Favorite Places

photo (7)We all have our favorite places to be. A place where we think, dream or perhaps relax.

One of my favorite places to be is up high looking far over water. I am living in a favorite place right now in a 20th floor apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. Perfect.

We all have our favorite spots. Sheldon Cooper, in the TV Show, The Big Bang Theory, explains his special spot on the couch as, “In the winter that place is close enough to the radiator to remain warm, yet not so close as to cause perspiration, in the summer it is directly across from a cross breeze, created by opening windows there, and there, it faces the television in an angle that is neither direct thus discouraging conversation or so far to create a parallax distortion…” Everyone else knows not to sit there.

And where is Buddy’s favorite place these days?

Tucked in next to the toilet.

It reminds me of one of my favorite childhood poems:

Halfway Down by A. A. Milne

“Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn’t any
other stair
quite like
it.
i’m not at the bottom,
i’m not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
Anywhere!
It’s somewhere else
Instead!”

That’s OK Buddy, if that is where you want to sleep, so be it.

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Modesty

Buddy has definite preferences regarding where he likes to take his morning walks.

He likes to walk along the dog-chin high plantings at the front of our building or behind the tall pine trees on the corner, or better yet, in the doggy-thigh high pachysandra. No walks along the sidewalk here, he likes to walk on the wild side.

If he sees a dog, he stops, sits down and watches until it passes by.

Until today I though he just liked all of the interesting smells, having moved here from Michigan, where he would roam free in the back yard. I thought he preferred the grass under his feet.

But as I watched him this morning, I realized something.

He is modest.

He is used to the privacy of his own back yard, and doesn’t want anyone else seeing him “doing his business.”

This brought back memories of showering in middle-school locker rooms. I remember other girls with their perky little chests and petite little figures confidently showering while I lurked in the corner in frumpy flat-chested misery.

I get it Buddy. Sometimes a guy just needs a little privacy.

Let’s see if we can find you a bush.

Boogie-Woogie Cone Head Thanksgiving Celebration

Buddy has had an up and down sort of Thanksgiving.

On one hand, he is glad to see my younger son and my older son with girlfriend. This offers increased belly rubs and longer, more interesting walks. He is also a huge fan of turkey.

Unfortunately he has had a closer than necessary run-in with a clipping razor, so he has a “shaver burn” on his belly and on his tail. When this happens, he licks and licks until he creates raw itchy patches. I fashioned a simultaneously pitiful and hysterical pair of doggy pants out of a pair of tights – which kept the licking down slightly, but not enough to resolve the problem, so we went to the vet yesterday.

He is now sporting a “cone of shame” and a bandaged tail.

We seem to be having an appendage injury kind of Thanksgiving this year. My older son burned his hand on a pan this morning, so both he and Buddy are sporting bandages.

Luckily, there is enough increased activity around here because of the Thanksgiving holiday that they seem to be taking it all in stride. We spent the evening last night around the piano, banging out boogie-woogie, drinking wine and singing classic rock songs rather loudly.

Buddy is like the rest of our family. We put aside the annoyances, the burned hand and the itchy-not-so-perfect parts of our lives to enjoy the food, the family, and the moment.

I hope you had a boogie-woogie cone-head Thanksgiving too!

Photo: L. Kreha

Giving Thanks

Buddy always pauses a moment, chin down, legs outstretched before he eats a treat.

I like to think he is saying grace.

When my older son was five he was fascinated with fire trucks. He had a collection of little toy fire trucks and he would engage in imaginary play with them that involved endless heroic efforts, often requiring the dramatic rescue of a kitten in a tree.

During grace before our Thanksgiving meal that year, we all took a moment to say what we were thankful for.

He said he was thankful for fire trucks.

He now lives in Manhattan. The recent onslaught of Hurricane Sandy takes thankfulness to a whole new level. Luckily, he lives in the Upper East Side, so he wasn’t affected that much by the storm. However, all over New York there is incredible destruction.

We are thankful that he and his girlfriend weren’t affected by the disaster and are safe. We are all thankful for the firemen and first-responders who help with the victims of disasters.

And Buddy? He is thankful for Milkbones.

Photo by L Kreha