wild

It's late morning. I'm sitting on the couch, rubbing Henry's chin and asking him seriously if he's feeling a little wild today. On the floor are the remains of an indestructible penguin toy. I thought I'd picked up all the stuffing but no, tufts of white remain scattered on the floor, the carpet, the couch. Just a few minutes ago, we went out for our second walk of the day. My normally obedient walker was jumping in the air, grabbing his leash, doing zoommie circles around me. I took him to the dog courtyard at the Edge so that he would leap and lunge freely and he did. Again and again, but as my fingers began to freeze in the guaranteed-to-be-warm-but-are-not fingerless gloves, I had to cut his romp short. Still, we walked, he played. What more could he want! 

What he likely wants is to show me his wild side. His untamed free spirit. His youthful vigor and impishness. And who am I to deny him his own unique expression of joy? But oh my, it takes a strong hand and a unwavering patience to deal with a Henry who has discovered the pleasures of snow.

 

Having gone to bed a tad too late, being rather old-ish, and still having a slight cold, makes me a poor candidate for expressing to my pup my great happiness at having him here. Especially at 5:55 -- his greeting time this morning. 

The snow storm, predicted to begin at night, actually arrived at 6 a.m. It's not one of those beautiful ones where fat flakes quickly create a thick puffy quilt of snow. The snow is icy and constant. Henry, who is this year new to a northern winter, takes a moment to process it all...

Making sure that the world has not otherwise changed, apart from this interesting shower of white stuff that surely is falling for the sole purpose of a pup's enjoyment!

I give him time to sniff it out. A good half hour walk. In the dark.

And now, finally, it's time for a hot shower and breakfast.

Yes, Henry does nap then, but by 9, he is ready to go out again and this time, his whole pup self is more than ready for it.

And he does his wild scamper and I just try to remind him that the leash means he is under my control. Of course he grabs at that little inconvenience. Of course he does. After all, there's snow. He can do anything! He is Henry and he is alive and life is so good!

This is when I take him to our dog courtyard, where he is allowed to let loose his FRAPs (that's the scientific name for what he is doing: frenetic random activity periods). 

And only after we return inside, and he has begged for all the treats he can get out of me, after destroying one toy and lining up the next candidates by the window, does he again settle down for a late nap. 

(total contentment, his and mine) 

 

Only to want to go out again, a third time, just before noon.

 

There's no question in my mind but that he needs a dog park. Penni Klein is the closest. Yes, there's a blizzard, but surely they will have kept the highway open, and it's only one exit away. 

It is slow going. A six minute trip takes... many more minutes. And I hesitate at the park entrance. That's a mighty long driveway, and it obviously hasn't been plowed. I leave the car on the main road and we set off on foot. Henry likes pushing through the snow and I would have perhaps liked it more if I had proper snow boots on. Well what does it matter. Wet socks will dry. We persevere.

At the dog park, he is thrilled to be set free. There are two other dogs cavorting near the entrance, neither of them especially friendly, if you take their growls and yaps seriously. Henry takes them seriously and backs away, happy to walk the "path" just with me.

 

 

I suppose only nuts like Henry and me, and the occasional dog owners who can't stand to have their dog growling and barking at home would make it out to the park on a day like this. 

 Oh, but Henry loves this snow event!

 

 

We don't stay too long. I'm concerned that the car will get snowed in. I don't have a shovel. Not even an ice scraper. Poorly prepared!

 

(selfie!)

 

 

We push against the wind and make our way back to the main road. Wait, where is the main road?

 

 

 

In the end, I'm glad we went. Henry and I have a date with the younger family to help trim their tree. Yes, my wild one is going to participate in that sacred tradition, that one that requires the greatest delicacy and care. Better to go when he's had his fill of outdoor romps.

We set to work on the tree and yes, the dogs keep their crazies down to a minimum. Of the three kids, Sparrow has always been the most dedicated decorator.

 

 

 

The other two help as well, with breaks for being cute and playing with the dogs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And with important breaks for all of us, to munch away at the cheeses and snacks prepared by my daughter. And yes, Henry is at the table taking it all in and hoping against hope...

 

 

 

The tree survives. Dogs, kids, all of it!  Better today than yesterday, when one of the kids pulled at it (by accident) and it toppled down to the floor, all 9.5 feet (nearly 3 m.)  of it. 

Oh, how regal it is! So big! So beautiful. 

(traditional song)

(traditional picture)

 

And then Henry and I hurry out. At least I am near houses with people who have shovels! Still, it's snowing hard now and no, these residential streets have not been plowed. Why bother when the snow will continue for many hours still.

I am very relieved that I live less than 5 minutes away. Well, a good bit longer tonight, but we made it!

