Friday relief

Well now, this has to be an up day! Worries of night frost are behind us. My pup is bouncy (is there maybe such a thing as too bouncy? Especially before I've had my mug of milky coffee?) and shows no sign of illness. Remarkable! Is she finally shedding her sensitivities? I can't tell of course, but I'll take this day as a gift!

Breakfast is very unremarkable. Too cold to eat outside and in the kitchen, my flowers are on their last breath. Must do something about that today...

Millie naps. This is so much her routine and I enjoy this period of quiet togetherness (even if she often chooses to stare at my feet from underneath the couch) as much as I enjoyed it with the two big dogs. 

When she wakes, we do some gardening together. I have a "patio tree" that needs to be transplanted. Millie is there with me, looking for dirt to lick up. She finds it. 

Patio trees are my fresh gardening interest. I dont much care about anything at Sally's House except the porch plants, which eventually will make their way to Steffi's House. These are seasonal and 90% of them will wind up in the compost pile come October. But were I to cultivate trees grown in pots, I could bring them in for a continued period of bloom indoors. Theoretically.

Steffi's House (unlike the Sally place) has plenty of sunlight and I can't wait for that aspect of it. To have the last ray leave the living room space by 10 a.m. is depressing. I can't imagine how gloomy winter would be where I am now. With sunshine will come space for over-wintering the patio trees. A new gardening experience for me (as is finding trees that will not kill or upset the digestion of Millie, who is a picky eater but finds things like leaves, grass, twigs and dirt highly attractive).

Just after the noon hour, my pooch and I drive down to the farmette. I think she's getting to recognize the language of "we're going to see Ed at the farm!" (I figure "farmette" is too fru fru for her.) Once again, she is in love with her walk here. A roll in cut grass clippings? Heaven!

Ed is working in the back, clearing fallen trees. He pauses for a break with us. 

I swear, Millie is in a state of total bliss.

I comment to Ed that it's just pure sublime to linger like this in the quiet of the farmette lands, with all trees now fully displaying their gentle green. But of course, it's not always like this. We know too well that by mid June, the mosquitoes start to make their presence known, and by early July you cannot let yourself linger in a grassy field for long. By August, you're running to get inside, and if you're crazy enough to want to snip lilies, you have to keep a free hand to slap down the mosquitoes that land on you. You start to hate being outside. The screened porch is your friend. Everything else is... difficult.

 

 

 

But now, on this gorgeous day, lying down on a grassy slope is pure heaven.

 

I take Millie to doggie day care then. Just for three hours. It's true that she would also get her fill of doggie play at the park, but at the day care place they keep a sharp eye on how the dogs play. Indeed, I ask then today -- how does she manage with the big dogs? One of her human friends tells me -- she mostly ignores them. There's one doodle that is larger than her, but he is very good with little dogs. She likes to play with him. That's my girl -- I think, with some amount of mommy pride! 

 

And then I am finally with my daughter and her two big kids, and we drive out to a nursery to look at trees. 

The nursery (K&A) is large and beautiful. So many trees! My daughter wants two small pines and a crab apple. She tells the two kids that they can pick something small as well. Sparrow's choice is indeed small.

Snowdrop's choice? A willow. That will grow. And grow. And grow. It's already big!

Their mom really really wants a crab apple. Unfortunately, the only ones here are... also big! Add to all this the two small pines and a lilac (well yeah!)...

... and we have ourselves a lot of trees! 

 

 

 

And one vehicle. And two kids. And bags of dirt. And me.

I can't imagine how we can get all this into the car.

And yet... we do. Determination is a great tool for impossible situations.

 

 

 

I pick up Millie. A happy, tired, disheveled little girl. Sort of like her human mom! 

 

with so much love... 

groundhog spring

It's such a common reference -- Groundhog Day, the movie. It's symbolic of repetition. Something that should have been a one off, comes back again and again. I feel like this season has a lot of Groundhog in it. Weather patterns that spin around and come back to bug us. First the storms. One, after the next, and then another. The unseasonable chill, with frost threats at night. Just one more time. And then one more. And then one after that. And how about Millie, my five and a half month old pup? She was so healthy yesterday! This morning? She wont eat a thing, her bounce is there no more. Basically, she has spent the morning hiding under the couch.

