When the dog is here for holidays with me I do very little except take care of her. She seems to be less demanding these days which is a good thing. In March she will be two years old. In dog years , a teenager.
I still have to plan my day around her but it seems less hectic. She eats twice a day ,sleeps in her crate for part of the day , enjoys our little walks to the side of the house, usually leaves my plants alone now, responds fairly well to direction, chews fewer shoes and has almost learned to give the old cat alone time. She would love a longer walk outside but I find she is too rambunctious for my liking and I find it difficult to hang on to her, so we cut the walks short.
Given a big bone to chew on fresh from the pet store she will be a good dog for hours and exhaust herself enjoying it with gnawing and snuffling it all over the house. Almost everything about her has improved with her developing maturity except for the night time sleeping arrangement.
At night, she whines and carries on like a frantic newborn if she is in her crate. She is not going to get bed cosy with me if I can help it so the alternative is to stay up with her and we each take a recliner. Well into the night we watch television and read. She finds it quite soothing to be read to and seems to prefer the classics.
Side by side we get through the night. She gets her ears petted and back scratched and likes to look bleary eyed into my face several times during the night. Sometimes I even cover her up with my extra sweater or a handy blanket. My night gets painfully cramped and cold on the recliner and my sense of day and night is blurred. However, it is quieter. There is no whining. Only loud snoring coming from the other recliner. It’s almost like….
She goes home tomorrow. Holidays are over.
Three days ago the bulldog left the building. After five weeks of baby bulldog care and cleanup I was ready for her to go to her new home in the big city. The first day of freedom I just took off…. did errands…. honestly I can’t remember what I did exactly…. but it was good to get out of the house and not have to be back within a few hours for puppy parenting. The second day I spent mostly at my sister’s having a good visit and a nice meal. The third day I crashed from exhaustion and couldn’t rest because I had to clean but I couldn’t clean because I was too tired. Trying to visit with a friend who I’d met for lunch, I declined food and only sipped on soul restoring hot tea.
By the end of that day I had swept up dog hairs, vacuumed, washed down surfaces but only in a haphazard way. The vacuum still sits in the livingroom as I need to really go over things again. Window cleaning materials are at hand and floor mopping equipment is waiting in the wings.
From the emails received I hear she is nervous of the big city and still adjusting to her new apartment. As much as I would like to help with things and this adjustment I will stay out of the picture and just give advice from afar. Just yesterday ,I sent cleaning advice by email to my very adult son on how to clean dog pee from a mattress. Oh, they grow up so fast.
During a whirling dervish wind in late October, I had some help from a great- nephew to tidy up some yard work, put up my Christmas lights and haul in about twenty potted flowers and herbs. It seemed like the right thing to do, especially with the help of a young nephew. Otherwise, I would have turned my back on the garden, dumped out the pots, strung a few lights and called it a day. But,no. (I’ve never written a” sentence” like that before….must be losing it.)
Lined up in my huge bay window, resting on sturdy boot trays, my flowers and herbs enjoyed the last warm days of fall and only needed watering and a little turn now and again for optimal sunlight. Needless to say, I didn’t water them enough and some soon fizzled and got tossed out. The rest hung on through Christmas and looked stunning from both inside and outside the house. At night, the outdoor fairy lights draped in the tree added to the magic.
With the coming of January, my watering and maintenance program ended up being quite inconsistent. Usually, I just tipped the remains of a cold cup of tea or murky coffee into the pot and just hoped for the best. Writing about my procrastination habits in my daily journal seemed to help and I would load up a pail of water and take a dipper and gently water the plants so they could carry on bravely through the winter.
When the bulldog pup came to stay for extended visits from town where she was feeling somewhat neglected because her owner, my son, was burning his candle at both ends working and also producing and directing a show in the evenings, the plants went through their worst trial. Pup ate some, dragged some and knocked some over. All that remain of the herbs are pots of chewed sage, chomped chives and respectable looking rosemary. Multicolored geraniums continue to glow gloriously in four big pots at the most sunny spots in the window. There is an old fashioned red one that cheers, a salmon pink that softly shines, a white one that calms and a rosy orange one that blooms like gangbusters. The faded peacelily hangs on, hopefully a little longer and the large leaf shamrock bursts with tiny white flowers. At night, once in awhile just to bug the neighbours, I turn on the outside muticoloured fairy lights. It looks awesome out there, especially when nobody else is quirky enough to let their lights stay on well into February and beyond.
What is the lesson in all this? Perhaps it is beauty is in the eye of the beholder as long as you remember to water the plants and never get a bulldog pup….or maybe it is just buy more geraniums, fairy lights and let the quirks of nature take its course.
Filed under family relationships, friends, gardening, health and wellness, humor, humour, pets, retirement, storytelling, theatre, Uncategorized, weather, writing
Some nights the internet server doesn’t cooperate with my writing blog habits and flickers into a blank screen. Often, my high strung senior cat drapes herself over the keyboard or lurks behind the laptop lid watching me type and considers her chances to bite down on my fingers as I try to type. Consistently, I sit for awhile considering what to write about and usually snap it all off and try again later when something interesting pops into mind. Tonight, the deterrent to my writing is that I’m thinking about food. I ate my breakfast about noon and my lunch about seven p.m. so my supper hour is just kicking in apparently.
I am perfectly capable of making something interesting for myself and most likely I will. It is just very inconvenient to mess up the kitchen . It would be quite silly for a mature woman my age to jump in the car and drive all the way into town to get something as all the restaurants are closed except for the fast food places. My desire at the moment ( 12:03 a.m.) is for fluffy, hot, buttery mashed potatoes, creamy coleslaw, tangy meatloaf with chili sauce and chocolate pie with just a little whipped cream. There is a big possibility I will make this for dinner tomorrow and ensure that there will be leftovers for late night weekend munchies.
This leaves me with my go to late,late night meal with the ingredients at hand. Toasted bacon, cheese and tomato sandwich, with mustard and ketchup on the side, a dill pickle or two and some chocolate cookies I have stashed in the pantry for emergencies like this one and a big pot of tea. The dear cat, endearingly curled up asleep now beside my computer screen having given up on immediate attention and settling instead for mere proximity to my tapping fingers, is welcome to share a wee bit of my toast. Afterall, that’s what friends do.
Filed under cooking, food, friends, health and wellness, humor, paranormal, pets, retirement, storytelling, Uncategorized, writing