Since buying the house, I’ve started carrying around a black journal in which I semi-compulsively write all of the various chores, projects, purchases, etc. that need to be accomplished. “Stress Inducing Log of Expensive Projects” might be a better term for the journal. Regardless, I wrote the following passage in it this morning:
I woke up early this morning to do some work before going to work. However, I’ve spent the first ten minutes of my extra hour looking for the coffee filters, which Lindsey had moved while unpacking the hundreds of kitchen things we (apparently) own. I spent another ten minutes waiting for my toast to toast in the toaster oven that had been shifted and, unbeknownst to me, unplugged. Now, I’m sitting in sweat pants and a hooded “Michigan” sweatshirt with hiking boots on as a precaution for having to chase after Yogi if he decides to bolt into the woods.
I wrote the last sentence about hiking boots before I put them on, and just before Yogi actually did chase after a deer. So, instead of running after the dog in boots, I was in yellow Dutch-shoe slippers. I ran around our little house, through the pricker bush thatch, up the large hill, and down half of the other side of the large hill, all the while yelling, “Yogi! Yogi! Yogi!” It was dark, I was cold, my slippers were ruined and the moral of this story is that we need to fence the other half of the yard.
When he stands, it is as a mighty lion stands – a deliberate struggle of a beast battered by carnivorous dreams. Restless and cold, he shifts through the monochrome darkness of night. With each step his paw lands with the thrust of an uncalibrated pile driver trying to beat down the house in which he lives. His good master does not wake; not so for the neighbor girl tumbling beyond the pale green drywall.
He reaches his mirage and begins his inarticulate laps from the cool stainless steel bowl. Water splashes on the wall and the floor and his crusty black nose. When the struggle is over, strands of sinewy slobber drape his mug. The “mighty shake” is coming. The walls recoil in terror. The picture frames fall flat. The clean – the spotless – the untouched – they all post their guard – ready and waiting. His great brute box head turns violently and sets in motion a furious chain reaction of jowl to drool to mid-air acrobats of gelatin-like mouth droppings seeking out the clean – the spotless – the untouched.
Written from 11:05 pm to 11:25 pm on Wednesday, November 10, 2010 at home in Traverse City, Michigan.
It was a beautiful fall day! Chris and I took Terry, Robbi, Katy, and Steen to the exact location where Chris proposed! We had all three dogs with us, which was quite hectic, but fun nonetheless. Yogi got a little – well a lot worn out – and by the end of the hike decided to lay in the water! Ugg. Maybe hiking to “our spot” will be a yearly thing….I hope so!