I can do nothing about the weather (except apologize to my porch plants again and again). I focus my efforts instead on Millie. Another call to the vet's. I'm the Groundhog thorn in their side. Every day, Nina, Millie's mom is there with a question. They consult with the vets. Maybe a reaction to yesterday's vaccination? Keep an eye on her. 

The day needs a re-write. She was to go to doggie daycare. I was to take my daughter tree shopping at lunch time. And of course, there are the kid pickups. Hmmm.... Millie gives one withering look...

 

... then hides. I pull her out from under the couch and snuggle her in my lap for about a half hour. She dozes. I doze. Sorry Millie, I need my morning coffee! I put her down, she retreats under the couch, I eat my morning meal, next to a plant brought in because of last night's frost. And yes, we fell to one degree below freezing. I think the rest of the plants are okay, only because the porch tends to be just a tad better off than the rest of the world out there. 

I postpone tree shopping, I turn my attention to more mundane chores, keeping an eye on Millie, as instructed. (Ha! Do I ever not keep an eye on her?). By noon, she revives somewhat. Ed asks if we might meet up at Tati's for lunch. Millie tells me she is up for it.

So maybe it was just a post-vaccine slump? I take her for a couple of hours to doggie day care. I tell them she may want to hang back a bit today, and as I say this she bounds in, tail wagging, jumps all over her favorite daycare person and runs in to the playroom. So much for hanging back.

I pick up the kids and then I take the older one to get a hair cut. Her hair has been falling into her eyes and she looks like a version of Millie. Sparrow comes along just because he's under my care this afternoon. He brings his tablet but refuses to sit in any visible area. Not sure why. Maybe thinks he'll get roped into getting a cut too?

She comes out groomed and trimmed. 

Home for them. I pick up Millie. Definitely recovered. For now. Tomorrow? Oh who knows. It'll probably be cold again and she'll have another reason for me to call the vet. What an interesting spring this is!

with so much love... 

lost in mind clutter

Everyone knows that old people tend to be selectively forgetful. (I'm thinking of those without a diagnosed onset of dementia or Alzheimer's) Some things are sharply etched in your brain. I still remember my childhood best friend's phone number, even though I was 13 years old the last time I called her. But remembering what I absolutely had to do this morning can slip out quickly -- sort of like a freshly peeled mango: one second it's in your hand, the next minute it's not.

But I do remember that early this morning, my landlord is stopping by to put in a screen where one had apparently blown away. (Not that I noticed! But he did, making me wonder if he regularly patrols this place.) As always, I want to keep the place tidy. I put away unattractive Millie toys. I make sure the flowers are properly positioned on the table, the counter.

I needn't have bothered. My landlord comes in promptly at 8. Millie barks her head off at him (and he takes no notice of her, which only makes her bark more). He goes upstairs, puts in the screen, then proceeds to have an argument with me about whether or not he had entered the garage without notifying me. I claimed he did, because of the sudden appearance of something that wasn't there before. He claimed it had been there all along. 

I suppose it could be that my memory failed me. Not likely, though possible. But why bother trying to arm wrestle with an old lady with a barking puppy over it? People are strangely insistent on convincing the world that they are unfailingly correct. About everything. Weird.

 

It's cold. Breakfast is in the kitchen.

 

Millie appears to be in her usual spirited morning mood.

I nearly forget that she has a vet visit in the late morning for a booster of something or other. Mornings are such an auto pilot for me and once I start reading, there is no guarantee that I'll reenter the real world in a timely manner. Today, I spring out of my trance on time. 

Back home, she gets her usual morning comb through...

And then I tell her to rest. She will be having an afternoon of play at doggie day care while I pick up the kids -- Sparrow, then Snowdrop. Now is the time to exhale. And she does. Millie doesn't shy away from long morning exhales.

