on my way, but...where am I?

Well that was close! My Madison flight was late coming into Detroit. I made my connection to Amsterdam, but just barely (I was among the last to board). You will know by the end of this post whether my suitcase was equally lucky.

The overseas flight was so easy and smooth - I should have slept some, but I didn't. I watched a horrible 2025 movie with Emma Thompson (Dead of Winter), where one person after the next was bleeding to death or worse (yes, worse!), then turned off the screen and read a very sad and disturbing book about a marriage breaking up (Belle Burden's Strangers). It was compelling enough that it did not make me sleepy. I made the mistake of breaking my abstinence from alcohol and drank a glass of wine hoping it would leave me dozing off but it did nothing of the sort. All the spinning thoughts in my head from the last two nights are still there. Add to them being in an airplane, the wine, the horrible movie and the compelling book and you have yourself a case of total insomnia.

But, here I am in Amsterdam and much as I think the timing of this trip is so wrong, nonetheless, the airport has a long and sweet history for me -- from my first solo trip abroad (when I was just 18, traveling to the U.S. to be a nanny), to years of making connections here on my way to... well, everywhere!

Breakfast? Back to pain au chocolat!

 

 

I'm going to France, but not Paris immediately. My first stop is to be St Paul de Vence -- a small place up in the hills, just to the west of Nice. It's a medieval village and it inspired such greats as Chagall, Picasso and Matisse. (Chagall lived his final years here and is buried in the local cemetery.) On my list of imperatives is a museum:  the Fondation Maeght. More about that later. One other imperative is to walk the village streets and ramparts, and take in the Provence atmosphere in the off off season, but it looks like it will rain the whole two days I am to be there so I may be lowering my ambitions. I've been to this region many times and I swear that their motto here of 300 sunny days per year has failed me for more than 50% of the time. Just click on the link to Nice at the side of Ocean. You'll see lots of photos of... rain. Well, I brought my umbrella. 

I'm getting ahead of myself.

The village can easily be reached from Nice Airport. A taxi ride takes maybe 20 minutes. 

I booked a hotel that looks lovely, with that open air layout that benefits from all the sunshine that streams to this region. (Except not on the days I'm here!) It's called the Villa St. Maxime. You can rent the whole thing because it is really small -- just five rooms. The architecture of the place is stunning -- no surprise, as it is the work of a great architect, Dominic Michaelis. You can read about it here, but let me just note that he is well known for his solar structures and residences that rely on renewable energy. Michaelis is a great believer in the power of waves, the sun and offshore platforms. You can quickly see how he would maybe not be on the same page as our current leadership. (According to the Economist, last year, wind and solar energy overtook fossil fuels in 2025 among countries of the EU, and coal mining fell dramatically on the continent. Having spent my first years in a house in Poland heated by coal, I know too well about coal pollution. I could hypothesize about its link to my prolonged coughing now every time I catch a virus.)

The above text? It is what was supposed to have happened. Madison to Detroit, Detroit to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Nice, Nice to the Villa. Lovely dinner in a Provencal restaurant. Museum booked for tomorrow morning.

That is not what transpired.

 

Look where we are landing:

I know it's cloudy foggy rainy, but let me assure you, that is not Nice. That is Marseille. Maybe you heard? There was a plane crash at Nice Airport minutes before our landing. The landing gear of that plane did not open and they did a belly landing. They had sprayed the runway with foam. No one was hurt! Amazing and fantastic. But the airport is closed. So here we are, in Marseille. 

It's a long drive to Nice from here and it's an even longer train ride. All those hills and cliffs! I wont get to St Paul de Vance tonight. I called the Sofitel in Marseille, because they are affiliated with my airline and I know I will get reimbursed for it. They had only three rooms available (why is Marseille so popular in January?) so I grabbed one. Here is my view. In the rain. Because it's also raining hard in Marseille. Wet but lovely.

 

 

You know how often I come to France, how much of it I have explored.I do believe this is the first time in my life when I have resorted to staying in a chain hotel. It feels remarkably like the Sofitel in Chicago. Am I even in France?  

I am far from the restaurant circuit -- a bit of a walk and normally I would not shy away from it, but I am dead tired and it is raining and anyway, I'm not supposed to be in Marseille! Room service brings me a Mediterranean fish. They have no non-alcoholic beers or wines so wisely, I drink water.

