the trip

So where to on this trip? My enthusiastic travel companion Snowdrop voted for Nice (I had stipulated that it had to be in the southern half of the continent).

It's a good choice for us. There is enough in the city to keep things interesting, but because of the sea, and the hills plunging to it, there is a feeling of openness and of nature. Museums and hikes, all in one place. With lots of seafood to please the pescatarian among us. 

Nice had once been a real favorite destination for me. Until it wasn't. What changed? Well, I I had liked it enough to bring Ed to it, and though he wasn't saying it with words, I knew he was just "tagging along" rather than diving into it with anything resembling spirit or enthusiasm. And when I returned alone, years later, I was discouraged rather than enthralled -- this isn't a place for a solo trip anymore. I felt lonely. The city suddenly just seemed like a set of blocks, ones that had held magic before, but held nothing of the sort now. Funny how much a place is grand for you if you see it at the right time and under favorable circumstances. I thought I'd never come back. 

But along comes my younger traveling companion, with her sparkle and enthusiasm and I'm happy as anything to be returning to Nice once again.

The flights? The first one, to Detroit, is a charm. No TSA lines, no delays. Next, to Paris: good winds, timely arrival. Long walk to the next terminal, but we dont mind. Snowdrop tells me it already feels very French. And no lines at passport control! (If you are traveling to France after April 9th -- the day of the great passport control transformation, watch out!)

A pause for breakfast...

And onto our short flight to Nice. Delayed, but who cares -- it's our last one for the day.

Snowdrop benefits greatly from the fact that I am in my last years of travel. I'm making these trips as comfortable for me as possible. I'm old! She gets the spillover effect. It took ten years to climb my way up in the Air France hierarchy and the irony is that now that I'm here, I have it for life, even as most of the travel is behind me. I think the marketing team got that one right!

She gets the spillover effect in terms of hotels as well. I am almost certain that this is my last trip to Nice. In the past, I always stayed at the small hotels on side streets, in rooms with thin walls and varying degrees of warmth in the winter and coolness on a hot summer day. I always wanted to try one of the grand dames along the Promenade des Anglais -- hotels that have been around for years. The Negresco, my choice for this trip, was opened for business in 1913 (the Romanian behind the establishment named it after himself -- he was Henri Negrescu).  It's twice the size of my little Baume in Paris, but that still means it's not one of those huge establishments where you feel completely lost. It is ornate -- something that I find historically interesting and Snowdrop finds beautiful. 

You have to know a bit about Nice at the turn of the century (19th to 20th) to understand the city's significance to the travel industry. In 1864, rail service linking Nice with Russia created an opportunity for the nobility of that country to come to Nice -- for the weather, for the beauty of the place. Tsar Nicholas was the first royal to do this trip. He started a trend. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the Russian community here was quite large. Tsar Nicholas II funded the construction of a Russian Orthodox church here (it's on our list of "things to visit"), which was completed in 1912. You know what happened next! In 1917, the Communists seized control of Russia, tsars became a thing of the past. The question remained -- whose was this church anyway? Here's a surprise -- after years of battling it through the legal system, the French court ruled in 2010 that the church properly belonged to the Russian Federation. A slice of land in Nice, belonging to the Russians. Hmmm....

Nice itself has a complicated history, way too bouncy to explain here. But you have to remember that it wasn't always linked to France. At times it was a part of the Dominion of Savoy, in other years -- part of what was to be called Italy. Nice was a strategic port -- everyone wanted a slice of the pie here. It finally was annexed to France in 1860.

And it wasn't only the Russian nobility who vacationed here. The English royalty has been coming over for a lengthy refresh for a long time. No wonder that they named the seaside boulevard La Promenade des Anglais. 

So, lots of wealthy northerners coming here to Nice for long periods of time in the sun. It's funny that on past visits, I nearly always had period of rain. My bad luck I suppose. On this trip, too, it's cloudy now and we expect rain -- tomorrow. But not thereafter! 

 (from hotel room, she looks out at the sea and spins stories about sailors)

 

 

(the even better view is toward the center of the city...) 

 

 

(someone spotted the chocolate lollipops!)

 

Today is a day of taking it all in, just at the edges. We're tired, it's late. But a short walk is certainly needed! She tugs me toward the beach.

Such small things bring her such great pleasure. Catching waves with her toes, throwing fistfuls of pebbles into the water... 

