pickups

It is a day for pickups. A whole bunch of them. Luck has it that the weather has improved. The entire weekend is looking good. Qualifier: for November. A cold snap comes after, but I'm prepared. Henry is prepared. Indeed, I will be very disappointed if I have no need for his adorable button up jacket this month. But today, the thermometer says we are just at freezing. The grass is just a little icy-wet -- not his favorite.

 

We do a short walk.

(home at last... to very squeaky rabbit!)

 

 

Henry's habits ebb and flow at this age. He has quit leash biting. He pulls now only for critters, and to get out of the elevator (workin' on it!). On the other hand, he has picked up a new habit of barking at distant people, with or without dogs. Who in daycare taught him that one? My quiet pooch who, thankfully, just about never barks in the apartment has a resounding bark outside. Big dog, loud voice. A playful bark can be nipped. A warning bark? Not so much. Henry has enough guard dog genes in him that he can't help himself. The best I can hope for is to limit it to a handful of good woofs and then let him know that I heard, I appreciate his concern, now let's move on. Or, like this morning, I can divert him and go back inside.

For breakfast.

We stay a few minutes on the "touch" command, which he does not especially like, because it makes no sense to him to go for the open and empty hand ,rather than the one holding the treats. (Workin' on it!)

I drop him off so that I can continue with my pickups. A pickup of some meds from the Vet Clinic. (Nothing of great note, just the usual dog stuff.) Of some stuff at the farmhouse: Christmas decorations! The little electric oven that will be needed for the Thanksgiving meal. The car is filling up! 

(ah, the nakedness of farmette lands now...)

 

 

Here's a novel errand: I go over to Steffi's House. Remember that one? It's right near the farmette. I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on it and I realized that I should do something about the lawn. At the farmette we do not recognize the concept of lawn and we do nothing about the grass that grows wherever it decides to grow. We mow paths through it and occasionally I've been inspired to create meadows of wildflowers here and there. That's it. But Steffi's House has the all-American lawn, albeit in small amounts. Here, you can see it in this photo.

It's not as robust as its neighbors' because I am not robust in keeping up with it. Indeed, I wonder if fertilizing it this late makes any sense at all. You can't stimulate roots with deep freezes nearly every night now. But, I've got the stuff for it so I borrow Ed's seed spreader and I do my bit for appearances sake, knowing damn well I'm merely adding to the problem of lake pollution. Someday I'll rip that whole bit of grass out, you just wait and see!

From there -- to the grocery store. Veggies for Thanksgiving. Stuff for post-Thanksgiving brunch. I haul up from the car a crate of Christmas decorations, four grocery bags, a milk jug and the Christmas tree stand, because I do not know if fake trees come with their own stands. I use a little wagon they have here for moving stuff. I pile it high. It spills. I reload, picking up scattered groceries. Upstairs I unpack it all. I swear I bought two packages of green beans. Where is the second one?? Uff, it's time to pick up Sparrow!

Since it's just him today, I feel he deserves a special treat. An outing to Hubbard Diner. Where he chooses a slice of mocha cheesecake. Which I know he wont like but I also know better than to argue with a 7-year old about taste preferences. 

I don't mind that he doesn't finish it. I do grumble a little when he then begs for a different selection. Like, maybe a beloved cookie. I will let you guess if I held firmly to the principle "you picked the cheesecake, you're stuck with that."

 

We come to the Edge, he helps me pick up packages in the mail room. Sparrow is very eager to help nearly always. So when he then begs to go to the fifth floor to look out on the terrace, I agree to take a detour to it. 

 

 

Then I see him take a napkin and toss it over the railing. Sparrow, what are you doing?! I want to see it go down. Oh, my dear, that's not a science experiment, it's littering! I send him to the apartment and run downstairs to pick up the napkin, which, of course, I cannot find. Well, at least it will eventually disintegrate. 

In the apartment, he reads quietly in what he calls "his room." Toward evening, I return him home, then hurry back to the Edge. The local internet-cable company is sponsoring a pizza party, with reps there to tell you about their fantastic cable packages. I pick up two slices of pizza to take upstairs, noting that I already have your internet services. I dont bother admitting that I had cancelled their cable within a day of getting it. I hate cable. But hey! No need to cook dinner tonight!

And now I rush over to doggie daycare to pick up Henry. 80 dogs at day care today and he is the next to last to go home. I felt like the parent whose child waits for the ride when all the friends have already gone home. Oh, don't worry -- the doggie daycare provider tells me. He had so much fun!  Still, 5:55 is too late. For me, if not for him.

When we come into the apartment, Henry is hesitant. Something is not right. It can't be the smell. My pooch is very familiar with Sparrow's scent. Something doesn't look right. He sticks to the kitchen and the doorway. What's the matter Henry? 

Ohhhhh... It's the Christmas tree stand. You hadn't seen it here before. You mean I have to introduce you slowly to a Christmas tree stand??

(yes...)

We work on touch. Henry, your snout, on my hand: touch! But why -- he seems to be asking. Why touch an empty hand, why bring in a strange object into our home, why feed me medicine (even though the wet food was in fact yummy), why not share your pizza with me, why?

Oh, Henry! Relax, my dear boy. We'll get through this quirky and incomprehensible yet wonderful life together. Don't you worry. I'll help you, my pup, I promise. 

 

 

with so much love...