 

 

All this time I have been working my phone nonstop. I am changing things around in February. Majorly! To accomplish this, I had to coordinate many moving pieces. More on this later. What really unnerved me tonight is that my email crashed. Completely. Nothing came in, nothing went out, just as I was rearranging my life and depending so much on confirmations via email. I worked for an hour troubleshooting. I Zoomed Ed. We worked together for another hour. It reminded me very much of our early life together when we would travel and the Internet would stop working. We would spend endless time trying to figure out why. 

In the end he told me to call my email provider and I did and of course, the problem was theirs, not mine. I could have sang with joy. Not my problem! -- are my favorite words at the moment.

Right now I have to try hard to get some sleep.

Tomorrow, I hope to get to Nice. For one night in St Paul de Vance. Ridiculously short but there you have it. 

with so much love...

away

I wasn't very worried about leaving Henry at camp for eleven days. He'd been there in December and had a great time. I like their staff. He has a nice space, upgraded to one with furniture (though I don't know what kind of furniture. Could be a stool for all they've shown me). There are dogs. Henry loves to play with dogs! I purchased time with them. All good? 

Then why did I wake early and go over the plan for the day a million times in my head? When he came to greet me, I was fully awake. 

(brace for the elevator)

 

Cold today, but it is going to be even colder in the coming days! I'm not going to look for comparables, but I will throw out the possibility that the North Pole and us wont be that far apart. Way below 0F. Like maybe -20F/-30C. 

But this morning, it's just your regular January Wisconsin cold. With some flurries to add spice to the day. 

I had tried to leave nothing unusual for the morning. Nothing that would raise concern in Henry. We ate our breakfasts...

We snuggled, perhaps extra hard on my part...

I had his bags in the car already. My navigator pooch did notice that we were going in a different direction, but still, he trusts me. Maybe a park?

Not a park. Camp K9. My anxiety level, though not as high as his, is definitely on the upswing. We get out of the car. I have treats, I have sweet words. Henry looks at me, at his surroundings, sits down. Wont budge. He is shaking so much that I swear he looks like he's possessed.

My heart breaks. Really, it just splits and shatters. 

After very many minutes, he responds to coaxing. Someone else goes in with their dog. That reassures him. He goes in, hugging the wall all the time.

The staff person (she has such a gentle manner!) and I try to coax him to his "room." She resorts to tugging, but I know that wont work: when he sits, he will not be moved. You'd have to drag him on his butt. He wont follow me. He wont go without me. 

My heart is racing.

She asks -- is it okay if I pick him up? Can you? He is a big guy! I can do it. 

Henry does not protest. He's terrified, but he wont aggress. He's a gentle spirit through and through. My beloved Henry! Carried away.

She tells me he relaxed instantly once inside. I left plenty of instructions, blankets, toys, food, treats. I know he'll be okay. And yet, there were the tears.

 

At home, I finish packing, watering plants, feeding birds, tidying everything. I noted that my first flight is delayed. The weather is bad across most of the United States, but it's January -- I have never left without weather issues. I expect all will go okay. Maybe.

I drive to the farmette, Ed takes me to the airport. 

So much on my mind right now! All the questions of yesterday just got pushed forward to today. My friend wished me a happy trip. I wrote back -- right now, I just want to stay home, read my book and snuggle with my dog. But I guess I can read my book in France and my dog seems to be doing okay. So I'm off.

I'll write tomorrow. From France, if all goes well. 

with SO much love! 

Sisimiut

Madison is the second largest city in Wisconsin. Sisimiut is the second largest city in Greenland. Madison is 2200 miles south of the Arctic Circle. Sisimiut is 25 miles north of the Arctic Circle. Today's lows in Madison were far lower than the lows of Sisimiut. No wonder we have our eyes out for that territory. Palm tree weather over there! Sure, below freezing, but with our know-how, anything's possible.

Henry slept far better than I did. Too much in my head right now. Not helped by the fact that I was nearly at the end of my second Maeve Binchy book and it was captivating! Plus I had picked Adolescence (the Netflix mini series that claimed more than one award last week) for my evening viewing pleasure and I have to say, it's been a long time since I've seen such a good series on TV. At once riveting and terrifying (because of the huge negative impact social media can have on kids), I wondered if I should just binge watch all four episodes. In the end I pulled myself away after one, but the show stayed with me and kept me awake. As did the book. As did my musings about Henry. As did the forthcoming trip. Who says older people ruminate over one issue? I jumped between so many! I tell you, it was not a peaceful night.

And the morning was cold. But beautiful.

