It's been six weeks since Gracie came to live with us. She is just a couple of days shy of three months old. She makes me laugh, a lot. She's making great progress on housebreaking, but she still hasn't figured out a way to tell us when she needs to go out. Or, perhaps, we haven't figured out when she's telling us she needs to go out.
I've been outside more in the last six weeks than I was all last summer. (It was hot, super hot, and I mostly hid out in the ac.) And, surprise, surprise, it is good for me, just like the doctors have been telling me.
We have this land, not quite fifteen acres, that has lain fallow for decades. From the very first summer we moved here, Kent has cut walking paths in the field. It's lovely to watch the seasons change, savor the wildflower blooms, enjoy the rustle of the tall grasses. But I'm a big scaredy chicken, there are snakes in the field. Okay, so they are just garter snakes, and mostly no longer than my forearm, they are snakes. I'm with Indiana Jones, anything but snakes!
But now that I have Gracie, the wonder dog, (and the snakes are all hibernating), we have been enjoying our daily walks through the field.
These trees weren't even here when we moved in, almost twenty years ago. Slowly what used to be a fallow field is becoming, once again, a forest. While Gracie is busy playing food/not food, I am also busy enjoying the sunshine, and studying the way shadows give dimension to a monochromatic landscape.
Gracie has changed my life. She makes me so happy, even when she is being her destructive puppy self. But how on earth do you look at that face and stay angry for long? Sure, some days I suffer from puppy fatigue, but she's learning so fast, and wants to please. We'll get there, Gracie, we'll get there together.