Henry Bean

Affectionate nicknames are, I think, wonderful. When you use them, they immediately add a layer of love to the expression, so that you turn to your addressee with feelings of warmth and good will, which not only makes for a pleasurable exchange, but, too, it releases your oxytocin, endorphins and dopamine, so that you, in turn, are in love with the day, the world, with life in general. At least that's the way I see it.

Not all names lend themselves to nicknames though. I've used some for my daughters of course, but they don't really work well for everyday discourse. Similarly, some of the grandkids have easy names to twist into a sweet variation (Sparrow, Sandpiper by definition, and Juniper in their real incarnations, are especially easy to manipulate in this way), but some are tougher to work with. As is, for example, Ed. When I don't call him the usual sweetheart or my love or dearest, I revert to Ed, but it sounds so harsh in its austerity. He loves its simplicity and plainness. I think it sounds too cold. [As an addendum, I'll include Snowdrop's comment on all this from when I discussed with the big two nicknames in our long-ish car ride this afternoon. She reminded me that "Ed" is already a nickname and that I sometimes add the Polish "ka" to her name as an affectionate nickname -- because in Poland, warm feelings would be conveyed by adding those two letters to a girl's name. For example, I'd be Ninka. Almost no one called me that, ever, except for my grandmother who went a step further and called me Ninoczka. Snowdrop also reminded me that we add an "s" to Primrose's name to give her a sweet nickname, in the same way that Snowdrop sometimes calls me "gogs" for the same reason. A nickname for a nickname!] 

And now enter Henry. I did not give him that name -- the last shelter chose it to release him from the previous shelter's name (Herbert). He had each name for just a few days, and it took him a while to recognize that he was indeed Henry. I like that name for him. I think he is regal and the name fits that image. He stands like a dog waiting for his turn in the Westminster circle of greats. Here's a photo from this morning as we set out for a walk. Best in Show material!

Still, I love this poor soul so much that my tongue wants to make something of Henry. Snowdrop and I have been known to sweet talk him using names like Hen or, worse, Henny. For a person who has taken care of chickens for all these year, I think Henny does not do him justice. 

Then a friend of mine used the name Henry Bean in an email this morning. It is so perfect for him! It keeps his regal posture in place, but it reminds us that he is just a sweet little guy with a big heart and a bit of fear still lurking in it after months of hardship. Henry Bean, I hope you know that you're the best! (And thank you for letting me stay in bed until 7 this morning.)

 

 

Again, for a dog who loves winter and needs lots of exercise, Henry is not keen on going for a longer walk in the early morning. That's fine. It's very cold today. And he's likely hungry. And I want my shower and milky coffee.

We are getting another Arctic blast this weekend. You'd think that this would solidly put winter on track for us here in Wisconsin, but no: right around Christmas there's talk of rain. And indeed, I think after this weekend, I can put away the doggie sweaters for a while. Sad but true.

I have quite a lot on my plate for the next few days, but two things head the list of imperatives for this morning. First, my time with Henry on the couch, so that I can tell him how much I love him.

Then, I do want to finish my second puzzle, which turns out to be harder than the previous one. That Christmas tree and all those snowy branches! I skip looking at the picture. May as well concentrate on shapes of the pieces. There, done!

The rest of the morning has me doing everything possible to avoid what I should be doing -- wrapping presents. To wrap early, before December 24th is the ultimate retirement privilege. And yet, here I am, washing the couch cover, tending to my potted plants, cutting up extra pieces of fruit for the kids -- anything and everything but taking out those rolls and trying to fit them around ridiculously large boxes.

Lunch break: 

Grandchild pickup time.

It's one of those days where I take one home first, then pick up the other, then take both to a fast food place for a meal on their laps in the car while I drive them to their Shaw performance place. They are supposed to be there by 4. We barely make it by 4:30.

After the rushed drop off, I exhale. And start coughing again. This blasted cough has been with me for two weeks now and it is driving me nuts. Too, I have to be in an audience this weekend. What will those sitting near me think if I hack away during the show? I've been putting off going to the clinic because I'm tired of going to the clinic. Besides, I can't be dying from pneumonia if I enjoyed a vigorous hour of cross country skiing yesterday. So I ignored it all until tonight. I look at my watch. If I drive just at speeds that wont quite get me a ticket, I can get to the clinic by 4:45. What are the chances that I can be seen quickly? Have you ever gone to Urgent Care (which is a walk-in place for all those things for which you could never get a timely appointment) in the thick of the winter season? It's a day's project. And yet, here I am at 4:45, knowing very well that the doggie daycare place closes at 6 and if Henry isn't out of there by then, they'll charge me something like $50 for each additional minute. 

And yet, the clinic waiting room seems... almost empty. Pure luck. Someone calls my name right away. I explain that I absolutely cannot stay beyond 5:30-ish. They look at me indulgently. You will need an x-ray. There will be a wait for that. I explain about doggie daycare. 

They're magic words. Suddenly, the nurse person hurries with the vitals. The physician assistant does a quick check, deems me acceptable (just mild this and a slight presence of that) and tells me to pack up my things and someone will take me to xray soon. If you dont have pneumonia, take these meds for a bronchitis.  If you do have pneumonia, we will notify you by email and then you'll take the other meds. 

I'm done with my visit at exactly 5:30. (No pneumonia. Just a nasty post-viral bronchitis.) By 5:45, I am picking up an overjoyed Henry.

People really do go the extra mile to help when they hear that your dog needs you. Tell them you have a job to get to, or a flight to catch and they'll shrug. Everyone's in a hurry. So it goes. Tell them that your poor rescue dog is the last one waiting for his human to pick him up from day care and you are out the door by 5:30. 

 We have a quiet evening on the couch, he and I. His head is on the pillow and he is so totally relaxed that I just cant help smiling. My beloved Henry Bean. Loud out on the streets, so quiet at home.

with so much love...