And breakfast was wonderful. I finished the book and liked the ending and I snuggled with Henry and life was good again. 

(getting bigger...)

 

 

When I drove him to doggie daycare (his last trip there for a good many days), he strained as usual to look out the front window (Snowdrop calls him the navigating Henry) to see where we were going. As soon as we got to the last quarter mile, he began whining and wagging to go be with his playmates. He is that happy to be with other dogs. 

 

At home, I pack Henry's suitcase. Tomorrow he goes to camp. Am I nervous about this? Of course I am! But unlike the first time, I do know he will manage and will come home a happy pup. 

 

In the afternoon I have a complicated pick up: of Sparrow at school, of mom at work, of Snowdrop after drama club, of Henry and Goose from daycare. We do it all. And talk about multi-tasking! While we were getting Snowdrop, I got a call from Henry's vet to talk about his elevator anxiety. I had to say -- forgive me, I'm in the car, with the kids and we're driving up to Culver's, excuse me for a minute, (turning now to the Culver's drive-up ordering) that'll be a kid's meal with a cheeseburger with nothing on it, yes of course with the cheese, just nothing else, with small fries with ketchup, and water and no, we don't have a custard chip and also a medium fries with no ketchup, no nothing else on that either, okay now about the elevator fears...What is it kids? Yes, that's doctor Sarah, your aunt's best friend from school... now back to the issue of the elevator... I was thinking, maybe I should get a second dog for him? Multitasking I tell you!

(these two are not afraid of elevators)

(how they love the excitement of the two dogs coming home...)

Home. Henry is snuggled up next to me, having me feel terrible for leaving him tomorrow. I'm binge finishing the Adolescence series. I finished the book, I ate up all the left-overs. I did not finish packing. I did not finish telling Henry how much I'll miss him. I'll ask them to send photos, every day! 

with so much love...

 

Kugluktut

What do I have in common with the people living in Kugluktut Canada? (Kugluktut, with a population of about 1300, is a Canadian community along the Arctic Ocean, north of the Arctic Circle.) Last night and today, we, here in Middleton Wisconsin exactly tracked the temperatures of that hamlet. 

Henry and I went out for a walk when it had warmed up to -7F/-22C.

But what about last night? Have we been evicted yet??

Well. It's as if the weekend had never happened. Yesterday, there was no movement in the hallways after 9 p.m.. Henry was mellow. No woofs at all. He followed me to the bedroom, as in the old times, and went to sleep at the same moment that I went to sleep.

Of course, before I rejoice too much, I have to acknowledge the fact that Henry still does not like sounds and movement just outside my door, especially at night when the world is otherwise quiet. I can't assume that there will be no repeat of the weekend evening mess. And speaking of mess, when I was tidying up this morning, I saw that over the weekend, obviously at the time of his greatest agitation, he had an accident on the carpet in the spare room. That's a first, and it speaks volumes to the degree of his agitation then. 

This morning? Calm as ever. 

(In his warmest jacket, which is a pain to take off -- both he and I know this!)

Breakfast, lovely.

A hug and a cuddle...

And off he goes to doggie daycare, while I head to Barriques Cafe to contemplate the events of the weekend, the events of the week to come, and, importantly, my younger girl whose birthday it is today.

She had sent me over the weekend a photo of herself, sitting next to me. 

 

 

 

I was then 40 obviously, she was 8. One last time playing around with curls for me, one last time playing around with bangs for her. Has she changed much since then? Have I? Well of course, in the obvious ways that growing and aging will provide. But in essence -- no. She has the same good heart, sharp brain, artistic inclination, quiet demeanor. She processes everything, but you'll likely not know about it. Like her sister, she is a great advice giver to me (and their advice is the same only 50% of the time, so I get different perspectives!). She is extremely generous with me in letting me write about her and I try to honor and respect that (for both daughters!) by not crossing boundaries of privacy. 

I hope she is happy today. I know she is happy in life. May it always bring her joy and deep satisfaction! Happy happy birthday, sweet child of mine! With endless love and a fabric twinkle in my eye. Different that we are, nonetheless, we are so much of the same fabric.

 

I also think about the fence at Steffi's House. The one I want to build before I move there this summer. I'm getting a lot of pushback from the HOA, despite the fact that it is exactly the same as fencing on other properties. Same area, same style, same everything. I've thrown at the developer (who basically runs the HOA) all my best legal arguments and still, he balks. We are on round 862 it seems. I persevere!

