It's the day before Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about... Henry.
Henry came to live with me on October 19th -- memorable because it was the day before Ed's birthday and our "anniversary." I knew so little about this dog. I read and reread the shelter's description, latching onto their assessment as if it was the ultimate wisdom about this life that would suddenly be my responsibility. "Good with kids." "Crate trained." "Shy initially, but affectionate once he knows you." "A playground rock star!" "Active but with a good 'off' switch." And that's all that they told me. I based my decision on it and on a visit with him Just five or ten minutes, but he seemed, well, calmly friendly. Not shy with me at all.
They were correct in four out of five assessments. That is amazing, given that he'd been there for just about a week and had had no foster parents before to really get to know him. The streets of Dallas, to shelter, to another shelter, to my home. I wish I could reward the staff of Shelter From the Storm for all the wisdom and care they bring to their work with abandoned animals.
They did get the "crate trained" bit wrong, but I think I contributed to Henry's anxiety about the crate by leaving him in it too early, when he wasn't at all ready to be left alone anywhere. He panicked and though the crate stands open in the spare room, he wont go into it for anything. The blanket inside is snuggly and eminently chewable. He wont even look at it.
Which makes the "playground rock star" assessment extremely important. Doggie daycare has saved me, and more importantly, it has saved him. He is intensely happy there. It is his safe haven away from home. And it is, I hope, the portal to ultimately making him comfortable in other settings away from home. I wish I could reward the staff of Happy Dogz for all the wisdom and care they bring to their work with dogs.
* * *
Henry overslept today. Up at 6:45. Normally I would be thrilled, but today I knew that I would have to whiz through the morning routines. Like one of those vinyl records that should be played at 33 rpm but you put on 45 rpm to drive yourself crazy.
It's inching up to be an above freezing day. Snow, what little is left, looks like it wants to slink off into the sunset. It's seen better days.
When kept to a schedule, Henry is extremely efficient with his outdoor business. I had thought that a big dog would require long walks, twice a day. And here I am, never venturing out for long walks with him. Not even once a day. He gets his exercise at dog parks -- where I suppose I do walk, albeit far from his side -- or at day care. This is a little dictated by where I live. There is so much salt on sidewalks abutting commercial buildings that I feel like we're walking on hot coals every time I stray from our apartment complex. Walking a dog in the winter here is just plain awful. And of course, it's hardly enough exercise for him. This dog needs to run!
I wish I could reward the animal rights advocates who pushed for dog parks in our county. They are not a panacea for every dog out there (a pooch really needs to be good at canine signals to fit into the rough and tumble of a dog park), but they have saved Henry from a destructive boredom. Especially because Henry lives with just me. I am not nearly interesting enough for him to keep him stimulated and happy.
This was something I learned in my months with Henry: the fewer people you have in your household, the easier it is for you to focus on caring for your animal, which is great, except that it is then also harder to keep your animal stimulated and engaged.
(my wee pup!)
My daughter's dog, Goose, has three kids, two cats and two grownups to track. Unpredictable movements, lots of interesting sounds -- he is so stimulated that he, in fact, likes to retreat into a rest quite often, just to shut off all that is around him. Henry? Well, me sitting with a book or at the computer is about as boring as it gets. I am so grateful for the floor to ceiling windows in the apartment's bedrooms. Henry loves to sit by them and watch the action outside. There's really not a whole lot of action outside, but it's better than staring at me reading.
* * *
Yes, breakfast too is rushed today.
(for once, the grocery store tea roses are a real winner...)
Back in October, I found a place that would bathe Henry on short notice. After his life as a street dog and then a shelter pup, he needed a bath. I asked how often I should bring him in -- they suggested every month or so. Since then, he had to have another bath when the vet recommended it for a parasite he had picked up (he's been clear of it for a while now). Today then is his third bath, over at EarthWise Pet, where the dog bathers are genuinely sweet to the dogs, and good at their job of getting them bathed, dried and trimmed (for Henry, that's just nails), and back to you in an hour's time.
* * *
One of the challenges for me is living in an apartment with an elevator and having a shy-with-strangers pooch to transport in it several times a day. It is especially hard to juggle him and carry all the things I need to take down to the car with me. Today I was overloaded with foods I needed to bring to the farmhouse (think: pot of soup), in addition to the usual doggie treat bag, purse, camera and today -- also my laptop. Usually I hand out treats when Henry "hangs back" in the elevator when the doors open. Today I just hoped we would not pick up additional passengers.
I realize though that I am working against the grain of Henry's instincts. Elevators are crazy things for dogs who aren't comfortable with the sudden, crashing appearance of strangers in their close space. The door opens and you peer to see -- am I safe? Or will someone come in to attack me and my human? Sometimes I think I ought to just ride up and down to get him used to the unexpected. At other times I can't wait to move to a place where there will be no elevator.
* * *
His appointment is at 8 in the morning, which gives me a chance to sit at the coffee shop next door and think some more about Henry Bean.