But, Snowdrop is also very hungry. She had a few mini croissants at the Paris airport, nothing more. It's nearing five when we reach the more commercial streets of Nice. And the Square -- Place Massena, in Nice's colors of orange, gold and sage green.

We stroll peering into bakeries, cafes, food shops. She settles on Mama Roma. Slices of pizza reheated in the oven. True, dinner is in two hours, but I can't have her continue on so little food. She must have been starving because she deemed the pizza "really really good!" I had a coffee with the cannoli. Too sweet, but then, aren't most cannoli too sweet? 

We walk along this busy street and admire the dogs out for an evening stroll with their Nicois. So many doodles here too! 

 

 

 

Well, so many dogs, period. Or, is it that we are both so focused on dogs...

(there's one underneath his chair)

She wants to stop at Petit Bateau -- a clothing store of choice for getting something special for those occasions that call for clothing that go beyond her ratty (according to us) oversized t-shirts. Weird to be shopping for the kids this early in our trip, but on the other hand, it's easier here than in Paris, where the walks from store to hotel are longer and panic sets in as the departure date draws near and I still haven't figured out who'd like what.

We spend a very pleasant hour here. Yes, hour. For a kid that doesn't especially like wearing most clothes grownups choose for her, she sure loves admiring them in this store.  Three hours into being in Nice and our shopping for the kids is done!

 

(walking home at sunset: no Daylight Savings Time here yet!) 

 

Dinner is at the hotel's brasserie (called La Rotonde, because, well, the room is round).  The food is good, and importantly -- requires no effort. We keep it simple: she orders the sea bass, I order the scallops with a salad. And ever the hopeful one in the nonalcoholic wine department, I order a glass of their white NA wine, which of course is terribly disappointing. Stick with the NA beer next time. 

 

 

There are chocolates in our room -- the perfect dessert, though perhaps tonight they disappeared too quickly. We are both so tired, but tired is different than sleepy. I plod on with my stuff, she reads or listens or watches something from her supply of travel material. 

Such a good first day! I wish we would not be starting our explorations in the rain tomorrow, though maybe its good to get the wetness out of the way? We'll set the agenda tomorrow. In the meantime, bonne nuit from Nice!

with so much love... 

 

Spring Break

By the time I write this (meaning after 9:46 a.m.), spring will have sprung. Always my favorite season. Despite the emergent ticks, despite the storms that pass through, despite the mud, the rain, the lateness of the growing season, despite it all, spring remains my special girl.  I love her colors, I love the changes that happen all in the course of three months. Spring moves things forward. You can see why that would appeal to me!

This afternoon marks the beginning of Spring Break for the kids, and the plan is for the parents to drive Snowdrop straight from school to the airport, where I will meet up with her and she and I will make our way to France. Her choice, and I'm glad. She and I have done a lot of exploring -- southern Europe and northern too. I am so in the mood for staying with the known (at least known to me) and not filling our week with curiosities and question marks. 

The morning would be busy for most people needing to pack, to prepare, but I've decided to take things slowly -- to keep Sadey in a good mood. And she is that. We walk, she barks only a couple of times, she eats, I eat. 

 

  

 

I've prepacked her food, her bag of toys (how she loves those toys!) so that she doesn't see me doing this weird stuff. My pillow girl! 

 

 

 

Switching to my own favorite couch, once I sit down there. 

 

 

 

Well you might ask -- but what's happening to Sadey? Well, for the next week or so she is going to camp. She has over-nighted there once already. I'm hoping she wont remember that that time she was with Henry. Now she is alone. Though with plenty of dogs around her!

She is easier to bring inside. She doesn't have Henry's stubborn sit-down-and-wont-budge approach. Trusting girl... Oh, I hope she has a good week there!

And what in the long run? Well, I had a great plan for her, but those involved did not agree to it, rejecting her outright for reasons that I definitely find objectionable. I have an alternate plan which will require some more talking and figuring out, but of course, if that too falls through, she remains with me and I will gather my energies to work through her issues on my own. There's a good chance of success after all. No guarantees, but a chance. True, I'd rather not take this on, but on the other hand, I know my girl well and perhaps I can work up the courage and strength once again. We will see.

