Done and almost over

In a few hours the year will be finished. And then a new one begins. Seamlessly. I probably won't even wake up when one is done and the other starts.

I thought about making resolutions. But I am a dog and I am pretty happy about everything I do. Well, getting up on the kitchen table wasn't so smart. And barking at my Best Friend when he was shoveling might be interpreted as kind of dense. And maybe I shouldn't have eaten all that chocolate chip banana bread. But almost everything else I have ever done seemed pretty reasonable at the time. Or maybe I just wasn't reasoning. I was just doing.

It seems to be a good way for me to be. Think a little, do a lot. I can try to remember to be polite, to be patient, to be gentle. I could try and lose a couple pounds but I get lots of exercise and my red suit fits, so who cares? I am appreciative, enthusiastic, somewhat obedient and don't take up too much room on the couch. I keep the kitchen floor clean, Ollie on his toes, don't snore too loudly and prevent the squirrels from taking over the yard. All in all, I am a pretty swell fellow. Or at least tolerable. Well, let's just say I am a good dog.

So, a tail wag to all and a happy new year!

Wild life

Maybe Ollie is right to watch shadows. If I had I would have missed this one though. A sharp-eyed sharp-shinned hawk sailed into the yard and snatched a sparrow who had been looking down at cracked corn instead of up at the sky - the place that danger comes from.

The hawk ate and ate and scattered the feathers and ate some more.

At first I was slightly appalled. After all, it is MY job to decide what goes on in the yard (except when I am asleep and then its everyone for himself). But the sharpie was efficient. There was no sport in his actions, only grim survival. No one hands him crunchies in a bowl twice a day.

The yard remained quiet for a few hours. My Person shoveled away the feathers, feet and beak left behind in the snow. A crow, sentinel of the bird world, made sure the sharpie didn't hang around all afternoon, digesting and scaring the chickadees and house finches that normally populate the yard.

Today a few flight feathers poke up through a fresh dusting of snow and the goldfinches glean the seed heads of cone flowers. Wild life goes on.

Ollie's cave

How often does your cat brother illustrate a philosophical allegory? More often than you might think.

Here is Ollie, seated at the window which overlooks the bird feeder. On this frosty day the birds are coming in to eat, a constant and fluttering crowd, squabbling, eating, seed tossing and jockeying for the best seat at the seed table.

But you will notice that Ollie does not look out of the window. He watches shadows instead. Sometimes the shadow of a bird landing on a nearby branch is cast upon the wall and Ollie stands on his hind legs and taps it with his paw. He cries softly and sits back down to watch the shadows again.

Does Ollie know he is watching shadows? How does he feel about Plato's illustration of the philosopher's role in society? Does Ollie have his own reasons for looking at the shadows?

Well, I am just a little red dog but I know a shadow from a bird. And I might not be of a philosophical bent but I think Ollie just spends too much time asleep in warm places. Or maybe he's a complex sort of little white cat and has turned all his world into a game. And I bet Ollie won't tell us what he thinks so I am not going to ask.

Below zero

I am a dog and I have a bite. I reserve my bite for eating supper and for emergency situations. But this winter weather has a bite of its own and it is not holding it in reserve. It is cold out!

I have been spending a lot less time out of doors - I run outside, and do my business and scoop up all the bird seed the silly birds have kicked out of their seed tray. Then I am ready to go back inside and curl up somewhere warm.

During my walks my little fast feet freeze one by one and I look like an animated tripod running along on three legs at a time. And my Person bundles up into a giant stiff padded shape and she shuffles along breathing out vapor clouds that circle her hat and freeze on her glasses. I would laugh but instead I lead her along safely. My work is never done.

If you have a place to warm up, count yourself lucky. I am happy to be a tame little red dog with a home and a food dish and a radiator or two. It is one thing to be a wild and free guy in the summer but right now I am happy to be inside and all curled up!

Storm watch

Blowing snow, cold wind, fluffed birds, my footprints lost as soon as I've made them - this is a winter storm watch in the North. And I was out in it with the best of them (and the worst of them), trudging through the gloaming, ice crusting my snout and drifts covering my little white socks and snow standing in a long ridge on my back and frosting my ears. The wildest of wild animals, furred or feathered, fanged or clawed, was similarly snow-assailed and searching for food in the late light (I found a wild slice of bread in someone's yard), and thinking about a sheltering place for the night.

Here is my sheltering place, a butterfly chair with a chenille throw, and I suppose the coyote I saw doesn't have quite the same comforts awaiting him. But I do and I won't complain too much and here I will stay until my next fearsome walk. Or supper.

Quietly quietly

Autumn has left and winter has come. The leaves are snowed under and the cold wind blows the snow in hissing waves.

But I am up for a walk anyway.

Our walks are quieter than a few weeks ago. Especially for my Person, who wears a huge hat on her head to keep her ears warm and to amuse the rest of us. The winter robins "chuck chuck" quietly quietly as we walk along and our footfalls are muffled in snow. Woodpeckers rap on tree trunks but few other birds are seen. The river flows quietly quietly under a skin of ice and a blanket of snow. Yesterday the river ice was talking - creaks and hums and strange zings. But not today. An eagle flies quietly quietly over the walking path and down by the river edge a strange wild creature noses quietly quietly along. I bark but not quietly. My Person and I are both pretty sure it was a coyote.

After this I was so excited I made up for the wintery hush by barking at all kinds of things - people, dogs, leaf piles. I barked myself into a great state of almost summery warmth. So much for quietly quietly.