sweater Wednesday

Henry's replacement sweaters came in the mail (I had send back the too small ones). You might ask -- does he really need more than one sweater? Of course not. But, keeping to one is more work for me -- it has to be dried, cleaned and it has to serve cold and very very cold temperatures. Today, I tried on the one that is intended for the very very cold weather, even though we're just in the cold realm right now. 

Getting him into this one was more trouble because he thought the texture was quite chewable. Henry is still a bit of a chewer. Knob yesterday. Today I caught him eyeing the wooden stool leg. I also noticed that the arm rests in Sparrow's car seat have teeth marks. What happens in the back seat stays in the back seat. I had thrown a cover there and I leave everything else to fate. Or Henry's good judgment. Which, I'm seeing, is still in the "I'm a playful pup" category. 

It was still snowing lightly -- a brittle icy snow -- when he and I stepped outside.

Since it was early, I thought I'd fit in a real walk -- something more interesting than just around the block. But Henry had other ideas. Once he was done with his necessary business, he decided to let loose his inner crazies. And I let him. If snow and a walk with his human still bring him so much pleasure, well then who am I to rein him in? 

Breakfast. Calm restored.

 

 

 

And then comes this absolutely sublime period of affection, with the last bits of milky coffee, soft jazzy music in the background, some reading on my part, and my arm around the greatest dog in the world!

 

 

And I don't just mean size-wise!

Okay, doggie daycare time. I have a date to go skiing with Ed today. As usual, by the time I get to the farmhouse and settle into a comfy chair, by the time he makes me a cup of tea and turns up the heat a little, I do not want to go anywhere, especially outside, in the wind, on icy terrain. 

 (Dance is peering over at Ed's phone that is ringing and presumably flashing something)

But as usual, Ed talks me into it, and as always, I am so glad! We have a fantastic run. Well, perhaps I would not call it a run. But the glide is vigorous and more importantly -- deeply satisfying.

 

 

Ed suggested a coffee shop afterwards. I happily agreed and we settled on Paul's (well, we call it Paul's because he has had it for such a long time now). We asked if Paul was there. Paul? Oh no. He doesn't own it anymore. It's under new ownership. 

Wow, so many memories can be traced to our visits here. When I was still teaching, we'd very often meet up at Paul's for a post-work moment of quiet time together. Paul  knew Snowdrop, whom I brought with me on days when she was still a toddler. 

The new owner came out to say hi. Nice guy. Same good food. And lovely cafe atmosphere. We'll surely come back, but I doubt that we'll stop calling it Paul's. (The place is actually called Oasis.)

In the evening I pick up both Henry and as a favor to my daughter -- Goose. My, are those dogs strong!

I stop over at her place for just a few minutes, but it is getting late and I know that I wont have time to get us home and fed and ready for dog training class. Well boys, should we practice some commands now?

 

 

 

Back at the Edge, I have nothing but sweet words for my pooch. He is, by the way, Pet of the Month! His picture is in all the elevators.

My good boy is famous! (Probably as much for his loud bark greeting as for the photo in the elevator.)

 

with so much love...

 

wintry mix Tuesday

Without a question, I prefer crispy cold and sunny, to slightly warmer -- just below freezing -- and cloudy, with the threat of a wintry mix down the road. But of course no one asks me how to set the temperature outside. I have to learn to love it all. Including today's morning, which is indeed just below freezing and cloudy, and with a threat of a wintry mix later in the day.

Well, at least I do not have to bother with putting Henry into a sweater. He's warm enough (according to me) on his own.

Though I still think that first blast of cold morning air gives him pause: so... it's winter for good now? A fresh dusting of snow, salt, all of it? 

On doggie daycare days, I tend to skip a long walk in the early morning. Up and down the block a handful of times seems to suffice. He's not clamoring to stay out longer before breakfast.

Ah yes, breakfast. Delightful.