In the meantime, I'm off. Madison to Detroit, Detroit to France. Ed will drive me and mind Sally's House. It's good weather for flying. Of course it is. It's spring!

with so much love... 

strengths

Normally I am not known to be good at waiting. "Sit on it," "mull things over," "wait until they get back to you" -- these approaches make my skin crawl. I move quickly through space, and move quickly to weigh pros and cons, and move quickly to grab a good position in line. I can't wait for a wait to be over. My kids tease me that I do not even like to wait at stop lights. When I used to walk to work, I'd run to make the light. That, rather than waiting for it to go through its cycle. 

And yet, waiting to see what falls into place for Sadey isn't especially hard. Maybe it's because I love our time together as the day begins and ends. Or because I don't have a weekend with her before me (I'm leaving tomorrow). I'm not stressed about exercising her now that the dog park option is closed to us. Too, the weather is improving by the day, so morning walks, though longer than I would like, are rather pleasant. I makes sure to cross the street and keep people at a distance. So long as no one comes near us (so, no walks on popular paths, or on the bike trail, and not during the time kids walk to school here), we manage.

But is this really what caring for a pup should be about? Managing? Being grateful that a weekend isn't in the cards this week, so that I dont have to be anxious about spending more time outside with her? In terms of her well being a wait is not good. She needs to get better before she gets worse. That was the hard lesson I learned from Henry. But, we have no say in the matter. We wait.

Breakfast. Delightful.

Couch time -- so good!

And then she and I are off to doggie daycare. 

Again I talk to the director there. She has been working with dogs -- training, schooling, directing -- for nearly 30 years and she has quite the interesting reflections on how the dog-to-people world has changed, about the scams out there (including with some rescue organizations!), about how our needs for dog companionship have evolved. I told her about an article I read yesterday in the New Yorker -- it's about the proliferation of doodles out there (by John Seabrook, if you're interested in looking it up), but the author also dives deeply into these very issues of dog ownership in general and how our shifting needs and values translate into the creation of this kind of a dog -- not belonging to any one breed, but a mix of those that help us introduce these pups to our homes as full-fledged family members (much to the chagrin of breeders of registered breeds who feel that their world has been upended, and that of the rescue organizations who believe no dog should be purchased, though considering my adoption fee for Sadey, I find that to be a curious position). There is a strong feeling among the professional dog care community that there is something fishy going on in Texas with all the rescues shipped all over the country: it's as if it's a thriving, profit making industry, producing pups that ostensibly are abandoned, but not really. For every good and noble actor out there, you will always find a shady character looking to make a buck. And judging by the swelling number of Houston dogs being distributed but really sold all over the country, suspicions abound.

 

I come home knowing full well that I have to take at least preliminary steps to get myself ready for travel, and yet I remain pokey. I have had zero time to process everything that has happened in the last few months. Or at least it feels that way. I need a moment to just chill. 

 

And then it's time to pick up the kids. Our routine is different today: I get Sparrow, then Snowdrop, we go to Hubbard's Diner. Pick anything. He chooses French Silk pie, she orders her favorite -- french fries.

And then to their home. I have to help Snowdrop pack. Left to her own devices, who knows what would end up in her suitcase. As it is, it's very much a hit and miss game. This girl's thoughts are so often up in the clouds. Bringing her down to earth is the work of an adult who understands dreamy kids who forget to check their backpacks for months on end.

 

I pick up Sadey. The tired girl. With lots of adult people talking about her. At some point you have to stop talking though, no? I would have stopped days ago, but that's just me. We're all different. Strengths and weaknesses. It may seem obvious to me. It may seem less obvious to the next person.

In the meantime, here's my happy girl, always deeply submerged in pillows! 

 

 

 

with so much love... 

 

many ways

The first thing that goes nuts when you are stressed is your sleep cycle. You wake up at night, think about all that's troubling you, come up with some ideas about how to proceed the next day, and then in the morning, you cannot for the life of you remember what they were. Ideas born from lack of sleep have no staying power.

I found in my e-mailbox today some advice (handed out to probably millions of seniors) on how to minimize health issues with each year as you shift from 70 to 75 to 80. As always, "eliminating stress" was high on the list of "things you must do." How is it that you eliminate stress? Are you supposed to shed stressors like you would for a dog that is feeling overanxious? Walk the other way? 

True, you could go the route of "I dont care, I'm going to do what feels right and ignore the pressure to do better." But I am reminded of the little poem a childhood friend wrote in my autograph book some 60 years ago -- "good, better, best, never let it rest, until you good is better and your better best." I guess we do always strive to rise above the easy path. I know I was never satisfied with letting things be.

