oh Henry!

I published my post last night, floating in a sea of calm. I'm thinking -- everything is moving forward, with purpose, and with ideas on how to address the most pressing dog issues. Our routine is predictable and reassuring. Always easy, always wonderful. Every night, I go out with Henry for one last bathroom run, maybe around 9:30. It's usually a short walk. We go out, we come in. We move then to the bedroom. He's in a dozy state. I get ready for bed, read a little more, say goodnight, turn off the light. He sleeps, either on the floor, or in his bed at my feet. Contentment reigns. 

That's not what happened last night.

On our last walk, he was distracted. By the snow. By a car. By everything. Well okay, I get it, it's a blustery night. Puts you on edge! We come back inside, and now the barking begins. I think someone on my floor was having a party. Nothing loud. You never hear noise coming from the other units. Upstairs maybe, if they stomp around too much. Their sex must have come to a standstill, or they fixed their bed because I dont even hear them creaking rhythmically anymore. The only time you may remember you're in an apartment building is when people go in and out of their units. A muffled sound of voices, a door closing quietly.

Yesterday, there were muffled sounds of voices and door closings late into the night. They bothered me not at all. They agitated Henry like only an elevator full of screaming people might have done. He'd bark at the door, then run to the bedroom and look outside, waiting for someone to appear. And I guess people did come out, because he would then bark some more. (It was a white winter night and visibility was good, too good I would say.) He did not calm down until close to midnight. You know how middle of the night thoughts drive you nuts? Yeah, mine did. I truly believed then that Henry was getting to be like Marley in the book -- sweet and lovable, sure, but also a big pain in the ass. 

As if recalling his late evening of great fury, Henry woke up early and gave one big woof at the snow outside. I let out one loud "Henry!" and rolled back to the other side. Sleep was not going to come back, but at least I could ignore my pup for a little bit longer. 

It is the last woof I hear for a long, long time. 

He "wakes" me again at about 7. He waits patiently to go out. He is a model outside dog. Despite the fact that it snowed, and it continues to snow for the better part of the day.

He waits for his breakfast, plays a little while I putz around with mine, then settles in to rest as I eat, with my music on, book opened.

We start the Intermediate level training class today and I have to admit, as we set out for it, I am feeling a little apprehensive: if Henry has upped his level of barking, he's going to have a hard time being in a room full of strange people (with their dogs). I pack along his "calming collar," just in case. 

So, did we get thrown out of class for bad behavior?

Heck no!

 

 

 

Henry never barked once. The trainer upped the commands, extending them somewhat, making them more difficult. Henry did his so smoothly that you would think he'd done this class before and was there only to show others how to do it.

Was he good at "Sit" on the spot, even when commanded from a distance? Yes.  Was he great at "Leave it?" Perfection itself. Was he able to "Stay" for a longer period of time, with distractions? Absolutely. Did he "Come" immediately and with joy? Totally.

When the instructor came over to watch us, he wagged his tale and outperformed himself. 

I explained to her that Henry was an A+ dog when in a training session, whether here or at home. He is a little less than perfect when the training is stopped and we go back to normal life. Tell him to sit while he's barking at strangers on the street and he doesn't even try to listen. "Come" is useless as well, and if by chance I got him over with some dangle of a treat, it would not be with joy, it would be a momentary thing, just so he could grab his money and run. But, put us back in the apartment and have me start in on a training session, and that boy is all mine. Eyes focused on my face, positioned to do his best. Just not when I need him to do a little better. Not when it matters.

As I thought about all this much later, I also remembered today's initial class introductions. Some dogs were older than him, but many were younger -- maybe 7 or 8 months. When I introduced Henry I said that he had a famously loud bark. 

They never heard it once. But I also said that he was probably about 10.5 months old. And I realized on the one hand that he is so much older than when I first got him, but, too, that he is only 10.5 months. So much more to learn! So much more to surprise me with!

 

In the afternoon, we drive over to the farmette. It's bitter cold outside, but Henry does need his exercise so Ed and I take him to the nearby dog park. 

Henry runs so much and with such great speed that Ed asks  -- have you been locking your dog in a closet? He sure has a lot of pent up energy. 

Of course, the answer is that Henry is simply a very high energy dog. In the parks, he chases, but more often he is chased, as dogs try to keep up with him.

Henry is devilishly quick. And smart: he'll do a reversal if he feels they're getting close. It slows them down and sows momentary confusion. 

You feel you've put in your own exercise for the day just by watching him leap and lope across the fields.

 

After, we stop at Steffi's house, so that I can take some photos of it for the Home Owners Association -- for fence approval. Don't even ask me how that's going. I'm going to wind up with a court case if things don't settle down there. Yes, it's that ridiculous.

From there, we go to Tati's Cafe -- the place where they still appear to allow dogs. 

