Sunday, sort of

First on my list of things that define the day for me is wake up time. Congrats, all you people who gained an hour of sleep! I'm sure it'll serve you well. We are a nation of the sleep deprived -- less than 70% of adult Americans get at least seven hours of sleep each night. So, good for you if last night you were one of them! 

I myself had little to gain from the time change. My dog Henry woke at the new 5 a.m., or the old 6 a.m., so an hour earlier than is typical for him. I mumbled -- Henry, you're supposed to move the clock in the opposite direction! Go back to sleep! He did. For another hour. But he got me stirring so the night was lost for me. And of course, we were out and walking by the new 6:15, which is the old 7:15. Which is fine, but it wont feel so fine tomorrow, because, well, 6:15 is just too damn early! At least sunrise is now at 6:34 a.m. so the morning light was lovely, especially with another layer of frost on the ground.

 

As I was taking the morning picture of my pooch, it struck  me that he is not easy to photograph well.  There's the issue of the dark eyes in a dark face. And, too, you don't usually get the full size of him, because Henry's outstanding characteristic is not only his height, but his length. Here's a shot that maybe tells it better:

 

 

Yes, he is still a skinny dog. I can feel his rib cage. Though maybe that's just him? I'm eager to get him to the vet for a thorough exam, though he's not booked for another several weeks so I have to remain curious and feed him by the book until told otherwise: two cups in the morning, two cups in the evening. (If he had his way, he'd eat twice that.)

Since I am still not totally okay, we called off Sunday dinner yet again. So, no visit with the young family, which is a shame. Henry would have liked to go over and see Goose. I would have liked to go over, The kids would have liked a doggy chaos.  We'll aim for next week.

 

I had moved Ed's visit from last night to this morning. Initially I thought it might be nice to eat breakfast with him, maybe with some croissants to add a note of sweetness to the moment? Oh, how much has changed! I haven't a real craving for croissants or cinnamon rolls and I dont want to wait for Ed to wake up and ride over. Nor has he been eating breakfasts of late. So I have my usual meal, enjoying the radio, reading bits and pieces of the more interesting emails.

 

 

 

Soon after, he Ed comes up. I was curious if Henry would remember Ed. They've only met a few times. 

But yes, my pooch was welcoming, even of this big guy with a beard, entering his lair.

 

 

The plan is for the three of us to head out to the Prairie Moraine Dog Park. From here, it's a 16 minute drive. From the farmhouse it is also a 16 minute drive. And from the farmhouse to the Edge? Also a 16 minute drive! Funny how that works. We form a somewhat squiggly equilateral triangle.

Ed and I know that dog park well because it abuts the Ice Age Trail -- a segment of which we have hiked many times. I was always amused to see all those dogs on the other side of the fence. Not in a million years would have I guessed that I would soon be there with a Henry!

The dog park is exceptional: it offers 76 acres (or over 30 hectares) of prairie, woodland, mowed paths-- all fenced in for off leash dog hikes. On a cool but pleasant Sunday morning, the place is teeming with dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, feisty dogs, lazy dogs. You name it -- they are there. But in a way, there is safety in numbers. You can't get away with bringing an aggressive dog to it. I should think dog owners would call you out on it. Henry is boisterous, but he has street smarts. When he senses an unfriendly dog, he stays clear. And he is so food-motivated that recalling him even from a great distance isn't hard. He comes galloping to my side, proud as anything to have this human there, ready to praise him to high heaven and give him a tid bit.

Too, as you venture out onto the trails, the dogs thin out. I have a handful of photos for you -- not enough to give a good sense of the place, although I am sure we will return. Many times. (As a senior, it costs me $20 a year to gain access to all the dog parks in Dane County.) 

("all this, for me??") 

(well, for you and all the other dogs that come here to play)

("I don't even know where to go!")

(this is what joy looks like!)

I realize that aside from very silly selfies, like this one... 

  

 

 

(hey, you try to do a selfie with a dog that's as long as you are tall, and who thinks a smart phone is evil as it distracts me from giving him my full attention!) apart from those, I do not have a photo of just Henry and me. So I ask Ed to snap a few. He does. I love them!

Next time though, I will remember to bring a bottle of water. 

 

 

 

We come back home. Henry naps, Ed naps. Henry chews on a beef stick (I know, I was all about steering clear of beef -- and then along comes Henry), Ed eats lunch. The two have a lot in common.

 

It is, of course, great to have Ed here, but it does really highlight this truth: the apartment is small. The dog is big. Ed is big. You're going to tell me we would have done better in the farmhouse, but the truth is that we would not have done better there. The farmhouse is cat and chicken territory. It hasn't a fence for a dog, so Henry would have to be leashed outside, and it isn't an easy place to take doggie walks, unless I would take him to the park (car ride required) or the new development (road walk required). I created space in the farmhouse for the kids to play in, but it's beyond me to figure out how to create a space for Henry there. In the long run, he'll get used to farmhouse visits, but I know the cats will never get used to him. And I have to admit it -- they were there first. Just like the farmette is really Ed's place: he was there first. I do need to run out my lease at the Edge. After that? Henry and I will move elsewhere. One more move in my life! Maybe the last one, but see where those kinds of predictions get you! 

with so much love...