 

Sadey woke up, as usual, being absolutely perfect and charming. Lick, wag, wait. Still not perfect in the leash department, still not quick to do her stuff, but she's trying! 

Mornings with Henry were always the best part of the day. This is true with Sadey as well. She is the sweetest girl then. Well, not to the people she sees on the streets, but once inside, she's all mellow sweetness.

Breakfast. 

Things are getting tight schedule wise. Trying to figure out Sadey's future takes time. Picking up kids takes time. Seems that everything just sucks the hours out of the day -- this, when I am leaving the day after tomorrow, on a trip that was planned... in July! Not sure how all of it will play out, but I'm working on it!

 

 

 

The kids are one foot into spring break already. It's always like that in March. An eagerness to have a week off after two months of work. They're both excited about forthcoming adventures: Sparrow is off to the west coast, Snowdrop is crossing the ocean. And Sandpiper? I find him at home, back from school early! 

He's excited about a trip too, but it doesn't come until late spring for him. And still he is just all smiles. 

 

 

 

The older two come to Sally's House with me. Ours is a slow pace. I could have been the kind of grandma who plans exciting projects and has everything set out for an afternoon of play. That's one path to a successful grandparenting situation. It's not my way. I'm bookish, so I introduce books left and right. There are toys, of course. Too many, Ed would say. But if they choose to play, it requires them to invent that play. I make few (any?) suggestions.

 

Towards evening, I take Sparrow to Taekwondo and Snowdrop and I go on to pick up Sadey. Snowdrop has learned not to shower her with hugs and kisses now. Sadey is stressed after daycare and the best you can do for her is to shower her with calmness.

 (a perfect moment, for both)

 

 

At home in the evening, I watch Sadey's inquisitive eyes and I wonder why I never noticed how unsure she still is. It's really no surprise that she barks at people coming toward her. She's unsure there as well. The less understandable is her lunge and nip at people in the park who weren't at all interested in approaching her. She approached them. It's really that which caused this flood of anxiety and stress on my part. She was a happy, well exercised dog then. She could have taken the day in any number of directions. Why did she choose that one?

I suppose it's like asking me "why did I opt to take on dog care." There isn't an explanation that would satisfy you. I did it because for me, it was the right thing to do. Sadey has her reasons too. We are able to sort through some of them, but not all. My beautiful girl of infinite mystery... Oh, Sadey!

with so much love... 

 

dog talk

I'll always remember this period, the one immediately after my years at the farmette, as my time of really learning about dogs. It's fascinating to me that though I had dogs for a good chunk of my life, I knew too little about them. Oh sure, I bought the dog books, I read them. I trained, fed them, took them to the vet, walked them, and yet they were a shadow to my life. My focus was on the kids, on my work. If my dogs had problems, I wasn't going to spend time digging deeply to get to the root of their troubles.

It's only when you accept the responsibility of caring for a dog with serious challenges that you get to really dive deeply into their inner soul and start to think about what makes them tick and what causes systems failure, so that they make poor choices, destroying the fabric of your life with them. Without that understanding, of course, you cannot hope to help them. And so I have spoken with countless people about my two dogs, Henry and Sadey. Experts, lay people. I've read so much, and talked and listened, and watched Henry and now Sadey in ways that I never watched a dog before. And when I see other dogs, I can pick up things I would have missed in the past. Late in life lessons that I wish I did not have to learn. I wish so many dogs were not in need of special care and handling because of those internal mechanisms that cause them such trouble.

But would have I taken Henry or even Sadey had I known? Probably not. I had the time, the patience, I freed up some resources, and yet I couldn't help Henry. That failure stays with you. I dont really blame myself, but the experience was so heart wrenching that deliberately signing up for it would not have been my first choice.

And yet, having Henry was one of the best, most important experiences in my life.

And Sadey? Well, I'm more gray haired and somber about the whole thing. I know she needs a lot. What she does not need is a person who is broken up about failing Henry.

Still, here she is, ready to roll with the day. A very cold day it is too!

I cant have my usual breakfast because I have a doc's visit that requires no food. So it's a short training session and off to doggie daycare for her.

I spend a while at the daycare, talking to the director about Sadey, and what is the best possible future for her. We come up with a plan. There's a lot of waiting and more talking ahead of me.

