave her furniture in her old place. Oh, you are so incredibly off in your thinking, Deedee! I reply that the truck is loaded and in any case, I'm plenty trusting but why would I leave large pieces of furniture without a guarantee that she'll take the apartment? And be stuck with the bed, the other stuff after the moves have long gone? She tells me now that she'll think about it. 

When I tell the story to Ed, he relates a similar one where the person asks a million questions, tells the seller it's all perfect and... that he'll think about it. We laugh heartily at the ridiculousness of undecided buyers, and I think -- this is exactly the type of quick exchange with him that I love so much and that I have missed by living in Middleton. 

I do a little more unpacking, pausing only for my lunch coffee. I bet you do not recognize the pillow, or the plate with Mon Chien written on it? My treasures from my last trip to Paris... 

And then I go back to the Edge. To pick up the vacuum cleaner and cleaning products and to drop off my keys.

It's time to get Henry.

He knows right away we're not merely returning to his "forever" home. Finding out that forever doesn't really mean forever is tough for anyone, but my Henry's sensitivities are such that he doesn't like even entering new premises. There's always that hesitation...

Do I even have a strategy? Well, I do the evening walk by the doggie daycare. It's a terrible place to take him because there are mice and voles in the field and Henry loves a good sniff-out and chase. It's hard to get him interested in anything beyond mice hunting, but finally he does his stuff and we drive home. Our new home. 

The drive titself is a long 20 minutes, made difficult by Madison's rush hour bottlenecks. Stop and go is awful for my dog because even with a seat belt, he gets thrown around every time I have to slow down suddenly. I wont typically take him home at this hour. Earlier would be better. 

We pull up to the house. It's best, I think, not to go through the garage. The front door seems friendlier.

Henry comes in and immediately sniffs everything he can get his snout on. He's picking up familiar scents of course. The couch, the rugs, the beds -- it's all stuff he knows. You have to wonder what goes through a dog's head in moments like this. I don't think dogs wonder what this all means. They react, favorably, or with uncertainty, or with fear. I'll give Henry this -- he's not afraid. Curious and with an eye toward me to see what's next. 

Ed comes over and that's a very good thing. Henry has total trust in him. He is positively grinning at the familiarity of this person.

Ed takes his place on the couch -- the one we bought used and oh is it a good couch! Henry alternates between couch, rug and following me to see what the heck I'm doing now. The one fear he has is of his new feeding station. I thought I'd put the dog dishes in the laundry room. Henry thinks this is a terrible idea. It's a tiny room and it scares him. Alright my Henry Bean, I've put you through a lot today. You can eat in the dining room! 

I unpack the whole kitchen. This is the hardest part and I realize that I haven't downsized enough here. You hate to give up the special pan/bowl/tool, even if you only use it once a year. And so the collection of oddities grows. Ed is long asleep by the time I am done. And me? I'm exhausted, but deeply happy. Henry hasn't barked once today since we left the Edge. Yes, of course, he hasn't seen anyone, but that's the point, isn't it? You train a shy dog in increments, not rubbing his face in his fears throughout the day.  Too, I have to admit it -- I love the fact that he and I have more space. Big dogs in small apartments aren't a great fit. And of course, it's so good to have Ed come over, toss his socks on the floor, pull out a show for us to watch... 

It's late. I have to get some rest! Tomorrow, I hope to finish most of the unpacking. But I'm not making any predictions. The days rarely run along a predictable path.

with so much love, from somewhere awfully close to the farmette... 

 

whirlwind

Tomorrow will be downhill all the way. Not quite the speed of the racers in the Olympics, but still fast and yes, I'll reach the finish line. Today? This is the Dreadful Day when everything has to be made ready for the truck that will come early Wednesday morning, without alerting Henry to the fact that everything has to be made ready. 

Of course, the dog isn't stupid. My la-di-daing through our morning routines...

(barking his head off at a pedestrian...)

(breakfast and empty spaces...)

... doesn't mask the fact that there are boxes popping up in odd places and things are disappearing before his eyes. All morning long, Henry eyes me with great suspicion. I give him extra hugs for reassurance...

... but in doing that, I notice that the dog is literally trembling.

I drop him off early -- at 8:15 -- and I ask the doggie daycare owner -- in your experience, how do dogs react to moves? She knows Henry well and she responds with confidence: in my opinion, Henry will do just fine! He'll love the extra space! And the absence of elevator doors opening? Heaven.

If there is stability in my dog's life right now, it can be found at Happy Dogz daycare. 

