Category Archives: dog love

Through the woods to the mall

We walked through Houghton Place which used to be called The Hamlet to get to Webster Woods. At the trail head, I asked, “Which way do you want to go?”

K responded, “Where do you want to go?”

I pointed decisively to the left.

That’s how it goes sometimes.

We threaded through the trees and came upon a man sitting by the pond making the most wonderful melodies.

Climbing up a berm, the empty mall came into view, giving off a spooky vibe. We think the tent and storage units go with Covid19 testing.

It appears that this poor creature was killed mid-meal.

Then we saw a tree offering up an example of extraordinary adaptability.

It’s been a quiet day. I didn’t have enough energy to apply to any of my projects but did make five more masks. That makes 78. So far, the number of masks-made is staying ahead of the number of days At Home (68).

We’re watching Longmire. Again. This is the equivalent of my mother-in-law watching old Gunsmoke episodes. There’s drama but I’ve seen it before and can rest in it somehow. I really like the characters, too.

What shows do you watch for rest?

I could really use a new season of The Great British Baking Show.

Cover ‘em up

You know why it snowed here just outside of Boston, don’t you? In May? Because I just at long last and much later than usual put away the winter hats, scarves, mittens, and gloves.

With a chill wind at our backs, we three set out. Signs of the season were everywhere, most notably an abundance of maple flowers. They littered the road, sewer grates, and rock walls as if spring’s answer to snow.

Crystal Lake was closed, not due to social distancing measures, but because it’s being treated to prevent algae growth. Last year, a bloom turned deadly and killed quite a few unsuspecting dogs.

If ever I stayed behind for too long to take a picture, Finn turned back over and over to check on my progress. Look at him as I photograph a dramatic bole.

Lastly, I apologize for not yet responding to the comments of my last post. There’s been a bit of a funk going on here which isn’t depression but kinda resembles it. I don’t know what it is. I’ll chalk it up to the pandemic.

But let me say how grateful I am for the depth of sharing here. I know I keep saying this but it feels necessary to do so and true.

I will not likely burn my Pages until I have done SOMETHING with them, but the timing of that something matters. A strategy will matter. At Deb’s suggestion, I boxed them up and got them out of my writing space. An energetic shift, for sure — a sense of relief, of space opening up. Clutter management but more. I’ll have more to say about this soon.

Day 59 of Home Containment.

Dog walk in pix

With a special eye to the trees (after reading Mo’s recent post).

A series of violent thunderstorms barreled through the region yesterday, It feels like we survived something. Now the air clogs with humidity such that I can almost see steam rising off the sidewalks. Gonna make do with fans for as long as I can stand.

Later: do you see Finn in the shade?

Little setbacks

Yesterday, Handsome Dog Walker announced he’s done with the dog business. As of the end of June. Damn! This was after spending an hour getting dates into an email and looking at a calendar with him. I knew this was coming, but didn’t know it would come this soon.

The last guy we used (years back) was just in the news because either his dogs or the dogs in his care (the coverage didn’t specify) killed a fourteen year old boy who was caring for them in his absence. So, he’s not an option. We used someone nearer by while in Denver because HDW wasn’t available and Finn came home with diarrhea and terrible manners (not enough exercise, supervision, or alpha energy). She’s out.

I’ll find someone — but so much for feeling a touch of proud glee yesterday at my organization.

In other dog news: Finn can be a hilariously jealous boy. Look at this! All I have to say to K is, “Would you rub my feet?” and the dog dashes over like a bullet and inserts himself.

Today we have cooler temps, but sun. A good day to walk the dog. To write. To braise some lamb shanks for dinner.

Spring temps at last

The clouds slid slowly to the west. Blackbirds darted from treetop to treetop while fat jays swooped down onto sodden, yellow lawns. I wore gloves but it was in the 40’s. Finally! We passed the husky — Sasha? — who stares (and then stares some more). Finn did just fine. “See the doggie?” Treat. Treat. “See the doggie?” Treat. Move on.

I listened with one earbud to a Pod Save America episode entitled “Peak Stupid.” You can guess what it was about. I might be all out of outrage for the moment.

Once home, I lifted myself out of the chair to check caller ID. The ACLU again — for what? — the fiftieth time in a month? Instead of annoyance, there was a twinge of recognition that it will never again be my sister calling. My intrusive, demanding, unreasonable sister.

Maybe it’s time, at last, to ditch the landline. Do any of you still have one?

Today, a charity comes to Saint Peter Street in Salem to look at my sister’s furniture. I hope they take a piece or two.

Now, at least, I am waking at my more usual time of 6:30. Since March 13, I’ve been waking at the approximate time of my sister’s death: 5:30. Lying awake in the dark.

Is she “gone”? How does one gauge these things? There hasn’t really been a moment when I felt her spirit near or when I felt a notably fresh absence.

Does that make me dense, somehow ill equipped to feel these things? Or should I take my sister at her word?

Not that long ago, I might have jokingly asserted that I hoped she wasn’t going to be a pain in the ass from the other side. She retorted, “Shit! I’ll have better things to do than haunt you!”

She could be funny. So could I.

Friday before the snow

My sister is cheered. The hospital turkey burger was delicious. They’ve dropped talk of rehab. Maybe a Monday release?

I’m relieved too. The earlier call had been spiked with overheard hostility. Taking on the entire staff, she was, refusing PT, objecting to turkey with no mayo.

I boarded the cat yesterday after a full morning of cleaning my sister’s apartment. Maddy the Tuxedo is in the very building where we adopted Jack all those years ago, poor little ballsy Jack whose first act as a family member was to piss all over my elder son’s ankle. At the time it seemed a bit of an outrage. Now I wonder if he wasn’t marking C as his own.

Dog people — what do you make of that?

A pewter sky portends snow. They’re saying some amount, then freezing rain. I’m wishing I’d wrapped our arbor vitae. Maybe tomorrow? I could use yards and yards of fabric from my stash, making the precaution double as a ‘fabric installation’. Then again, I might do nothing.

Meanwhile, I have friends to thank for getting through what at times feels like an ordeal. Thank you.

In closing let me say, I think I finally believe the twitter prognosticators who say the shoe is about to drop. What an avalanche of bad news for the poor fucking fool at the top!

Teeny preview and garbage pick up

Re: Etsy

I’m swearing that this time I’ll be organized. It used to be when something sold I’d panic because half the time I had no idea where the object got off to. Can you imagine?

In this house, with windows everywhere and decorated walls, taking professional-looking product shots is challenging. Not this time! I’m going to dedicate one of the boys’ rooms to photography. Whee! Lights and props out (and left out) is a prescription for ease.

I have a notebook ready for pen and paper notes. No more languishing listings! But more to the point of a well-groomed shop, everything’s gonna be done on my phone. That’s how I know it’s gonna be different. A whole new level of access and attention!

(As readers here might know, I have an inexplicable aversion to sitting at the desktop).

Hospital update: it looks like N might be staying through the weekend. Longer than I expected. While her new subsidized housing is great, with the move she lost the neighbors who used to check in on her cat. Damn!

The nurses and doctors are taking good care of my sister. That’s something to be grateful for.

Lastly, walking Finn an hour ago this happened: a big green monster of a garbage truck barreled past on its hungry quest for abandoned Christmas trees. Usually these trucks leave a malodorous trail. Imagine my delight to smell balsam instead — great heady wafts of it lasting the entire block.

AND, just as that pleasant sensation unfolded at street level, a red tailed hawk flew directly overhead, close — just above the power lines.

How about that?