The coffee shop isn't packed, but there are at least a half a dozen tables with strangers -- Henry, strangers, eating, sipping, talking. 

Henry stays by the door, refusing to budge. 

But as I point him to the couch, he has a moment of clarity. A light bulb goes off: I know this place! He walks daintily over and hops onto the couch. Ed brings over a lunch for himself, I sip a coffee. Henry sits snugly, half hidden behind Ed. 

He doesn't exactly relax, but nor does he protest being there and not once, not once does he bark. 

First, the grand behavior at training and now this? Is it really Henry we're talking about? The dog that kept me up (and possibly my neighbors as well) until nearly midnight?

Unbelievable! 

And home again.  

I hope that no one is having visitors tonight.  That everyone stays in their homes because of the bitter cold. That Henry hears no strange sounds coming in from anywhere. 

I'll let you know tomorrow how that went!

with so much love... 

 

snow again

Enough snow fell to make things pretty once again, not enough to take out the skis, plenty though for Henry to enjoy, though please, not on our early morning walk.

I am, if you can believe it, still thinking about my dog. A lot. About his fears and reactions when he is suddenly confronted with a person coming at him exiting or entering the elevator. 

 

(waiting for the elevator, with trepidation) 

 

 

We have lived together in the apartment building for nearly three months and I can't say he is getting any better at it. I speculated with Ed just now about whether he'd ever shed those elevator fears. Perhaps they are part and parcel of his shy and just a little fearful and protective nature. Ed reminded me that Pancake, our most (!) stray feral cat, used to be extremely terrified of us and only his need for food had him come as far as the porch. Two years later, Pancake is purring on the carpet, at ease with us even inside the farmhouse. 

Two years though. It took him that long to (almost) completely relax. He, too, had been in battles with those who meant to fight and harm him. He carried very visible wounds, often coming to us with bruises all over his face. Henry, I don't think, had it that bad. He has no visible scars or bruises. And for all his fear of strangers being thrust upon him, he is extremely lovable and sweet to those he knows and trusts. He had no trouble cuddling up to me from the getgo... 

 

... and he is sweet as can be with Ed and with family members and with the staff of doggie daycare. He is one adored boy over there. So maybe not two years until he accepts a strange person entering his space? Our space?

I was joking with my friend Bee, who is a dog person herself (meaning she had a shy dog as well), that I am going to get evicted from the Edge because of Henry! Well that would be an adventure! I can't say that I would blame those hapless souls who are terrified of his bark and who would feel compelled to complain to management. We will see where this whole saga will lead us all!

Breakfast, so peaceful, so fine...

I drop Henry off at doggie daycare and then go on a medicine run. First, to the vet's for Henry's pills. I dont care what the tests showed, (They showed nothing.) I found worms! Next, to my old pharmacy for renewals. Then to the farmette.

I was to drop in for a brief visit, but Ed is lost to a technical Zoom call, so I do not linger. I go to the bird store and pick up more bird feed instead. And to another pharmacy and then home again. A regular loop of necessities! Well, Ed was to be the pleasurable part, but that went nowhere.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop.

 

(No elevator fears here!)

 

 

And I pick up Henry at doggie day care. My pup that has me puzzling over him so much! I had just talked to the training school where he was signed up for two separate training programs, both starting this weekend. The problem? I will have to miss two classes of each program because I'm going to be away for the last two weekends of January. They weren't sure it was a good idea for me to take the one class on Calming Skills for High Arousal Dogs or Situations if I had to skip two in the middle (the other one I could catch up the required work).  I explained that the Calming Skills one was a necessity! I need help developing techniques that will calm him in the elevator. 

Aimee, the owner and director of the school is one of Henry's fans (she knows him from doggie daycare, which is in the same building), but she told me a hard truth: his initial shyness, which she knows and understands, wont go away in six or seven months (my remaining time living in a building with an elevator). The training I was doing in and out of the elevator (the sitting, hanging back, waiting) -- those were exactly right. He doesn't need another training class. However, she is fairly certain they wont make the problem go away anytime soon. In her view, he needs additional calming help in the meantime. And my vet should be able to help me with that.

Well good! I schedule an appointment for next week, with a smile: I can't believe my dog will have had more doctor's visits in one month than me! 

And of course, at home, at the Edge, all is calm in the evening. So very calm...

 

with  so much love...

Thursday chats and childish impulses

There is a fine line that separates those who resist authority (because, just as an example, an authoritative figure is breaking the laws/norms/core values of a society) from those who are merely churlish and obstinate and uncivilized for no good reason, except that they get some satisfaction and even pleasure from being churlish, obstinate and uncivilized. I suppose we all think that we are on the side of the good. But aren't there bits of the contrarian in all of us as well? Rebels sometimes without a cause? Pushing boundaries and even crossing the boundaries of what is permissible, for no good reason? (I dont mean by mistake. I mean on purpose.)

