What can you give Mom when you don't have opposable thumbs or money to buy flowers? And who wants flowers, anyway, since they don't taste good? First I thought of giving her a day without chewing on the bed, but kind of forgot.
Or I could share my favorite antler chew, but it got slobbery.
Can you blame a guy for wanting to clean his teeth?
Oh yeah, the gift thing. Well, moms like treats just as much as the rest of us. I got hold of a package of delicious liver treats. If I'd do just about anything for one of those, wouldn't she? I had to check by smell that I had the right stuff.
Oops. I guess that wasn't such a good idea.
At last resort, there's just me, unadorned.
She said I'm more than enough. Is that a compliment?
Mom says my black nose is fading and she's sad about it 'cause she loves the big black plastic look of an Airedale nose. She has never seen an Airedale nose fade like that before, so she researched dog noses and found out that the cause is---
no cause at all.
It just happens. All I care about is that the sniffer works as well as ever and I am certainly no less handsome than usual. I mean, is that a noble face or what? Don't I look like a dog that'll say, "Bark, BARK, Sherry's down the well," if she falls into a hole in the ground (while carrying a steak dinner)?
A leisurely walk on a perfect spring evening when the air is still and perfumed with blossoms before they've released the pollen that makes me sneeze. Lilacs, apple trees, rhododendrons, azaleas all in bloom. The dog stops and sniffs; I wait patiently. Onward we stroll, enjoying the peace.
He barfs in a driveway. While I'm fumbling with a handful of bags (eeewww, I'd rather pick up a nice, solid poop) and pulling Miro away from the pile, a cat saunters into the road as a car approaches. The cat ignores the car, which slows. Miro's head lifts; he freezes, watching the cat. The car finally has room to pass, leaving the cat on the other side of the street. Dog and cat stare at each other. I really need to clean up this pile of barf before the homeowner sees us and complains. Cat arches and hisses. Dog dances and bucks. Plastic bags in one hand, leash in the other, I'm trying to haul Miro away without him slithering out of his halti collar.
Three bags later--do you know how hard it is to clean up a pile of barf with plastic bags and no water?--we're marching toward home, Miro glancing back at the cat who still watches us like the sheriff running the hero out of town.
People who take a non-human family member into their lives and hearts become familiar with the joy and grief of loving those whose lives are too short. With those experiences comes compassion for all others who endure sorrow.
"Many runners, clad in the blue and gold jackets given to this year’s marathoners, made pilgrimages to the blockade on Boyleston..." New York Times
Despite cold, stormy weather, flowers are blooming before the rain pounds them into droopy mush. This hyacinth bent under the weight of water.
I started this daphne from a cutting years ago. A bad freeze during the winter killed most of its leaves. It looks like a stick with a few little pom-poms on the end but it's the best-perfumed plant in the Northwest, with a complex, haunting scent.
This vine is just opening. I could smell the honeysuckle-like scent in the air yesterday evening, despite the cold. The vine seems to like hanging out on the deck.
Maybe somebody knows what it is? It doesn't look like photos of honeysuckle.
Somebody's favorite year-round smell is that of dirty dishes.
One fine day when I let the chickens roam the yard, Edna the Modern Game bantam disappeared. When I rattled the treat dish, the signal that lures them back to the pen, she did not come. Had she flown over the fence, never to be seen again, like Zora? I hadn't heard a disturbance in the yard. I waited. An hour later when I shook the dish again, she emerged from the bushes making cranky squeaky noises, like a mom awakened too early saying, "Will you kids pipe down?"
I knew what she'd been up to. After locking the chickens in the pen, it was time to let out the hunting dogs.
Intrepid hound #1 didn't quite catch the idea of coursing through the undergrowth.
After the Mistress of Hounds (I've been reading English novels) cries, "Find it!" fearless hound #2 goes on the alert, listening for the faintest rustle in the wild wood.
Possibly in here.
A little deeper.
Boldly breaching the bushes with no thought of menacing wild boars.
Is the prize somewhere in the jungle? We're moving freely around the world from King Arthur's Britain (wild boars) to the jungles of Borneo where orangutans hide. It's an epic quest, worthy of post 500.
The great hunter finds and consumes his prey. And totally blocks the camera.
The author hides one egg in plain sight for Alanis but has to remove it before Miro gets it. Most epic quests end with having to pick up the toys and put them away.