Bottom line:
it’s cool enough to observe; warm enough to write. I may just toss a spool and
call it a desk…Who can say?
So I come in
from a long day of …basically nothing but catch up. Saturday in a small town
for a small town gal is…well…classic Saturday. Folks who own their own shops, will
work it til dark, but once they unplug, well… there’s a difference in the air
on Saturdays…A sorta “if it gets done, it gets done” sorta vibe. The rest can
wait. After all, all of corporate America has unplugged from Friday rush hour
on… getting an ever so slightly head start (but not nearly so guilt free as their
small town counterparts) …Still and so, as the rest of the world slows down, we
get to catch up a notch…(but only a notch) ...one notch at a time... here in the country.
My day
started as always ~ early, but kinda mixed (emotionally speaking). I’ve been sellin’
off pups...now down to two…Doing my best
to ask the basic questions (having been one to volunteer on rescues, and having
asked these things of adopting parents in other settings) …
1)
Have
you ever owned a dog before?
2)
How
much land; is it fenced?
3)
Are you
familiar with this breed? (To the lady in the condo, “No. I'm sorry. Crates in your bedroom, not
the answer here. But I DO so appreciate your tender heart”…)
Bottom line:
there’s a fine line between wanting to move on and resisting because your gut says to ask one more question after all, everyone loves cute puppy pics (and who can blame ‘em)
I’ll spare you
the parts about the many rescues established (day after day after day)
for Pyrenees alone…After all, it’s a big ol jump from “How precious are these
faces?” to “ Are you friggin’ kidding? The dogfood bill is WHAT?”)
Point of this
blog is lying beside me, on top of legs, next to me…Point of this blog is:
Since when did food not matter?
So I came in from errands that ran
way too long…only to start the feeding thing post darkness. No biggie. I have
flood lights. Everybody’s fine. Nobody’s being abused. (Don’t call the media.) But in the haste of my wranglin’ up pups, chopping up grub; opening
up gates…yada…yada…yada… I spotted something, well, curious about the process
that before now, I had not made note of.
Before… come feeding time for a
bunch of 7 week old pups (tummies and appetites for which are, (can we agree)
always in “churn” motion) I began tonight's ritual. It started with me opening a
door (now a gate) and singing our little first-grader-ish tune words for which go “Everybody-Ready-for-the-‘BREK-Fus” pen?” (substituting “Supper” of
course, for evening feedings like tonight...I’d love to tell you I thought this
all out. Not that brilliant. These things are mostly created out of heart and in the moment...)
Goal the
first time I did it was to keep the babies following my voice and somehow tying
it to the smell of the food I’d chopped up, and hopefully, tying the rest to the ritual, and yes (selfishly) to me: the nice lady who is not our mom, but who has opposable digits to open
things like food and gate latches….(Yes, I know I overanalyze. All I can
tell you is that pups come running when I come out the door with food.)
All this time…I assumed it was the
food.
But tonight (a full 2 hours past
when I normally feed them…guilt for which, will consume me at least until
tomorrow’s morning feeding) I spotted an odd thing…
Where normally these pups plow in, chow down,
heads together, until all is consumed….This time (did I mention I was a full 2
hours late?) …they ate for a bit…but then they lifted their little heads as if
to say “You aren’t gonna rob us of our cuddle time, are you?")
Maybe it’s me..growing way too
maternal in my old age…But I honestly
think (no, make that “feel”…she writes with three puppies strewn across the legs of a writer who is
sitting in goat poop so as to capture this moment) … I honestly think/feel….It
wasn’t the food they were alert and eager to absorb, but the energy (food being
a significant part, make no doubt)
But when these 7 week old
puppies…new to life, food, sensory perceptors, etc…When these remaining three pups stopped…and
looked up at me ….leaving food in their bowls for the moment…and sat up as if to beg...Well, may I
just say, It was a Pavlovian moment…I think for me more than them.)
They didn’t jump for food
and food alone. They jumped into
the process...the very ritual of being fed…(“fed” meaning more than their bellies)
I can honestly say I have never seen
a 7 week old pup leave food in a bowel. But when they saw me leave their side
(to go inside to warm food for their mommy and Uncle Teej…I’m just saying…)
These souls are so much older than I or anyone ever knew…
And like Dorthy in the Wizzard of
Oz…
I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Goodnight Moon…
Goodnight sweet puppies…
Goodnight farm…
(FYI…Here’s what it looks like from laptops in goat pens on a Saturday night in Tennessee…)
Again, may I just say… Goodnight
Moon.
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