 

So where am I heading with the dog, the potential eviction, my life? Well, as my older daughter pointed out, there have been no complaints to management thus far and so it's premature to start packing. Enduring elevator rides may have to be our burden for the months to come. But why speculate about that. One day at a time.

 

As for my life -- I'm leaving on a trip I had planned way back in the summer. I had been going to the French Alps in January for several years now. Snowdrop would very much like to go back. But I said a hard no to that. Not this year, when so much else is going on. Judging by the number of avalanches they have had in the Swiss and French Alps this year, I can't say that I have great regrets! 

But I did put in a trip for myself, just to France and not to the mountains. And though I would like to save money given every unexpected expense under the sun I paid for it a while back and I decided to stick with it. It's been a while. The longest break for me since I got divorced, now more than 20 years ago. American that I am, Europe is very much a part of me too and I don't know how many more trips I have before me. So I'm off, on Wednesday. 

 

I do realize that I am going to Europe at the height of hatred for Americans. If you read the comments to the daily stories of our imperialism and disregard for, and downright hostility toward just about everything that's good and right about this world, you'll see that most, written by Canadians and Europeans, are seething with anger. Not only at our leadership, but at us, all of us, because fury tends to spill over like that. We are in fact viewed now as a failed country with a political apparatus that put in place those whose greed and power threaten to dismantle all the progress made toward peace, environmental conservation, human rights. We always have had a far reaching power to aid and along with it -- power to destroy. It seems we're using it mightily now. So much destruction, causing suffering and frankly panic. 

 If you think that their wrath is unfair, that "you didn't vote for him," well I disagree that it's unfair. We've paraded proudly the Great American Idea as if it were our own for decades now. Should we shy away from taking responsibility for the chaotic mess that we have unleashed? I remember all too well as a postwar kid living in Poland how deep was my antipathy toward Germans. All Germans. Because in some fashion I felt they seeded the rise of the Nazi party. Hitler also did not get the majority of the popular vote. His party peaked at 44% in 1933, when suppression and intimidation were at play. After that, well, there were no other parties to vote for. Clever dude. Nevertheless, I bristled at the sound of the German language, long after World War II.

I'm stepping into that world of distrust and dislike for Americans now, equipped only with shirts and a cap that have the word Resist emblazoned on them. How paltry! How sad. But I will not run away from it. I am an American and I need to face up to what my country is doing to the world order. If it hurts to hear it -- so be it. It's the least that I can do -- allow others to vent, to tell me how betrayed they feel.

 

In the meantime, I have a day off and since Henry is with his dog pals (thank goodness! not a day for lovely walks, given the temps!), I take out my suitcase and pack it up for the trip. Unusual for me to do it this early, but I have much to do tomorrow and the next day and so I pack.

 

Evening. It is, of course Martin Luther King Jr Day. There are so many quotes that I could write down here and have us be moved by them. I chose this one, because it seems so of the moment, even though it came out of a sermon delivered in 1967: If we are to have peace on earth, our loyalties must become ecumenical (I take that to mean "of the world," promoting unity and cooperation) rather than sectional. Our loyalties must transcend our race, our tribe, our class, and our nation; and this means we must develop a world perspective.

with so much love... 

 

thinking and singing

What is the well known admonishment? You can't change someone's behavior, but you can change your reaction toward it? I'll be working on that today.

Henry had a late night of agitated barking. My calm as pie pup who had issued no howl or woof all day long, let it out starting at around 10, when once again there were comings and goings out in the hallway. It lasted until 12:30 -- the time the last person left an apartment across the way from mine.

I could tell that Henry was agitated. I'd turned out the lights already but he would not, could not settle down. And he kept coming to my bedside, putting his paws up on it, licking my hand -- not typical behavior for him at all. Was he looking for reassurance, or giving reassurance to me? I honestly can't tell. I was really tempted to let him come up on the bed (it is the one place where I do not allow him and he is scrupulous in following my rules here), so that I could stroke him, rub his tummy, calm him down. But I knew it would be a mistake. In the long run he'd stay with me in the bed but would not be reassured by it. Evening prowling out in the hallway puts him on alert and I doubt I can make that go away in one act or one day or even as the trainer said -- in the 6 months I am to be here still.

At the same time, I do have great sympathy for the innocent people in my building (even for my upstairs neighbors, who right on cue, resumed sex last night, though mercifully it was very brief, possibly because it had been so long...). People are allowed to leave late and talk quietly in the hallways. Henry's barks, on the other hand, are loud. They bother me and I love my dog! After a day of a blissfully silent dog, I had two hours of frazzled nerves -- his and mine. 

