Happiness is believing in a future of infinite possibilities.
What lifted you up this week?
This week’s Good Wolf Lunch is about a major breakthrough I had about my Bad Wolf: he’s a dignity junkie.
There are two bay windows on the front of this house, clearly visible from the street. My plan was to use them as side tables, for the recliner where I’m going to be writing in the living room, and for the bed in the front bedroom (aka Krissie’s room), and to make them beautiful for people to see as they go by so they’d think I have my act together. Since I only have one bedroom at the moment, Krissie’s room is my room, too, which means it also sleeps four dogs. You may remember how pretty that window was when I first set it up:
Then, slowly but surely, the dogs took the window. It had a cold, hard wood surface but they’d all get up there to bark at passersby, which meant that my plans for a classy window in this room went out, well, the window. The first thing that went was the fancy teacup lamp, moved safely into the living room now and replaced with a plain cheap white lamp. Then I took the daffodils out. No point in getting them smashed. Then one day I looked up and all four were sacked out in the window, happy as dachshund clams. (Mona thinks she’s a dachshund and I’m not going to be the one to burst her bubble.)
My Bad Wolf said, “This window looks godawful now, just a plain white lamp in it, plus there are all these dog prints on the wood and nose prints on the glass. And the neighbors must hate getting yelled at every time they walk by. This looks bad. This is not the way we want to present ourselves to the neighborhood. We’re not anonymous here. We have a reputation to protect, or at least establish. It’s bad enough that we have four dogs, let alone four yapping dogs. Have some dignity. Get those damn dogs out of the window.”
My Good Wolf said, “Put some padding down so they’re more comfortable. They’re cuter than the teacup lamp anyway. Besides, what has dignity ever done for us?”
So I took the plain lamp out of the window and made lunch for my Good Wolf by cutting some foam rubber packing pieces to fit the window seat and wrapped fabric around it as a temporary test, and the dogs moved in immediately.
They’re happy when they’re in there. I’m happy when they’re in there because they’re so happy and because I have more room on the bed. And when I ran into my across-the-street neighbor Kathleen and apologized for the dogs, she said, “Are you kidding? Look how cute they are. This is a dog neighborhood, nobody will care.”
The Bad Wolf is wrong, wrong, wrong again.
Then I went to look at the Spoonflower quilt contest and found this:
I think that’s my Good Wolf dancing. It’s definitely my Good Wolf’s mantra. Or maybe it’s “I love not being dignified.” Yeah, that’s better.
What did you feed your Good Wolf this week?
I know it’s not Saturday. This is a catch-up post to say that Lani came and brought the dogs and Veronica has claimed the bay window in the bedroom as hers:
(Click on the pic to see the full gorgeousness of Veronica.) All four dogs seem very happy, and I am, too. I didn’t think we missed having the other two around, but now that they’re here, it really feels as though this is my house.
Yes, I’m going to finish painting that woodwork. Give me a minute here.
There was no cottage Saturday this week because I’m dealing with ten thousand things, and I didn’t have the time. One of the reasons I didn’t have the time was Milton, who had surgery on Thursday and came home Sunday, wiping out $6500 of my bank account that would have put a floor in the porch, but it’s Milton, so it had to be done. I lost Lyle a year ago, I was not going to lose Milton, too. They shaved a reverse mohawk on his back and made an incision, took out as much of the bad disc as they could (part of it had fused to his spine because it took me so long to get the money) and sewed him back up again, Frankenstein style. When they brought him out, I said, “Oh, Milton,” because the incision is significant, but then they put him in my arms, and even drugged to the teeth, he licked me on the nose, so I knew he was going to be okay. Continue reading
I sat down at the computer and Pooska immediately decided she needed to climb onto my chest. I’m sure I’ve posted a photo of her on my chest before — she does it fairly often. Fortunately I can touch-type so she can rest there for a while as long as she doesn’t dig her claws into me.
Pooska showed up in our garage in 1995. My daughter and I walked were walking to the car, our Springer bouncing along with us, when this huge, puffed-up cat stood there hissing at us, and I quickly moved Kate out of the way, afraid it was some kind of bob cat. Then, when I came back out without the dog, I saw she was just a cat with tufted ears. In fact, she’s a Maine coon cat, big and fluffy, with the traditional M on her forehead. Continue reading