Immeasurably More

There are times when you and Life are walking along, like good friends, and you think you know where you are going.  You think that you and Life have agreed on a direction; that there is a plan; that you understand each other. And then Life decides that despite all the trees you have already visited, you really must see this new one.  This tree is different from all the other trees and if you don't see it, you simply won't be the person you might be if you DO see it. And so Life changes direction. Except you don't notice.  Because you talked about it.  And there was this plan . And then you trip over Life.  And Life LOOKS very indignant because you weren't paying attention and kneed her in the ribs.  And you ARE very indignant because this is a stupid tree that you had no interest in ever seeing and you would chop it down and burn it if you could. Stupid tree.  Stupid Life.  Stupid little bits of gravel stuck in your palms. B...

Dear Reader, Has it really been 3 months since I last wrote to you?  My apologies.  Dog, Pony, LandLady and I have been busy.  We have had house breaks (Pony found an open door) and growling (Pony stepped on Dog and Dog was not  amused).  There have been many stuffed kongs of happiness (peanut butter & bananas, frozen peaches, yogurt) and learning moments ("See Dog, when Pony quietly lets me cut his nails, he gets treats.  Why don't you try it?") and romps at the dog park. And then, as life was starting to get a bit routine, Dog turned to drugs. Actually the drugs were an accident.  She was really after chocolate brownies, and it just so happened that they were pot brownies*. In a scene reminiscent of the Toast Snatching Incident , I found Dog munching her contraband brownies in LandLady's sitting room.  It takes a lot of chocolate to kill a dog of Dog's size, so I, being unaware of the brownie's active ingredient, had no immediate co...

Dear Reader, Dog and Pony have been resident with me and LandLady for 4 weeks now.  The local dog trainer asked me yesterday if we were bonding.  My ability to read dog body language is still weak, so it may be...or not. We are having some long heart to heart chats.  This one happened in the car on the way home from her stay at the boarding kennel last weekend. "Dog?" Dog, in the back seat of the car, whines. "Dog it's very important that you listen to me." Dog turns to stare out the window. "Dog, I don't have to keep you, you know.  I can send you back.  If you want to live with me we need to come to an understanding." Dog turns to stare out the other window. "There can't be any more gate jumping.  No more sticking your tongue in the peanut butter jar.  Less restless pacing." More whining. "And you owe LandLady an apology for taking her toast." Dog lays down, rests her head on the seat protector and looks at...

Dear Reader, Dog has a way of expressing sad resignation when she is confined to her crate against her will.  She sighs and lets her head fall against the crate door so it clangs on its hinges.  The more frequently she gets in trouble, the more frequently she gets sent to her "room" and the more frequently I hear ...Sigh...Clang. The most exciting incident of this week was on Tuesday.  LandLady likes to start her days with coffee and toast, and on Tuesday morning, she took the European approach to this classic breakfast by warming the previous evening's Italian bread and adding plenty of butter. Dog, baby gatted in the TV room, watched these proceedings with interest. Dog watches all food related proceedings with interest.  She knows where her food is kept.  She knows where the human food is kept.  She knows where her treats are kept in two different rooms.  And she knows that LandLady uses Pony's crate as a table ...

Dear Reader, LandLady sent me a video of Pony chewing on a rope chew stick.  It's not especially funny or unusual.  Just a big happy dog gnawing on a chew stick. I was not grateful to see this video, because I had bought the chew stick for Dog;  I wanted her to have something non-consumable to chew on since the bits of blanket and squeaky toys she had enjoyed chewing seemed to have unfortunate consequences for her digestion.  But Dog shunned the stick, presumably for the very reason that it is not-consumable.  So it was re-gifted to Pony, who is delighted by it. Dog is, in fact, resisting all of my efforts to keep her busy with non-food based entertainment.  But she is inventing her own games.   Games like "stand quietly just out of line of sight and see how long it takes for MyPerson to come looking for me".  Since I have reasons for not trusting Dog, she usually doesn't have to wait long.  So, fun times for everyone!! One reason I ...

Dear Reader, They say that dogs don't have great memories for the mundane.  For example, you can't punish a dog for a mess made on the floor earlier in the day.  By the time you get home and step in it, he's already moved on.  But for Greyhounds, trauma sticks around.* People are like that, too.  We filter out the unimportant stimulus and information in our lives (what did you have for breakfast last Sunday?), but we remember the details of things associated with strong emotional reactions.  (Where were you when you heard about 9/11?) I'm not sure how the memory thing works for rabbits.   I know that when I was a kid, I had a pet rabbit.   (Cottontail, cuz she was black with a white tail.  Clever, huh?)  My parents swear that one day they heard her scream when a loose dog attacked her hutch.  I wonder now if she had flashbacks of that day when, on a day years later, she met her end at ...

Dear Reader, Of course, I should have taken a photo, but Pony doesn't belong to me; he belongs to LandLady and when he jumped the baby gate, I panicked and didn't think to reach for my camera. But I'm getting ahead of myself. As previously mentioned , before I moved in with LandLady, she had agreed to let me adopt a dog. But not just any dog - specifically, a retired racing greyhound.  Because they are quiet and gentle and sleep about 18 hours a day.  Kind of like cats, but you can teach them to do useful stuff, like "come".* Over the course of my first two weeks here, as we discussed arrangements for the dog - Where to poop?  Where to eat?  Where to sleep?  How to train? - LandLady got more and more interested in the breed and increasingly excited about having something to pet.  I suggested that she could get her own dog, but she demurred, claiming she preferred to use my dog as a test of her own emotional and physical preparedness for dog ownersh...

Dear Reader, Because I have a second and unexpected summer in Maine, I would like to begin introducing you to the people who are likely to be mentioned in future posts. It seems proper to begin with my LandLady. I met LandLady last summer when I rented a furnished apartment from her.  When I needed to extend my stay in Maine past the end of my rental period, she let me stay in her spareroom for 2 weeks free of charge in exchange for watering her plants and making coffee in the morning.  She generously shared her fascinating circle of friends with me, one of whom greeted me today with cookies and the remark, "See.  I told you you'd be back." LandLady rents out her apartments as a form of income, but also for the opportunity it affords her to meet interesting people.  She seems to think I am one of these.  She herself can certainly be considered an interesting person.  She is a sculpter and writer.  Also a licensed hypnotherapist, and she told m...