Henry, I have reconciled myself to the fact that you get up between 6 and 6:01. Indeed, I am trying very hard to accommodate that by going to sleep insanely early. Lights out at 10. I feel like a school child with a curfew. But okay -- you are trying hard and so I will try too.
But not when you come greet me at 5:40! Because where does it end? Will tomorrow me 4:40? Or perhaps in the middle of the night, just because it's fun to be out there in total silence and listen to the night prowls of critters who move around in darkness?
This morning, I did get up at 5:40, on auto pilot for sure, and then I watched you wag your tail, greet me some more and then go straight back to bed. Well now. I tiptoed back too. And there we stayed, stubbornly, in our beds, until 6:01 when you tried once again to get me up, this time with greater persistence. And because it was 6:01, I obliged.
But please note, dearest one, that taking a photo when it's still this dark is getting harder and harder, especially since you are black. The trees are black. The only way to succeed is for me to get down on the ground so I can catch your head against the predawn sky. And let me remind you, I am 72, so it's an effort.
I have to say, I do like our morning routines. You are chill. Well, except when you saw a field full of geese, but I knew to pull you away from that temptation, though why then take you to Squirrel Hill? I love you that much!
You are happy. You know breakfast comes at 7 for you and you love your breakfast and I love mine, so we are on the same page there.
And of course, there's the post-breakfast snuggle.
And now we are ready for the day.
I take you to daycare (because I have the kid pickups) and then I return to the Edge to tidy up the apartment because the maids are coming! My once a month indulgence. I cannot believe that four weeks have passed since their last visit. Of course, with you, Henry, the apartment isn't as pristine as it was when they first showed up.
It seems right that on the day of the cleaning I should also wash the couch cover and your bed cover. The DNA test showed that you are destined to be a low-shed dog. Indeed, at the extreme low end of the continuum. This turns out to be true. The cats shed more than you do. Nonetheless, put a black dog on a light couch cover and there is going to be stuff on it. So I wash that, I wash your bed cover as well. And I have to buy some more dog stuff: I cannot begin to tell you how messy the car is right now. I hadn't realized that one child was stuffing spent ketchup packets and leaking, half empty honey straws in the side pocket of the car. They don't tell me these things! (They've been warned going forward, but I'm not counting on perfect memories here.) And then there's you, Henry, though so not your fault! Thus far, the weather has been very dry so that it didn't matter that I had neglected to put down a seat cover for you, Henry, to sit on. But then there were the days when we went to dog parks. Muddy dog parks. Yes, I have beautiful paw prints on the seat now. And I know we will have snow and mud and ice and rain and mud and salt on the roads and mud going forward. This wont do. There is only so much car mess that I will tolerate. I purchased a back seat protector. It will arrive tomorrow. I chose one that dogs rave about! Or at least their humans claim this to be true.
While I was searching for blankets, covers, protectors, I noticed that there are a lot of cooling blankets on Amazon. For your dog. For summer and winter. And I wondered -- is this another item that everyone except me knows about? It is true that I keep the apartment pretty warm, round the clock. The temp in the corridors here is 72F/22C and so I set my apartment to this as well. I should lower it for the night, but I haven't bothered thus far because what's the point -- the sun really heats up the place and it stays warm without the furnace coming on for the better part of the night. Henry, have you been too warm? I know you like sleeping in the sun during the day, but at night, would you like a cooling blanket?
The maids come at noon, I retreat to Barrique's coffee shop. And I take a short stroll through Middleton. It is such a beautiful day today! Way too warm for November, but I am not complaining!
(do I see a Christmas wreath? already?)
One more thing to report that I know you'll smile at, Henry. I am now officially lost in the world of fabulously light book reading. It's not enough that I was thoroughly taken in by the characters in the Thursday Murder Club, I am now also discovering a whole new genre of mystery novels -- having to do with dogs. This is not your challenging reading. But whereas travel mystery novels never quite grabbed me (so predictable!), these books are perfect for a person who is very ready to turn off the TV (except when I watched Marley and Me this week) in favor of reading about delightful capers touching these other aspects of my life. And especially, at the moment, dogs. It's a great way to fill your retirement hours, right Henry?
But I do have to pause to pick up the kids. One by one. And then, you, my beloved one. Don't you worry. I wont forget you!
(Why a photo of only one child? Well, I learned a new word today from the middle school lexicon: to crash out. Let's just say that the second child crashed out. The one that remained spent her time reading.)
As always, I ask the caregivers about you, Henry, at pickup time. They tell me you were tired today. Took naps. Played some, but rested a lot. May I suggest something? How about a later wake-up? Just a thought.
Unexpectedly, Ed calls and tells me he could come tonight (instead of tomorrow morning). Well this promises to be interesting. I know you like Ed, my sweet pooch, but will you be equally okay with him disrupting your routine? It's good to vary things a bit.
Predictably, I do have your full attention tonight, Henry, because I am cooking salmon. (The dog loves any and all leftovers from fish; heck, the dog loves food, period.) Next week, I'll have to ask the vet how far I should go to indulge your ravenous appetite. For now, I play it by ear. That okay with you my darling boy? Yeah? Great.
One more walk, one more snuggle with you, with out guest. A richness of hugs tonight! And that's such a good thing.
(And by the way, if you are as interested in dogs as I am, you'll enjoy this article from today's NYTimes which I am gifting for you. Its title: the Dogs of 8000 B.C. Were Amazingly Diverse.)
with so much love...
