I just noticed that the word “dispatches” has “patches” in it. How prophetic. Three of us are patchy; Piper had a tick. Dealt with. Theodore sported a carbuncle on his nose. No idea why. Fell off. Dealt with. I won the prize: something bit me but checking the mirror is long gone in this new puppy world; I brushed it off and when the bite got itchy,I scratched. It got itchier. Scratched some more. Finally someone took pity on me and asked, “Have you looked at the far side of your jaw???” Oh dear, what the hell is that? Two prescriptions in, it is receding from a large but lovely deep maroon (be content with this as the only reference to art you’re going to get). I’m rather long in the tooth to be learning not to mindlessly scratch at something you can’t see but there you go. What we do know is that Jon is the patch-carrier.
Moving along, did you know that her third month is a puppy’s prime socialization time? Neither did we, so imagine our surprise to be instructed to invite a hundred people over to Meet Piper. Well, at least one insane, pre-pandemic nut bar of a writer suggested that number. We drew the line at 30-odd, all of whom came generously bearing gifts of the squeaky sort. We can track the dogs by sound now.
You might recall that, thanks to the Derecho, our beloved sugar maple committed suicide and as a corollary created a sunny garden and eating area for the first thirty feet of our back garden Only when we contemplated inviting the fellow dog nuts to meet the little rat, as Theodore calls her, did we realize that we suddenly had a big problem: virtually everybody we know sensibly prefers to sit in the shade. Well, there isn’t any cover left in the back garden, only a solar roasting oven, formerly known as Patio.
It eventually occurred to us that we have a front yard, which still has (too much) grass and is surrounded by tall trees, so we lugged the Adirondacks to the far front and plopped them in its darkest corner. Alas, it too is blasted with sun mid-day. When women visitors try politely but in vain to haul these behemoths back into the shade, it’s quite Monty Pythonesque. I never really thought about nursing an active dislike of a chair but it turns out that it's a thing; most people (women) harbour a burning hatred of heavy outdoor chairs. I would probably hate Adirondack chairs too if I thought of them as seating, but there are far too many things to do in a large garden to sit down much so I unreservedly adore them for their gorgeous blue and their sculptural lines.
Bottom line — please come to meet Piper, but expect to stand in the front garden or broil on the patio. Maybe we’ll set up the sprinkler and take turns running through it. Piper recommends it highly.
Most of our time alone at home is spent while Jon trains the wee girl. We’ve dropped the pretence of my helping with this because I am inept. Picking up the ball, as it were, Jon and Piper are both in with all six feet. If she doesn’t receive an invitation to visit with Queen Elizabeth in a month or two, I shall be surprised. The two old dogs (T and I) watch in wonder. We’ve both brushed off our Come-and-Sits. Theodore’s Stay is outstanding, while I return the red ball quite reliably. Piper starts calculus in September.
My cultural re-education is coming to an end. I am now at peace with being #4 in our family.
Moving along, did you know that her third month is a puppy’s prime socialization time? Neither did we, so imagine our surprise to be instructed to invite a hundred people over to Meet Piper. Well, at least one insane, pre-pandemic nut bar of a writer suggested that number. We drew the line at 30-odd, all of whom came generously bearing gifts of the squeaky sort. We can track the dogs by sound now.
You might recall that, thanks to the Derecho, our beloved sugar maple committed suicide and as a corollary created a sunny garden and eating area for the first thirty feet of our back garden Only when we contemplated inviting the fellow dog nuts to meet the little rat, as Theodore calls her, did we realize that we suddenly had a big problem: virtually everybody we know sensibly prefers to sit in the shade. Well, there isn’t any cover left in the back garden, only a solar roasting oven, formerly known as Patio.
It eventually occurred to us that we have a front yard, which still has (too much) grass and is surrounded by tall trees, so we lugged the Adirondacks to the far front and plopped them in its darkest corner. Alas, it too is blasted with sun mid-day. When women visitors try politely but in vain to haul these behemoths back into the shade, it’s quite Monty Pythonesque. I never really thought about nursing an active dislike of a chair but it turns out that it's a thing; most people (women) harbour a burning hatred of heavy outdoor chairs. I would probably hate Adirondack chairs too if I thought of them as seating, but there are far too many things to do in a large garden to sit down much so I unreservedly adore them for their gorgeous blue and their sculptural lines.
Bottom line — please come to meet Piper, but expect to stand in the front garden or broil on the patio. Maybe we’ll set up the sprinkler and take turns running through it. Piper recommends it highly.
Most of our time alone at home is spent while Jon trains the wee girl. We’ve dropped the pretence of my helping with this because I am inept. Picking up the ball, as it were, Jon and Piper are both in with all six feet. If she doesn’t receive an invitation to visit with Queen Elizabeth in a month or two, I shall be surprised. The two old dogs (T and I) watch in wonder. We’ve both brushed off our Come-and-Sits. Theodore’s Stay is outstanding, while I return the red ball quite reliably. Piper starts calculus in September.
My cultural re-education is coming to an end. I am now at peace with being #4 in our family.
"DAYTIME!"
"NIGHT-TIME!"
RSS Feed
