We’re all animals here. Human and canine. Quiet and companionable on this day in early October.
This has been a grey, drizzly week in southern New England. At exactly the time when I should be outside capturing the glories of the season, the “thing that’s going around” has come to visit our house. With everything wet all the time, the trees are not doing much except in patches along the river.
Today is supposedly the last of the damp, gray days — for at least a week — or unless Hurricane Matthew makes it way all the way up the coast. In which case, bye-bye autumn!
Gibbs being annoyed by photographer while he’s trying to get his much-needed beauty sleep
The few times I remember having no autumn, were when hurricanes blew the leaves off the trees before having a chance to show their colors. There were also two memorable years when we had significant snowfall in September and early October. Although snow that early won’t linger on the ground, it finishes off the color change of the leaves.
Yawning Bonnie. Nothing much happening, might as well sleep.
It’s still early October, so there’s time for the change of season to make a splash. Meantime, our dogs — Bonnie and Gibbs — have been moping. They don’t care for rain. They don’t mind anything else including lots of snow, even when there’s more snow than Scottish Terrier on the ground. But, for reasons that remain unclear to me, they do not love rain.
I’ve been taking pictures. Mopy dogs are not cheerful, but also aren’t in rapid motion. Which is good for a photographer. Me.
Bonnie – posing for the camera
Bonnie was a rescue from a puppy mill, but she was barely 9 weeks old when she came to us. A tiny little thing and she has never reached full size. Her traumatic early weeks of life don’t seem to have affected her personality, although the likely malnutrition of those early weeks kept her undersized for her breed. She has made up for it by being astoundingly food driven, checking every piece of floor (including the rug) several times every day … just in case there might be a crumb left lying free.
She’s a bit on roly-poly side, so I doubt she is really starving, but she says she is. She lies like a dog.
Her prime activity (other than hunting for food) is subduing throw pillows. You would not believe how difficult it is to keep a good throw pillow down. As soon as she pushes all three of them to on the floor, they are back on the sofa. And she has to wrestle them yet again. A dog’s work is never done.
Bonnie, looking for a pillow fight
Gibbs was a stud in a large, midwestern breeding kennel until he came to us just this past March. He’s settled in nicely to the life of a sofa dog, but he remains — and perhaps always will remain — very wary of anyone other than us.
With us, he’s become more or less “normal,” or as normal as terriers ever are. Everyone else is someone to bark at and he has a definite spite on all internal combustion vehicles. As far as he is concerned, they are the enemy.
It’s probably his way of helping deal with global warming. Maybe if we all barked at cars and trucks, the world would be a cleaner place? He’d chase them too if it weren’t for those frustrating fences …
These are our animals. Our pals. Two dogs, both black Scottish Terriers. They amuse us, comfort us, play with us, and keep us busy and laughing. They don’t ask for money and don’t need car insurance.
Life goes on. Peacefully. With dogs.