Yes, I know the title doesn’t end with an ellipse . . .
Things are gonna shake up a bit around here. This blog has
apparently been in mind-hiatus long enough to have gestated into an entirely
different being. Metaphormorphosized, so to speak.
Unfortunately for you, the drawn out mixed metaphors and
achingly awful puns have not changed. Neither, I am sure, will the digressions
have disappeared entirely. (Look, there’s one now!)
What’s changing seems to be my focus, and indeed the reason
I began this blog in the first place. Let’s face it, gentle readers, you’ve had
the most glaring clue in front of you all along.
Summerhood Island journal? Surely that tells you this blog
started out as a crass commercial attempt to interest you in the Summerhood
Island book series. Which seems dead as a series and instead lives on only as
the single stand-alone middle reader Coyote
Summer. Which will teach me to
read a contract more closely. In any
case, in following the advice of all the how to write a promotional blog gurus
and not making every blog shameless self-promotion I discovered I actually liked writing about something besides my
book(s).
That something usually had a relationship with the natural
world as I found myself writing more and more frequently from our cabin in the
mountains. And as I wrote more blogs in this vein more people began to read
along. Coincidence?
Perhaps.
That’s beside the point. Which I am sure you are wondering
when I am going to get to it. I assure you, as soon as I figure out what it is
you will be the second(s) to know.
For now . . .
After dear Bug’s final days back in
June
we were left with one dog. And an old one at that.
Old and set in his
ways. Unfortunately said ways included being constitutionally unable to be alone.
Ever. July and August were spent hauling said dog along everywhere. Which, this
being summer in our hemisphere, meant doing errands early in the morning or
late at night. We took a dog-friendly vacation. When my wife went to the west
coast in August I discovered the pleasures of staying home all day, as going
out meant coming home to a totally stressed out and neurotic animal.
 |
| chance being old |
I began “shopping” in earnest on the SGSR website http://www.southeastgermanshepherdrescue.com/
that I’d discovered in May after convincing my above-referenced wife to let me have one last shepherd mix. Small, I promised.
Short-haired. Leash and house trained.
After scouring the descriptions for months of we’d increased
the weight limit from `absolutely under
75 lbs.’ to `well it really depends
on personality and training, doesn’t it?’
Then, while discussing and discarding the idea of another
dog with his foster I discovered (drumroll please!) a possibilityn
Short-haired. Well under 75 pounds. Runty, with terrible
allergies and bad hindquarters. Luckily we have an amazing vet. We’ve had this baby just about 3 weeks now, almost all of which time Deborah was on a
lecture/reading tour.
Old dog is used to her and has relaxed considerably.
Me, not so much. Seems when we cleaned up some skin infections, got her on
thyroid meds and anti-inflammatories and a hypoallergenic diet, this low to medium energy dog turned
into a virtual puppy.
But a very smart and well-trained and totally lovable one.
For the record, when I used the word buying I was referring to
the SGSR adoption fee. (and the special food and the medicine and the toys and
the beds and the baby gate to keep her from following us up the stairs which is
bad for her hindquarters and . . .)
Gentle readers, please allow me to introduce to you the one
and only Stevie Nicks.
