Friday, July 31, 2009

a moment of pause and a moment of joy

Sam approves of our move, as is patently obvious from his entire demeanor.

At the same time, I need to prepare myself: Sam is also winding down. Twice in two months he has very gently but firmly turned down a walk, on a day when he had yet to do more than head outside, raise a leg, then return inside to snooze on the sofa. He's not in pain, he still makes his feelings known (sofa = good) but I have to accept that the naps more than outweigh the constant alertness.

He's had a good life. We've made a great team. I don't doubt that we still have a few innings left... but I need to remember that we're counting down.

Now to joy: el Presidente has a little sister. Hurrah!

Monday, July 20, 2009

a guest post

The mistress is busy, something about grocery shopping because she is out of diet coke. No matter. I, Sam, shall blog in her stead.

The new headquarters is a good place. I do not have to climb stairs, and it is much easier to keep constant watch over the mistress's actions. A young and flighty young thing lives on one side of us; she lacks dignity, but is pleasant enough. On the other side we have another dignified dog, a female of mature years, one who understands the need to maintain constant watchfulness. However, I suspect that she enjoys that mysterious activity known as swimming, so I shall have to carefully monitor our conversations for clues.

The mistress has opened many boxes, but has been kind enough to leave my sofa uncovered. It is unusual for her not to bring me along when she leaves in the morning; I am glad that she has at last come to understand the importance of keeping me along at all times.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have Proust to read.

Friday, July 10, 2009

dancing on the sofa

Yes, Sam, I know.
It's all right, Sam.
Mistress! Mistress!

Sam's sofa is in a U-Haul somewhere between here and the new lemming headquarters. He keeps checking the spot where it (the sofa) should be and isn't, just in case it (the sofa) has reappeared. Then he attempts to call my attention to this loss. Hell hath no fury like a border collie thwarted in his stare.

Sam and it (he sofa) will be together again in a few days. Meanwhile, I have more boxes to fill. John Adams (or was it John Quincy Adams?) once observed that he had all his life had a passion for books, one whose folly he only felt when moving...