 

The two big kids come back to Sally's House with me. And it's great -- they love the visits here. Snowdrop is absolutely committed to her time on the couch with snacks and reading material. Sparrow always puts in a good many minutes playing with Millie. He is, in fact, the only one who does that; the rest of us will throw her a toy maybe, but mostly, we like the cuddles. Not so much the fetch games on repeat. The irony is that Millie has such a friendly personality and she certainly is the right size for a prolonged cuddle with her humans, but she does not lean toward being a lap dog. Henry was far more inclined to rest on me or close to me. Sadey, too, would insist on chunks of time right by my side. Millie, on the other hand, is happy as a anything to be rubbed and petted and held close for a minute or two, but her rest is almost always on the far corner of the couch, or equally frequently -- underneath the couch. She likes the safety of being enclosed. I suppose it comes from being crated for the night. Once she is fully potty trained, I can let her sleep where she really wants to sleep -- in the waiting dog bed. Right now I dont trust her not to have an accident there.

As usual, when we pick up Millie from doggie daycare, there is the "discussion" as to who should hold, feed, walk, carry Millie first, longer, on repeat. They leave them to sort it out.

In the evening, I remember to bring in the most vulnerable plant that seems to wilt every time there is even a slight chill in the air. And yes, they're warning of scattered frost once again. The last threat for sure! Oh, to put away the sweatshirts already! Maybe next week.

with so much love.... 

a night with beeps

I'm curious -- what would you do if your smoke alarm, the one right in your bedroom, started beeping in the annoying way that it does to let you know that the battery is failing? Replace it, of course. But what if the noise started in the wee hours of pre-dawn, and you did not have a spare 9volt battery, and the ladder was downstairs, and your dog was sleeping and would need a potty walk should you get out of bed, but why would you get up, given that you know there's not a 9volt to be found in the house? Take out the battery? That would still require a ladder and a dog walk, but okay, you might try that (I did not), though to warn you -- these newest alarms still beep after you take the battery out. Magic. And annoying.

In my mind, I could do nothing at all. Just stay in bed and play games of the type where you challenge yourself to hold your breath, or remember the names of all your neighbors in the Polish village, or count down from 100 by 7 before the next beep.  Meanwhile Millie sleeps on.

 

It's a pleasant enough morning, once we do get going (and I shut the door to the noise). Millie is bouncy today, leaping from one toy to he next...

  

 

 

... the skies are lightly blue, the temps are cool, but not unpleasantly so. True, breakfast is indoors, but I have my book and my favorite morning foods and I am in my bubble of contentment.

(Porch flowers, admired, from inside)

 

 

Of course, the priority for the day is the acquisition of a battery. Turns out Ed has plenty spare ones so I head out to the farmette. With Millie of course.

I can restock on the lilies of the valley -- it's their turn to shine!

Ed, Millie and I walk the farmette lands. To the nut trees, the peach orchard, and the new orchard, still in full bloom.

We pull out some weeds by the blueberries, I remove a few more from the flower beds. Superficial stuff, but every bit helps. I hope.

And the lilies of the valley? It's one of those flowers that I truly do love, but only when they're cut and put in small vases, indoors. In the flower garden it becomes a noxious, spreading invasive. Thankfully the farmette has plenty of space for this lily proliferation, so long as I remember to pluck it out of the flower fields when it pops up there. (Yes, it has already killed my Siberian Iris field, but that one was a gonner anyway because of the nut tree that spread its shade producing wings over everything. Oops -- did I say my Siberian iris field? I suppose I'll always think of these flowers as mine... Sigh...) 

At around noon, I bring Millie back to doggie daycare. The girl is no longer coughing and I swear her digestive issues will never be settled anyway, but they aren't caused by anything contagious, so back she goes, happy to mingle with her own kind!

I pause for coffee, then pick up the kids. Sparrow first, running high on enthusiasm because "guess what gaga, we were talking about America's independence, and the Declaration of Independence, and the American Revolution, and I made up a country, and a bunch of kids signed up to be in it and here, I'll read you their names, and each one will get a stripe of the color of their choice, and it's called the Kingdom of Kids, and I am the president, but only until the end of the school year. I have to make up some laws!"

Snowdrop has lost some of that youthful zest for the fantastical, or at least she keeps it more to herself, or maybe saves it for her friends, who are by now so important to her that she gets up a whole half hour earlier so that she can get to school a good chunk of time (45 minutes)  before classes start. Clearly not to sit in the library and study, but rather to hang out with kids, who must also drive their parents nuts with these demands to get to school hours before the first bell.

