September 28, 201
[We last left Elf chewing a dried, red apple contemplatively at sunset...]
During the sunny, dewy morning Elf chewed a dried, flat grey toad contemplatively on the lawn beneath her human’s feet. Until the human saw two distinctive, if nearly one dimensional, amphibious feet sticking out of her mouth. At that point the Nos! and Gives! commenced. Holding steadily to her prize, Elf evaded the proffered alternative treat of a few bits of kibble.
Really, Elf was thinking to herself while guarding her protein prize, humans are odd. They talk about healthy, organic, unadulterated, range-fed meat and was not that exactly what her snack was?
The human had been laughing to herself about a Mashable tweet read earlier: “Dating App Survey Finds that Bed Bugs Kill the Mood, Who Knew?” Also wishing that the press would get over bedbugs before we all decide we've got 'em. Bedbugs continue to exist. From what one reads they are now in hotels and some medical facilities across the USA. Another dwindled species making a comeback? Perhaps Elf should be trained as a bedbug sniffing dog so the two of them could visit lovely hotels in their chosen area where the small creature could use her low-to-the-ground advantage to point out where bedbugs hide?
Then, there was another tweet to mull over: “Department of Agriculture bombs Guam with frozen mice to kill snakes”
Researchers have established that the best delivery system of the acetaminophen-laced, dried rodents is via streamers, which will entangle themselves in tall trees where the invasive brown tree snakes prefer to hang out
Elf cheerfully finished off her own desiccated treat, containing absolutely no acetaminophen to poison her, before the human was done with her cogitations.
September 11, 2010
We have just completed two spectacular weeks of Canine Bed Rest for the rambunctious Elf, while she recovered from spay surgery. You try to keep a vigorous, active puppy serenely ensconced in a quiet setting for 15 days. True enough, for the first few days she slept for longer periods than usual even if she wasn’t much subdued when awake. But after those several days, whoosh! Off she flew.
Mainly I ceased playing catch with her, or swirling the lure around for her to chase. She stayed longer in her crate, also -- till a pair of eyeballs seemed to be burning holes in my head, even when I was in a different room.
After two days of regarding quiet me enquiringly whenever we paid a “nature visit” to the back yard, suggestively dropping apples in front of me, she appeared to shrug me off and take on the responsibility of entertaining herself. Maybe I was not tossing small apples for her to chase -- but the apple tree dropped plenty of fruit with thuds to bring Elf galloping. How she managed to determine which was the newly fallen specimen among 50 similar apples remains a mystery. Herding instincts? Imagine her thoughts: “This one’s a stranger! Grab it! Get it where it belongs!”
She also spent time racing and leaping after insects, twirling in midair, paws clasped around what proved to be air just vacated by a bee or a butterfly. No matter she'd missed the arthropod -- she was equally happy rushing after their shadows. A falling leaf? "Oh! A toy, a toy!" She managed to capture and consume a large green katydid, maul a dying bumblebee and polish off a wasp whose sting left her nose beneath the whiskers puffed up for hours. Undeterred, she continued her zealous pursuit of other wasps.
She pockmarked the yard with numerous craters, scooping dirt up, shooting it under herself, yeah, right into the scar area...
It is a wonder and a tribute to the Good Design of Dogs (and good veterinary techniques) that Elf healed beautifully in two weeks, with only two patches of stubbly fur, regrowing where it was shaved on her belly and around her left front leg.
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Evenings with Elf are pleasant this early fall season. She makes her last outdoor trip as the sun gets low in the west, her mood quieter by then. We each do a few chores of our own, then subside to gaze at the sky. So bright beneath the clouds! Some twilights there are towering thunderheads, anvils in deep blues, purples and greys, with the promise of rain falling ... on someone else's dust. Other twilights we’ll have thin, finely patterned clouds scattered amongst criss-crossing contrails above. Tonight, seemingly in memory of the shattering tragedy on this day in 2001, the clouds were delicate, shining in golden tones, with Venus brilliant close by the tiny crescent moon in the south. A dozen thin clouds in graceful patterns glowed soft gold and grey as flocks of a dozen to a score of snowy egrets winged northwards towards the marshes. Abruptly, maybe even instantly, these dainty clouds turned to charcoal, as the sun sank behind another, bigger cloud. Even the straight lines of contrails went black against the pale blue.
Elf chewed a dried, red apple contemplatively on her bed beneath the roof, while I counted egrets. Finally I gathered a few good apples for the kitchen and we went in, away from the darkness. And away from a yard that today had not one single hummingbird, when two days ago a dozen buzzed around the feeders, one even taking up a position inside the garage. Yesterday's cold wind must have been part of a front passing over and pushing our hummingbirds southward. How the changing seasons drive us just as they do the tiny birds...