I pick up a bathed Henry. His coat always glistens -- he's just your shiny dog! -- but after a bath, it really sparkles! I watch other dogs walk in for their appointments. Some of them are shaking out of fear. I wont say that Henry comes in tail wagging, but he is quick to settle once he smells the familiar. The bathing person said he was reluctant to walk over to the tub, so she picked him up (!!) and put him in it, and then he was just fine. I cannot believe any person of regular stature can pick up Henry!
(done! clean and beautiful, my sweet pup...)
Our next stop is doggie day care. I ask the staff there -- can I go get you some Clasen's cookies or danish or treats for the day? As a thank you for all that you do for Henry? She tells me -- please, no more cookies! We are flooded. Maybe some healthy veggies?
* * *
I stop at the farmhouse for a short while.
(shorts weather?)
My food delivery for Ed. A brief visit with him. He's off to play pickle ball at the senior center. A new activity for him and of course, he immerses himself in the ins and outs of it, as only Ed can.
Pick up mail. Pick up my original fondue set for the beef. Print out recipe for cheese fondue. I am still hopeful that there will be a fondue pot delivered tomorrow, albeit the Home Depot Store backed out of its promised timely delivery, and Walmart said theirs would come before 8pm tomorrow, which will de quite funny, as we will have finished dinner by then. Just in case, I ordered one more from Amazon -- it appeared out of the blue on their site, with a promise of an arrival tomorrow. By the time I am done with all this, I will likely have three extra fondue pots, all delivered too late.
* * *
More errands. For a person who did her shopping early and all online, and who really dislikes driving (so boring), I am spending my last possible shopping day... shopping. Or perhaps the phrase errand-running would be more apt. I counted up NINE stops I had to make today. All that time in the car! I switch back and forth between radio stations and though I generally like holiday music, I feel like that person who works in retail and has to hear the loop of holiday songs all day long. One more round of White Christmas or Jingle Bell Rock and I'll shut the whole music operation down until December 2026. (Though I do like my quiet jazzy stuff at home and these days, instrumental numbers really are just about perfect.)
So where to? Well, let me just list these ridiculous run arounds: 1. To the pet grooming service, 2. To doggie daycare where I drop off Henry, who unfortunately cannot go to any of the shops with me, 3. To the farmhouse as noted above, 4. To get gas, 5. To drop off an Amazon refund of scotch tape, as it went to the farmette and I needed it at the Edge, immediately, two days ago, 6. To the pharmacy, 7. To pick up a bakery item at Bloom's for Christmas breakfast -- a stollen, made by a person who spent a lot of time in Dresden Germany. This bread-cake is actually protected by EU law so I'm not sure we can keep calling something baked on Monroe Street in Madison a Dresden stollen, but for now, no one is suing, so there you have it. Fun fact: did you know that this yeasty cake is supposed to represent a swaddled baby Jesus? Okay, back to my list, which is getting increasingly less interesting: 8. To the grocery store that promised me that they have plenty of prepared veggie trays. I lectured myself going in: now Nina, dont get impatient with the crowds, the lines, the ridiculousness of this whole project. The people love your dog, just remember that and keep smiling. In the end, contrary to what I was told, the store (Metcalfe's) had not a single veggie tray left, but they had a fruit one with chunks of cheese added to it and I figure that would temper the cookie munching just fine. And the clerk at the register was so fast that I worried she may have a cardiac event by the time her day was done.
If you wanted to count the Clasen's cookies I delivered to the management at the Edge, I guess I would call it an even ten stops on today's list.
* * *
A black-capped chikadee and a house finch are vying for access to birdseed on my balcony. I have to say, birds seem to me to be very territorial. Like cats, only higher up.
* * *
As you may recall, I found myself buying a winter coffee cup. I had an excuse -- my sheep mug cracked, the handle fell off. I needed a replacement. It struck me that a winter or even holiday dish would also be nice. On the one hand, I am not at the stage where I want to acquire stuff, on the other hand, there was a super sale at Crate & Barrel and the dish was at such a low price, and, too, the store was selling ornaments, at a discount, and I thought it would be terrible to let the year pass without adding a dog ornament to the tree.
The plate and tree ornament came today.
A Jewish friend told me that reindeer on a plate or a card is messaging Christmas in the extreme, but I am adopting what I imagine to be the nordic position: reindeer are animals that live in the Arctic regions of the northern hemisphere. That they happen to be trimmed with red on my plate speaks to the fact that we need a little whimsy in the bleakest days of December. And January. And February. I am not putting this plate into storage after December 25th!
Nor am I putting away this Kindle cover that arrived today, despite the wreath on it. It has a dog that's nearly the spittin' image of Henry on it!
* * *
Evening. Time to pick up Henry. You're with me, my sweet pup, for five days straight. I promise I'll have you run every day. I even bought you Purina Pro Puppy Sport chow, because I think you would qualify, as the French would say -- as a sportif animal. I may no longer be an exceptionally sportive woman, but hey, somehow we manage! Right my Henry Bean?
(underneath the Christmas tree...)
with so much love...