(She tells me it was cultural something day, where you get to bring in something from your cultural heritage; I wasn't there in the morning to properly help her with her old, dating to younger years, Polish costume...)

 

 

It's a slightly different schedule today since Snowdrop has a Girl Scout meeting at an hour that makes it too early for us to do a trip to Sally's House (and back). I have to smile at this girl and her scouting: she has worked her way from Brownie to Junior and just last week -- to Cadette, even though she has yet to do anything that I would regard as girl scout-ish -- like have a hike and campfire with a night under a tent. Still, I admire the women who run this group. I did it for my daughter for one year and it was an effort to finish the year, so undedicated was I to the idea of coming up with projects for a bunch of independent (or rebellious, take your pick) girls once a month. We did do a campfire and a sleepaway weekend though no tents were involved. A shame. 

I pick up a happy Millie. My silly pup. The kids had called her Silly Millie from the get-go, even before they got to know her and it turns out that the nickname suits her perfectly. (I suppose the nickname Sexy Sadey was more whimsical and Henry was so serious that he did not need a nickname. God, I miss that dog. So much.)

To me, a dog's eyes set the tone of the relationship. Yeah, Henry with his deep gaze hitting me right into the depths of my soul, Sadey with her determined look, and now Millie with her gently questioning eyes that are almost hidden in her furry face. [For those who track these things, I should note that Sadey is back with her foster family -- they had an aha moment and decided they wanted her after all. I got a photo of her lovely face -- she looks, well, determined! Beautiful big girl, saved from Henry's fate, thank goodness.]

It's a quiet evening for Millie and me. 

 

 

 

Ed comes over for a few mins, I eat leftovers for supper, yet another good book is in my Kindle, waiting for me, and it's blissfully quiet upstairs, in the bedroom. No beeps! May it stay that way...

with so much love... 

 

beautiful

I wake up to a frightfully beautiful morning. The kind that has you worried, because something so perfect has to come with a catch. And yet, it continues, splendidly, with no sign of trouble.

From the get-go Millie is impish and playful. I can see that her energy level is high. Her appetite is back to normal. Could we really be off to a good start with her too? 

We've been promised a perfect day, weather-wise. Just this one day -- sunny, warm, beautiful. Of course I take breakfast on the porch. Of course I do!

I want to linger here with my book for hours, but Millie has decided to say distant hellos to every person that is in her field of vision, and since we have ongoing construction everywhere, there are plenty of little woofs coming from her. Personally, I find them kind of sweet. High pitched, excited. But perhaps I should give the neighbors a break. We go inside. 

 

In the afternoon, I take Millie to the farmette. I have some food for Ed and a compost bucket to empty. And of course, we take a walk.

Ed has mowed down not only the usual paths and spaces, but, too, the prairie fields around the nut trees planted in the back. He continues to pull out buckthorn in the old orchard. The place is looking so... tidy. I tell him that it took my moving out to get him reinvested in keeping the farmette in order. Funny how that works.

It's a very windy day, but so very warm. I take Millie to the small dog park, where she runs wild with the pups there, including a Polish Sheepdog (who isn't exactly within the 18 inch size limit, but none of us mind). What's her name? -- I ask. Pijanka. It means... Oh, I know what means! Are you Polish? No, we just thought we'd give her a Polish name because of her breed. (FYI, pijanka, pronounced Pee-yan-kah, means a female drunk, or a drinking binge -- take your pick!)

(Penny, Millie, and Pijanka)

In this smaller park, the custom seems to be for the dog owners to sit and chat at the centrally positioned picnic table and for the dogs to play. Yes, the pups do get their exercise. And socialization. The owners comment that this is the only dog park they know where all the owners seem to be responsible people with non aggressive dogs. I think of my two big guys who came to this park and loved the dogs here, but could not accept the strange people who walked the trails.  Oh, and there seems to be a small dog regular group that gathers here every morning at 9. The people socialize with each other, the dogs play. On the one hand, meeting other dog owners seems like a pleasant enough thing. Sort of like meeting new parents at your kids' school. Some of them become friends. But I also see the problem here: I like the walk as much as Millie likes her run. Sitting at a picnic table? No, I can't do that. I excuse myself and at least do the one loop with my girl. This is the time we practice recall too. Training doesn't stop at the schoolhouse gates!