Well, delightful until I notice that Henry is not in his usual spot on the couch. True, he likes to check out the bedroom windows occasionally, but he is a creature of habit, so a prolonged absence at this moment has me get up to investigate. Ah, there you are: in the kid room/guest room, munching away at the wooden dresser knob. Oh, Henry!

I try some pet stain remover on the remains of the knob, thinking that the smell might repel further chewing. It doesn't. I notice this as I see him trotting up with another bit of knob in his mouth. He and I have a conversation about it (I subscribe to the policy of "No Yelling" at your dog, since, as with children, it is totally ineffective and demoralizing), but just to make sure, I purchase Jambos Bitter Apple Spray. Guaranteed to keep your furniture safe from pets! I'll let you know how (in)effective that is!

That's my good boy, Henry! Back on the couch with me!

I made the mistake on starting in on another 500 puzzle. Importantly, it's not too hard and it doesn't take up that much space. Snowdrop and I are competing for table room for our various holiday setups.  Once I start the puzzle, I dont especially want to stop. What is it with these puzzles -- how can something so mindlessly boring be so addictive? Or is it really mindless? Or boring? It's like a memory game -- you're significant;y faster if you remember where you saw that piece with the bit of yellow window and a tree bark at the tip. So maybe not so stupifying after all? 

I get halfway through it and then I stop and turn my attention to the bird feeding station on the balcony. Not a single bird stopped by. So, should I return the yet to be installed smart feeder? No! What if the birds will come only after they see a comfy platform on which to perch? Why not put up the feeder and see if that perhaps will be noticed? Ah, another dumb human putting up one of those little square boxes that they find so cute and that we perch on to humor them...

This is not your ordinary bird feeder. It has a small solar panel and it feeds not only birds, but also my bird app, which I can then use to identify birds with. Of course, 1. I have no birds and 2. We have no sunshine today. But I have the time to set it all up. (It takes forever.) Will this attract them? Maybe? Eventually? Ever?

I pick up just Snowdrop today. It's a luxuriously normal day. No special place she needs to be, no meal that must be eaten on her lap, in the car. 

My goal tonight is to pick up Henry and get her, then him home, before the wintry mix ices our roads. 

(Henry is super excited to hear me at pickup time; and yes, he is very tall when he stands on his hind paws.)

 

 

For the first time in weeks, there will be stuff coming down while the temps waffle between freezing and a degree or so above. And after a few hours of this, we'll plunge into temps significant;y below freezing and they will stay there. Forever, if you think like a dog and don't know about Gallileo or weather.com forecasts. I know what that means: whatever melts will freeze and create an ice layer for all to slip and crash on. My options are to embrace it or become a grumbling old person. I'm already old and would like very much to stay away from grumbling.

A side note on the subject of aging and grumbling: having taken care of my mother's needs and dealt with her grumblings and general unhappiness in the last half dozen years of her life, I greatly appreciated an article in the NYTimes about aging parents. Read it for free here. We sometimes think that older people can and should control their inner rage. (My mother had a lot of inner rage.) But the fact is, not only are they capable of losing joy in those last years,  but moreover, they do not know that the world continues as before, but they are no longer keeping up with it in any way. I suppose this could happen to me, and I tell Ed that this well could happen to him, but he does not believe me. He's one of those people who is convinced that he can have control over his aging process. I reassure him that I will be there to assist, even if he becomes intolerable, but I doubt that he sees that as a viable path. It will be interesting to see which one of us loses their marbles first! Perhaps you'll be able to tell from reading an Ocean post. 

with so much love...

fun facts Monday

It is 7F/-14C when Henry and I step outside for our morning walk. This is not interesting weather for Henry. This is paws-are-cold weather. 

(did you know that my building is at the intersection of JQH Drive and Holiday Avenue? How did that latter name get attached to a street? And how did the street sign get bent? Questions without answers.)