I had a morning of messaging -- on My Chart, with my team that cut up my cheek last week. I got scolded for not wearing the bandage long enough. For not thinking about protecting the wound from sun exposure going forward. For wanting to go swimming soon. I suppose "scolded" is the wrong word, but since I'm being childish about my recovery, it doesn't seem that far off to view this as a battle between the child and the authority figure. 

I've been asked by my granddaughter if I was disobedient when I was a kid. And I answered honestly: at home, I was mostly very compliant. My parents had no disciplinary issues with me. But I had a lot of freedom and occasionally I would get away with stuff I knew was wrong. Not finishing homework before watching TV, eating junk candy, sampling my father's booze supply when they were out. And in school, I was a note passer. A doodler. An occasional chalk thrower. In retrospect, I wonder at the stuff I chose to disrespect. It seems now so pointless. I never wanted to do it because others were doing it. It was a personal rebellion, a testing of rules I suppose.

This was my morning then. Messaging and sending photos of my healing face and pushing back on suggestions on what should happen next.

 

It is cold outside. And by Monday, a polar blast will put us up there with the Inuit communities of the Arctic Circle. We will be that cold! 

My pup was a good pup on our walk. No person appeared out of nowhere. He was quiet.

And so he remained, before and after breakfast.

But let me not think for one minute that Henry is over his fear of the new. When I took him to doggie daycare, the staff asked me to put him in the office for a minute as they were taking a dog out and maybe due to the dog's illness, or maybe behavior issues, they did not want Henry to cross paths with him. 

Well good luck on that one! Asking Henry to break from his enthusiastic routine of bounding right into the room full of dogs proved to be an to big of an ask. He trembled with fear and dug in his heels. A real no-go. And after my battle with the scale at the vet's a few days back, I wasn't going to be a part of this drama. I handed the staff person the leash and said -- here, you do it. Bye!

 

In the afternoon I had both kids: first Sparrow...

... then Snowdrop, who had another teacher intervention today and so yet another serious discussion to be had in the car while Sparrow listened attentively. Is it that we are right in the thick of January, plunged into the coldest, darkest days of the year? The teachers seem more tense, the kids more lost in the confusion of demands, rules, boredom -- you name it. What can I say. This winter too shall pass. And besides, this is the year of the Winter Olympics and I, for one, am looking forward to tuning out the irritants of this world and doing some binge watching of sportif people coming down snow covered mountains in various ways at dizzying speeds. 

(Because it's been a mixed school week, I take them out to Hubbard Avenue Diner for a treat of their choice. She chooses french fries, he goes with a chocolate cream pie slice)

 

 

 

 

 

Later, we pick up Henry. It just so happens that the parents are there as well, picking up Goose. They ask if the two big ones want to switch cars, but they say no, they want that last ride with Henry. They'll have plenty of time with Goose at home, but there is something special about these few minutes with my dog, who leans as much forward as his seat belt will permit, taking in all that we pass and issuing an occasional lick, or bark, or tail wag. 

Home. Henry is in his evening mode: at first hungry, then simply content. Affectionate. My pup. Who will someday let go of his fears. I know he will. Once he understands that I am there to protect him. And I will never let anyone harm my pooch. He is safe. He is loved.

with so much love... 

 

photos

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... 

sunshine

That I am not spending the day outside just tells you that I have a streak of laziness running through me. At times dormant, at other times, for example on a January Tuesday -- very much present. It's sunny and warm. 53F/11.5C, which is weird and unheard of and wont be repeated until in March at best. And yet, here I sit. (To my credit, I guess, I did do a 15 minute stint on the balcony again. For the sunshine. I felt like I do when I am in the mountains in the winter and the sun is out. I could almost imagine eating a blueberry tart and maybe sipping a glass of white wine. I have an active imagination.)

Despite yesterday's pledges to myself that I will go to sleep on the early side, I didn't do that. More book reading and puzzle doing. Oh, and I'll admit to watching four episodes of the limited series on Netflix -- North of North, which does give you an inside look at the Inuit culture up in the Arctic circle. I am just not keen on early bedtime when so much pulls at me. I can see myself getting roped into all three again tonight -- the show, the book, the puzzle. And then groan in the morning, because Henry just does not sleep in.

Henry. What a dog! He is so patient with me in the mornings! He wakes me and then waits nearby. No complaints, no yelps, just patient waiting. 

Speaking of waiting, I'm working now on adding the command "wait" in the elevator to the already present "hang back." But is that a good strategy to get him to not pull and bark at strangers? He now tenses up as the elevator doors open. As if I'm asking him to wait because something awful is about to happen. I'm out of ideas on how else to keep him quiet if there are people appearing suddenly as the door slowly opens. Luckily, at 7 a.m. there are rarely people up and about. It almost always is a quiet and calm walk for us then.  

