treats

I made the appointment with the vet soon after Henry came to live with me. We need to establish some baselines. And I have a few questions about caring for the pooch (big one: is he eating too little? Too much?). The vet I chose was an obvious pick for me -- Dr. Sarah. She herself has black labs and of course, I was told that Henry is mostly lab as well. (He isn't.) And I know she loves dogs. In fact I know a lot about her. Heck, I traveled to China with her some 25 years ago. She was my daughter's best friend in school (I invited the two girls to come with me to China where I was lecturing there for a couple of weeks). Dr. Sarah has many loyal patients, so I had to wait until today to get an appointment. Henry's first thorough checkup! (The shelter had done one before the adoption, but theirs was a cursory one. And I wasn't there for it, so I could not fire away with my questions.) That's for this afternoon. In the morning, the rains had moved on. My noble Henry seems to have moved his get up time to 6:30 and he held to it today. 

 

 

If you want to understand why dogs make people happy, then come along for a morning walk with him. Look at the curl of his upright tail! The sweep of that wag! The dog is a walking commercial for joy.

Breakfast, followed by time on the couch, where Henry tries to dive into being a Wisconsin dog by giving the "smells and looks like cheese" bone one more try.

And then I quickly drop him off for a short visit at doggie day care, while I drive over to the farmhouse to help with some final closet clearing. 

As I come up the driveway, all I can see is the work that I would put on my to do list here: the maple leaves that need to be shredded with a mower. The hydrangeas that should be trimmed.  The lotus seed pods, the prickly weeds... The flower fields -- oh, the work needed there! 

 

 

 

Will I really be fine with spending time here and ignoring it all? I hope so.

 

 

 

(Dance, munching on a mouse that she brought in from the farmette lands...) 

 

 

In the early afternoon, I dash to pick up Henry for his vet visit. I was floored by Dr. Sarah's care, professionalism, humor and of course kindness toward the ever shy Henry. These first visits are long if you need them to be long, and being somewhat alone in my rearing of the pup, I had a million questions. And here is this person who was once a teenager on a very long flight with me to Asia, now so adept at supporting me in my efforts. Truly a wonderful experience. (If you live in the Madison area, I highly recommend her and the Lakeview Clinic where she works. Incredible care.)

Henry, of course, was shy to enter the building, more shy still to enter the exam room, incredibly dubious of the technician who first came in to take down the basics, and slow to relax with Dr. Sarah. Velcrowed to my side, with only tentative forays to taste a treat. He did love the baby food, served to him straight from a jar. Pureed chicken! Yum! Not too far behind - something resembling Cheeze Whiz  squirted onto a plate for him to lick. He liked it so much that he went after the paper plate as well. I tell you, they worked hard to win him over! In the end Dr. Sarah said that he does better when I am not there to hide behind. She took him for a clinic walk in order to do a full exam.

I did ask her how much growing is still ahead of him. She thought maybe ten more pounds. She agreed that he was probably around 8 months old but wouldn't be surprised if he was a month or two older. There's some wear and tear on his back teeth, which she thinks may have been from some attempt to get out of somewhere, possibly during transport from Texas. 

It was late afternoon by the time we left. Still, I wanted to give Henry the treat of a run in the Penni Klein dog park.

I felt he needed a release of tension after what had to be a stressful set of hours. 

(coming round the bend is none other than my beautiful Henry!)

 

In the evening, there is no quiet time at the Edge for the two of us. Henry starts his obedience class tonight. I cannot wait for someone to tell me how to get Henry into the down position without physical force (which, of course, is no way to train a dog). That doesn't happen in the first class. Today, Henry had to do a lot of introductory listening. On the up side (from his perspective), the trainers are heavy treat reward givers. Between his usual treats from me, a multitude of treats from the vet, and the treats given during training class, I think he had his fill today. With this assessment, Henry would strongly disagree.

(in class, waiting for his reward)

 

 

So, another post about Henry, you say. One dog, many paragraphs. Perhaps you've figured out that I rarely do projects that I like in a small way. Kids (20 years of my full attention), cooking (including at a restaurant), flower growing (by the hundreds). Travel (many times each year), blog writing (daily). And now dog care. Excessive? No, just a whole lot of passion behind it all. 

