Good Deeds, Bad Roofs, and Big Questions

Needed to scoot back over to my friends house to cat tend and plant water today. Gray day with "mixed precip" but the cat has been waiting longer than I can tolerate (though she is well set up with food, water, and litter boxes).

Decided to bring PJ. Always hard to bring one of the group but PJ, as the bottom rung of our canine totem pole, really needs one-on-one time with me or rather, really, no other dog time. She is sensitive and steps back easier than forward so when she is on her own with me, she positively giggles with delight.

PJ is a friend - a calm, sweet, wickedly smart, friend. She is not a dog I "own", she is a dog who decided a while back she likes me and treats me that way. It's a funny thing, unlike any other relationship I've had with a canine, and I've had a few. You know the wonder of having a wild animal pause and watch you for a bit or a bird land near you and not fly away? That's what it is like to be with PJ.



She's a good friend, too. She doesn't dote or cling, but she's always aware of what's going on and if I am even remotely in a bad spot, she is there - swift silence - asking with her eyes, Do you need me?

Restrained - present - sensible - gentle... I doubt I will ever be graced with such a companion again. She came to us as a post 9/11 foster in 2001 and, in a tale familiar to fostering families everywhere, she never left.

Our friends place is way back and up a rather major driveway. Not trusting the way to be anything but slick, I parked below and put on my ice boots (with metal pegs in the bottom) and off we went.

The woods were winter quiet, just the sound of my breathing as we climbed - PJ was silent - of course. As we crested the rise I saw what I did not expect - the roof of their covered building, folded in on itself - collapsed under the weight of the recent snow and ice.



PJ and I walked the perimeter for not real reason. I wasn't going in, that's for sure, but you kind have to go a look - like slowing down when passing a wreck. Nothing I could do - nothing they can do. So after snapping a few pix to forward on, I went and tended the very happy to see me cat.

As I scooped her boxes, stroked her purring belly and got rubbed up against as I laughed... I pondered a thread over at MySmartPuppy while I also pondered Maya Angelou's wise words "When someone shows you who they are, believe them."

When your dog snaps at your child - believe them. Believe them 100%, they cannot speak more plainly and yet people dismiss it. I don't know why. Well I do. The blindness of love - they think because they love their dog and their dog loves them that the dog must be a "nice dog".

Nope. Not if you believe what a dog tells you, and you should.

It's hard to watch - I call this "Picnicking on the railroad tracks." The train whistle is blowing in the distance - but getting closer and closer. But they don't move. The tracks rumble and they share a finger sandwich.

So many bites on children could be avoided if parents just took dogs at their word. If they had a babysitter in the house who spun on the child, grabbed him and snarled in his face that one more step and she'd stab him but good - said while she brandishes a knife to his face - I doubt any parent on the planet would say "Oh, okay, well, she's such a nice woman and she's so nice to me that we're keeping her!"

Sigh... the question is how to get this message across before the child needs facial reconstruction and the dog faces a one way trip to the vet.

Not happy thoughts. As I lock the house back up, I glance down at my funny little girl and feel grateful. Grateful that I believe what she tells me and she tells me good things.

We wander back down the driveway - past moose tracks and dung, bare birches and drooping pine branches - and take in this moment of peace together.



We can only do what we can - and, at least today, we do it together.

Onward - Sarah

A walk in the woods on a snowy day...

and I took the road less walked upon... wait a minute, that sounds familiar somehow...

Up on the coast of Maine today. A group walk through the December woods was planned but napping and sitting by the fire felled one person after another, so I had the delight of heading out "alone" - if you can be a lone with four of your beloved companions.

A friend lets us stampede her private road down to her private cove. Warm today, much had melted so the walking was easier than yesterday. We could go, wordless, together. The two shepherds trotting ahead but age and stiffness kept them to the road. Pip and PJ felt no such restrictions and dashed back and forth like swallows ahead of, around and behind us. Breaking the trudging sounds of us older folk with their joyous launching and landing through the winter crunch.

We moved as a group - no calls were made and yet we were connected through out. When we got to the cove, it was low tide. Rocks and seaweed laid bare, the grey winter ocean lapping some ways a way. Pip lost no time getting to the water's edge and wading back and forth, clearly just for the fun of it. The other's took a more dry land approach.

They suggested a walk around the point. By suggest, I mean they cut that way out of sight, then came back into view and looked at me, went back out and came back - "what do you think? How about this way?" and with no human to discourage my trek, off we went.

The rocks were ocean slick and tippy but I've clambered on Maine rocks since I could walk and know how to go with care. Taking this rather whimsical winding way made my body feel more like 7 than 47 - having to focus on each step, making sure the moving foot had a safe planting before shifting my weight.

Pip and PJ able to romp ahead, down at the water's edge. Confident that we were the only one's out, I could let them go hundred's of yards ahead without concerns. Watching them be the dogs they are, made me smile many times as I would pause to look at some ice formation or admire a tide tumbled rock.

The shepherds, of course, escorted me - concerned and close as we went along. Doing what they do best, tending their flock of 1 and I tended them. It works for us.

When we finally reached what passes for beach in Maine, tumbled rocks egg sized or smaller, I could pause- - take in the pines and earth, the rugged cut of Maine's landscape which taught me early to love harsh terrain and the people who lived in it.

Walking back toward the car, the terriers had no slowed a bit, the shepherds had a little, but the bounce in their step and the light in their eyes makes me happy we took the less travelled road today.

It is Christmas Eve, 2007, and it is good to spend a part of it this way.

Happy Holidays!

Virgin Blogger

Be gentle with me, this is my first time.

Right now, Pip is at my feet, under my desk meaning that I am actually sitting in a fairly awkward position. But I don't care. A dog's nose resting on my foot will cause a big an "awwww..." response in a professional dog trainer as in any other pet loving person.

The plan for the day is to schlep PJ and Pip over to two friends' house I'm tending while they are away wisely in the warmth down south, play with their cat, scoop her box and then walk through 20+ acres of fields with my pair. The land has lovely views and is capillaried with wild animal track - something that isn't true at our home.

My plan is to enjoy it wildly, hopefully get some pix...we'll see.... later....