On to the doc, then home for a very late breakfast...

 

 

 

... and then more conversations, emails, all about dogs, about Sadey, and finally a lunch at Tati's. With a friend. When was the last time I had lunch with a friend? Oh.... maybe in May? And from there -- off to pick up the kids.

The talk in the car is of dogs of course. Theirs is a simple line, with obvious outcomes: dog means love, love means happy dog (eventually, anyway), happy dog means happy home. Their idea for me and Sadey is for us to keep on truckin' and cross fingers that things will get better. That would have been my idea too, as little as six months ago. 

The conversation shifts to a video character. Or two. A name comes up that makes Sparrow and Snowdrop guffaw. I ask -- who is that? They tell me -- oh, she's a YouTuber. A what? A youTuber! What's that? Gaga, you don't know what a YouTuber is? Indeed I don't. I do know that YouTube has been deemed a poor choice for Snowdrop, for reasons of stupidity (of the content, not the girl!), but stupid stuff sometimes refuses to go away once implanted in a kid's head, so here they are, laughing away at a Salish -- a name that I myself would have instantly forgotten, but one that apparently is important enough to stick around for these two.

In the evening we pick up Sadey. Dear, dear Sadey. I can tell she is in her high stress mode. Little girl, I'm going to try my damnest to figure out something for you. I just dont know yet what that might be.

 

 

 

with so much love... 

 

blizzard

It's a storm that was in the forecast for days. The epicenter of it was to move right through Madison Wisconsin and it did just that. First ice, then snow, in sheets and with winds pushing it into heaps and piles in places that surprise you. Two steps and you're in a drift. Ten steps and you're out of it. How do you walk a Houston dog in something like that?

It's been a while since we had a blizzard of sizable proportions here. Somehow all the winter storms of 2026 moved along tracks that left us cold and snowless. And now, four days before the official start of spring, here we are -- snow covered. It will start melting later in the week, but today (and tomorrow as well) we are frozen into a white stillness. 

Lots of cancellations and closures out there. Including doggie daycare. Understandable, but it does mean that I have to imagine a good day for Sadey, and I have to reschedule stuff that really needed to be done on a kid-free day.

My mantra for the day? We will manage! I think.

Sadey is eager to go out this morning. Ha! Little girl, you have not ever been in stuff like this! There had been one snowfall of the two to three inch type when she was over-nighting at camp. It had mostly melted the next day so I missed her moment of play. They said she liked it, but of course, this is something else altogether. It's windy, it's cold, it's deep in spots. I bundle her up and we set out.

Where am I supposed to do my stuff -- she asks me. (Not with words, but with body language.)

We find a sheltered spot. She is grateful. We continue.

But not for long. It's such slow going, for her, for me. She shakes snow off constantly and still it comes down. At one point she goes up the steps of a random house as if to ask -- can we pause inside this one for a while? We can do this Sadey! Let's keep moving!

Finally, home. And a hardy breakfast for her. The usual for me.

I do repeat sessions of training all morning. She is tough to train, not because she is a slow thinker or not food motivated, but because she is so anxious to move close to me and my treat filled hand that getting her to sit in place or stay or come is a challenge. She comes automatically whenever I move. I can't get her not to come! So we keep working at it.

I also try to work on getting her to bark less. Movements outside inspire her woofs. I can try to tame those, though this too may be challenging. She still barks at Ed when he is here. (His comment -- you sure got the crazy dogs! Thanks for reminding me...) 

 

Just before noon I go out to shovel. There's not much sidewalk to clear, but the driveway has a mountain of snow, blown in from the other side of the road. I do it, but I am wondering if I should get a power snow blower for the future. It seems like a stupid idea for the small amount of blizzard snow that comes our way each winter, but on the other hand, when it comes, someone has to remove it and if it's me, I'd rather not kill myself doing it. (Ed of course says it's good for me, and I have to agree: that which doesn't kill you will make you stronger!) 

Sadey is good about my working outside, but once I'm in, she lets me know it's her turn now. Sadey, let's skip the sweater and just keep it short, okay?

I really need to get this pup out to the park this afternoon (once they clear the roads). 

But let's not forget the ice! If you have cleats on your shoes, wear them! I am that wise person after the fall. I went out for a second to check on something and did a classic slip and fall on my tailbone. Ouch!! Luckily with just a slight head bump and hand scrape. I had to smile: I'd complained about the ice at the farmette by the parked cars. I'd complained about the abundant salt sprinkled on sidewalks around the Edge. Who can I blame for this slip? Me!