This morning, I see myself as having three choices: the fist is an already scheduled consultation with the vet. I doubt that drugging Henry for my six Edge months is the answer, but maybe? The owner of the training school thinks this is what I should do, at least for the elevator people problem, but for this late night howling too I suppose. My second answer it to proactively move out before they kick me out of here. I have to assume that they would allow me to break the lease given the problem I'm having with his noise level, though it may be that they'd want me out, but keep my rent til the end of the lease anyway. That is of course a nonstarter. I don't have that kind of money to waste. The third option is for me to stay despite notices and warnings from management that I'm sure they're writing as we speak. It's very hard to actually evict a renter under the laws we have in the state. It would take months -- perhaps enough time for my lease to run out and for me to have a place to move to. Steffi's house is available midsummer. I'm needling the person who lives there to move out sooner, but he's got a good deal going and I can't see him giving it up voluntarily.

No, the fourth option of giving Henry up is not on the table. If Henry were at all aggressive, I'd reluctantly go that route. But I know him to be exactly the opposite: loving, kind, smart, making every effort to please. I love him, he loves me. It ends there.

Were I to move out, by force , or on my own initiative, where would I go? Having Henry makes a return to the farmhouse not only unlikely but impossible. What would happen to the cats there in the dead of winter? Too, Ed loves quiet. Pancake scratching Henry's eyes out would not be a quiet scene. 

Henry and I could hang out in my daughter's basement, but for many many many reasons, I'd like not to have to do that. Yes I would go there rather than pack my belongings and live in the back seat of the car, but otherwise, I need to be on my own.

Another apartment? That's just plain silly. Henry is not an apartment boy. Rent a house? I actually looked at what's out there in my price range. I would positively HATE moving to someone's house rental in the dead of winter and for only 6 months. And of course, in Madison's tight housing market, there are slim pickings.

So where do I go with this? I return to the "change my attitude," because unless I get some miracle meds into my boy, I sure am not going to change Henry in a short period of time. I need to accept that this is him now. That his fear of the unknown is part of who he is. I need to find a way to get enough sleep anyway. I need to not fret endlessly about what the neighbors will say. There are other barking dogs in the building. Perhaps equally hated. Let the people complain. They have a right to do it. I will do my best to calm him, but that is all I will do. 

 

Henry slept later this morning. I wouldn't say it was a total zonk out until the brunch hour, but it was a good solid hour behind his normal schedule. Not surprised -- he needs his sleep just as much as I need mine.

By the time we go out, the sun is out.

 

It is a bitter cold day. Highs in the single digits (so -13C maybe). Henry's paws are hurting so our walk is brief.

I haven't even given him breakfast and he goes straight  to the couch to rest.

My poor, tired pup.

I eat as he snoozes...

And then I take stock. We'll need to walk, but not just yet. Henry continues to rest while I process in my head  these two nights of a scared puppy. Big dog that he is, he's just a puppy, trying to understand his place in this world.

 

We go out for some exercise at Penni Klein dog park.  Initially we are alone. He does run, but he also engages me in play -- of the type for which I am a poor candidate.

I am glad when suddenly two dogs show up. The chase is on. 

My pup is tired afterwards. To be expected. I use the time to prepare dinner for the young family. Henry and I are over at their place, with my dinner. And it's great to let the dogs cavort without anyone being bothered by them. Oh, the luxury of a house!

Two of the three kids (including the one who had his hair cut to meet his own scissor work) are reading, one is pretending he is one of the dogs.

 

 

 

 

 

Somehow the dinner conversation worked it's way to music. And singing. (And yes, that's Henry, sitting patiently and wondering if someone would throw him some food.)

 

 

None of the kids are confident singers and unfortunately it has become a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy. They mostly do not like to sing. It turns out the parents haven't given up on them. My daughter has been sporadically teaching herself guitar and she is determined to someday have the family singing.

And then she says -- you know gaga plays the guitar... We should all sing with her on the guitar. I had to laugh. Two days ago Ed had finally disposed of my guitar on Craigslist. I hadn't touched it in years -- indeed ever since I figured out that the kids don't really like to sing. My daughter wasn't deterred. You can play mine!

