Henry knew that I needed the time. He was quiet and patient as I burned the light late into the night. He was unusually quiet all morning too. On the couch, next to me, but giving me space.
Well, head space. I liked the warmth of his canine body next to me just fine.
How do dogs intuit these things? I was in no mood for TV streaming last night. I was not really in a playful state of mind this morning.
I just wanted to finish my book.
A friend of mine said that she thought we all must be immersing ourselves in distractions to avoid thinking about the unfortunate political situations we find ourselves in. That may be true with other distractions, but Maeve Binchy's book alone is responsible for pulling me in so completely that I could not let go of it until I got to the end.
It's not as if I found myself identifying with the characters, or any aspect of their story. Nor did I especially crave a follow up to their tale, their drama. There should not be a book two on their lives. It would not be interesting. But what a good story it was in the pages of this very first Binchy novel! So good, you'd have to think -- this could only happen in a fiction piece. And yet, of course, bits and pieces of it -- events, feelings, tough breaks, close bonds, pivots -- they happen all the time. To me, certainly.
I suppose what I loved in the end was the strength of the two main protagonists. Strength, making up for the very real, very human frailty that we all experience at one time or another. Wonderful reading. Really wonderful. (I've already given you the title earlier -- Light a Penny Candle.)
I woke Henry this morning. Not intentionally. Yes, a cough on repeat will wake a dog. Well, at least it was only a few minutes before 7.
Cold again. That's okay -- it's January.
Breakfast, I read.
When I finish the book (uff! what an ending!), I take Hnery to Prairie Morraine dog park. The huge one just 15 minutes to the south of me.
It takes us (more accurately it takes me) almost an hour to do the full loop.
There is a pattern to Henry's behavior: he starts out strong (they all do), then chases only selectively.
Mostly, he is quiet, but occasionally, if a person pauses near me, he barks. Of course, he's not the only barking dog there, but Henry's barks are like that of a hound -- deep, guttural. So I tell him the usual -- Henry, quiet! Mostly he ignores me. I am reminded of his reaction to people coming at us as the elevator doors open at the Edge. This morning there were 4 Asian people coming out. I'm not sure they spoke any English. I do keep Henry back, away from the elevator doors for just this reason -- if he barks, it can sound frightening. I apologize. I pull him even further away, which probably is a mistake because he resists being taken away from what he sees is his job -- to protect us. But what can I do? I don't want to frighten people. These four were quite taken aback. I couldn't understand their words but I can just imagine their thoughts -- such aggressive dogs here! Of course you'd think that, and there's no use saying that Henry isn't at all aggressive. That he is as mellow as a lamb. But strangers coming at us, at me? He has to let them know that he is a champion at guarding my safety.
I wish he didn't do this. At the same time I feel bad for wishing that. In the park, in the building -- there are dogs that will bark. No one apologizes for them. Today, during our walk, when he did sound off to a passing dog owner, she said to her pup -- look, she's got a barker, like you!
True and not true. Henry is generally a very quiet dog. When I picked him up at the shelter I asked about that, worrying then that he would be loud in an apartment building. That he would disturb neighbors. The dog attendant said -- I don't think I've ever heard him bark. Yes well, was there anyone for him to protect then? In the first days with me I never heard him bark either.
Am I even fair to him in always telling him to be quiet (a command that he may or may not yet understand)? I don't know. I tell myself that when I move back to a house (rather than an apartment), I'll ease up on him. But that's still a distant event. In the meantime, too often (probably) I tell him -- good boy for being quiet. Even as I'm thinking -- but isn't he a good boy anyway? Even when he barks at strangers?
In the evening, I go over to my daughter's house, bringing with me Sunday dinner. We could have it at the Edge, except that I still cannot bend down and so tidying, stacking a dishwasher -- all these things would be tough for me.
It's great to see them of course, especially after a rather quiet weekend.
(Sparrow has taken over table setting; he takes it very seriously)
Henry loves having the companionship of his BDF (Best Dog Friend). They wrestle. They wag their tails fiercely. They chew fake bones. Henry sniffs for food and too often gets it from kids wanting to form a youthful alliance with him.
It is a lovely evening!
Maybe you noticed Sparrow's haircut? He had located a pair of hair scissors and thought it would be fun to experiment!
Happy kids, parents, dogs! Tails wagging, kids dancing.
with so much love...
