So, it’s been a little over a month here in the big, BIG city. The city of gates, as it were….Watergate, Travelgate and now, perhaps Trump-Russia-gate too. My impression of being back to the past so far? I’m using a lot more poop bags.
Seems silly to use poop bags as a measure of how things are going …or maybe not. After all, I am back in the land of political wonks and sleazy politicians. So….now it is The Poodle who is being challenged while we all adjust to our limbo state of affairs. For one, he had plenty of places to do his business in middle-earth country that were far enough off the beaten path–and free of a thousand eyes– that poop bags weren’t essential. Not so in the big city. Which reminds me: Must put in another order of lavender-scented poop bags to Amazon.
The Poodle’s has also decided to speak his mind loudly and often. Read: incessant barking. Yes indeed…He’s constantly jazzed about something, So much so that in a moment of desperation this morning I announced to sis that I was shipping the pooch off to the land where canines are sure to be on the menu.
“CC, that’s awful!” said sis in mild horror.
“For heaven’s sake, you know I am joking,” I countered as I scrolled through websites in search of useful tips to stop a senior dog from barking. “I’m just mighty peeved with this constant barking,” I added.
Seriously, I feel like a terrible mom; I’ve whisked my four-legged love away from his quiet country digs and his level of anxiety has been heightened ever since. He’s not accustomed to big city life with all the noise and action. He’s been living in serene tranquility –a sort of gentlemanly bliss– on Little Mountain for nearly five years. With the exception of the German Sheperd incident last November, he’s led a quiet existence. Now, in this temporary place, he’s contending with two cats, lawn mowers and Leaf blowers EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Not to mention the constant comings and goings of neighbors, children playing in the streets, school buses, and a seemingly never-ending stream of contractors working on various home jobs in this 25-year-old, plus, housing development. My nerves are fraying from all the barking.
Meanwhile, my boy’s best canine buddy, beagle mix “cousin” Nica, is chilled to all the commotion, and the thunderstorms too. Sweet as can be, she is one laid back pooch who rarely barks. Ahh….but It’s another matter when we attempt a stroll around the neighborhood. All is well until she sees another dog at which point it’s all-out pandemonium. She turns into a maniacal Cujo dog with the strength of an entire herd of elephants. And yet…here’s the freaky thing: That same dog she goes nuts over? If it were off-leash they’d be happily running off into the sunset together chasing frisbees and each other as they went. For that sweet pooch there is just something about being on the leash.
Headaches aside, though we (The Poodle included) are far from being remotely settled (meaning, THE HOUSE HAS NOT SOLD)….Life is pretty darn good. We are making the best of this temporary state we find ourselves in as well enjoying the spoils that go with it: plentiful hugs, laughter, wine and great food, soccer games and non-stop activities. And, at the end of the day, we all fall into bed exhausted from the changes to normal routines.
Unsettled Bliss…for us. Though perhaps we are beginning to smell like fish to my dear sis.