I see that the Chicago Sun-Times has linked to this blog as a good place to find dog stories. They note that this blog is "updated constantly."
I bow in thanks. I am nothing if not compulsive.
And hello! to anyone who finds their way to this blog through the Sun-Times. You are very welcome here.
But what this means is: More dog stories. Fewer turkey stories.
(Of course, Boscoe and Riley have been telling me this for weeks.)
Boscoe has started lagging behind on the walks again. This does not mean that he's tired, or in pain. It means that it's sweet grass season. He goes slow in the mornings, stopping often to seek out the tender shoots of new grass. Riley has started copying him like a good little brother, and sometimes it feels like we're walking a couple of goats, the way they stop and graze and look around and do something stupid like try to dash off after a rabbit even though they're on a short leash and then graze some more.
I wrote about this last year, almost to the day--you can find that post here. It's interesting only in that it shows how much slower this spring is than last; last year on May 3 I wrote about the apple blossoms and lilacs blooming. Today, we barely have leaves. No blossoms; not even any buds.
It is raining hard right now. Again.
Still, Boscoe will not be dissuaded. He hangs back, sniffs the grass, hunting the tender shoots. He takes his time. I relax and let him graze (unless the rain is furiously pelting down; then I drag him and scold).
On Sunday morning, my sister Holly and I walked the dogs around the lake. She's a cat person, but she has a calm and gentle nature, and the dogs adore her. Riley didn't bark at her, not once, and that's unusual for him; usually he likes to bark first thing, just to put visitors in their place. But with Holly he wagged his tail and leaped into her arms.
We walked slowly along the path. The sun was out, the weather was fair. We saw my old friend the bald eagle in a tree at water's edge and watched him lift off and slowly flap away with those enormous wings.
Halfway around the lake, Boscoe collapsed in the grass. He rolled from one side to the other and kicked his feet in the air. Then he lay still--still except for his mouth, which started chomping slowly on the grass.
Holly looked at him, uncertain. Um ... is this normal? she asked. I think she was worried that he might be having a fit.
Perfectly normal, I assured her.
Ah, sweet grass and summer rolls. Despite the chilly rain, I think winter is finally over.
A note on the photos: From last spring. I'm not about to go out in the monsoon right now and shoot a new picture for you.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Cookie update: You were all right! I brought the cookies to the party, but fortunately my family was much more enamored of the brownies. So I got to be a selfless hero, but I also got to bring most of the cookies back home with me.
I have been steadily eating them ever since. I have four left. I nuked one, as Amy suggested, and man oh man that was so good I want to tell Patti to send me another batch; I have a whole new way of eating them now!