I am not having a bad hair day. Here, take a look -- I just took this selfie:
My hair looks normal. Slavic fine, with streaks of gray. What I am having is a bad photo day. I'm in a rut of poor weather, limited outdoor time, few opportunities, low interest. Usually when that happens, I take a few of my standards and call it a day, picture wise. But today, my standards were inexcusably poorly executed, my dog was only modestly cooperative on the morning walk and the winds were howling at speeds worthy of hurricane, so who could blame him. I shrugged it all off as a bad photo day. You will see what I mean.
It was a funny wake up. I dozed on and off in the early hours, hoping Henry would stay asleep. 6 am passed, 6:30, 7... I heard him get up, but he didn't come to my side initially. He went to the window and let out low rumbles at the cars that were pulling out of the garage. Really Henry? You're protesting cars now?
By 7:15 he finally came over to "wake me." We step out into the hallway. Two other dogs and their owner are just leaving their place. Henry is all woof woofing at them, not meanly, his tail is going full speed, but noticeably and more importantly -- audibly.
Once again, I am glad our time at the Edge is limited to this one year. My daughters laugh at me, claiming that I am at an age where you tend to focus and obsess on one issue -- any issue -- and I suppose I am now officially fixated on Henry's barking. For a reason! He's such a grand dog and I want the world to love him. An impossible wish, given his loud greeting.
My sweet gentle Henry, you are not making friends and influencing people! Sigh...
(I'm sorry your photos sucked this morning...)
Breakfast, calm, delightful.
After our morning time together he goes to doggie daycare, I go to the farmhouse. It's a visit, sure...
... but the real purpose is to keep two appointments I made in the neighborhood. With fencing contractors.
Here's the scoop: remember Steffi's house? This one:
I was involved in the purchase of it and I saw to it that it was finished properly. And now I'm planning to move into it. Once the person who is currently occupying it moves out. The idea is for Steffi's house to become my next home. The virtues are enormous -- it's a brief walk to the farmhouse, and it doesn't have elevators with strangers riding in them.
One issue I intend to address is that the house does not have a fenced yard. In fact, it doesn't have much of a yard, period. That is at once an asset (so little work required!) and a detriment (I can't let Henry out for a quick pee). I set up appointments today to get bids from fence people for a side enclosed space. It would just be enough for Henry's needs and my peace of mind.
I'm quite excited about it all. What's life if you can't start new chapters in it again and again!
And a general comment about living with a dog. If you have ever had a canine pet, perhaps you'll have felt this yourself: that dog will be whatever you want him or her to be for you. A beloved companion maybe, an outpost for your emotions, the tender ones I hope. Or nothing more (and nothing less) than a protector of your sheep flock. A playmate and a lesson in responsibility for your children. The dog is giving you something of himself for sure, but you cannot just take without learning about his quirks and personality traits and adapting yourself to them. Two stories for you. First one: I saw a guy this morning dropping his dog off at doggie daycare. It was a reasonably small fluffy thing. The guy was your poster child for a trucker and not only because he was in fact driving a pickup. Gruff, big, burly. Clothed like Ed only not wearing shorts in the dead of winter (an Ed habit). He cradled that pup in his arms and, not knowing I was watching from inside my car, gave him (her?) smooches all over to say good bye. Maybe he was that way with everyone. Hugs, kisses, cuddles. Maybe he'd be at the front-line of a protest against brutality in this world. Maybe he takes care of an ailing grandmother in his free time. Maybe it's her dog! One thing's for sure -- that dog brought joy and love into his life.
The more subtle point is well made in my second story -- one borrowed straight from the NYTimes today. This one, that I gifted for you. It's about a woman and her dog. one that she takes for walks in a stroller. If you read to its end, you'll maybe take heart as you watch people do nutty or at least unconventional things with their dogs. As someone in the comments said -- cut them some slack, you never know what's going on in people's lives. I would just add to it -- you never know what's going on in the dog's life either. Who he is and how he came to be that way. And why he barks. Loudly.
In the afternoon I attend to the other animals in my life. No, not these cats!
They're under Ed's care! I mean the birds outside. From what I see, it's still all about finches, sparrows and chickadees.
You're supposed to clean the feeder on a regular basis. It's a pain, but if you are serious about not spreading bird viruses, you'll do it. I also decided to turn off the camera for a while. The HiBird smart feeder has been working well (as opposed to the previous one which wasn't), but it takes an insane amount of photos. True, they get automatically deleted at some point, but I've been manually deleting them every few days and since I now know that I get those three bird species, with the occasional dove thrown in, I think I can give the camera a rest until the season changes and other birds flock to it.
And in the evening I pick up my beloved Henry. Sweet pup. With a personality. That I am just beginning to know.
with so much love...