 

 

It's one thing to run like crazy off leash. You forget about your paws then. And anyway, they barely touch the ground. Trotting slowly alongside your human is different. And not worth the pain. Do your stuff, go back inside -- is Henry's thinking.

*     *     *

I hear on the radio that the least liked Christmas song of them all is Paul McCartney's Wonderful Christmastime. It's repetitive, the lyrics are dumb. This I cannot understand. There are plenty of songs that fit that description. Mommy kissing Santa Clause is dreadful by definition. I personally find Christmas Shoes deliberately manipulative and a little sick, and Bruce Springsteen's Santa Clause is Coming to Town jingles and rocks your nerves solidly after the fifth repetition of that one line. And still, I put on the Christmas music station on the car radio, listening to a mixture of the pleasant and annoying and somehow I don't mind any of it. Well, if my two or three loathsome ones come on, I switch stations.

*     *     *

Breakfast. My pup would like me to give up on the dental chews. He has that "anything but dental chews" look on him this morning. I'll think about it, Henry.

Me, I love the same old granola with fruit, yogurt and honey. And of course the sublime milky coffee...

 

*     *     * 

We, the shoppers out there are easily fooled. If you sell packs of cookies at Clasen's German Bakery, rather than raising the price, you just take away a cookie. Next year you up the tab, and the year after you virtually double it because that's the way things work in America (and elsewhere too, I'm sure, but I speak for the country I live in). Labor costs, ingredient costs, tariffs. So what are you, the baker, going to do this year? Here's an idea: take those gigantic gingerbread man cookies, make them half the size, put them in a box with a pretty ribbon and charge a whopping $29 for each. I know bakers rarely make a fortune, but I do think $29 for a cookie is a bit high.  

*     *     *

I sit on the couch with Henry, his paw is up, he wants a gentle rub. 

 

 

I'm reading the article in the NYTimes about dogs in Japan. This one.  Apparently people in that country are having fewer children and more dogs. Traditions that were once followed with the progression of a child's age (the "3 5 7" rituals) are now followed with you dog. You dress the pooch in a kimono and take him or her to a shrine for a special blessing at those key ages. The photo in the story is very cute, but I have to think that if I put Henry in a kimono it would just be funny!

*     *     * 

The jigsaw puzzle advent calendar which I have been doing dutifully for seven days now (50 pieces of a new puzzle each day) has suddenly become too easy, because I have figured out that the cut is the same for each picture, so that the weird long piece is always on the lower right side. Even without looking at the picture, it's suddenly all very obvious. Should I keep on doing them just because they're there? Or should I admit that this was a really dumb purchase and give up on it today, so I can go back to doing the wonderful bigger more challenging puzzles I have stashed for the winter season?

I'll let you guess which route I take.

*     *    *

We've had a month of winter weather without it being winter yet. Maybe we should just skip the season and go straight to a snowy spring?

*     *     * 

I sent out the last of my holiday cards today. One of them has to travel to an address at a distance of three blocks. It will take a whole week to get there because mechanization means that it will first have to go to Milwaukee before it returns to Middleton. Weird but true.

*     *     * 

I finished the fifth and last book in the Thursday Murder Club series. I have a stack of more serious stuff to read, but this being December, I'm staying with the lighter novels. I picked up a holiday one and the writing and story line were so bland (despite great reviews) that I gave up and went back instead to Osman (who wrote the Thursday Murder Club). He's promised a 6th, but in the meantime, he has another duo battling crime  -- an aging widower and his daughter-in-law. It's fine, but I miss being in the world of goofy old people.

*     *     * 

Reluctantly, I began wrapping presents today. The worst part? Getting to the big gifts that consume way too much paper.  (I put that off for another day.)  But I have several close runners-up: trying to coordinate paper so that each person has her/his own design. Ugh. And of course the odd shaped present that defies any wrapping strategy that could result in something aesthetically presentable.

