Big dogs and quiet mornings
The house is quiet save for the thumping of kitten butts and heads on the floor as they roll around in kitty play.
Outside the sun is threatening to rise, but you can hardly tell it for the fog. It is so dense and near white, it's no wonder they were able to make a scary movie about it and pull it off. Fog is a neat and mysterious thing (it also makes it difficult for big, black dogs to decide where best to crap first thing in the morning). In the field out back, deer are grazing. I can't see them through the fog, but I know they are there. They are there every morning unless I get the stupid notion that I can get up at 4:30 and open the kitchen door before they show, in hopes of sitting with a cup of coffee to watch them without the hinderance of the window screens. They do not come out on those mornings. Other mornings though, if I am patient and willing to stand at the bathroom window with a cup of coffee, I can watch them browse the field for as long as my legs care to hold me up without cramping. It is a good way to start the day.
I love mornings here. Actually, I guess I've always loved mornings wherever I happened to be, but here it is special since this is my world - my quiet solitude. I see nothing when I step outside, except our place...no houses, no people, just our little corner full of critters. Morning is a gift to the spirit - a spiraling mass of connectivity through all things - able to be enjoyed by anything, human or animal, willing to stand still for a moment and experience it.
It only happens in the morning that things are this calm. Doug and the kids are still sleeping, and so are the majority of dogs. Only big Gimli lays contentedly at my feet, ready to rise on a moments notice and escort me safely to the coffee pot or potty. It is his duty as Big Dog to see that his mistress is well protected. My big, sweet, goofy dog that sheds on freshly made beds like no other in the history of the world has ever been capable of. My heart of hearts.
My mama, bless her heart, she just doesn't get it. He stinks (only if he gets wet), he sheds and makes me vacuum my furniture every day, (and ok, he has destroyed close to a half a dozen pairs of shoes in the last two weeks) - I can admit that. He turns my black and white kitchen floor into a black on black kitchen floor because that's where the window unit is and the tile is cool, man. Where else is a pampered black dog going to find some relief? She doesn't understand my willingness to 'put up with' these things. Not just from him, but from all the dogs and cats. I can only guess that she is shielded - there is a veil of some kind - either behind her eyes or in her heart that blocks the doggy-luv. If she took the time to pet his sweet head when he offers it, she would see that he will, every time, return love - LOVE - not just thank you, with his eyes. And if she took the time to sit and watch him, she'd notice the way he gets up from his nap (without stretching, mind you) to check on the kids if someone cries, and even to make sure a kitten whose head has just hit the floor with an particularly loud thump, is ok and doesn't need help. He just shows up and stands quietly near, reassuringly near, using his nose to assertain whether things are alright or not, and offering a sweet kiss to whoever may need one. He's the bestest dog in the whole wide world (in spite of the shoe thing).
Outside the sun is threatening to rise, but you can hardly tell it for the fog. It is so dense and near white, it's no wonder they were able to make a scary movie about it and pull it off. Fog is a neat and mysterious thing (it also makes it difficult for big, black dogs to decide where best to crap first thing in the morning). In the field out back, deer are grazing. I can't see them through the fog, but I know they are there. They are there every morning unless I get the stupid notion that I can get up at 4:30 and open the kitchen door before they show, in hopes of sitting with a cup of coffee to watch them without the hinderance of the window screens. They do not come out on those mornings. Other mornings though, if I am patient and willing to stand at the bathroom window with a cup of coffee, I can watch them browse the field for as long as my legs care to hold me up without cramping. It is a good way to start the day.
I love mornings here. Actually, I guess I've always loved mornings wherever I happened to be, but here it is special since this is my world - my quiet solitude. I see nothing when I step outside, except our place...no houses, no people, just our little corner full of critters. Morning is a gift to the spirit - a spiraling mass of connectivity through all things - able to be enjoyed by anything, human or animal, willing to stand still for a moment and experience it.
It only happens in the morning that things are this calm. Doug and the kids are still sleeping, and so are the majority of dogs. Only big Gimli lays contentedly at my feet, ready to rise on a moments notice and escort me safely to the coffee pot or potty. It is his duty as Big Dog to see that his mistress is well protected. My big, sweet, goofy dog that sheds on freshly made beds like no other in the history of the world has ever been capable of. My heart of hearts.
My mama, bless her heart, she just doesn't get it. He stinks (only if he gets wet), he sheds and makes me vacuum my furniture every day, (and ok, he has destroyed close to a half a dozen pairs of shoes in the last two weeks) - I can admit that. He turns my black and white kitchen floor into a black on black kitchen floor because that's where the window unit is and the tile is cool, man. Where else is a pampered black dog going to find some relief? She doesn't understand my willingness to 'put up with' these things. Not just from him, but from all the dogs and cats. I can only guess that she is shielded - there is a veil of some kind - either behind her eyes or in her heart that blocks the doggy-luv. If she took the time to pet his sweet head when he offers it, she would see that he will, every time, return love - LOVE - not just thank you, with his eyes. And if she took the time to sit and watch him, she'd notice the way he gets up from his nap (without stretching, mind you) to check on the kids if someone cries, and even to make sure a kitten whose head has just hit the floor with an particularly loud thump, is ok and doesn't need help. He just shows up and stands quietly near, reassuringly near, using his nose to assertain whether things are alright or not, and offering a sweet kiss to whoever may need one. He's the bestest dog in the whole wide world (in spite of the shoe thing).
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