To say I'm rusty is sort of like saying Henry only occasionally barks. Both are true, but they hide a bigger reality. Still, I put on my cap, the one that came in the mail for me today (it says "Resist Together' -- I figured I might like it during my forthcoming travels) and we sit down to sing. Songs of peace, songs for kids, silly ones, serious ones.

 

 

And the kids join in. And it is wonderful!

 

At home, I am prepared for a rerun of the past two nights, though perhaps some people are working tomorrow, so they wont keep such late hours. Henry, my darling love, you need your beauty rest! As do I...

 

 

with so much love... 

oh Henry!

I published my post last night, floating in a sea of calm. I'm thinking -- everything is moving forward, with purpose, and with ideas on how to address the most pressing dog issues. Our routine is predictable and reassuring. Always easy, always wonderful. Every night, I go out with Henry for one last bathroom run, maybe around 9:30. It's usually a short walk. We go out, we come in. We move then to the bedroom. He's in a dozy state. I get ready for bed, read a little more, say goodnight, turn off the light. He sleeps, either on the floor, or in his bed at my feet. Contentment reigns. 

That's not what happened last night.

On our last walk, he was distracted. By the snow. By a car. By everything. Well okay, I get it, it's a blustery night. Puts you on edge! We come back inside, and now the barking begins. I think someone on my floor was having a party. Nothing loud. You never hear noise coming from the other units. Upstairs maybe, if they stomp around too much. Their sex must have come to a standstill, or they fixed their bed because I dont even hear them creaking rhythmically anymore. The only time you may remember you're in an apartment building is when people go in and out of their units. A muffled sound of voices, a door closing quietly.

Yesterday, there were muffled sounds of voices and door closings late into the night. They bothered me not at all. They agitated Henry like only an elevator full of screaming people might have done. He'd bark at the door, then run to the bedroom and look outside, waiting for someone to appear. And I guess people did come out, because he would then bark some more. (It was a white winter night and visibility was good, too good I would say.) He did not calm down until close to midnight. You know how middle of the night thoughts drive you nuts? Yeah, mine did. I truly believed then that Henry was getting to be like Marley in the book -- sweet and lovable, sure, but also a big pain in the ass. 

As if recalling his late evening of great fury, Henry woke up early and gave one big woof at the snow outside. I let out one loud "Henry!" and rolled back to the other side. Sleep was not going to come back, but at least I could ignore my pup for a little bit longer. 

It is the last woof I hear for a long, long time. 

He "wakes" me again at about 7. He waits patiently to go out. He is a model outside dog. Despite the fact that it snowed, and it continues to snow for the better part of the day.

He waits for his breakfast, plays a little while I putz around with mine, then settles in to rest as I eat, with my music on, book opened.

We start the Intermediate level training class today and I have to admit, as we set out for it, I am feeling a little apprehensive: if Henry has upped his level of barking, he's going to have a hard time being in a room full of strange people (with their dogs). I pack along his "calming collar," just in case. 

So, did we get thrown out of class for bad behavior?

Heck no!

 

 

 

Henry never barked once. The trainer upped the commands, extending them somewhat, making them more difficult. Henry did his so smoothly that you would think he'd done this class before and was there only to show others how to do it.

Was he good at "Sit" on the spot, even when commanded from a distance? Yes.  Was he great at "Leave it?" Perfection itself. Was he able to "Stay" for a longer period of time, with distractions? Absolutely. Did he "Come" immediately and with joy? Totally.

When the instructor came over to watch us, he wagged his tale and outperformed himself. 

I explained to her that Henry was an A+ dog when in a training session, whether here or at home. He is a little less than perfect when the training is stopped and we go back to normal life. Tell him to sit while he's barking at strangers on the street and he doesn't even try to listen. "Come" is useless as well, and if by chance I got him over with some dangle of a treat, it would not be with joy, it would be a momentary thing, just so he could grab his money and run. But, put us back in the apartment and have me start in on a training session, and that boy is all mine. Eyes focused on my face, positioned to do his best. Just not when I need him to do a little better. Not when it matters.

As I thought about all this much later, I also remembered today's initial class introductions. Some dogs were older than him, but many were younger -- maybe 7 or 8 months. When I introduced Henry I said that he had a famously loud bark. 

They never heard it once. But I also said that he was probably about 10.5 months old. And I realized on the one hand that he is so much older than when I first got him, but, too, that he is only 10.5 months. So much more to learn! So much more to surprise me with!

 

In the afternoon, we drive over to the farmette. It's bitter cold outside, but Henry does need his exercise so Ed and I take him to the nearby dog park. 