And so much love... 

wet Tuesday

You will not have had many such subject headings form me this Fall. I can't remember when last I used an umbrella. Certainly not since Henry came to live with me some four weeks ago. But I am prepared! As I listen to rain pellets hit my large windows, I think -- I am very glad Henry has a raincoat.

Of course, by the time we go out (he woke me at 6:30! Good boy, Henry boy!), the rain has paused and we are now down to a drizzle. Still, it's a good time to try out this new and apparently needed dog garment. (Henry is very patient as I fit him with different collars, harnesses, sweaters and now coats. Honestly, he ought to be a show dog, don't you think? Because he also is patient with my photographic pauses.)

I love my morning hours with Henry: he is so routine bound and so very happy then. Always waiting for me to finish breakfast (I'm nearing the end of a mystery, Henry! Just a few more minutes!)...

 

 

 Always willing to put up with my need to snag a photo of his beautiful long silhouette, and his soulful dark eyes...

(yes, I even wear doggie sweatshirts that remind me of my boy...)

  

 

 

 

But on a day like today, I am also glad that Henry has doggie daycare. I would not be giving him enough exercise on our walks and I don't relish an excursion to one of the bigger dog parks. Too wet and muddy. And cold.

While he's playing with other dogs at daycare, I resume my tasks: the car needs minor work. I take care of that. And I absolutely have to finish reading my book. You know how it is when you're near the end... Finally, I have to bake some cranberry cornmeal muffins. The Edge is celebrating Friendsgiving tonight and I am once again going to try attending. Maybe Henry is ready to mingle with strangers? Maybe.

We come down... he hangs back. I coax him forward. It's like taking your child to a holiday party -- you want everyone to see the awesome person hidden within. Henry is a gentle pup and with that shy disposition comes a reserve that still makes him hesitate when approaching strangers. But I persevere. With treats. And maybe it's the friendliness of the management (a recognized scent for him), or of dog loving residents, or maybe it's the strong smell of turkey, but my pooch decides to relax and mingle. And when things are moving smoothly forward, he and I leave, because I do believe that you should exit while the impressions are sweet. Besides, I want my own time with the pooch too! Tomorrow he and I have a full day. Tonight, all is quiet and calm. 

with so much love... 

 

full Monday

I know some retired people who are so incredibly busy (I used to be one of them) that you have to wonder if they like it that way (I didn't). Because most of us do have a say in the matter of how we structure our days now, when the kids are grown and the job is a thing of the past. I didn't have to plant hundreds of flowers each year, or take care of grandkids, or write a post every day. Yet there was something that felt right about plunging fully into all three. And yes, all three filled a good chunk of a day. 

I have slowed down this (academic) year. I pretty much abandoned the farmette flower fields (though not completely -- I'm keeping an eye on what's going on there and I did plant spring bulbs by the dozens). And I reduced my childcare obligations to four days a week. On the other hand, I'm still posting here, on Ocean, and of course, there is Henry, my 8 month old adopted Rottie Dobbie Siberian Pyrenean Mountain Gentle Giant. You could say I'm still looking for the right balance of busy on the one hand,  and free to do whatever strikes me at the moment on the other. I'm closer to that balance now, but I realize, too, that it's a shifting landscape for me: with each year, adjustments have to be made.

My focus right now is definitely on these youngest members of my inner circle: the grandkids, and Henry. Ed likes it when I take the focus off of him. He is proud as pie of his self sufficiency and he never fails to tell me about the last wonderful meal he fixed for himself. Invariably it will have had raw onions and slices of homegrown garlic and tomato. Frequently wrapped in a corn tortilla, with room for Farmer John's cheeses, maybe cheeper eggs (way overcooked, but I'm not saying anything), and a very soft avocado. 

Okay! So let me reflect on how this day suddenly got so packed with such uninteresting tasks. 

