I have literally spent hours trying to figure out the technology of the blog. The very kind people at wordpress have attempted to walk me through detailed instructions, none of which I understand. They send screen shots, all of which have fonts too small for me to read. But, I think I have bumbled my way through to a workable solution. My most recent blogs will appear as links on my homepage and if anyone is interested, they can click on my name and access all the other posts. I’ll continue working on this.
In the meantime, today has been rough so far for GB. More headache as his body adjusts to its new pressure. I suggested a hot shower to help clear his head. He’ll rest the remainder of the day and then hopefully be more cheerful for Thanksgiving dinner with sister-in-law Jane, niece Laurie and friends Cathy and Rick.
In thinking about what to be thankful for, I’m considering the question of why dogs do what they do. So, we are currently held hostage by Boomer, a 10 year old Newfoundland and Monkey, a 16 year old grifter. Boomer has an issue with doors. I know. This is common. Dogs want to be on the other side of the door. I get that. But Boomer refuses to come in. He paws the door. I open it. He looks at me. I close the door. He looks at me. I open it. You see where this is going. I close it but leave it ajar so he can bang it open himself. He looks at me. I sit down. He crashes through the door, leaving it open. Fine in the summer but not so much in the winter. I get up again. This is the living room/terrace behavior. There’s also similar behavior for our office which is attached to our garage.
The office is a particularly wonderful and peaceful part of our home and garden. It’s separate from the house and large windows bring in the light from the garden. There’s an old gas stove that heats the room. It’s the kind of heat that gives a warm glow to the air. It’s comfortable and inviting. Cozy and safe. The garden can be covered in two feet of snow yet the office provides a peaceful sanctuary. I had the office to myself for many years until GB insisted he needed more office space. I begrudgingly agreed to share it, something I’ve regretted ever since. GB is a hoarder. He never throws anything away and his desk is constantly best described as an unattractive nuisance. Because he keeps everything, he can never find whatever he needs. When I search, I discover files on cars we owned in 1980; bills from 1990; lapsed insurance policies; income tax returns from 1975. But, at this time I have the office to myself and my two companions, Monkey and Boomer. This brings me back to why dogs do what they do. Boomer doesn’t want to come in and he doesn’t want to stay out. He wants the door open so he can achieve the best of both worlds: the in one and the out one. It’s 32F outside and I want the door closed so I can enjoy that wonderful heat provided by the old gas stove. Monkey wants the door closed so she can snuggle up in her bed which sits in front of the old gas stove. If the door is open, and it shouldn’t be, she runs outside and barks at nothing. Then I have to get up and bring her back in, close the door and wait for Boomer to make up his mind. In or out.
For right now, at this moment, they are both in. Door closed. I’m thankful for that. It’s quiet, peaceful, warm and the dogs are both asleep. The sun is streaming in through the windows and landing on Monkey’s white head. Boomer is sprawled on his back, exhibiting his tummy and boy parts proudly. I’m sad that Boomer is likely our last Newfoundland. After 38 years living the Newfoundland lifestyle, it’ll be hard to imagine not having that gigantic, sweet breed to love. I suspect I’ll have more dogs but they’ll be smaller and easier to manage. In the meantime, at this moment, I am extraordinarily grateful and thankful I’ve been able to spend a lifetime being held hostage by these fur-friends. The 5 mutts, the 7 Newfs, the 1 Shih Tzu, the Doberman of my childhood. Each a treasure.
Monkey and Boomer.
Air. 
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