Yesterday, King Louie turned 13. That’s a lot of birthdays for a large dog, and I’m thankful for every day I get to spend with him. We have a language we share. When he shakes his head at me, it means “Foodmonkey, I’m serious”. When I scoop my arms in a wide arc above my head at him in the yard, it means “Those critters live here, now can we please go in the house”. Our long walks have become shorter as he shuffles along. Arthritis is a bitch. He doesn’t dig holes in the yard anymore. And he just takes umbrage at the Squirrel Nation with indignant “boof”s instead of the full throttle, full decibel songs-of-his-people in his youth
We have a comfortable thing. He sleeps beside me as I work from home. We make tea and have treat breaks in the morning. While my gentleman associate and I watch TV in the evening, he lays on his sheepskin rug, fully camouflaged. He reaches his paw out to me as I sit in lotus in the evening. He sleeps on the shag rug beside me most nights, unless he’s cold, then he goes to his plush furry bed.
So what else, this week?
- Montreal bagels, freshly overnight couriered from St-Viateur’s. *chef’s kiss* My dad and I bought 6 dozen (because if you’re gonna get bagels overnight couriered from the Evil Empire, you might as well get the biggest order you can). Now I just have to convince myself not to eat a full dozen Rosemary and Sea Salt bagels before bedtime. Pray for me…
The Christmas decorations that friends and fam have made for me, or brought to me from trips they’ve taken. Dressing my house in it’s holiday finery is like revisiting the lovely relationships I have. My gentleman associate lets me revel in this. He doesn’t do any of it except to carry Rubbermaid bins up or down stairs for a week or two. That’s a gift in itself, too.
- Visit to the dentist with no cavities for the 49th year in a row. I’m in the Platinum level No Cavity Club. … … … Oh man, I wish that was a thing.
- The amount of local farmers, makers, and artists in my area. On Saturday, my G.A and I went to pick up my sister’s Christmas gift from the woman I commissioned it from (and boyoboyoboy am I excited for her to open it!) and we ended up at the St. Jacob’s Market. That place is often a zoo on Saturdays, but wandering through the blustery outdoor aisles full of apples and brussels sprouts still attached to the stem and honeycomb and the indoor aisles full of Mennonite cured meats and cider and baked goods… it really is a wondrous way to fill one’s cup. With the exception of a few carnival barkers who REALLY wanted us to try their miracle joint cream, it was exactly the Farmers Market visit that one needs, periodically.
Have a blessed, gracious week, friends.