*     *     *

I pick up a tired (and therefore fragile) Sparrow and a tired (and hungry) Snowdrop. These late performance nights (they dont get home until after ten and there still are the evening routines to get through) are doing them no favor. All the grownups involved in their care can't wait for this insanity to be over. (Next Sunday evening is their last show. Can't come soon enough.)

Sparrow and I pause for a few minutes at his house before picking up his sister. And we come just as his mom received the DNA test results for their Goose. Their dog shares some breed genes with Henry (so in my opinion they could be very distant cousins!), but his dominant breed genes are that of an American Staffordshire Terrier and Labrador Retriever. Henry has zero retriever in him! My Rottie Dobbie Husky Pyrennean befuddles curious types when I tell them he is not in anyway a lab. Goose, on the other hand, looks and acts and is in part like a lab and an AST. Of course, we tend to peg them some, and then we exaggerate what we think we're seeing. Still, it's been great fun tracing these dogs' ancestries.

(Bundling up)

 

(Still in her mom's coat)

 

Snowdrop twists my arm and so we get Culvers fries for a snack. I mean, how can you argue with a girl who now throws around words such as dude, chill, and yo bro into the conversation on a regular basis.  

*     *     * 

At the Edge, they catch up with their advent calendars.  Whereas Henry's and mine were less than perfect, the two kids do love theirs. Which is perhaps more important than whether a dog appreciates opening little doors to treats one day at a time.

*     *     * 

Picking up your dog, whether from doggie daycare, or a boarding kennel is perhaps one of the most joyous experiences you can have as a pet person. Their love just throws itself at you. Reheating three day old brussel sprouts for supper for yourself is slightly less exhilarating. The day is always a balance of the sublime and the mundane.

 

 

with so much love... 

a doggy Sunday

How much does your dog reflect your personality, or perhaps you reflect his (I'm keeping it male, as Henry is a boy)? It's a question I ask myself in dog parks. There are growling yappy dogs across all genders and ages of course, but on the other hand, I see a number of gruff old men with their gruff old dogs and I wonder if that's just a coincidence. I have said this many times -- Henry barks sometimes at some strangers moving towards us, and I'm not one to say that he picked any of that up from me. Too, I don't see his behavior as giving me permission to bark at people who irritate or scare me. Still, those gruff old men, letting loose their unpleasant dogs without apology or explanation... It can't just be a random pairing.

Of course, Henry has been with me for less than two months. Maybe I'll feel free to  let out the occasional bark after a year with him.

A year with Henry... I feel so lucky to have that in front of me. Many years with Henry if all goes well. Honestly, I had no idea I would love having a dog this much. Yes, I like animals and dogs especially, but I know, too, the burden of caring for an animal that is actually a high demand beast. And I chose a large one. Deliberately. And I love his size! I know I should be firm about his jumping up to greet me -- he can knock me over easily enough if he jumps hard. And yet, I love those greetings where I can give him the kind of hug I would give a person my own size. (He does not jump on other people. That would be a real no no. Well, he makes an exception for Ed too. And Ed, too, doesn't discourage it.) 

Henry continues to sleep now until 6:30. We go out around 7. I consider that sensible! 

It's still very cold -- we top out at 19F/-7C today. On goes the sweater. 

We got a couple more inches of snow overnight. A lovely cover to the urban dirt that inevitably tarnishes the winter landscape. 

For me, there may be such a thing as too much snow (I know for many, any amount is too much), but I dont know what that limit would be. I've never been in a place that reached it. I have loved every snowfall we've had this year. And I wont mind if it continues, so long as we all stay safe and warm.

Breakfast. Henry seems more tired than hungry this morning. A first! 

Should I limit his activity today? As I call Ed to talk this over, I see Henry getting his bounce back. I feel a dog park is a perfect option: he does not have to run there. Many dogs walk slowly, sticking to their humans the entire time.

The dog park next to the farmette is a good option for us: not too demanding, it is still spacious with good trails. And Ed is happy to join us. Which, of course, makes Henry happy.

