Source: So Many Cute Animals. (Photo so much like Zeke, not Zeke!)
The leaves are turning,
one by one carried away in the crisp wind [...]
Away, away,says the blue and gold day,
and no one hears it but the wind,
whose law it echoes.
The dog has a red ball to chase.
You pick a flat, perfect stone
for the wall you hope to live long enough to rebuild.
I prune briars,
pick burrs from the dog’s fur.
I teach Come and Sit. Sit here —
a longer sit beneath the cedars.
The grass is freshly cut,
all the energy of a summer’s day rushing into bulb and root.
The dog runs off, returns.
The stones balance steeply.
Good work. Good dog.
This is heaven.
There’s not much to say here except WATCH.
Thank you Julie.
The weight of my old dog, Hattie –
thirty five pounds of knocking bones, sighs, tremors and dreams –
just isn’t enough to hold a patch of sun in its place, at least for very long.
While she shakes in her sleep,
its slips from beneath her and inches away,
taking the morning with it –
the music from the radio,
the tea from my cup,
the drowsy yellow hours –
picking up dust and
dog hair as it goes.
~ Ted Kooser. December 14. Home from my walk, shoes off, at peace.
Walter, a lab, loves the sea. And he’ll stop at nothing to get there. The footage was captured on the coast of Siracusa, Italy. (Source: GrindTV)
Going too fast for myself
I missed more than I think I can remember
almost everything it seems sometimes
and yet there are chances that come back
that I did not notice when they stood
where I could have reached out and touched them
this morning the black shepherd dog
still young looking up and saying
Are you ready this time?
- W. S. Merwin, “Turning”
Crickets. Birds. And me.
Humidity 90%, but cut by a cool morning, 57º. Running weather.
I check my exercise log. Last running entry: August 3rd. I scan the page. More white space than entries. Ray is down 36 lbs in 7 weeks. I’m, well, you know, Up. And, staring at white spaces.
I’m out the door.
It’s Thursday. Evening.
(Another) last supper with the kids before they depart. It’s a short week, I’m off from work on Friday. Heaviness lifts. Weariness lingers. Gratitude drifts in. A peaceful, easy feeling sets in over dinner. Family. Our family dines together.
It’s Friday. Morning.
Eric comes up to the attic. “Why are you a hermit, Dad?”
We exchange fist bumps. As he turns, I jump him from behind and we wrestle. He’s become unmanageable. I pull up before things break, on me.
It’s Friday. Early afternoon.
We’re in the car to JFK.
President Obama visits Weschester County on Friday afternoon – the same Friday kicking off the long Labor Day weekend. His security team has shut down I-95, 287 and all major thorough ways, snarling traffic. The result: A 2.5 hour drive to JFK. Purpose of the President’s trip: Fundraisers. [Read more...]
Notes: SMWI*=Saturday Morning Work-out Inspiration. Image Source: gifak.net
Susan finds an abandoned baby bird on the lawn in the backyard. She has to protect it. To save it.
She cups it in her hand. She calls out to me to help.
“Put it back.”
I don’t get a response. A few minutes later she has the bird in a clear, plastic container. Where did she find that? (Note to self: Cache of Bird paraphernalia is growing.)
“Look at how cute she is.”
I glance at it. I’m gulping the flashback: What’s with you and birds? It was a different mother then. A Robin. Also, trying, to protect her young. The irony not lost on me.
“What do you think we should do?”
“I think you should put it back.” She’s getting attached. This will end badly.
“But it can’t fly!”
Zeke is circling. He’s sniffing wildly. His eyes are full. His breed and his blood, the Vizsla, was trained for generations to look up. To flush. To retrieve. It’s all about Birds.
“Its Mother can’t find it either. Go put it back. Near the trees.”
She ignores me. (Again.) I see her cupping the bird. Bobbing its beak in water.
“Come on birdy. Take a drink. Then we’re going back.”
That was Thursday.
Birdy had reappeared near the fence yesterday afternoon.
Source: themetapicture.com (Thanks Susan)
A 3M Post-It Note. Picture not to scale. The post-it is actually 1″ x 2″, dwarfed by the two-foot high, 45-quart, air-tight, dog food storage container which sits underneath it. But, the Post-it punches above its weight class.
3 Words + a few symbols = Irritation.
She doesn’t think I will give him the right dosage.
She thinks I’ll overfeed him. You’re cutting his life short by giving him all these snacks.
3/4 C (Dog Food) + H20 (Water) + 1/4 C Green Beans (to help him with his digestion).
Mom and Eric are on a road trip for the weekend to see family. Rachel is in the city with Friends.
Dad and Man’s Best Friend Zeke are Home Alone.
Back to the Post-Its.
Source: Tiny Doberman puppy from Attack of the Cute
Hump Day Howl from Belka the Siberian Husky. 20 days old.
Thank you Lori.
- Eric – thank you for the Zeke pic. Rachel wants credit for Zeke/flag background set up. Eric disputes that she had any involvement in the production.
- Patton from FogsMovieReviews
Source: The Pet’s Mart (The 10 Naughtiest Dog Breeds)
The Kick off of the 2014 World Cup
Here’s our very own Zekester waiting for the U.S. game…
Photographer: Thank you Susan
Owner tries to wake-up his puppy at 3:30am.
Winner of the year for Adorable Puppy?
This Great Dane: The runaway winner.
Thank you Janet.
The weekday frenzy slows to a drip.
A quiet sets in.
Zeke jumps on the bed, curls once, twice and falls, leaning into me. And sighs.
Going Down. Down. Down.
The great Unwind commences.
Credits: Image – Lulufrost
Don’t you just love these two (especially the ear flaps UP on queue)
(Note to Self: How many times can you watch this loop, when you know the outcome?)