"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

What a life!

Well now Silvia, I take your face book comment on Veronica’s Wall as a challenge, so speaking of
 ‘… fly on Ozzy’s nose’, I proffer the following post and hope you enjoy it!

We’ve had a few days of temperate weather, so much so that, day before last, we managed to clean up the gardens and enjoy the beauty of a crisp fall day, as well. Just in time, as yesterday we were hit with a fairly intense storm. Heavy rainfall was bandied about by high winds causing what was left of the leaves on the Maple tree outside our kitchen window, and most of the green-turned-yellow leaves on the Cherry tree out back to fall and create slippery pathways on the grass and pavement. Pretty much un-doing all our hard work.

Ah well, a bit off point anyway as this post is about Ozzy, who has a bit of a thing these days, about his sleeping arrangements. Never being one who is comfortable alone, Oz has many venues in which to lay his head, and he seems to visit them in the same order each day. In the morning, he likes to return to the bed whence he nestled the night before. In the late mornings, he moves from the bed to the living room to cozy up on the chaise while I watch my Soap Opera, then, if its sunny, he’ll meander on out to the deck, where he can catch some rays and nip at a fly or two, lest one lands on his nose. When he’s had his fill of the sun, he’ll ‘knock’ on the back door so he can resume his napping on the sofa where he sprawls out, in what appears to be, a most awkward position indeed.

Around meal times, he interrupts his busy schedule of napping to hang around the kitchen in hopes that he will be able to scarf-down some food remnant that happens to make its way to the floor, or in the alternative, paw up to the counter to check things out for himself.

But these days, with the storm, all his doggy routines fly out the window. And heaven be the better of us should the storm include lightning. Major claps of thunder send our 125 pound Lion Hound flying and shivering to wherever it is we are, forsaking all manner of sleep and habit including that of going out to take care of business. And let’s not even talk about forcing him outside as he would probably have a sudden interruption of the heart’s normal functioning if I managed that one.



So, notwithstanding the impetuous rumble of thunder, after dinner and, of course, after his late night snack, Oz will retire for the night into his doggy dreams of peanut butter slathered rice cakes; apples and cottage cheese; and brisk runs on the beach. Oh, and of course --- naps.
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