I must say, for all the worrying I do about his rather fierce sounding greeting for strangers, He is far quieter than some of the pooches here. For example, there is a small yappy dog that lives on the ground floor, with the patio doors facing the street. He routinely barks his head off every time he sees Henry outside, for however long Henry is there. The difference is that annoying as the dog may be, he is not scary. Though I do feel sorry for the neighbors. Yap yap yap, nonstop!

Breakfast. Lovely.

My dog. Lovely.

 And big.

 

 

One of my favorite moments is to be with him in the morning, after our breakfasts, and to watch his eyes slowly close in total bliss as I rub his chest and belly.  

 

 

 

Birds outside. Lovely.

Sparrows finches chickadees. 

And here I sit, watching the day unfold. From the inside.

 

When Henry goes to doggie daycare, I do grocery shopping.  And I schedule some stuff that needs to be scheduled (more on that later in the week), and I pay quarterly taxes, and I take out travel medical insurance. There, have I bored you yet? I should have gone for a walk but without Henry by my side, a walk seems so unadventurous!

The kid pickup today is a bit convoluted, but they are both with me for a short visit.

(it's back to Lego for him)

(she's as addicted to these Back to Nature Crispy Wheats as I am)

Snowdrop had an incident in school, about which teachers notified parents, and Snowdrop's mom in turn passed it on to me. Though she is in middle school -- a time of such stress for so many girls -- things have been going rather smoothly for my grandgirl. Aside from the usual small stuff, I heard nothing about mean and denigrating comments. Until today. We talked about it in the car. The funny thing is that the entire incident completely passed the girl by. Must have been the group of kids I don't hang out with -- she said. She calls them the "popular kids" though I never understood this designation, not now, not when my own girls were in school. Sparrow, like any younger child, surely gets his share of older kid stories by coming along for the ride. You can view that as an advantage for him I suppose. Or, perhaps it strikes the fear of God into the poor boy!

In the evening the three of us go to pick up Henry and Goose. 

 

 

 

Their dog is tired after doggie daycare. Mine is hyper! Bouncy, barky, excited. He'll calm down once home, but it usually takes him a while. This is not the time to run into people in the elevator!

And the rest of the evening? Um, no comment. Too engrossed in the stories and dialogues and puzzle pieces. And my dog of course! 

 

 

With so much love... 

 

sunshine and such

I have to stop doing this: reading late. Working on a jigsaw puzzle late. Hanging out with Henry by my side late. Because my pooch does not sleep in the next day to make up for it. My pooch will wake after 6 when the garbage trucks rumble over to pick up trash. And he will come to my side, put his front paws on my bed and wag his tail eagerly, waiting for me to say "good morning Henry!"

Out we go.

My beautiful morning pup!

 

 

 

We have two warm days before us, then we return to the January normal. The kids are off from school and parents have made other arrangements for their care, so I have a day of catching up before me.

First, breakfast.

And a hug.

No, I mean a real hug. With a few belly rubs. He never has too many of those.

 

 

 

Then he's off to play with his dog pals, and I am off to do my run of chores. A haircut, which, as always, is by the Lesser Lake. Remember the Lesser Lake (it's not really called that)? A few bold fishermen who seem to have unwarranted confidence in the strength of the ice cover.

Then the farmhouse for a long overdue visit.

I refrain from commenting on Ed's work on a jigsaw puzzle. (He once thought it was messy. But of course, the play room where he has it scattered is otherwise empty. Of toys.)

He tells me he's catching some vitamin D in the sunlight. But honey, vitamin D does not pour in through glass! It doesn't? No, it doesn't. 

 

Get gas, do a quick clean of the really gross by now interior of the car. And home again.

And what do I do? Go out on the balcony and sunbathe. Yes, sunbathe. I have had surgery on my face less than a week ago because I'd spent too much time out in the sun without protection. The wound hasn't healed yet and here I am sunbathing?? Without protection?

I blame Public Radio and the medical professional interviewed on it: he said, convincingly, that up here in the northern climes, we do not get enough Vitamin D in the winter. Yes, we can take supplements. But he himself still tries hard to be in the sun daily (15 minutes, without protection) because the sun's benefits extend beyond just pumping us with vitamin D. Unfortunately, I was pulling into my destination so I dont quite know what those additional benefits might be (I surely know the downsides!), but still, it sounded good to me. Fifteen minutes with a litter of seed casings and bird poop at my feet. It was, in fact, bliss!

I pick up my exuberant Henry. Happy to be coming home, hungry for his dinner, hungry for some treats and dog stuffies, which he tears apart expertly. It is, in fact, a beautiful evening.

with so much love... 

 

Sunday tales and tails

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...