It's because it is Monday and I have just come off of a weekend with Henry. He's not a total babe -- I can get stuff done when he is here, but there are some jobs that are better accomplished without his beautiful dark eyes staring at me in puzzlement. Like vacuuming up the car and spreading a protective cover over the back seat. And of course, picking up the week's groceries, which include now lots of Thanksgiving foods. A stop at UPS (to return a toy that is way too small for my Gentle Giant). At the pet store, to pick up those sticks that look like rawhide, but aren't. It all adds up. By the time I sit down for my granola bar and coffee (lunch!) I see that it's just about time to pick up the kids.

 

But wait, how was the earlier morning? Well, we didn't get moving until 6:20, which is the next level of wonderful. 

And I did take in a few chapters of my book over breakfast (they are short chapters).

And then Henry snoozes, while I gaze lovingly at his wonderful huge torso and sleek head, rubbing him occasionally, and of course, trying hard (not too successfully) to preserve this wonderful moment in a selfie.

Then come the chores. Henry is in doggie daycare, I do a bunch of store stop and go's and puff! Time's gone.

The kids had good days in school today...

 

 

 

 

Fortified by their weekly Culver's snack (I set limits!) and holiday Classen's cookies (all this after the fruit bowls), I'd say they had a strong bounce to them this afternoon. And still, mostly we read. And Snowdrop plays her computer game and Sparrow watches, fascinated.

 

 

We pick up Henry together. I do this so that the pooch can get used to their vim and vigor (and therefore the vim and vigor of others). They pounce on him with joy. He's learning not to be scared of that! 

At home, Henry eats and snoozes. He has been napping more, even at day care. To me, that means he has relaxed his guard. Even at doggie daycare they tell me he now takes naps in between bouts of play. But his contentment does make me less inclined to work with him on issues such as separation anxiety. I hate to disturb his newly found peace.

I watch him now play with his new bunny rabbit -- the squeakiest toy I have ever had the pleasure of listening to, and no, Kong dog toy maker, it is not indestructible...

 

 

 

... and I think back to the many conversations I've had with my daughters about this pooch. It struck me just today that the worry I have about keeping him busy, stimulated, active -- is fitting with the new approach we now take to our pets. Like with kids, we tend to worry too much about their boredom. We see it as a mark of our failure: did we not provide enough books, toys, activities, stimulation? Of course you dont want to keep your dog in an empty room for long periods of time, but maybe sometimes it's okay to leave him to his own antics. I packed the weekend for Henry. Perhaps he profited from it. But maybe next weekend, I can take it down a notch. (Or maybe not. I am very focused on the well being of this pooch!)

with so much love... 

a stellar Sunday

My good boy woke came over to get me up at 6:15! Perhaps it's the cooling blanket I added to his bed? He loves it! My pup thinks the wealth of sunshine that pours in during the day is... excessive. The place really heats up unless I open the window or draw the shade. Yesterday I did both and still, it was pleasantly warm for me and probably toasty hot for Henry.

I alternate our morning walk some. Today we go back to the field with the taller grasses. 

 

 

 

I was in it for the pretty sunrise colors in the sky. He was in it for the underground critter traffic.

Oh, Henry!

 

 

 

 (what, this is what dogs do...)

 

 

Breakfast. I listen to NPR stories, including one about fake Christmas trees. Normally I would tune out -- I am such a fan of live ones! But this year I learned that the Edge does not permit real trees. Fire hazard? Mess created in the hallways? I don't really know. So I immediately went on line and purchased a fake one. They were on a good sale back in October. And it appears that this was a wise move, because we are to have a shortage of fake trees this year. Tariffs. The news person asked -- why can't we make fake trees in this country? I'm curious as well. Doesn't seem like rocket science. And I learned that actually most of our fake trees have always been made abroad, because no company here wants to undertake the project. Apparently it's intricate work making up those branches. And recently, people want ones with built in lights. (Not me: I'm not spending $100 more for prestrung branches.) No way are we going to do that here -- says the CEO of a major tree selling company. Bottom line -- they are more expensive this year and there wont be enough to meet the demand, so if you want one, the suggestion is to buy now.

