Biscuit

A lot has happened in our lives. It’s been very hard to write. You and Dad have spent a lot of time crying. Sometimes, your voices get very loud and then you cry some more. I don’t know who needs me more–you or Dad, so I go to my Daddy and put a paw up on his lap and look at him dolefully. He thinks we need to go outside, so he leashes me up and takes me out and, it’s true, it does make both of us feel better for awhile. Snow smells extra good when we walk outside. That helps too.

Your crying hasn’t stopped but it has diminished. (I have a very large vocabulary, in case you forgot).

We lost a human member of our family–my Uncle Josh. He loved me. I loved him. One of my predogcessors, Cedars, was buried with him. Cedars watched over Josh as long as he could.

I am an uncle to Biscuit, our new puppy, who came to live with us. I am learning to love Biscuit who is a little brown Beardie. He doesn’t play like a big dog yet, but I’m teaching him. He learns fast. He’s almost up on the window seat already, where we can look at the world together.

Biscuit is a happy spirit who makes us laugh. His whole name is Brown Biscuit, Liberty for All. He is way too small for me to crash around after him full bore around the house, but I keep trying anyway. I chase him, sliding around on the wood floor, and he hides under the dining room table, where he can’t reach me.

BISCUIT AND I ON THE STAIRS
BISCUIT SURVEYING THE CIRCUMSTANCES

Biscuit shares his toys with me and I share my toys with him. We try to keep him in one place, but he is a very good climber, as you can see. Pretty soon, he’ll be able to climb over the gate.

Advice from Oliver: Humans need dogs and dogs need humans. We have learned to domesticate one another.

In the Convertible

As long as I’m with you, I am a happy dog. I’m even happier if we’re in the convertible where the wind blows through my Beardie “blowout.” A blowout is a special kind of windblown effect that some humans pay a lot of money to achieve. As far as I can tell, they look a lot like me after I’ve been in the convertible. I also like the feeling of freedom in my face with sky all around my ears. And green trees to watch faster than I can run. And grass to smell. And the sound of tires under my paws. It’s dogalicious to move through the air. I see birds who flap their wings when they’re on their way somewhere, but I don’t have to do anything except sit quietly in the back seat. I am a good dog in our convertible. Lucky dog. Lucky me.

Advice from Oliver: Hook up a ride in a convertible. You’ll feel about as good as you can possibly feel.

YOU NEED MORE REST

I am demonstrating for you how to eat a stick

Well, I’m just saying, the last two posts needed more attention. You aren’t getting enough rest. You were all mixed up in the layout of the photos of me and the marigolds and the hummingbird and the dragonfly. Maybe you need to eat more sticks.

RESTING WITH PHOTOS OF ME

I like to stay next to you. Here, you can see me resting next to the marigolds and the hosta and the funny dragonfly that doesn’t move. I am very relaxed but I’m not made of metal. It’s good to rest.  You and I are both resting, watching the hummingbird buzz over us and drink nectar from the tiger lilies. There are only a couple flowers left now, a few phlox and a lilac that blooms in the fall. It’s August, but there are patches of red leaves over the ponds already. The leaves wouldn’t turn red unless they rested. I do a lot of resting. You needed a lot of rest today because you cut up a tree that fell across the road. I sat in the back of the car and supervised. After you cut up the tree, you rested all day. When you rest, you are very quiet. You know who is almost never quiet?

Or so. I can’t really tell how high the trees are because I’m a land-bound dog.

That means I’m a dog and I bound up in the air when I get excited but I cannot, no I cannot, leap from branch to branch. And doggone, I have the sense not to try. 

A picture containing sitting, table, wooden, water

Description automatically generated
A picture containing dog, sitting, small, cat

Description automatically generated

RESTING

It’s good to rest. I like to stay next to you. You’re in a chair, taking my picture. You can see me resting next to the marigolds and the hosta and the funny dragonfly that doesn’t move. I am very relaxed but I’m not made of metal like the unmoving dragonfly. You and I are both resting, watching the humming hummingbird buzz over us and drink nectar from the tiger lilies. There are only a couple flowers left now, a few phlox and a one lilac bush that blooms in the fall. It’s called bloomerang. That’s because it blooms in the summer and then it blooms again. What a fooler.

It’s August, but there are already patches of red leaves over the ponds. The leaves wouldn’t turn red unless they rested. I do a lot of resting. You needed to rest today too because you cut up a tree that fell across the road. I sat in the back of the car and supervised. After you cut up the tree, you rested on the couch, pretending you were reading. When you rest, you are very quiet.

You know who is almost never quiet?

Red squirrels. There are a lot of different colored squirrels here. Black squirrels hide from the red squirrels. Red squirrels clitter and clatter and chatter and shake their tails as they leap from pine to pine at heights that stretch up to seventy feet. 

Or so. I can’t really tell how high the trees are because I’m a land-bound dog.

That means I’m a dog and I bound up in the air when I get excited but I cannot, no I cannot, leap from branch to branch. And doggone, I have the sense not to try. 

A picture containing sitting, table, wooden, water

Description automatically generated
A picture containing dog, sitting, small, cat

Description automatically generated