 

By mid afternoon I deemed the roads clear enough for me to take Sadey Cakes to the dog park. Every day has at least one moment that is just so full of Henry and I suppose today's visit to the park did that for me today. Henry loved to play in the snow. Oh, I suppose many dogs are with him on that, but my boy had the grace of an antelope -- he would soar and leap at Prairie Morraine and I could never catch it in a photo, but it was pure joy to watch. From the day I adopted him in October, I took him to dog parks at least twice a week (on the weekends; sometimes more...). That leaves many memories of our time there -- perhaps the sweetest one being in the middle of a blizzard before the new year. That selfie of him and me as we tried to get to the car is one that makes me sob now. I wont repost it. Bad enough that when I went looking for it on Ocean, I had to scroll through, for the first time since his death, all the posts with him front and center in December. (The blizzard photo was actually earlier -- November 30th.) Will there be a time when I can look at his face and just... smile?

 

Park time for the girl. She's a runner too. In speed, she matches Henry, though her body is more compact and her legs are shorter.

And here's a truth about Sadey: she is a little like Henry in slo mo, moving in that direction, only not so rapidly and not so forcefully. She is, if truth be told, reactive. Yep. Totally and without doubt. A barker, but not of the kind where the tail is wagging and a conversation is underway. The kind that doesn't really like to see people across the street. (Have I seen this somewhere before?) The kind that views people at a dog park as threats to our existence. 

Sadey doesn't have the fierceness of Henry (yet) and perhaps she will never aggress against anyone. (Perhaps.) She is a velcro attention hog who loves cuddles. But then, so did he.  

Our trip to the dog park was an eye opener. She loved the snow, the high winds, the thrill of being in this place in this fierce weather, running, mostly just with me, as there were few people there initially. 

But, slowly people showed up. Some she liked. Or ignored. Some she did not like. Her bark at them had me turn from being relaxed to vigilant. And when she went up to a guy and nipped him in the leg (not bit, but nipped -- his word for it) I thought -- oh no... Sadey! Really?!  

The thing is, do I have the strength to go through this again? For the training that may or may not lead to success? The restrictions on her movement outside where there are people? If you lived through this with one dog and could not save him, you may not be the best candidate to take on another reactive dog. Especially one whose genetic makeup is that of a German Shepherd and Belgian Malinois with pitbull in the mix as well -- all three breeds requiring aggressive training and socialization from puppy hood, neither of which she had obviously. A Malinois is not a family dog. Sadey is a sweet girl in my home. She bonded with me quickly. (Though she still stresses over Ed.) 

 

 

 

What now? Well, I have to talk to the people in Texas about her. Should she stay? Maybe. But maybe not. She is a reactive dog, but she hasn't really bitten anyone yet. And still, she just closed the door to dog parks. I have never had any dog on any outing to such a park aggress against me. And now I have had two of my own that aggressed against others. Sigh...

Oh these poor damaged strays from Texas! Such tough lives they've had. Will good intentions help them out of the mess they're in? Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. And someone has to try. Because they deserve a chance at a good life. I gave my heart to Henry. He deserved it. Sadey deserves that chance too. We'll see what happens next.

Sigh indeed!

with so much love... 

ideas

I have a great one -- let's get rid of evenings. Just eliminate them. They're the worst. I dont care that I thought a year ago that they were the best, second only to breakfast! I still love breakfast -- that stays. But evenings? Yuk. I miss Henry then. So much. Too much. Grief comes in waves and the evening wave is the most powerful of them all. It wallops you and knocks you down and honestly, you dont really want to get back up. 

Luckily they turn into night and the dreams come and you dont much like those either, but then eventually there is morning. 

Hi, Sadey!  7:15 is much better thank you. No one has ever expressed as much joy at seeing me at this hour as those two dogs have. Sadey is as bad as Henry was: licks wags leaps. Total delight. How can you be so enthusiastic before you had your morning coffee? Oh wait. Dogs dont do caffeine. The transition from wake up to bounce for them is immediate.

Everyone in south central Wisconsin is thinking and talking about the weather today. We've been warned. It had rained at night. There is a pause and then the storms will come. Rain changing to sleet and finally heavy snow, but with plenty ice in the mix. Lots of both. I do a quick mental calculation: there is no way I can exercise Sadey once the stuff comes down. If the first round is to arrive soon after 8, I better get her to the dog park now, before breakfast, hers and mine.

