transitions, delights and everything inbetween

They are so observant. They know. They may not always understand the implications, but they sense the direction in which you're heading.They watch, compare, sniff out all that can be sniffed out. And they worry. Dogs in a nutshell. My dog in a nutshell.

The day starts off as it often does now -- with a happy wake-up just before 7. Henry waits until I get dressed, which in the winter isn't exactly a speedy deal. And he is (more or less) patient when I put on his warm jacket. It is 4F (-16C) outside. Could be worse. Indeed, it will get worse. Still, he needs his jacket.

 

I should have put balm on his foot pads, but that would have been weird for him, and he has enough of weird before him today. And he knows it. Even now, on our early morning walk, he is more vocal than he usually is. He looks, considers, pauses.

Sigh... My best ever dog.  

A warm shower feels great. He understands that routine. But things are slightly off for him. For instance, why is there a satchel lying on the floor by the bed? I come out of the shower and note that Henry has chewed up one of the handles. I can't really blame him. It's on the floor. It's an unknown. Maybe it's a toy? For me?

We eat breakfast. 

 

 

I can't read my novel. I'm too distracted by all the steps I have to take to get Henry, my bags, his bags, bags of birthday gifts, laptop, camera, a thermos of hot tea -- into the car by 9. And of course, Henry sees those bags, his favorite toys stuffed into a sack, food, apportioned, in baggies, his blanket, his treats and chewies. 

There, is, however, always time for affection. 

 

 

 

For my brilliant lap dog. 

 

 

 

We drive to Camp K9. He follows me inside. I go over the details of his stay there. There's good news -- someone is picking up their dog unexpectedly earlier. Henry is getting a room upgrade! In an hour, once they clean up the place. In the meantime, the attending person takes Henry's leash. Henry sits down one of his firm sits. No way am I going with her! He hides behind me. I have to lead him to his prison cell. Yes there are other dogs, yes they all have a comfy blanket on the floor. The dogs may hear each other, but they see nothing of interest. I throw treats on the blanket, he munches them, but he is trembling. And I'm crying. My poor sweet dog.

He will be spending time in this Camp's daycare for a good chunk of the day. He'll play with other dogs. He'll like that. But at night and when not with other dogs, he is in a cell. A larger one, with a bed and pictures on the wall and some noise -- a TV maybe? I should have told them that he really likes jazzy Christmas music.

*     *     * 

I drive over to the farmette and pick up Ed for a breakfast date at Paul's Cafe.  Yes, I have to be in Chicago today, but our meet-up there isn't until 4. (I dropped Henry off in the morning because otherwise he would not be eligible for playtime with other dogs.) 

Ed is in a pensive mood. I have no idea what's on his mind. I ask. He tells me -- you, gorgeous, I'm thinking about you. How nice it is here, with you. Not sure that I can trust this account, but I get no more than that.

*     *     *  

The drive to Chicago is uneventful and that's good. I consider not being part of a multi-car pile up to be a splendid outcome. 

Here's the plan for today: Primrose is dancing in the Chicago Ballet's Nutcracker. She is a toy soldier in the party scene (first half) and an angel in the snow scene (second half). There are two performances today -- a matinee, attended by a handful of family members and friends, and an evening show -- attended by me! In between, there is a break and this is when I am to meet up with the whole lot of them.

Since I pull in a few minutes before 4, I find a neighborhood coffee shop -- the Coffee Lab -- to park myself in. Yes, I am in Chicago. 

 

*     *     *

Now comes the time for Primrose to grab a bite to eat. We head out to a nearby Whole Foods where she can have some quick prepared sushi (the girl loves California rolls). Let me assure you, it is a brisk walk. It's freezing outside! These two are utter saints to pause for a photo for me!

 

 

When Primrose returns to the theater to get ready for her next show, I go out to dinner with the remaining members of her family and a good friend of the parents who may as well be family. What else would you call a person who travels all the way from New York to see the little girl dance?

*     *     * 

We eat at Cebu Chicago, described as a modern Filipino restaurant, thankfully within a short walk of the theater. I do not know a whole lot about the food traditions of the Philippines, and I definitely want to find out what I've been missing.

It's great stuff! 

And now the rest of the fam returns home (Juniper's bedtime is fast approaching) and I turn my attention to the Nutcracker. 

 

*     *     * 

Primrose is very musical, so dance comes easily for her. She is, of course, perfectly awesome, and the whole performance is festive and beautiful! I fully expected to not use my camera. However. The announcement before the ballet was to shut off your cellphones and to not take flash photos. Well now!

 (Act I)

 

(Act II)

 

 

I pick up the little dancer afterwards. No flowers for her -- they would not survive this Arctic blast. I owe her a bouquet!

*     *     * 

I take Primrose home, park the car in their neighborhood and Uber over to my hotel -- the Sofitel downtown (what a deal! I can't remember the last time I had a room for $149 per night in the big city!).

I have no idea why, in this large hotel, I always wind up in the same room, or at least one on the same floor with the same view, but I do. Though I get a seasonal mix in there today:

Such a day! Henry, you would have been proud of your human cousin. She danced like a pro! Sleep well, all you canines, and humans who care for them, and for each other.

with so much love...