days of Christmas

I have before me three more days of Christmas. No no, not the theological ones that are counted toward the meetup of the wise men and baby Jesus. We have nine of those left (until the Epiphany on January 5). Mine are a continuation of our family celebration, this time with both young families here, together. We start on that today. This evening. 

In the morning, Henry and I enjoy the still balmy weather. It's dark, drizzly, March-like stuff, only without any chance of a daffodil breaking ground.

(black dog, black eyes, dark morning) 

Once again I find myself thinking this morning about Henry.

Such a gentle, affectionate dog, but with scars of his past and bit of character traits that are very much in line with his DNA markers. Protective. Not of himself, never of his food, but of his people. My job is to reassure him about this world (Henry, you're not in Dallas anymore!),  and to let him know that if a person is okay by me, they should be okay by him as well. Given his yearning for gentility, this should not be hard, but it does take time. It may seem like I've had Henry forever, but in fact, he's been in a safe home for only a little over two months. He's learned so much in a very brief period of time! But he hasn't learned everything yet. I have to remember that.

(Breakfast)

 

 

My immediate concern though is how to exercise Henry this weekend. Walks in the rain are part of the deal here: you own a dog this size, you need to give him a chance to work those muscles and release some positive hormones every day. Even if it rains. Before getting Henry, I imagined there would be days when I would take my umbrella and head out with him. No problem! I did not realize that this would not be enough -- that he would need more. So... today we go back to a dog park, in what has to be the ickiest kind of a day. Cold, wet, puddly, totally muddy and in places still slick. 

I might as well do the best one -- at least Prairie Morraine has a gravel path that can be the default for me if things get really bad. Off we go.

 

 

Despite everything, the walk for me is always good here. It takes just about an hour to do the full loop and of course, Henry runs at least three times the distance that I put in. 

 

 

 

Today he picked a Greyhound to race so I had a chance to compare the two dogs. My pooch has 0% Greyhound DNA, and indeed, there is nothing similar about the profile of these dogs -- the shape of the Greyhound head looks a bit like that of a possum to me, but don't you think their bodies are awfully alike?  

In general, I'd say Henry behaved like a puppy at the park. I can't put my finger on the defining characteristic that made me see him as so very young still, but I wasn't the only one who recognized it. Another dog owner said it as well -- he's such a pup still! 

And this is something I forget as well. With me a short time and still so very young. Three fourths of one year. He'll be on puppy food all the way until age two. So much to learn and understand in that time! 

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, Henry has to have yet another experience: I drop him off at a dog sitter's house. I still cannot leave him alone and we have our annual holiday dinner out -- with both young families, Ed and me.

I found this sitter on Rover.com and what I liked about her is that she has a fenced yard, lives nearby, and she will have another dog there as well. I figured Henry could manage that, despite the strangeness of the situation.

What I did not anticipate was Henry's reaction to seeing Julie, the sitter, standing there in the doorway, waiting for us. He sat down on the curb and would not budge. No treat, lure, cajoling words, pleadings worked. When Henry plants himself down, he anchors himself to the ground with all his might and I cannot force him to move. Eventually, Julie retreated and suggested I go straight to the back yard, where she then released her two (small) dogs. Henry is great with dogs and hewillingly acquainted himself with the pooches. Eventually they were called in and I went in the back door and he (reluctantly) followed us in.

Julie is on the older mellower slower-moving end of the continuum (like me??) and I was glad that he did not bark at her. Her home is small and full of stuff, but Henry was not interested in any of it. I think the dogs made him less anxious because Julie reported that he did just fine, albeit he placed himself by the door and waited the entire time for my return.

Meanwhile, the eleven of us celebrated the holidays at Vintage Brewing Company. 

 

I've said this before -- these gatherings are totally beautiful. I could sit and listen, and watch, and occasionally add something that's probably regarded as very ancient, for a long while. There was a time when the kids were babes and we'd go out anyway, but our attention was all on keeping the babes quiet and still. Not anymore. And tonight they really were all laughter and hugs and secret messages. The big people in the room still offered a lap or a word of encouragement to the youngest, but really, everyone was just grand! I sat at the head of the table and beamed at them all!

And then came the photo that I so love to take, which the kids arranged with their own sense of style and pazzazz.

 

 

 

I brought home a tired Henry. My pooch doesn't sleep when on alert. This evening, at home, he exhaled and fell asleep next to me on the couch. I am so so hoping that he will relax quickly with the Chicago family tomorrow. Of course, he's still the youngest of the animals and indeed of us all, so I need to adjust my expectations. Or offer a lap. Or a word of encouragement.

with so much love...