Lucy and Annabelle

How can two kids be so different? Raised in the same household. Same bloodline… Must be the birth order thing.

Lucy

Lucy, the oldest, is thoughtful, reflective, serious, stubborn. She wants what she wants.

Annabelle is happy go lucky, waking each day in a new bright shiny world. She’s energetic, goofy, still a puppy.

Annabelle

Together they are spoiled rotten (my fault) with too much energy (they came that way). I need a dog whisperer.

Fayetteville is the perfect place for them…a grassy back yard with easy access, large enough to run and play and chase each other.  This week, however, each morning we awake to a heavy dew, hanging on to each blade like drops of mercury, glistening. The grass is coated until lunchtime, turning the dogs into muddy piglets who trounce on the bed with no warning. I have washed the linens three times this week.

I’m slow, but I’ve finally learned my lesson. This morning at sunrise we went on a long walk to avoid the wet back yard. The sunrise over Mt. Sequoyah was glorious and would have been quite peaceful if the dogs weren’t with me. Annabelle strains on the leash pulling my shoulder out of joint. She has the strength of a Siberian Husky and will be pulling me in a sleigh through the Ozark Mountains this winter. Lucy reluctantly drags behind us on her haunches like a mule. We lug her along with sparks nearly flying from beneath her paws as they scrape on the sidewalk. We look ridiculous.

Annabelle is Tigger, bouncy trouncy flouncy pouncy, fun! fun! fun! fun! fun! Lucy is Eeyore, plodding and sniffing, willfully going at her own pace.  Together they stretch my arms in opposite directions. And my arm with shingles is screaming!

Finally back home I ignore their constant badgering for an hour until I give up and give in. If only I could sit them in front of the flat screen with Dora the Explorer…

They manage to stay off the wet lawn, by entertaining themselves behind the garage. I know this is bad. I will pay later, but cherish this time with my computer and coffee.

Mistake. 

Annabelle is chewing on something. A toy, a ball? Of course not. She has unearthed an otherworldly root the size of a softball, a cross between a yellow onion and a turnip, soured and nasty. Possibly the most vile smelling funk I have ever whiffed. 

Now both dogs reek of decayed sardines and the smell has leeched into my fingertips. But they aren’t muddy. Not yet.

talya

Musical Pairings

Wild Thing – The Troggs

Morning Dew – Bonnie Dobson

Eeyore walked all round Tigger one way, 

and then turned and walked round him the other way.

“What did you say it was?” he asked.

“Tigger.”

“Ah!” said Eeyore.

“He’s just come,” explained Piglet.

“Ah!” said Eeyore again.

He thought for a long time and then said: “When is he going?”