|In readiness for "The Great Arizona Excursion"|
Spare GPS -- check
Sandwich – check
Various cords and chargers – check
|"We don't like it. . ."|
It was 37 degrees at 7:30 a.m. as Mike prepared to leave on the “Great Arizona Excursion.” Wearing what seemed like 15 layers of clothing to be peeled off as the day warmed, he packed his last-minute items. The dogs both knew what was up – and they didn’t like it. The departure went off without a hitch. Yeah – you already know better, don’t you? Five minutes later he was back to get his cellphone. Well, at least he thought of it.
|And he's off -- almost|
Knowing that Mike would be gone, I ordered some books from my Amazon Wishlist as little staycation gifts. Nothing breaks the monotony of a dull day like a delivery. Right on cue, the first arrived today – “Women’s Magazines 1940-1960: Gender Roles and the Popular Press.” It’s mostly a compilation of articles from mid-century magazines. One that catches my eye is: “Mothers . . . Our Only Hope,” by J. Edgar Hoover. I need to order more monotony breakers.
About 1:00, it was 70 degrees as I took Bess and Nellie for their walk -- a bit earlier than usual, but they wanted to go. Nellie is slow, doesn’t hear, and might not obey even if she does hear. I now keep her on the leash until we get beyond the county shop. On the way back, I again put her on the leash or else I’d be forever getting her home. Meanwhile, Bess exuberantly runs ahead. It's a trial to walk them by myself. I wish for the open fields of Gilbert.
As the day wore on, I think we missed Mike more. Bess and Nellie like routine, and that was missing from our day. After my light supper, Bess sat at my feet and softly complained, finally falling asleep. At bedtime, I brushed their teeth and grabbed a treat for each dog. Nellie’s is a gummy beef-flavored ball formulated to help her joints. Bess gets half of a regular dog cookie. They were excited about the treats and went immediately to the kennel, but the unthinkable happened and I fumbled Nellie’s. The three of us searched, the dogs sniffing the ground furtively.
“I sure don’t see anything, do you, Nell?” said Bess – chomp, chomp, chomp, swallow, gulp.
“I’ve been robbed!” said Nellie.
“You wait, Nellie,” said I, running back to the house for another treat, which she relished.
It seems to be important that Nellie gets this delicious “treat” twice a day in order to keep the pain of arthritis at bay. Of course, it won’t hurt Bess but she doesn’t need it.
Tomorrow –another day with Bess and Nellie.
(Oh – and Mike called from Clint’s in Gooding. So far, so good.) KW