all that you don't know

Henry loves this view from my bedroom window. In the morning, in the afternoon, he always checks out the comings and goings on John Q Hammons Drive.

 

 

 

It is yet another lovely morning. We've had so many of them that I swear we'll be penalized with godawful weather come winter. You know the kind: freezing icy drizzle day after day. But of course I don't know that yet. I can, at this point, allow myself visions of Henry playing in the snow on a sunny day. 

And today? Autumnal splendor.

(oh those sunrise colors!!)

I'm definitely in the "I've got a chest cold" category, but though it's awful in the morning, by midday I feel way better. And I'm still enjoying the walk, that says it all!

Breakfast. I listen to National Public Radio's Morning Edition.

 

And quite out of the blue, I understand something. The segment that comes on is one about the impact of school active shooter drills (which are mandatory) on teachers and kids. Not exactly your pleasant subject, but I have five kids in schools and I feel I ought to understand what they're going through. And then I hear some words which stun me: telling the kids to stay away from windows... to not be in the line of sight of possible intruders... even as they know it may or may not be a drill... whether there is indeed an intruder.

Here's the thing: on days that I have both Sparrow and Snowdrop, I first pick up the little guy, and after a brief break at home, we drive over and park the car in line with others, and we wait for Snowdrop to walk over. She is never in the first flock of kids and Sparrow always plays this game whereby he looks out to see if a kid is passing the car. If there is one, he hides on the floor and says -- gaga, tell me when the intruder has passed and if there is another intruder. Sometimes he'll bop up and shout out -- an intruder is after me!

I thought it was just one of those Sparrow games. He's full of crazy fun word play and he seemed happy losing himself in the game, though I wondered where the vocabulary came from. Intruder. Hiding from the line of fire. From intruders. 

So now I know. 

 

It's a busy day for me: I need to take Henry to doggie day care. [Said doggie day care is going to replace trips to Europe soon enough as a budget category! It's irresistible because only there does Henry get his full dose of social pleasure. His dog pals both stimulate him and tire him out. Walks alone don't do it. I saw that on the weekend. We walked plenty and yet his energy level remained high before during and after.] I have a bunch of eye doctor appointments today and so I drop him off, then spin around and drive to the farmette. Why there? Well, I have a handful of minutes before the doc and I want to use them to put in more bulbs. I had time for 60. Lots to go!

At the doc's, I had two chatty attendants -- one having terrible problems with menopause (she later apologized for "oversharing"). After years of these meetings with medical people whom I will likely never see again, I've come to rely on gently friendly responses that so often test my patience at their inevitable "got any plans for the rest of the day?" (What great plans do 72 year old patients ever have at the end of an appointment?) But today I reversed course. Maybe it was reading Andy Borowitz's email, referencing the advice of his grandfather in troubled times: to stay happy and hopeful, do this every day: take a walk, read a book, make a friend. Here was my chance. 

The doc herself is someone I do know quite well from when she cut up my eyes to rid them of cataracts. Her, I merely encouraged to get a rescue dog. And she might! Kids are grown and out, they have room in their house and hearts.

After the doc visit, I return home. Just enough time to take out the garbage (Henry hates the trash room) and pick up some deliveries, and then I head over to get Snowdrop. Tuesday is "just Snowdrop" day as Sparrow has ballet class.

We have finally worked our way through maybe two dozen (maybe more?) World War II books and I dug out a book I had long wanted to read with her -- Anne of Green Gables. She'd read the graphic novel version of it (of course!), and the modern version of the story (don't ask!), but I wanted her to really experience the original text because in those enchanting words, there is so much to love. I smiled when I read in the NYTimes last week that this should be on your short list for cozy book reading in the Fall. Indeed! It warms my heart to go back to it once again.

Snowdrop and I pick up Henry together and we visit a pet shop that offers welcoming packages of free stuff for adopted rescue pooches. Henry liked meeting other dogs in the shop. This dog will always make canine friends easily -- perhaps because he spent much more time in a kennel with other dogs than in a home with humans.

If you think my days have become very dog-centered, well you are correct. I knew this even as I searched the rescues to see which dog would be a good match. There have been a few surprises: how easy Henry has been to potty train (though with very frequent outings!), how boisterous he is (Goose is much more mellow), how totally miserable he is when left alone, how good he is in training sessions, how happy he is playing with other dogs. Mostly good surprises. Time is what I can give him right now, and so this is my focus. And therefore, the focus of so many of my Ocean posts.

with so much love...