Despite the cold and the wind, there is such terrific sunshine, that you can't help but love being outside today. At least I can't help but love it. I comment to my friend later in the day that it truly is joyous to take Henry to an off-leash park, and on a sunny day, it's downright effervescent!

Henry shows no sign of wanting to slow down. Snow? So easy to burrow your head in it in search of treasure (I hear Goose found a dead rabbit this way)!

 

After our walk, I ask Ed if I can snitch some of his windshield wiper fluid. He tells me his supply is low, but we can pick some up at Walmart, which is quite nearby. Hmmm... that's a good idea. I can pick up a regular old door hanger for the wreath. The suction hook I afixed to the door, guaranteed to hold up an elephant, could not manage my not very heavy wreath. Oh, good, then I can pick up some mushrooms and apples there as well. 

Now wait a second: we've got Henry. It's not a great idea to have him wait in the car while you do a full blown shopping. You could walk him... Oh wonderful! After the beauty of the dog park he gets a Walmart parking lot. No. 

We go back and forth on this for a while. Henry sits in the backseat and awaits the decision.  I feel like we're having the type of negotiations usually reserved for parents trying to balance kids and life's daily tasks. 

Eventually we decide that we'll park at Walmart, I'll get the wreath hook while Ed waits with Henry, then he'll get the fluid and his few groceries while I wait with the pooch. And we'll top my fluid at the farmette, where I can walk Henry.

Home: I eat "lunch."

 

 

 

Henry wants to rest. If I'm not on the couch, he'll take the pillow.

But as soon as I sit down, he comes up to my side of it. 

This is my writing set up: computer on lap, Henry's head against my hip, his paw caressing my face.

 

 

 

And once again I take him to Penni Klein just before sunset. For his final big run of the day. Without salt on his paws.

("Hmmm... should I run with dogs or hunt for buried treasure?")

  

 

 

 

There was a lovely older couple in the park with their own dog named Henry. I think we've seen them there before. The woman most certainly was a dog lover and she tried in various ways to engage my Henry. All she got out of him was a series of loud barks. Honestly, I think he warms up faster if you ignore him. But I did feel apologetic. She didn't deserve his booming voice. Perhaps the next class for him should be the one where you train your dog to be socially polite. He may be a shy young pup, but he looks and sounds like a very large and very loud dog when you first meet him. Oh Henry...

At home, I took away his Advent Calendar. Today he "discovered" one more treat of a rather suspect nature (if they dont tell you what's in it, it's suspect). A box with treats? Henry became convinced that the best approach is to tear the calendar to shreds rather than follow the ridiculously slow and gentle process of opening one door at a time. 

Me, I kept to my jigsaw puzzle-a-day calendar, but I began to wonder -- what do I do with 25 completed puzzles? Typically I put jigsaw puzzles back in a puzzle box and pass them on to Goodwill. But these little guys -- is it the recycle bin for them? Perhaps next year I'll stick with chocolates.

with so much love... 

 

 

small challenges

Can you keep up with doing a jigsaw puzzle each day (only 50 pieces), without looking at the picture, this month, even if you have a plateful of things to do in December? Can you stand on one foot with eyes closed for all the time it takes to froth your milk for a morning mug of coffee?  Can you get your dog to pee before you reach the end of the block? Can you put up a blog post with a story and pictures every single day for twenty years and counting? 

Each day opens up an opportunity to challenge yourself in small, inconsequential ways. The roof wont cave, the day wont be less wonderful if you fail. And yet you pose yourself these small goals, taunts really, which perhaps will build your confidence and allow you to grow them into bigger ones that actually amount to something. 

Ed and I both like to give ourselves such assignments, though you could say his are not inconsequential, in that he actually finds useful solutions to real life problems, rather than just finding a missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle. But it is the way we are. It is how I move through the day. One small challenge after the next. 

