Emails to a friend who is in the hospital:

Dear T,

As S may have told you, John and I have Cruiser for the weekend. Last night I picked him (Cruiser) up and he hopped confidently into the backseat of my car. At first he kind of slouched his butt against the door, and then soon lay down for a snooze. I stopped at the Stewart's to get some Budweiser because Roger is coming over today to work on reunion things with me, and as I left the car Cruiser gazed through the windshield at me with his great droopy dark eyes. My heart feels warm just thinking about it. I love that he knows who I am and trusts me.

Anyway, I brought him home and he was cautious at first, not sure of John, who it turns out was not sure of Cruiser. Somehow John had gotten the impression that Cruiser is a mean scary dog. I talk about C often so I don't know where John got that idea. Cruiser walked around the first floor sniffing things. I'd like to think his nose is sensitive enough to recognize your smell even though you've only been here a few times. Thank goodness for my poor housekeeping! I told him I was so glad he was here but wished it was his mom instead.

I made supper and Cruiser observed. John was on the couch watching TV. Two of our three cats made cautious forays into Cruiser's space, and he was absolutely charming to them. He dropped his head, was as still as he could be, his big nose quivering, his tail wagging ever so gently. One cat--Smidgen--actually touched noses with Cruiser the first hour he was here. Then they assumed détente. Cats upstairs, Cruiser downstairs, with cats making hourly rounds to sniff the air, display their fur and look wide-eyed, hurt, at John and me.

After supper John and I settled together on the couch for TV, and I invited Cruiser to join us. He leapt up quite gracefully for such a big beast, and at first was not interested in sitting on John, only me. He was as delicate as he could be but it is hard when you have big floppy paws and the humans are entangled together under an afghan. Soon, though, with John's caresses, Cruiser settled down onto both of us and was a big happy moosh.

Later I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed, and when I went in to the living room John and Cruiser were reclining together like two odalisques, totally absorbed in a hockey game. Or maybe John was absorbed and Cruiser was sleeping.

You are correct, of course--C hasn't braved the stairs. I have informed him that if he does come upstairs he may sleep in the bed with us, and I think the cats are hatching a secret nuclear weapon to prevent that from happening.

This morning John saw what he thinks is a wolf on the frozen river out front. Do you think we could have a wolf here? Maybe it was just a big fluffy coyote. Either way, I still haven't seen any coyotes myself and want to.

I'm off to the NCSPCA board meeting where I might see S. John is going to go for a long walk with Cruiser.

Big hug.







Dear T,

Well, it didn't take long for Cruiser to brave the stairs. This afternoon after our walk (which followed his and John's walk) I came up for a nap and with a little coaxing and sweet-talking Cruiser followed me up the stairs. He was perfectly coordinated about it. He required little encouragement to jump into bed and lie in my arms. He was only still for a moment before scootching around to say, "SCRATCH MY BELLY." Lick lick, snuffle snuffle, SCRATCH MY BELLY. Pretend to doze. SCRATCH ME! Moan, groan. PET ME! So much for the human nap. I told John things will never be the same between Cruiser and me again. We've lain together.

Our yard is now filling up with large poopies and messy spots where Cruiser has treated his face like a snow plow or rolled around in the fresh snow. He is a delight to have around.

He is also fine about going down the stairs. Maybe that is my contribution to your and Cruiser's quality of life. When you come home, he can do stairs.

Big hug,











Dear T,

There is so much life outside our house, all sorts of yawps and gurgles and hoots and honks. Some things I recognize--turkeys gobbling. Other things are mysterious--an intense babyish yipping in the hill behind our field. The river sound is getting louder. Earth smells like it might be coming back to life. Tonight there is a high-pitched rapid barking that echoes off the various hills and cliffs so the entire sky is filled with this sound. It's kind of ominous.

Yesterday evening John and I were relaxing at sunset and Cruiser was nosing around in the yard. John on the porch came into Cruiser's vision and Cruiser charged at him, all four paws off the ground. He must have flown six feet--Cruiser, that is. John was unfazed. Cruiser landed and came up to John all waggling and pushing his head against John's thigh.

This morning I dropped Cruiser and his water dish off at H and S's house. Ned, their black lab that is part helicopter, was overjoyed to see his buddy Cruiser, who seemed very happy, too, but did not bounce so high. I don't think S will let Cruiser visit us again--I think she thinks we spoiled him during our 48 hour lovefest. Perhaps you can put in a good word for us.

All sorts of dogs have taken to coming to the east end offices now that Cruiser is not there. Your giant box of biscuits is nearing its end--we'll have to get some more. Witherbee, Amy's gleaming grey puppy made his first appearance today in the company of Gannett, who is a daily mooch. Both boys sat politely and accepted a treat from me while I was on the phone with someone important. It's always fun when a serious conversation is interrupted by a WOOF! If the person is an alum they always sigh and say how they miss the place, and if it is someone else they say how they wished they worked in a place like this.

Here is my favorite poem:
Tell me, O Octopus, I begs,
Is those things arms or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I'd call me Us.

By Ogden Nash.

Tomorrow morning I've got barn chores at NCS and John begins his alpaca-sitting duty at a local farm. Did you know that alpacas spit, and each beastie costs about $10,000? I probably told you that already. They only eat as much as a dog, they poop no more than a goat and always in the same neat little pile. Still, $10,000 for a large spitting mammal with only bottom teeth. I have yet to determine how you make a profit off them, but in the spirit of neighborliness we'll scrape their dainty poos into the wheelbarrow while the farmer is on vacation, feed their companion auracana chickens and take a few warm blue eggs, and bide our time. Who knows, maybe we'll become the next alpaca millionaires.

Thanks again for calling today. Sorry I was not in the spirit of chatting. Talk to you again soon, I hope. I'll be in Montréal at the NAIS conference from Weds. through Sat. but will try to email and will be thinking of you.