The four-footed one was digging in the garden as if she had found the X on a treasure map. Neither butterflies nor birds could stop her from the task at hand. She dug with the pace of passion and determination.
Panting with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, she came and flopped down at my feet. If she found the treasure, it must have been tiny because I never saw anything. Then again, she may have eaten it. Or, the treasure had been moved without the map being updated.
Whereas I would have been upset or at least disappointed not to have the treasure, she seemed happy. Maybe digging the hole was the whole purpose, the path to her happiness.
Hopefully, I will have some of her happiness when I go to fill the hole back in because I assure you, it isn’t staying as a hole. Not a hole as deep as the one she dug in a short amount of time.
I bought a lap desk for my laptop. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly good idea. I could sit wherever I wanted, enjoying the outdoors, or any spot in the house. When I picked it up, I envisioned my life being so much more “portable.”
So what happened? I discovered that I set cross-legged more than I thought. Sure, the desk is long enough to cover across my legs. The desk also tilts downwards, or in towards me, which isn’t cool. Yes, it does have a bar to stop the laptop from sliding all over the place.
Lap desks, it seems, are made for people who sit with their feet flat on the floor. (Who are these people?) Lap desks also aren’t made for people who have dogs that like to jump on their legs. It’s not the right combination. Trust me, friends; you can’t have both on your legs at the same time and expect to be productive.
Maybe the issue isn’t the lap desk; maybe it’s me. My odd sitting habits and posture may not be made for this lap desk.
The four-footed one is annoyed with me being under her feet all the time. Well, technically, I’m not actually under her feet because she’s always under my feet.
Who knew that a small dog required a whole house to herself most of the day? I certainly had no idea that little Miss Four-Feet was someone who needed as much space as she appears to need.
I thought by leaving her one room in the house while I worked in another would be enough. I was wrong. Horribly wrong. And she made sure those near the hoes heard how wrong I was.
Seeking peace and preserving my hearing, I headed outside to work. She could have the house, and I would work surrounded by flowers and such. Little Miss Four-Feet was having none of this either. A dog, the size of a shoe box, requires a lot of space—more space than a human the size of many shoe boxes, for the record.
Beloved isn’t the handiest of men. If you need someone to discuss philosophy with, he’s your man. You want to do some deconstruction theory; he’s there for you. Need a shelf put up? That may not be his forte. He can tell you how to do it, but the actual doing of it is a whole other story.
I’ve known this for years, and over time I find reminders of his handyman skills, or rather lack thereof. Needless to say, when he announced, with the confidence no less, that he was going to wallpaper a room, you could have knocked me over with a feather.
Part of me thought, well, anything is doable with time and such. YouTube could no doubt be a perfect teacher for him. How much trouble could he honestly get into with this anyway? It turns out he can get into more trouble than anticipated friends. He got into a lot of trouble.
Wallpaper glue ended up on the floor and his shoe. This glue is slippery. It leads to him slipping on the floor, knocking over the glue container, and making a massive mess.
Yes, I know that they have pre-glued sheets of paper. No friends that is not the type of paper he bought. And no, I don’t know why. For the record, the room is still unpapered.
A small duck has decided that the pond out back is perfect for morning swimming. A week ago, the four-footed one insisted on visiting the pond, and since then, she keeps making short visits back there.
If we go early enough, just after the sun has risen, but the light is still soft in the sky, we can watch the little duck paddle around the water. If the duck knows we are there, it doesn’t seem to care. It swims, dives, comes up, and carries on.
Today we watched it the duck swim and dive before waddling up onto the grass along the edge. The duck stayed in the grass for a while, and the four-footed settled in to enjoy herself, being outside and watching the duck.
Surprisingly for me, the four-footed one is content to walk here and sit silently, just watching the duck. She usually charges at other animals, greeting them with a boisterous bark or two while wagging her whole body. For some reason, her behavior with the duck is different.
Where on earth does the time go? Sometimes, I am so immersed in something that I don’t’ even notice it passing by. Other times, I watch it slowly tick by, second by second.
This week feels like an entire year has zipped by while dragging it me with it. I had no idea that time could do these things both at the same time. I do not want time to do this ever again, either, yet I know it will.
I also know I’m not the only person feeling this way. These are uncertain times. Things are fluid and shifting before I even fully grasp what they were a moment ago. I’m sure I’m not alone in this either.
We will get through this, I know. I also know I can’t do it alone, nor will it change overnight. These are times I need to provide myself with some space, some kindness, and compassion. Maybe we all need this.
The four-footed one isn’t sure what to make of things right now. Instead of us going to the center of the town all the time we are home more. She gets some outings to drop off items at other people’s houses, but she is missing everyone petting her, and slipping her small treats when they think I am not looking.
I am missing the outings to the local cafe where not only can an excellent cup of coffee be had, but also incredible conversation. It is a bit odd, the sudden shift in my morning routine, but it is a small price to pay for staying healthy and ensuring others are healthy too.
Shaking up of routines reminds me of how easily things become comfortable and familiar. What was once new and part of an adventure became how I did something. It became like finding a favorite pair of shoes that I never wanted to take off. I wore them until they were in tatters and still tried to hold on to them.
Now they are gone, leaving me to adapt to a new pair of shoes, ones that will soon become familiar too. We change as we can, and make do where we have to. Maybe someday I know what to make of this experience, but for now, I will just go through it as best I can.