This morning I had to catch up with the jigsaw puzzle advent calendar: doing the big puzzle these past two days meant that I put aside doing the daily small puzzles. And now I am indeed caught up and it means absolutely nothing, except that I have the satisfaction of knowing that I did what I set out to do. (Somewhat perversely, today's puzzle was of a birdhouse, with birds feeding away!)

 

The morning is lovely. I haven't mentioned this because I didn't want to jinx it, but Henry has been getting up at 6:30, which is great: a real progression toward a more decent start to the day. (I am aiming for 7). It's still cold -- the Arctic blast will be with us for a while. It takes me a good ten minutes to fully clothe myself and Henry, but no matter -- it feels great to step out on a quiet morning before the day begins for most.

I think my pooch is very good at mindfulness: he pauses, he takes it in, he finds his center, he moves on.

At least I imagine this is what he is doing.

 

Breakfast, finally with a table plant that meets the moment.

Snuggles. Big time, on the couch. I know these selfies are getting to be repetitive, but I love them and I love the process. And Henry doesn't mind. He thinks, correctly, that this is just something humans do because they don't know any better. 

Ed comes over and we plan our day together. With Henry of course. My pooch loves Ed's visits. Maybe it's because he was here the first night Henry stayed with me. Maybe it's just that Ed moves slowly and smells of good things. But it's a relief. Goose, my daughter's dog, still barks at him. But Henry is all in.

 

The three of us go to Prairie Morraine dog park.

 

 

 

We do the big loop, which takes an hour and gives all three of us plenty of exercise (it's hilly).

 

 

 

Ed and I sometimes walk at a different pace (I'm faster, but then I stop to take photos). Henry, who has yet a third pace (faster than I could describe)  tries to be inclusive. Follow the big man, run to my side, sprint off to make friends with a dog. And sometimes, a solo expedition into the bush to sniff out whatever is interesting out there.

 

 

 

On these dog park walks, I get to see a lot of dog personalities. Mellow, energetic, ferocious -- I've encountered all of them. This particular doggie had it in for Ed. No matter how much Ed tried to stoop down to his level, the dog would not stop growling at him. Nor did he move on. Frozen into a very hypothetical attack. Small dog takes on big man.

 

 

I think Henry was amused by the whole exchange. We did have to move to a different path to free this mini-pooch from his fierce battle with his perceived enemy. That's fine -- there are plenty of ways to explore the park.

 

 

It's always a shame to get Henry back to civilization. Though it is also true that one hour of energetic sauntering is enough for him. I don't want him to develop hip and joint problems later on.

 

(Time to go, you snow-loving dog!) 

 

 

(We did not try for a selfie of the three of us. That would test the patience of both my guys.)

 

 

(Sweet Henry, I think that seat is meant for Sparrow, not a big guy like you!)

 

At the Edge, all three of us have lunch and each lunch is different. You can guess who gets the milky coffee and who gets the chewie. Ed sticks with crackers and cheese.

The pooch naps, we read. That's what I would call an ideal afternoon. Now if only the birds would discover my feeder outside.  That's not a small challenge for me, that's a big one!

 

In the very late afternoon I go to the nearby Penni Klein dog park. One last good run for the day for the pup while Ed rests on the couch.

Henry's in luck -- the dog there is a great match for him: equally energetic and playful, but also good at reading play signals. It's great to watch them, knowing that the enjoyment is shared.

 

 

 

 

 

Come on my boy, time to head home...

 

 

 

(Happy to see Ed still there...)

 

 

In the early evening, just at dusk, Ed leaves. He always has to put away the chickens at 4:30-ish (winter hours!). I ask him if he minds being tied down with that, especially if the chickens are aging out of the egg laying business. But of course, it's rare that Ed would even consider being away from the farmette in the evening hours, chickens or no chickens. No, he doesn't mind setting his schedule by them. Just as I don't mind setting mine by Henry's needs. 

Tomorrow's challenges? Well, we'll see. They say we may get more snow...

with lots of love...