Monday with the kids

My grandmother lived by her own set clock:  in bed by 7, up by 5. I am sure that when I was little and lived with her and then later spent summers with her, I was put to bed at that same early hour. When I was school-aged, she was less insistent on a bedtime for me. She closed the door to her own bedroom and that was that. I think I was told not to go outside, but what I did with myself then was up to me. Most likely I read books and wrote in my diary. There was little else to do in that farmhouse and in any case, reading and writing were just fine with me. I was happy.

Henry is like my grandmother, except we fast forward an hour: he dozes off by the new 8 p.m. and is up by the new 6 a.m. I wish he'd putter in the kitchen and fix me breakfast like my grandmother did, but perhaps that's too much to ask of a dog.

Out we go. In time to witness the 6:35 a.m. sunrise.

It's November, but it is still beautiful and colorful outside. And there is a lot of squirrel activity!

I'm thinking that I am actually quite lucky to be living with him in this commercial (yet almost rural) area with really vast swaths of greenery. If you are in a residential neighborhood, you really should strive to keep your dog off of people's lawns. You have the strips by the road for him to sniff out. That's it. Not so here: I have abundant options. Hills and vales of green space. Henry loves it. I love it.

Breakfast and the hour after are his peaceful time. Having tested his options ("no" to chewing the edge of the carpet, to dismantling my cactus plant, to going after my shoe, "good boy Henry" to finding a toy to toss around for two minutes, to standing by the door pretending to really have to go outside again, and to finally taking up most of the couch for a morning nap)...

 

(in this position, the internet identifies him as a Great Dane!)

... he settles down, I catch up with my computer. 

Monday is doggie day care day, not only because I have just come off of a weekend of "Henry and me." On Mondays, I have two kid pickups to do and today it's actually three kid pickups because Sandpiper also needs care (his school happens to be closed today). There isn't room in the car for all those kids and my almost Great Dane! Too, Henry can be disrespectful of boundaries -- a characteristic that amuses and delights Sparrow back there in the car, but may be less exciting for Sandpiper, who is definitely smaller than Henry.

 

(long corridors invite a race)

It's a late Henry pickup for me, not helped by the darkness that creeps up on us so much earlier now. I first take Sandpiper home (he does not want to go to doggy daycare with us), then drive over with the older two to meet up with vivacious Henry. As I drop the kids at their home, I have the idea that maybe Henry would like to say hello to their dog, Goose. Snowdrop and Sparrow are thrilled to take Henry inside. 

 

 

Wild chaos ensues. I'm thinking -- Henry will have had a full day!

My food-obsessed pup is more than ready for his supper. I know what's in store for us. He'll rev up the engines one more time before he settles down to rest. No matter how many hugs and sweet words I give him, it wont be enough. He'll offer one more pleading gaze for attention, a tug on my pants, maybe even a bark or two (unusual for him -- he is a quiet dog), like the child who cannot accept bedtime even when dead tired. Finally,  as I sit down to my own very late meal, he is all smiles: I am on the couch, his head is in my lap. Life is good.

Good night, sweet pooch. Sleep well. And maybe just a little bit longer tomorrow morning?

with so much love...