A steaming cup of black coffee was delivered bedside at seven o’clock (Thank you, Dude!), and I was told there had been three deer in our yard earlier, but one could barely see them in the moonlight.
This is the first time in several days that I’ve woken up without the “neck thing” and oh boy is it nice to feel normal again.
Yesterday was a perfect fall day and Duckie Doodle and I went for a walk. Before we got out the driveway I heard what I recognized as a pileated woodpecker, so turned back to have a look and sure enough, that’s what it was. One goes through our yard every spring and every fall. It never stays even a full day. We have downy woodpeckers and hairy woodpeckers that are here year-round, but they aren’t the impressive size of the pileated.
We then exited via the back, grassy driveway, only to meet Scott’s mom, Pat, on her way home. She stopped her van to chat and mentioned Duckie’s age and that of one of the dogs over at her place. Both dogs are 13 although Duckie will turn 14 soon. The reason I remember is that when the boys and I moved back here after spending the year of Mom’s dying in Kelowna, Sara was a small pup that provided me with many much-needed chuckles, not to mention lots of affection and good company on my solitary walks.
I read this, this morning — “A puppy can cure grief” — in Clifford, by Harold R. Johnson. Sara didn’t cure my grief (is there such a thing as a cure for it? I think not), but she sure did lighten it many times.
I decided to walk to Pat’s after that and Duckie accompanied me on his little chihuahua legs. When we got near the farmyard, one of their two dogs came out to greet us and wrapped herself around my legs. Duckie took offence to that, perhaps not recognizing Lucy, and went straight for the throat of the much larger dog. Fortunately he couldn’t reach it very well, and even more fortunate is that Lucy is a young, sweet-natured dog and didn’t lose her temper, though it appeared her feelings were hurt. She complained a moment (“What? What’d I do?”) before flopping down and rolling over on her back.
Dogs; gotta love ’em. Joan sent a photo yesterday of her devil dog, Leo (a.k.a. Lucifer), sitting well behaved beside Dad, who is not really a dog fan. She titled it “Dog Whisperer.” Dad may not invite the attention of dogs, but they seem to like him anyway.
Do me a favour, would you please? Go to Sharyn’s webpage HERE and see what happens when you click on the Comments link beneath her entry. I can’t figure out why it doesn’t work for me. The box turns white. I can’t even read other people’s comments, let alone leave one myself. I use the Chrome browser and thought maybe that’s the trouble (though it’s worked fine on her blog for years, so why all of a sudden give me grief? this has been going on for months); thus I opened up Internet Explorer and gave that a shot. No better luck though. Sharyn says she has the same problem when she comes to this blog; it doesn’t permit her to comment. What the Heck! Any ideas? I’ve googled in hopes of finding a possible answer and solution but so far — nope.