(Henry, near the Edge) 

 

 

Wild weather! Really wild! No wonder my sweet and loyal dog does leaps and twists in the air. If not now, in this early and frankly beautiful snowstorm, then when?

with so much love... 

the day after

With larger families (is eleven of us large?) and seasonal fluctuations, you have to be prepared for a disruption. You can only hope it wont be a major one and that everyone will come out fine at the end of the day. We're heading for a disruption.

I've lived in Wisconsin for 46 years and I do not ever remember having a blizzard in November. Recent Christmases have been on the warm side. Snow has been rare in December and not at all a threat in November. And yet he we are. They are predicting a major snow event for tomorrow. A winter storm warning has been issued and the forecasters are assuring us that this one will come, with 100% certainty (though the debate continues as to how much snow. Minimum -- half a foot. Maximum -- much more.

I texted my younger girl not to come up from Chicago tomorrow. (She would have come to the same decision on her own, but I saved her the burden of telling me about it.)

This is a major disappointment for all of us, but I have to think, the cousins are feeling it most of all. I hear tears were shed. And of course, plans needed to be adjusted. Tree trimming together, followed by Muppets Christmas Carol watching, with pizza in hand tomorrow? Wont happen. Brunch, that traditional brunch that I always make before they return to Chicago? Nope. The meeting of the dogs and their next of kin down in the windy city? Not this month. It's all such a bummer, but I at least have the deep satisfaction of knowing that all my babes will be in a safe place. That's a wonderful feeling, believe me. Not to worry about your loved ones is everything!

Of course, Henry is oblivious to all this background noise. He is up, ready to hit the great outdoors at the lovely hour of... 6. 

Yes, it's cold outside. 20F/-7C, but they say it feels much colder. They needn't spend time convincing me. Henry needs his sweater.

My pooch has an upset tummy -- what a surprise! I don't even know what he ate last night. There were things for him to snack on everywhere, and I was not totally innocent in indulging him. A shrimp was consumed. A chewy that promised the presence of turkey with cranberries. I noticed he picked up a chunk of dropped corn muffin. I probably did not notice a whole lot more that he found by going from one person to the next and looking up with his pleading eyes. 

Well, we will be mindful about foods today. A regular breakfast, for me, for him.

Henry does have a sentimental attachment to his toy turkey. Me, I look over at him and admire how large he really is!

I FaceTime with my two Chicago grandgirls.

We were all to go to Clasen's Bakery together. This is a firm holiday tradition: taking pictures of kids in the large gingerbread house. Since my own girls were little. Baked goods placed, sometimes surreptitiously, into the shopping cart, some selected by kids, some by adults. Always a large supply of hearts moons and stars purchased for the winter weeks ahead. The Chicago family asked if I could do some Clasen's shopping for them, so that they could decorate their tree next week with those chocolate covered gingerbread cookies on hand. Of course I will! I drop off Henry at my daughter's and head out to Clasen's.

(terribly empty)

My next needed stop is at the pet store. Henry would probably benefit from some bland chicken and rice food for a while (so the internet tells me). The two big kids beg to go along, so we make an outing of it: Henry, who has a hard time resisting all those bones and treats in the store, and the two kids who are endlessly amused by his antics, and of course me, paying for it all, because -- did I mention this? -- taking care of a dog is not cheap. 

Henry does a lot of resting afterwards, though I do think he needs to stretch a bit, so I take him to the Edge's dog play area. This is a wonderful spot for a dog who loves to throw himself a ball.

We were supposed to join my daughter and her family for an outing to the Christmas tree farm, but in the end I opted out. It's a bit of a drive, and the place is bound to be extremely busy. Since I'm not buying a tree, Henry and I would only be a tag along. Perhaps a disruptive presence at that, since Henry and Goose are not likely to stay calm once they find each other. Still, Henry needs a solid run today. Patti Klein, here we come!

 

 

 

You might say the day reads as being rather anti-climatic.  Added to Henry's upset tummy, I have a slight cold. The air outside feels polar. I spend much of the day on the couch with pooch resting at my side. And of course there is the disappointment of not having the younger family here for our own special post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving.

And yet, I have that holiday buzz -- from the one that is now history and the one that's ahead of us. And I have the music. And two plants arrived that are to replace the flowers at my breakfast table. (Winter grocery store flowers are rarely stunning, or inexpensive.)  I think I'll light a spruce scented candle tonight. Happily, I'm stocked on these cookies.

And I do love snow. Especially when my car gets to wait out the storm in the garage and someone else will be clearing the driveway. There are pieces of leftover turkey in the fridge. And I'm smack in the middle of the last book in the Thursday Murder Club series. Not much to groan about, is there?

with so much love... 

