Buying Stevie Nicks

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.

chance being old

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.

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.