the boys

First, the older one wakes. Is it even 5 yet? The younger one thus follows suit. The older one is reading something on his computer, the younger one wags his tail and licks my hand thinking surely this must me rise and shine time. It isn't. I tell the younger one to go back to sleep. The older one? Well, he keeps weird sleep hours. You can't tell someone with weird sleep hours to go back to sleep. I watch the clock move slowly to 6, 6:05, 6:10. The older one puts down his computer and covers himself with the quilt -- head and all. The younger one comes to me again, asking with his eyes -- are we getting up now?

The older one goes back to sleep. I close the door to the bedroom and go out with the younger one. 

And it's Henry and me for breakfast. No point in waking Ed for it -- not a chance in hell that he'll want to eat at 7, whereas this is my norm now.

Our plan for this morning is to go to the Indian Lake County Park, a 15 minute drive from the Edge. It is perhaps the most visited park by me of them all (except for the local one up the road from the farmette). I went there with my kids. I returned alone (and with, um, friends and lovers) once they grew up. Then with Ed -- in all seasons. In more ambitious times, we'd ski there (a hilly forest is great, unless you lose control and run into a tree, so we switched to other parks). And I returned with both young families more than once. But never in all those years would have I imagined that I would return with two huge guys by my side. 

It's a beautiful day -- the last of the warm ones. Perfect for an outing. 

This, my darling boy, is Indian Lake. The place with a history of many outings. See the lake down there? On the other side of it, there is a dog park. It'll be your 6th Dane County dog park! We're rackin' 'em up, my sweet pup!

 

We pause on the trail to let some people pass. I know, Henry, I know. You want to keep going. But Ed and l really like when there is silence all around us on a hike and since we are in the park early in the day, there is silence. Once these dudes pass. [One side note -- Ed's love of quiet has become rather extreme. Last night he tells me -- can we close the window for the night so we wont hear traffic? What traffic, I ask. The street is deserted. Listen! I listen and hear nothing. I strain my ears. Maybe a very faint hum from far away. Ed, you know you are getting to be a little extreme in your solitude? He looks at me as if he doesn't understand. I suppose you don't bother taming your eccentricities when you live alone.]

 

 

(my very tall boys with very long legs)

 

 

Ed has brought along a ball for Henry to chase. The park has a 35 acre section for off-leash exercise, though there aren't fences, so your dog better be really good on the recall. 

 

 

My pooch used to be quite good on the recall. "Henry come!" would send him running over for a treat. Not today. A new park, new fields, freedom! Like a teenager realizing that he doesn't really have to listen to all parental directives. (We'll work on this!)

And the ball? Henry loves chasing balls then playing with them. No way is he going to come back to you with it. You threw it to him -- it's his, isn't it?!

Um, something more to work on. 

(In the end, he always does wait for us to catch up. Or, we wait for him.)

 

 

 

 

Oh, but my beautiful pooch need not apologize for his exuberance. His feeling of power and taste of freedom. If not here, not now, then where and when? 

(my great big wonderful lap dog!)

(back on the trails)

 

 

We're home before noon. Ed has to go back to feed the chickens, the cats, the usual. He asks me if I want to go kayaking this afternoon. I don't see Henry sitting patiently in a boat and I'm not ready to take a wet dog back home with me. Besides, not all dogs are swimmers. I have no idea what Henry's attitude toward water may be. He's not drawn to it, nor repelled by it, so I need to test him on this. Come summertime. Not today, not in the murky waters of the Sugar River or Lake Waubesa.

Instead, while the older one goes off to his farm animals and his boats, my young one rests. I read. 

And in mid-afternoon,  I take my boy out again -- this time to the nearby Penni Klein Dog Park. It's still a great destination for when he needs some, but not a ridiculous amount of exercise. And of course, it's just so delightfully pleasant outside that I enjoy the loop walk through it as well.

 

 

 

(I admire Henry's bravery here: I myself would not chase a 140 pound St. Bernard if I were a pup still hovering probably around 55 pounds, but my pup is not intimidated.)

 

We practice some recalls and they work well enough inside the dog park, but when I take Henry on a leashed walk just outside the gated area, my pooch discovers voles. Or are they mice? Chipmunks? Some animals burrowing in the soil, leaving a loose trail of dirt for dogs to want to dig up. Henry is not a digger on our daily walks, but where there are critters, he is passionate about following his nose (and paws) to their winter hangouts. Henry, come. Henry COME. Henry COME!! 

My pooch... You still have a lot of pup in you! Now rest up! Tomorrow is another full day.

with so much love...