 

 

 

It's obvious  that Henry will need a good frolic today. It's much cooler, barely above freezing, but there is plenty of sunshine. I should take him to Prairie Moraine -- the penultimate dog park. I briefly contemplate going for a walk and to the dog park near the farmette, but I'd be stopping at the farmette then (to pick up Ed) and I don't relish pulling Henry back from trying to chase the chickens. Are these hens like squirrels, forever an irresistible temptation? At some point I'll have to address this, but not today. [I watch several YouTube videos on how to deal with a dog who wants to chase chickens. In one, the dog owner trains her pooch to be around chickens, daily, repeatedly, until the dog is bored with the whole thing and learns to look elsewhere for excitement. That can't happen with Henry: our chickens run away at the sight of him. Nor is he at the farmette often enough to get "bored" with the whole chicken caboodle. In another video, the dog actually likes to catch and kill chickens. Is that Henry?? I hope not, but honestly, I can't be sure. Desensitizing seems not to have been the answer for that dog. The owner followed someone's advice and tied a dead chicken to the dog's collar for a few hours. Apparently, that did the trick. The dog never killed a chicken again. Let's see if you can guess why I wont be following that suggestion!]

So, Prairie Morraine it is.

( I can run with abandon??)

(are you coming already??)

 

 

(such blue skies...) 

 

 

(one last romp) 

 

 

Of course, it's not the only big walk/run for my boy today. Later in the day, just before sunset, I take him to Penni Klein dog park near me. For that last good run, with others, alone. 

 

 

This is the good side of early sunsets -- you get to witness them as you walk your dog in the late afternoon.

 (my beautiful Henry: I know it's what's in the heart that counts, and you've got that covered, but still, to me, you are stunning1)

 

 

In the evening, we are doing another family dinner -- I cook at the Edge, but then take the food over to my daughter's house. The dogs play, the kids play, I keep an eye on it all, as well as on the food. The photos are of the kind you take mindlessly, quickly. Kids, building with dominoes, riding a dog...

And eventually we eat...

 

 

 

I sit across the table from my daughter and I think to myself -- this is what family joy looks like. Kids, dogs, and happy faces, all around me.

 

 

 

Henry and I don't linger very long. It's a school night, and besides, I'm trying hard to get to bed at a ridiculously early hour. It worked last night! 

with so much love...

 

the boys

First, the older one wakes. Is it even 5 yet? The younger one thus follows suit. The older one is reading something on his computer, the younger one wags his tail and licks my hand thinking surely this must me rise and shine time. It isn't. I tell the younger one to go back to sleep. The older one? Well, he keeps weird sleep hours. You can't tell someone with weird sleep hours to go back to sleep. I watch the clock move slowly to 6, 6:05, 6:10. The older one puts down his computer and covers himself with the quilt -- head and all. The younger one comes to me again, asking with his eyes -- are we getting up now?

The older one goes back to sleep. I close the door to the bedroom and go out with the younger one. 

And it's Henry and me for breakfast. No point in waking Ed for it -- not a chance in hell that he'll want to eat at 7, whereas this is my norm now.

Our plan for this morning is to go to the Indian Lake County Park, a 15 minute drive from the Edge. It is perhaps the most visited park by me of them all (except for the local one up the road from the farmette). I went there with my kids. I returned alone (and with, um, friends and lovers) once they grew up. Then with Ed -- in all seasons. In more ambitious times, we'd ski there (a hilly forest is great, unless you lose control and run into a tree, so we switched to other parks). And I returned with both young families more than once. But never in all those years would have I imagined that I would return with two huge guys by my side. 

It's a beautiful day -- the last of the warm ones. Perfect for an outing. 

This, my darling boy, is Indian Lake. The place with a history of many outings. See the lake down there? On the other side of it, there is a dog park. It'll be your 6th Dane County dog park! We're rackin' 'em up, my sweet pup!

 

We pause on the trail to let some people pass. I know, Henry, I know. You want to keep going. But Ed and l really like when there is silence all around us on a hike and since we are in the park early in the day, there is silence. Once these dudes pass. [One side note -- Ed's love of quiet has become rather extreme. Last night he tells me -- can we close the window for the night so we wont hear traffic? What traffic, I ask. The street is deserted. Listen! I listen and hear nothing. I strain my ears. Maybe a very faint hum from far away. Ed, you know you are getting to be a little extreme in your solitude? He looks at me as if he doesn't understand. I suppose you don't bother taming your eccentricities when you live alone.]