Happy Thanksgiving

To be alive, to know love, to have food and shelter. Warm in winter, cool in summer. It's so weird that luck determines much of your fortune. You can manipulate outcomes, of course. But fighting illness, losing or gaining a soulmate or two or three, living in peace or a war torn region -- that's rarely your doing. Good fortune is little more than a favorable hand of cards. My father, who liked to reflect on just about anything in his older years, died very much alone (girlfriend notwithstanding), chained to alcohol. And yet, he looked back on decades of his life and said -- I was just so lucky. 

I woke up this morning from a dream where I was explaining to my teacher why I failed to prepare for her exam (and therefore got a failing grade). In the dream, I reviewed my life of strange choices, made impulsively, and I noted that most of the time, it all worked out just fine. Luck was with me. Dreams are often twisted fragments of reality. This one wasn't so twisted (though I never quite got a failing grade, lucky devil that I was!).

I'm thankful for having had a good enough set of cards so that, despite stumbles and messes here and there, I could work out grand outcomes at every turn. 

Reeling back to something more prosaic, I'm grateful for all the things I describe here on Ocean. Henry's sweet morning greeting, the frost on the ground, his warm sweater which makes him look like a pooch setting out for the ski hills, breakfast, family, Ed... you know the details -- they're here in some configuration. Every day.

(a bitter cold Thanksgiving)

("I'm ready to go in")

Henry and I go to my daughter's home. For the morning, and then again in the afternoon and evening. 

The two dogs, of course, are delighted with this arrangement. They have their moments of active crazies, but not nearly as much as in our first visits.

The Thanksgiving Day parade is on -- a tradition that no one wants to break, even if most of it is only mildly entertaining. 

(getting ready)

Eventually, Snowdrop and I take the dogs out. I don't know about Goose, but for Henry this is a time to abandon all learning and good manners.

It's like putting a boisterous child on a bus with another boisterous child. You'll find yourself with a big multiplier of boisterousness.

Kids eat lunch, dogs occupy themselves in ways I'd rather not know about. Though I'd guess anything that Henry is at the table waiting for a handout. 

 

We take the two guys out to the Penni Klein dog park. 

(three kids, two big dogs)

We knew it would be cold of course. Below freezing for sure. But the wind! Biting force, right in your face. Well, the pooches got their romp.

I go back to the Edge to do a little prep cooking and baking. I'd made the cranberry sauce this morning. Time to bake corn muffins and prepare the beans, the mushrooms, the corn, the herbs and yes, the dreadfully potatoes that require a mandoline slicer -- the one for which I lost the safety holder. I try to keep slices of fingers out of the potato mix.

And now I am back at the big house with the five of them, the two pooches and Ed.

(most likely, she's mixing things up for him)

The turkey is in the oven, as are the potatoes. The corn and, separately, the green beans and mushrooms are on the stove top. 

 

And the Thanksgiving meal is ready. 

(gossiping about their humans)

 

 (Henry is eyeing the turkey)

 

 

It's not my 73rd Thanksgiving with family at a large table staring at a giant roast turkey. I skipped a whole stack of them when I lived in Poland. And of course, there were the years when it was just Ed and me and the kids were visiting other sets of parents. I never roasted a bird for just the two of us. We went for Chinese food once, Japanese another time, Indian yet another, and finally a traditional restaurant Thanksgiving meal which was probably the least interesting of them all. But here we are, at the table with the older of the younger families and it is lively and delicious and contentment flows from one side of the table to the other and yes, I am extremely thankful. For the luck, for the love. For Thanksgiving.

 

One dog is happy to rest and wait for the meal to be done. The other is at each person's side, waiting to see if anyone will cave and give him a piece of turkey. (I have never caved. I cannot be so confident with the kids.) Two rescue dogs, from the same state, with such different personalities. And anxieties, born, I'm sure of their rough beginnings. Goose is scared of big men. If Ed stand us, he barks at him. Sitting down, he comes to him for rubs and comfort. But once he moves around again, Goose let's out his woofs.

 

 

 

For Henry, on the other hand, it's all about familiarity. Ed is old stuff for him. He loves to come over for scratches and pats. But, meet a stranger waiting for the elevator at the Edge and my pooch lets loose with his own set of barks.

 

(to get three kids and two dogs to be still for a photos was... challenging! Ed did his best..) 

 

 

(the young family did better with just one dog -- their own.)

 

 

Thanksgiving, 2025. A superbly warm and loving day for all of us. Beautiful here, and in Chicago, and in your home too, I hope.