("Millie, come!")

 (Good girl!)

 

 Tired girl. She sleeps from supper til bedtime! And then? Night is young!

 with so much love...

 

May Sunday

Not out of the woods yet.

You're thinking I'm going to complain about the weather? No. It's not that I haven't something to gripe about there: we're in May and it's too cold to eat breakfast outside. Indeed, after tomorrow, the entire week will be cold, though at least the threat of night frost is behind us. But this isn't on my mind. I'm getting used to a May with my hoodie.

My attention, however, is on Millie. Here we are, starting the fifth week of life together and the girl has been presenting one health issue after the next. I have no reason to think that she was poorly treated as a little pup. And I know her parents are healthy. And of course, she's been mollycoddled here. Lots of vet visits, good food, appropriate exercise and socialization. 

She was again sick at night. If I had to take a guess, I would say it's the fault of her meds. She's finishing a round of them, and the last time she was finishing the same meds, she was also very sick. Can't be a coincidence. So no, I'm not freaking out. Nonetheless, I have to place limits on her activities. I'll skip agility class once again. It should be a calm day for us. One of these weeks we will wake up strong and carefree, ready to sail through without vet consults and diagnostic speculations, but clearly that week has not yet come for us. 

Millie is not a rescue and most pups that you pick up directly from a litter come with health guarantees. In other words, I can return Millie, since at least one of the problems she has had dates back to when she was with her litter still. I'm not even tempted to do that. Frankly, small dogs that have health problems are easier (though not cheaper!) to take care of than big dogs with behavioral challenges. And I can't say that I don't have time for all this (though she has already preempted my travel to Chicago last week, and will likely do so for this entire month: you can't board a pup who wakes up with issues and who still has potty accidents). Though I am in a good position to help her get strong, still, I am so looking forward to having at least a few weeks where all I have to deal with are her playful bouts of naughtiness and silly antics. We are not there yet.

Breakfast, sigh, inside. But with emerging lilies of the valley from the farmette!

In the early afternoon, Ed shows up on his bike. I had asked him to help me start up the new lawn mower. I'd never had a battery operated one and although I am perfectly capable of reading instructions, with Ed there I can shortcut the stuff that I do not need to read. (The machine comes with three booklets.)

Mowing the lawn here is one of those odious chores that does not thrill me, but honestly, the yard here is so small that it takes me all of five minutes. Ed and Millie watch. 

Since the day suddenly turned magnificently lovely, we opt for a bike ride, and since Millie slept the entire morning and is now bouncing around, rather than to leave her in the crate, I pop her into the bike seat and we set out.

It is one windy day! Heading out, the wind is on our backs. This is not a good thing. You tend to go too far and then struggle to get back. Notably too, Millie is not yet comfortable in the bike seat and so I have to cuddle her to calm her down. 

Should we do the full loop? Our usual 45 minuter? Or a variation on the above? Should we stop at the dog park? Go to the lake? See the turtles? So many possibilities! 

In the end we do indeed bike the full loop, with pauses at the park to see the turtles...

And by the lake, because this is our favorite contemplative moment.

(wait, don't we usually do a selfie here?)

 

 

And then Millie and I bike to the farmette with Ed. Because she likes it there, and because I could use some fresh lilac branches.

In the late afternoon we are home again. And to her credit, Millie does not throw up until we pull into the garage! I can hose down the mess! The wind, the motion, the bumps and her fragile tummy today are not a great combination.  But I am convinced that she grows stronger when she overcomes these challenges. I see that in her reactions to our outings.

I have to hurry then to fix dinner for the young family. They are here with the usual high energy and enthusiasm. And Millie love.

 

  

 

(Goose, getting his share of attention) 

 

 

(dancing)

 

 

(Polish boy's folk costume cap, discovered) 

 

 

(dinner)

 

 

It's a beautiful evening, on top of a beautiful day. To be outside, to do the bike loop again, to open the porch door fully on a warm evening, kids, dogs, going in and out  --  this is what we wait for. Millie, this is what spring is all about.

with so much love...