Monday, January 2, 2012
A Peaceable Kingdom
Singer and Dakota have both staked out their positions for viewing the backyard through the bay window. Dakota, from his kitty condo perch on the left (which he never goes in, only on top) and Singer, from a seat on the couch. They watch all the scurrying squirrels, chipmunks and bunnies in the backyard. It’s like a Disney movie! And Dakota keeps an eye on all the birds flying to the birdfeeders in the neighbor’s yard. It’s hard to say what each of them thinks of the other one, but judging from this picture, it seems they are at peace with each other. At least during Singer’s first week in our home, that is to say. Singer will sniff Dakota, who will give a short mewp of protest, at most. No claws. Dakota will sometimes burst into a frantic cat scat, tearing through the living room, ears flattened, and leap on top of the couch, a wild look in his eye. But Singer placidly watches, no sign of the hunt instinct. Big test for her, and I think she passes.
Still, Singer goes in the crate when no one’s home. I bought another bed for her today, not as comfy as the old one, but she can’t destuff this one. Now I can rest easy when I go back to work next week. I also got her a rubber ball that you can stuff treats in (she also has an old Kong from Saylor). At first, she didn’t want to grab it when we bounced it for her in the house. Perhaps she is trained not to be rambunctious in the house? So I took her outside with it and tossed it around. It took several tries before she grabbed it up and started to play with it. Then she loved it. Reticence in an Irish setter—quite unusual!
I had to get new “snow studs” for my boots today, the old yak-traks don’t last very long. The wires break and get rusty. The new ones are rubber things that you pull around your boots with metal studs in the soles to grip the ice. A mild winter always produces more ice than normal, so these are an essential item for everyone who has a dog in urban areas. I mentioned to the salesman that we only have two more months until March, thinking he was a runner and wanted to be free of the ice. He said that he normally doesn’t wish his life away, but yes, this mild winter was hard on runners. I thought about that—here on the second day of the new year—wishing one’s life away. How many times have I wished for a day to come, hoping all the days until then disappear? I know something about wishing your life away—I’ve done it quite often. Here’s an idea: let’s not wish things were better, let’s be like the animals and just accept things as they are. This is going to be my new year’s resolution.