 

 

(my very tall boys with very long legs)

 

 

Ed has brought along a ball for Henry to chase. The park has a 35 acre section for off-leash exercise, though there aren't fences, so your dog better be really good on the recall. 

 

 

My pooch used to be quite good on the recall. "Henry come!" would send him running over for a treat. Not today. A new park, new fields, freedom! Like a teenager realizing that he doesn't really have to listen to all parental directives. (We'll work on this!)

And the ball? Henry loves chasing balls then playing with them. No way is he going to come back to you with it. You threw it to him -- it's his, isn't it?!

Um, something more to work on. 

(In the end, he always does wait for us to catch up. Or, we wait for him.)

 

 

 

 

Oh, but my beautiful pooch need not apologize for his exuberance. His feeling of power and taste of freedom. If not here, not now, then where and when? 

(my great big wonderful lap dog!)

(back on the trails)

 

 

We're home before noon. Ed has to go back to feed the chickens, the cats, the usual. He asks me if I want to go kayaking this afternoon. I don't see Henry sitting patiently in a boat and I'm not ready to take a wet dog back home with me. Besides, not all dogs are swimmers. I have no idea what Henry's attitude toward water may be. He's not drawn to it, nor repelled by it, so I need to test him on this. Come summertime. Not today, not in the murky waters of the Sugar River or Lake Waubesa.

Instead, while the older one goes off to his farm animals and his boats, my young one rests. I read. 

And in mid-afternoon,  I take my boy out again -- this time to the nearby Penni Klein Dog Park. It's still a great destination for when he needs some, but not a ridiculous amount of exercise. And of course, it's just so delightfully pleasant outside that I enjoy the loop walk through it as well.

 

 

 

(I admire Henry's bravery here: I myself would not chase a 140 pound St. Bernard if I were a pup still hovering probably around 55 pounds, but my pup is not intimidated.)

 

We practice some recalls and they work well enough inside the dog park, but when I take Henry on a leashed walk just outside the gated area, my pooch discovers voles. Or are they mice? Chipmunks? Some animals burrowing in the soil, leaving a loose trail of dirt for dogs to want to dig up. Henry is not a digger on our daily walks, but where there are critters, he is passionate about following his nose (and paws) to their winter hangouts. Henry, come. Henry COME. Henry COME!! 

My pooch... You still have a lot of pup in you! Now rest up! Tomorrow is another full day.

with so much love... 

Friday conversation with Henry

Henry, I have reconciled myself to the fact that you get up between 6 and 6:01. Indeed, I am trying very hard to accommodate that by going to sleep insanely early. Lights out at 10. I feel like a school child with a curfew. But okay -- you are trying hard and so I will try too.

But not when you come greet me at 5:40! Because where does it end? Will tomorrow me 4:40? Or perhaps in the middle of the night, just because it's fun to be out there in total silence and listen to the night prowls of critters who move around in darkness? 

This morning, I did get up at 5:40, on auto pilot for sure, and then I watched you wag your tail, greet me some more and then go straight back to bed. Well now. I tiptoed back too. And there we stayed, stubbornly, in our beds, until 6:01 when you tried once again to get me up, this time with greater persistence. And because it was 6:01, I obliged.

But please note, dearest one, that taking a photo when it's still this dark is getting harder and harder, especially since you are black. The trees are black. The only way to succeed is for me to get down on the ground so I can catch your head against the predawn sky. And let me remind you, I am 72, so it's an effort.

I have to say, I do like our morning routines. You are chill. Well, except when you saw a field full of geese, but I knew to pull you away from that temptation, though why then take you to Squirrel Hill? I love you that much!

 

 

You are happy. You know breakfast comes at 7 for you and you love your breakfast and I love mine, so we are on the same page there.

And of course, there's the post-breakfast snuggle.

And now we are ready for the day.