I'm not the only one with this idea. Or maybe a Sunday morning routinely brings out the dog walkers. I'm glad. Sadey runs, plays, gets used to strangers. It's a high priority for me, all of it.

We do two laps around the perimeter, allowing her to thoroughly empty all that she needs to empty. Phew. Got that out of the way. 

Time for breakfast, finally. Hers and mine.

Of course, she is quite ready for a nap then. So am I, frankly. But I have too much to do. I've been completely immersed in dog issues and dog questions and dog discussions and dog literature. All this fills the hours. Outside? Oh it's just miserable. Rain and freezing rain. Sleet. Honestly, it will be a relief to switch to snow, though I do feel awful for those who have to be out on the roads or catching flights. Your worst travel day is upon us.

Okay, Sadey, got any ideas on how to spend the rest of this day? Let's do some training first. Maybe we can get to a stay that lasts more than 3 seconds! Yes, I know, you wish you had your playmate to bother. Me too. Sigh...

(A selfie with Sadey is a challenge. Does. Not. Stay. In. Place.)

Family dinner is called off because of the horrid weather that's being thrust upon us. But Ed is here. Walking over the ice covered terrain. To Sally's House and back. All for my chicken millet soup. Well, maybe to make this evening more agreeable for me too.

(A selfie with Ed is also a challenge, though for different reasons.)

 

Sadey and I watch the Oscars. Continuity for me, and a lap for her to lean on. The snow is picking up now. With chilling temperatures that will stick around for a couple of days. Schools are closed tomorrow. It'll be a mess out there. Tonight? Well, I'm grateful. For all of you. For my dogs. For so much and so many in my life.

with love, always... 

 

a lift?

At some point, the weight lifts a bit and you sail forth. It's not an uneventful or easy sail. But you know you're moving at least, no longer mired in your grief. 

I keep Henry within me for the ride. Just not physically next to me, but within me for sure. I'll never let go of that pup. We were bonded at some deeper level and that bond remains. But, too, I am starting to focus a little on the here and now. 

Here's one here and now: Sadey! She slept upstairs with me again. And she woke me just before 7. Her clock isn't as perfect as Henry's was but it's good enough!

Breakfast. She works away at her antler, I work away at my granola. Candle still burning.

I know my home is just too quiet for a dog. There isn't enough here to keep an intelligent dog occupied. Until I do add a playmate, she will need to go to doggie daycare regularly. I am just too boring, even with our training sessions and her toys. Still, I have to admit -- she is easier to keep happy than Henry was. He was always trying to figure me out. Always gazing deeply to understand what I may have been thinking. My daughter once marveled that I spent so much time planing my day around him, reflecting on him, accommodating him. Sadey is more... normal. I spent the morning reading and researching and she played, then she napped, and the morning just passed. Henry would have asked (gently) for my engagement or, in the alternative, something edible to gnaw on. She made do with my boring day.

 

Just after the noon hour, I piled her in the car and we picked up Ed for a trip to the dog park. Sadey is in fact scared of men, but if given the chance, she warms up to them. It's taken a while with Ed, but she is now happy to trot alongside the both of us. She needs more contact with people. Without that, she's likely to retreat rather than flourish. 

At the dog park, she is radiantly happy. I still take in my breath when she runs up to someone. There's that fear -- will she act menacingly? Once, she in fact did bark, but the person reached out to her and she sniffed, wagged and trotted off. We need more of that.

She is getting to be an expert though at playing with dogs. I can see the change in her after a couple of weeks in the doggie daycare. She's reading and sending signals much more adeptly. 

Such an energetic girl! The color of the landscape right now.

Beautiful and strong.

I looked at my cobwebbed from disuse and disinterest to-do list. Time to get back to it. I have taxes to do. I have a trip before me. Am I ready for any of it? Maybe not today, but soon! Really soon.

In the meantime, it's  just me and the dog. Recovering. And yes, waiting for the storm that is about to hit Wisconsin. My shovel is ready! Sadey's sweaters are waiting for her. We are bracing ourselves for something awful, but you know how it goes -- if you think it'll be miserable, it probably wont be too bad. What's a few feet of ice and snow anyway!

with so much love...