I guess we are almost a month past what would accurately be called the dog days of this summer, when Sirius, the Dog Star was in his appropriate juxtaposition with the horizon, and the days were hot and languid. I don't know where, or what time Sirius makes his appearance now, at equinox, but the days have been so gloriously rich and warm and lovely that I am convinced we are being compensated for July.
Here in the spruce forest, we know about dog days. Languid? Let me tell you. A good book, a glass of red wine, a slice of Havarti on rye and a ripe pear out on the west deck. Not a sound except the slight dry rustle of leaves as a breeze dances past; a few busy butterflies gathering...well, gathering whatever butterflies gather on the west deck. Eat your hearts out, people. Way to go, Sirius. Keep up the good work.
Our dog, Whoopie, is loving the dog days too. Or she was, until this morning. Whoopie is an exceptionally clever and entertaining friend. She was rescued from an SPCA shelter in Lethbridge about seven years ago when the man of my dreams was doing log restoration work at Fort Whoop-Up. Hence, her name. She made the long drive home with him and was presented to me on my birthday -- a terrified, rain-soaked bundle of soggy fur, with a tail of lethal proportion.
Our spruce forest is perfect for her. She has an endless supply of sticks for us to throw, that matches her endless supply of energy for retrieving them. Sadly, it surpasses our supply of energy for throwing them. She has taught herself to howl, so that she can sing with the coyotes at night...all night...every night. She is the sworn enemy of the squirrels, Canada Jays, and chickadees, who get their kicks teasing her at her food dish, where she becomes the bristling epitome of indignation and rage...but she has yet to sink her teeth into her foe. She is a comedian with kind eyes, and a happy smile.
All in all, Whoopie is a joyful, busy, and delightful pet. And did I mention that she is really smart? She really is, but she has a reckless streak in her. She loves to play tag with the tractor or the lawn mower, barking like a fiend and racing laps around us when we are cutting. And she has yet to figure out that she should not be getting up close and personal with a porcupine. She has been given that lesson at least once every year since she came to live here. This morning, she had the refresher course. Not a pleasant event for anyone, but forgotten almost as soon as the last quill was extracted.
Right now, I am listening to a squirrel explaining to her that she is not welcome under his tree. My guess is that she will take her nap there.
It is too perfect in my world to write about politics today. Happy dog days to you all!