Henry runs so much and with such great speed that Ed asks  -- have you been locking your dog in a closet? He sure has a lot of pent up energy. 

Of course, the answer is that Henry is simply a very high energy dog. In the parks, he chases, but more often he is chased, as dogs try to keep up with him.

Henry is devilishly quick. And smart: he'll do a reversal if he feels they're getting close. It slows them down and sows momentary confusion. 

You feel you've put in your own exercise for the day just by watching him leap and lope across the fields.

 

After, we stop at Steffi's house, so that I can take some photos of it for the Home Owners Association -- for fence approval. Don't even ask me how that's going. I'm going to wind up with a court case if things don't settle down there. Yes, it's that ridiculous.

From there, we go to Tati's Cafe -- the place where they still appear to allow dogs. 

The coffee shop isn't packed, but there are at least a half a dozen tables with strangers -- Henry, strangers, eating, sipping, talking. 

Henry stays by the door, refusing to budge. 

But as I point him to the couch, he has a moment of clarity. A light bulb goes off: I know this place! He walks daintily over and hops onto the couch. Ed brings over a lunch for himself, I sip a coffee. Henry sits snugly, half hidden behind Ed. 

He doesn't exactly relax, but nor does he protest being there and not once, not once does he bark. 

First, the grand behavior at training and now this? Is it really Henry we're talking about? The dog that kept me up (and possibly my neighbors as well) until nearly midnight?

Unbelievable! 

And home again.  

I hope that no one is having visitors tonight.  That everyone stays in their homes because of the bitter cold. That Henry hears no strange sounds coming in from anywhere. 

I'll let you know tomorrow how that went!

with so much love... 

 

snow again

Enough snow fell to make things pretty once again, not enough to take out the skis, plenty though for Henry to enjoy, though please, not on our early morning walk.

I am, if you can believe it, still thinking about my dog. A lot. About his fears and reactions when he is suddenly confronted with a person coming at him exiting or entering the elevator. 

 

(waiting for the elevator, with trepidation) 

 

 

We have lived together in the apartment building for nearly three months and I can't say he is getting any better at it. I speculated with Ed just now about whether he'd ever shed those elevator fears. Perhaps they are part and parcel of his shy and just a little fearful and protective nature. Ed reminded me that Pancake, our most (!) stray feral cat, used to be extremely terrified of us and only his need for food had him come as far as the porch. Two years later, Pancake is purring on the carpet, at ease with us even inside the farmhouse. 

Two years though. It took him that long to (almost) completely relax. He, too, had been in battles with those who meant to fight and harm him. He carried very visible wounds, often coming to us with bruises all over his face. Henry, I don't think, had it that bad. He has no visible scars or bruises. And for all his fear of strangers being thrust upon him, he is extremely lovable and sweet to those he knows and trusts. He had no trouble cuddling up to me from the getgo... 

 

... and he is sweet as can be with Ed and with family members and with the staff of doggie daycare. He is one adored boy over there. So maybe not two years until he accepts a strange person entering his space? Our space?

I was joking with my friend Bee, who is a dog person herself (meaning she had a shy dog as well), that I am going to get evicted from the Edge because of Henry! Well that would be an adventure! I can't say that I would blame those hapless souls who are terrified of his bark and who would feel compelled to complain to management. We will see where this whole saga will lead us all!

Breakfast, so peaceful, so fine...

I drop Henry off at doggie daycare and then go on a medicine run. First, to the vet's for Henry's pills. I dont care what the tests showed, (They showed nothing.) I found worms! Next, to my old pharmacy for renewals. Then to the farmette.

I was to drop in for a brief visit, but Ed is lost to a technical Zoom call, so I do not linger. I go to the bird store and pick up more bird feed instead. And to another pharmacy and then home again. A regular loop of necessities! Well, Ed was to be the pleasurable part, but that went nowhere.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop.

 

(No elevator fears here!)

 

 

And I pick up Henry at doggie day care. My pup that has me puzzling over him so much! I had just talked to the training school where he was signed up for two separate training programs, both starting this weekend. The problem? I will have to miss two classes of each program because I'm going to be away for the last two weekends of January. They weren't sure it was a good idea for me to take the one class on Calming Skills for High Arousal Dogs or Situations if I had to skip two in the middle (the other one I could catch up the required work).  I explained that the Calming Skills one was a necessity! I need help developing techniques that will calm him in the elevator. 