I take you to daycare (because I have the kid pickups) and then I return to the Edge to tidy up the apartment because the maids are coming! My once a month indulgence. I cannot believe that four weeks have passed since their last visit. Of course, with you, Henry, the apartment isn't as pristine as it was when they first showed up.

It seems right that on the day of the cleaning I should also wash the couch cover and your bed cover. The DNA test showed that you are destined to be a low-shed dog. Indeed, at the extreme low end of the continuum. This turns out to be true. The cats shed more than you do. Nonetheless, put a black dog on a light couch cover and there is going to be stuff on it. So I wash that, I wash your bed cover as well. And I have to buy some more dog stuff: I cannot begin to tell you how messy the car is right now. I hadn't realized that one child was stuffing spent ketchup packets and leaking, half empty honey straws in the side pocket of the car. They don't tell me these things! (They've been warned going forward, but I'm not counting on perfect memories here.) And then there's you, Henry, though so not your fault! Thus far, the weather has been very dry so that it didn't matter that I had neglected to put down a seat cover for you, Henry, to sit on. But then there were the days when we went to dog parks. Muddy dog parks. Yes, I have beautiful paw prints on the seat now. And I know we will have snow and mud and ice and rain and mud and salt on the roads and mud going forward. This wont do. There is only so much car mess that I will tolerate. I purchased a back seat protector. It will arrive tomorrow. I chose one that dogs rave about! Or at least their humans claim this to be true.

While I was searching for blankets, covers, protectors, I noticed that there are a lot of cooling blankets on Amazon. For your dog. For summer and winter. And I wondered -- is this another item that everyone except me knows about? It is true that I keep the apartment pretty warm, round the clock. The temp in the corridors here is 72F/22C and so I set my apartment to this as well. I should lower it for the night, but I haven't bothered thus far because what's the point -- the sun really heats up the place and it stays warm without the furnace coming on for the better part of the night. Henry, have you been too warm? I know you like sleeping in the sun during the day, but at night, would you like a cooling blanket?

 

The maids come at noon, I retreat to Barrique's coffee shop. And I take a short stroll through Middleton. It is such a beautiful day today! Way too warm for November, but I am not complaining! 

(do I see a Christmas wreath? already?)

One more thing to report that I know you'll smile at, Henry. I am now officially lost in the world of fabulously light book reading. It's not enough that I was thoroughly taken in by the characters in the Thursday Murder Club, I am now also discovering a whole new genre of mystery novels -- having to do with dogs. This is not your challenging reading. But whereas travel mystery novels never quite grabbed me (so predictable!), these books are perfect for a person who is very ready to turn off the TV (except when I watched Marley and Me this week) in favor of reading about delightful capers touching these other aspects of my life. And especially, at the moment, dogs. It's a great way to fill your retirement hours, right Henry?

But I do have to pause to pick up the kids. One by one. And then, you, my beloved one. Don't you worry. I wont forget you!

(Why a photo of only one child? Well, I learned a new word today from the middle school lexicon: to crash out. Let's just say that the second child crashed out. The one that remained spent her time reading.)

As always, I ask the caregivers about you, Henry, at pickup time. They tell me you were tired today. Took naps. Played some, but rested a lot. May I suggest something? How about a later wake-up? Just a thought.

Unexpectedly, Ed calls and tells me he could come tonight (instead of tomorrow morning). Well this promises to be interesting. I know you like Ed, my sweet pooch, but will you be equally okay with him disrupting your routine? It's good to vary things a bit. 

Predictably, I do have your full attention tonight, Henry, because I am cooking salmon. (The dog loves any and all leftovers from fish; heck, the dog loves food, period.) Next week, I'll have to ask the vet how far I should go to indulge your ravenous appetite. For now, I play it by ear. That okay with you my darling boy? Yeah? Great. 

 

 

One more walk, one more snuggle with you, with out guest. A richness of hugs tonight! And that's such a good thing.

(And by the way, if you are as interested in dogs as I am, you'll enjoy this article from today's NYTimes which I am gifting for you. Its title: the Dogs of 8000 B.C. Were Amazingly Diverse.) 

with so much love...