Waiting for the Storm

There’s supposed to be a huge storm today. We’re waiting. Nothing’s really going on. Well, we can’t say that about Saki. He goes on and on. Wow. What a lot of energy. He loves that Frisbee, and I think he should advertise for PetCo or PetSmart or for whoever made that thing in his mouth.

I like days like this—it’s supposed to rain, it’s supposed to be a terrible stay-in day—when we get to sit in the yard for hours waiting, waiting, waiting. The cat from across the street struts along the fence, and we’re so used to it by now, we hardly turn around, and Saki runs around with that Frisbee hoping we’ll play with him. (Sorry, Saki. Shane and I, we’re content to sit and watch you run around.)

Best wishes before the storm, Juno

Goldfish Whisperer

Shane

To see Cesar Milan: well, the Upright Citizen's Brigade version of him, click right HERE.

Uneven Patios and Puppy Energy

Okay, the patio is a little uneven, but it's comfortable.

The older I get, the harder it gets to write. Also, Joan spent the weekend making a patio and fixing the first bad job she did on the walkway. “Wow, these pavers are heavy,” she lamented time and time again. Then she got a fever and slept for half a day. So, it’s not just my age. It’s day-to-day living that gets in the way of my blogging life.

Shane was sick again, too. Saki is never sick. He just runs and runs. And if he doesn’t get to run, he digs up the yard. So, we try to keep him occupied. Shane lies on the grass and lets him jump all over him—this from a dog who used to try to attack Saki! Joan throws the Frisbee for Saki about a hundred times a day. And, still he never gets tired. That is, until he collapses at the end of the day and falls into a deep sleep—so deep, you can hardly see him breathing.

That’s the beauty of extended puppyhood. You play hard, you sleep deep, you charm everyone—even tough nuts like Shane.

Best wishes, Juno

From Where I Sit

This is the best time of the year, better, even, than spring, for the leaves float so lightly to the ground you’d think they could change course in mid-flight and rise right back to their branches. The trees are still dressed in their thin autumn way, and the clouds billow and darken and whiten as they race across the sky to who-knows-where.

I’m the only dog here who looks up to see these things. Shane and Saki watch the street, which might or might not have its advantages.

For example, they’re on constant tender hooks because the cat across the street taunts them with that arrogant arch in her tiger-striped back. Whereas most cats will pretend to ignore you—especially if you’re a dog—this cat stares right through the chain-link fence. It’s as though she knows we haven’t figured out how to unlatch the gate. And does she ever take advantage! Shane and Saki get all upset and whiny.

Not me. I play the part the cat should play. I ignore—or pretend to ignore—all the silliness of confrontation and discourse. I try to give Saki and Shane the occasional word of advice, but do they listen? Of course not. So here I sit and choose the views that please me best.

Best wishes, Juno