 

 

 With so much love!!

the day before

Poor Wednesday: never to stand out as it chugs along at the tail end of November. It'll always be thought of as the day before Thanksgiving. People talk about food -- to be eaten tomorrow. They bake, they shop, they pack things up. For tomorrow. These days, they're thrilled that kids have the day off from school (it wasn't a day off back when) -- no hustling them out in the morning -- until those kids start pestering and clamoring for attention.  Weather speculations abound: will is be icy? Windy? Will flights be cancelled? Everyone hates traveling on this day and yet it is (according to Flight Aware) the most traveled day of the year.

Today, this Wednesday before Thanksgiving really got pummeled from all sides by a squiggle in the Polar Vortex, sending unseasonably cold weather our way for the holiday weekend and beyond. People are saying -- not since the 1960s have we had this in Wisconsin on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. 

There are snow flurries, there is wind. Such a wind! I did not sleep well last night (my fault, don't ask) and I waited for it to be 6 a.m. not because I wanted to prolong my time in bed, but out of principle. Let's not keep pushing wake up time, my dearest Henry. Wait.

He waits.

And now we are out and it is indeed so cold. 

 

 

I should have put a sweater on him, except I was in some zombie state that did not allow me to think and make decisions, so Henry and I both suffered. Not for long though. We did not stay out beyond the necessary potty run. 

Breakfast. A dilemma for me: should I drink coffee or should I try to catch up on sleep? Not a hard decision. I want that jolt of caffeine. I want our routines. 

Yes, as I eat my oatmeal, Henry "hides" his dental chew.

This is his last day at doggie daycare for a while. (They close for the long holiday.)  And it's not a full day there either. But, I'm eager to get him in to play by mid morning, so that he'll get his movement in for the day.

I stop by my daughter's to drop off a toaster oven and a roasting pan. It's great to see a relaxed, pajama'd household. One of the kids is a little off in health so he is resting extra hard. Another is bouncing around, looking for playmates. The third -- well, she asks if she can hang out with me today.  I tell her all that I have to do -- drive over to the bakery to pick up tomorrow's dessert. Laundry. Fill up with gas. Oh, and my daughter would so like it if I took Goose over to daycare on my way to wherever. Wherever happens to be in the opposite direction, but no matter. Snowdrop and I take the pooch and do my errands, ending up at the Edge, where I fix her lunch and she reads and we read and it's so mellow and relaxing that honestly, I think this will have been my calmest moment of the day. Of the weekend really.

I take her back home, run over to the grocery store, and then make my way back to claim Henry. He needs a bath. These are his doctor's orders. So that he would rid himself of stuff he likely carried with him from the shelters still. I know, I know, he had a bath already. The goal is to thoroughly cleanse him, inside and out. I had a hard time finding a grooming place that still had openings this week. (The vet assistant told me -- oh, you can just bathe him yourself... Seriously? My easily scared dog that had a hard time accepting the shiny floor in the lobby of this building? In a bathtub? Ha ha ha.) The one service that did fit him in is sort of like a Spa. Not that I wanted this to be a 3 hour ordeal (for I am sure Henry will regard it as such), but this is the only way they work with dogs. So I drop off my perplexed pooch and continue with my errands. Pet store to get probiotics for his gut (another recommendation). Walgreens to get Tums for my gut. And every time I stop at a store and especially a pet store, I am tempted to add a bag (or two) of treats for Henry. There's one that has turkey and cranberries. Not for today, because today is just the day before. But for tomorrow! Oh tomorrow!

When I finally retrieve Henry, he does indeed look clean and shiny. No surprise there. All those treats for a shiny coat I've been pumping into him seem to do the trick (or, he simply has that kind of a coat). I bring him home so he can rest. But because he just had a bath (with a lot of resistance, I hear, especially toward the bathtub), I do put on his jacket. It is way too big. Henry is long, so I go extra large, but he is skinny so that the jacket hangs like a blanket on him. Not that he protests. I can almost feel his shrug: she must know what she's doing with this.

 

The day is not done. We have our weekly training class in the evening.  

(ready!)

 

Goose, the young family's dog, is in the same class, with the dad and Sparrow spearheading his training. Only two people are allowed per dog, but Snowdrop really wanted to join in on this and so I let her partner up with me to train Henry. 

(he got lots of belly rubs from her)

 

 

On the one hand, it's easier for the dog to have one trainer to pay attention to, but I'm not trying to make this easier for Henry. Getting him to completely relax with people who are not me is important. For my pup, taking instructions from Snowdrop is a new way for him to relate to her. And so I back off a little and let them work on some of the commands. (He's smooth as peaches on so many of them -- sit, come, stay, touch, eyes on me -- all done seamlessly. But getting him to lie down will take weeks. No, months. Years maybe. Workin' on it!)

 

 

 

Oh, Henry, you lead a rich and full life. I am so happy for you!
 

with so much love...