 

My move has produced a trickle of boxes up until today. I packed and hauled over all the small stuff, the fragile stuff, the essentials. I left the big stuff for movers to get ready and they're doing that this morning. As before, I called on Badger Brothers. Great people last time. Great people (at least so far) this time as well. 

They showed up as scheduled (early) and I left them with my convoluted instructions: do not pack this, or that. The dog's bed, my bed. The TV! I need to watch the Olympics today. (The Olympics for me are what Happy Dogz is to my pooch: stability in a week of chaos.)

And then I left them to it and retreated to Barriques Cafe. I can't watch them do their thing. What I don't see wont hurt me. Call me when you're done! -- is my preferred path.

 

Of the grandkids, only Sparrow is officially well and in school (much to his annoyance). I pick him up and offer a stop at Hubbard's for a treat of his choice. 

And then I take him home. There's no point in him coming to the Edge. It's a world of boxes and wrappings. And Sally's House? Not even a place to sit yet. I think he actually prefers to be home anyway, just to make sure the other two aren't getting any special treatment behind his back!

I have time to do one last visit to the empty house. Sally's House. I cannot think where to put the couch. One of those stumpers that has to do with the layout. You either bring the kitchen into your living space, or you turn your back to it. I cannot decide. In the end, of course, it should not matter. Six months. And yet it does matter. This is home for me. Done poorly and it will feel like a hotel pit stop. Done well and it will be a place holding great memories. Of the year in which I moved three times!

 

 

 

Evening. Bringing Henry to a packed apartment is not easy. I pushed the boxes to the side, but still, my boy hates uncertainty. I spend the evening exuding calm! (Well, you could say that I exude calm, too much calm, most every evening). And I tell him -- after today, you'll have only three more elevator rides! [A sad comment on that: this morning I rode the elevator alone and a dog came on with his owner. The dog barked at me like crazy. But here's the difference: the dog was petite. His barking could be classified as "cute." Henry? His deep woofs and pull toward the subjects of his disaffection can only be classified as "terrifying" to the uninitiated.]

Nighttime. Last one at the Edge. Ed asked how I felt about my stay here. Honestly, I liked it. With all the drawbacks (the distance to the farmhouse, the elevator, etc), I still think it was a good half a year of reimagining the next decade for us. And of course, there is Henry. I would never have brought a dog to the farmette. And here we are: my pooch and me. And this weekend -- Sadey.  I gained two dogs to love. There's never too much of that in life.

with so much love... 

 

new lease

Twenty-one weeks ago today, I signed on to move to the Edge. And now here I am, signing for my keys for my next move, to Sally's House.

I drop an extremely energetic Henry at doggie day care. He has already barked his head off at everyone in sight. He has refused a morning nap, taking in his hugs but insisting then on play. 

 

 

 

(can we play now?) 

 

The daycare owner takes this bouncy boy and comments -- oh my, Henry, you've grown bigger!

 

It's warming up a bit. First time in a long time that we will cross the freezing line. I can skip the sweater on our early morning walk

Breakfast. Almost calm!

(my tall boy checks out my breakfast)

I have so many things swimming in my head. Yes, I made lists, but there is a steady flow of small but important details popping into my head and I either do them or forget about them. I realize that this is a harder move than the September one. The fact that it has to be complete, and completed in between kid pick-up and dog care, demands a perfect organization. No missed details. Executed with a constant eye toward the clock. 

And so after I drop off Henry (a dog absolutely raring to go!), I hit the start button and walk through the carefully orchestrated steps. Pack up the fridge and freezer, load up the already packed boxes onto the moving cart here and drive to the management company where I pick up the keys to Sally's House. 

And then I drive to my new, temporary home. But let's not call it temporary. I'm moving everything in. On Wednesday all my belonging will be here.

Ed meets me with stuff from the farmhouse that I had left in the interim. There is a new rug for the play area. Thin and awful. Ed gallantly offers to hand over the one I left for him in the farmhouse. It will have to be cleaned. One more thing to remember.  

And then I am off to pick up Sparrow. 

(I am never without fruit for the kids...)

 

This is when I get a call from my daughter. Sandpiper has been down with a fever all weekend and now Snowdrop has called from school. She's feverish as well. Since a parent has to be home with the sickies, I don't really have to keep the kids busy this afternoon. Great news! No not about them being sick! But I gain two hours. I can do one more trip from the Edge to Sally's House, then back again.

So many boxes already moved and unpacked. So many more waiting to be packed and moved. 

Henry, you and I are going to have very long days tomorrow and Wednesday! 

with so much love...