Aimee, the owner and director of the school is one of Henry's fans (she knows him from doggie daycare, which is in the same building), but she told me a hard truth: his initial shyness, which she knows and understands, wont go away in six or seven months (my remaining time living in a building with an elevator). The training I was doing in and out of the elevator (the sitting, hanging back, waiting) -- those were exactly right. He doesn't need another training class. However, she is fairly certain they wont make the problem go away anytime soon. In her view, he needs additional calming help in the meantime. And my vet should be able to help me with that.

Well good! I schedule an appointment for next week, with a smile: I can't believe my dog will have had more doctor's visits in one month than me! 

And of course, at home, at the Edge, all is calm in the evening. So very calm...

 

with  so much love...

Thursday chats and childish impulses

There is a fine line that separates those who resist authority (because, just as an example, an authoritative figure is breaking the laws/norms/core values of a society) from those who are merely churlish and obstinate and uncivilized for no good reason, except that they get some satisfaction and even pleasure from being churlish, obstinate and uncivilized. I suppose we all think that we are on the side of the good. But aren't there bits of the contrarian in all of us as well? Rebels sometimes without a cause? Pushing boundaries and even crossing the boundaries of what is permissible, for no good reason? (I dont mean by mistake. I mean on purpose.)

I had a morning of messaging -- on My Chart, with my team that cut up my cheek last week. I got scolded for not wearing the bandage long enough. For not thinking about protecting the wound from sun exposure going forward. For wanting to go swimming soon. I suppose "scolded" is the wrong word, but since I'm being childish about my recovery, it doesn't seem that far off to view this as a battle between the child and the authority figure. 

I've been asked by my granddaughter if I was disobedient when I was a kid. And I answered honestly: at home, I was mostly very compliant. My parents had no disciplinary issues with me. But I had a lot of freedom and occasionally I would get away with stuff I knew was wrong. Not finishing homework before watching TV, eating junk candy, sampling my father's booze supply when they were out. And in school, I was a note passer. A doodler. An occasional chalk thrower. In retrospect, I wonder at the stuff I chose to disrespect. It seems now so pointless. I never wanted to do it because others were doing it. It was a personal rebellion, a testing of rules I suppose.

This was my morning then. Messaging and sending photos of my healing face and pushing back on suggestions on what should happen next.

 

It is cold outside. And by Monday, a polar blast will put us up there with the Inuit communities of the Arctic Circle. We will be that cold! 

My pup was a good pup on our walk. No person appeared out of nowhere. He was quiet.

And so he remained, before and after breakfast.

But let me not think for one minute that Henry is over his fear of the new. When I took him to doggie daycare, the staff asked me to put him in the office for a minute as they were taking a dog out and maybe due to the dog's illness, or maybe behavior issues, they did not want Henry to cross paths with him. 

Well good luck on that one! Asking Henry to break from his enthusiastic routine of bounding right into the room full of dogs proved to be an to big of an ask. He trembled with fear and dug in his heels. A real no-go. And after my battle with the scale at the vet's a few days back, I wasn't going to be a part of this drama. I handed the staff person the leash and said -- here, you do it. Bye!

 

In the afternoon I had both kids: first Sparrow...

... then Snowdrop, who had another teacher intervention today and so yet another serious discussion to be had in the car while Sparrow listened attentively. Is it that we are right in the thick of January, plunged into the coldest, darkest days of the year? The teachers seem more tense, the kids more lost in the confusion of demands, rules, boredom -- you name it. What can I say. This winter too shall pass. And besides, this is the year of the Winter Olympics and I, for one, am looking forward to tuning out the irritants of this world and doing some binge watching of sportif people coming down snow covered mountains in various ways at dizzying speeds. 

(Because it's been a mixed school week, I take them out to Hubbard Avenue Diner for a treat of their choice. She chooses french fries, he goes with a chocolate cream pie slice)

 

 

 

 

 

Later, we pick up Henry. It just so happens that the parents are there as well, picking up Goose. They ask if the two big ones want to switch cars, but they say no, they want that last ride with Henry. They'll have plenty of time with Goose at home, but there is something special about these few minutes with my dog, who leans as much forward as his seat belt will permit, taking in all that we pass and issuing an occasional lick, or bark, or tail wag. 

Home. Henry is in his evening mode: at first hungry, then simply content. Affectionate. My pup. Who will someday let go of his fears. I know he will. Once he understands that I am there to protect him. And I will never let anyone harm my pooch. He is safe. He is loved.

with so much love...