Cat Calling

Mr. Kitty has a neighborhood friend.  They visit each other through the basement glass doors.  I'm sure Mr. Kitty knows when his friend is about to visit as there is a bell dangling from it's collar.  I'm glad that they get to spend time with each other while maintaining social distancing guidelines.

Shoe Show

Wooden floors and a really old dog do not make the best companions.  Over the years, Chase's back legs became weaker and if he lost his footing, down he went with the back legs splayed.  Oftentimes he was left swimming across the planks until he reached a bit of carpet where he could pull himself back up.  We turned to Amazon.com and purchased dog shoes in varying sizes and styles.  We tried hard shoes and soft shoes and rubber coated slipper socks with Velcro straps. And for a short while, the shoes worked.  He only needed them on his back legs as his front legs still had strength.  Chase needed to wear the shoes all the time.  Dog feet are not meant for shoes that are based on human designs.  The shoes did not allow enough air flow and they kept his feet in a position that was not natural.  Fur would rub away from his ankles.  The lack of airflow seemed to promote nail growth and when removed, they were quite stinky.  The Englishman claimed that Chase had "rabbit hutch" feet.

We added carpet runners throughout the house and removed the shoes.  Then we added no-slip material under the carpet runners.  Shortly the dog was shoe-less and made his way through the house via a carpet runner maze.  This was not a solution.  We needed a shoe made from a breathable non-slip material.  The Englishman suggested we try the non-slip carpet pad material.

Carpet pads were pricey.  We found that the non-slip shelf and drawer liners were more economical and worked just as well under the carpet runners.  So The Englishman cut a trial pair in the shape of tube socks and I stitched them on my old Kenmore sewing machine.  We used Velcro cable ties to hold up his new brown socks.

It was a brilliant idea to put the non-slip material on Chase so that he had it wherever he went.  His feet no longer smelled and the design allowed enough room that his feet were able to have natural movement.  Each pair lasted about a week and took just a couple of minutes to sew.  The garish mixture of carpet runners were rolled up and stored.  Once again, my 17-year old setter could outrun and outsmart me in the house as he trotted around in his functional no-slip socks.  

The Corner of Invisibility

There is a corner in our house that has the magical ability to render any dog immediately invisible.  It's in the dining room and we have a square bed that fits perfectly against the two walls.  

Having a multi-dog family requires the ability to count out loud. My routine before leaving the house is to count a number loudly: "One, two.....where's Chase?"  A panicked search ensues.  One cannot simply call the dog's name since he is deaf.  One must locate the dog.  After searching frantically with no success, I am frequently reminded, typically by the Englishman, to check the Corner of Invisibility.  Chase is there, quite visible, every single time.

Spring Chickens

Just past Six Flags Amusement Park was the farm where the Englishman and I drove to pick up four beautiful Orpington chickens.  Black shiny feathers with a vivid beetle-green sheen in the sunlight were visible from the outside of the fence where I stood.  I was told that I needed to help catch my own chickens.  The jovial farmer grabbed a fishing net and strode to the shelter where the juvenile chickens were lounging in a pile.  I pointed to my first choice and the net swooshed through the air snagging my victim.  I was handed an upside-down chicken to hold by the legs.  Brutal.  Soon I had an inverted chicken in each hand and I told the farmer that I couldn't hold any further catches.  These were well fed and heavy birds.  He caught a third and took all three, leaving me with the net to catch one more.  After a couple of false swooshes, I had my fourth and left the fenced area.  The farmer seemed surprised as I emerged with my prize.

The Englishman secured the birds in the dog kennel and we headed back home.  I enjoyed the sounds of protest with each turn we took until we reached the interstate where the clucks stopped.  They were introduced to the old duck house area until we could reinforce the larger chicken compound.  They had plenty of room, food, water and a house for shelter.  That night, when we checked on them, they were sleeping in a pile on the ground.

The next morning it was raining.  I braved the downpour and discovered unhappy chickens with feathers plastered to their bodies.  It was clear that none had ventured into the house.  Sighing, I entered the pen and caught each chicken and pushed them into the house.  It seemed that they were intrigued by the concept of a roof over their heads.  I checked again that night and they were still in the house.  I was now worried that they wouldn't find their way back out again.  Thankfully, when I conducted a welfare check the next morning, all four were happily pecking about the now dry ground and seemed to understand the concept of an actual chicken house.  

It took a few weeks but they finally recognized me, at least as a source of food.  They no longer scattered when I approached and gently answered me when I called to them.  All four girls provided daily eggs in hues of beige, tan and brown and enjoyed treats of frozen corn on the cob, berries and watermelon in the steamy heat of July.  They were no longer my Spring chickens.

Reflections

Sometimes, I find inspiration in the artwork on a blank card.  I have a small collection of blank greeting cards and postcards that inspired me over the years. "On the Sea" by Maja Lindberg was a dreamy mix of whimsy and enchantment.  A small child tentatively reaches over the side of the boat to touch his reflection on the glass smooth surface of the sea.  It reminds me that just because something isn't there, it doesn't mean we can't see it.

There are memories of my pets that have filled my life with great joy.  While there was a profound sense of loss when they were no longer with me, I still am reminded of them all the time.  I can't count the conversations that begin with "Remember when..." and then we laugh about the memory and once again, the cherished pet is still with us.  My dog Drummer, who would lay on his back, kicking his feet in the air and emitting grunts and groans to beg for popcorn from my mom.  Our cat, Poppy who would lie at the edge of the lake allowing small waves of water to gently lap at her belly.  My sister's cat, Scully who would play fetch with her toys and later would terrorize me with her warning growls.  Our English cocker spaniel, Molly who could ring a bell to be let into the house or George who rocked a Mohawk like no other dog since.  My grandmother, leaving bits of Poppycock in corners of her room when she knew we were coming for a visit with the dogs.

Our dining room is lined with portraits of our pets, painted by my mother.  The dining room is a gathering place for family, friends and snoozing dogs waiting for a bit of accidentally dropped morsels.  It's also a place for conversations, memories and playful reflections.

Master Bedroom

Years ago, while visiting Intercourse, Pennsylvania, I took refuge from a downpour of rain in an art gallery tucked away at Kitchen Kettle Village.  Rushing inside, I stopped in the entryway to fold my inadequate umbrella and was captivated by a painting hanging on the wall.  The framed print was “Master Bedroom” by Andrew Wyeth and it reminded me so much of my English setter, Chase. 

This 1965 watercolor depicts the Wyeth family dog, Rattler, peacefully napping on Andrew Wyeth’s bed.  The curator of the shop said that the artist had come home tired one evening, wanting to take a nap, only to find his dog was already there.  I knew I needed this picture and bought the only size that would fit in the back of my very small convertible trunk.  It was hung in our dining room although I still wished I could have purchased a larger sized print.  

Fast forward a few years and a large antique shop outside of Atlanta granted my wish.  The Englishman and I had a couple hours to spare.  Wandering through the various booths of the antique shop, I noticed “Master Bedroom” hanging on a peg board.  It was a larger size in a modest, matted frame.  I pointed to it and the Englishman checked the price: $25.  Someone clearly didn’t understand the treasure they had and I bought it.  

This print hangs proudly in my office on a wall that faces me each day.  Its serenity is a grounding and familiar presence as well as a conversation piece about a favorite artist. It's also a reminder of all the little things that might be overlooked by some:  an old spool bed that reminds me of the used furniture in our summer cottage, a chenille coverlet from my grandmother's house, late afternoon sunlight casually tossed at the foot of the bed and a peacefully sleeping dog, comfortably dreaming with his head on the pillow.