Sunday, October 18, 2009
It froze last night, one of the earliest frosts I can remember. It only hit 32, but it was a showy frost, with white rime on everything and thin crackly ice on the pond and birdbath. We're usually OK through Halloween, and we had one year in the mid 90's where it still hadn't frozen at Christmastime; the mandevillas were blooming weakly as I wrapped presents. Bill of the Birds has been most diligent in preparing my Garden Pod for the winter. He put his mind to finding some way to plug the circular vents around its base, and settled on cutting plugs from a big sheet of insulating construction foam. Fabulous! The Pod is packed with refugees from the frost. It is so cold out there that I thought I would warm you with a heat-radiating doggeh.
Chet Baker comes by his name, "Little CatDog," quite honestly. So many things he does: perching on the back of chairs and couches, leaping lightly up into your lap the second you sit down; taking your seat the second you stand up; and planting himself on whatever you're trying to read or do on the floor are cat traits.
So it was no surprise to enter the room on a sunny afternoon to find him firmly ensconced on the kids' ongoing Monopoly game.
Whut? I, Chet Baker, can play Monopoldy too. I am the boot. The Scottie dog is already taken.
However it is a little lonesome to play Monopoldy when the chirrun are at school. So I am here to hold Liam's place for him.
The autumnal sun feels good on my almost five-year-old bones. Mether, were you aware that the Boston terrier was first developed as a heat-retaining bedwarmer? This is why we are black. Red brindle Boston terriers radiate too much heat, and are not as good at warming beds. This is why the black ones have prevailed.
Chet Baker, you just made that up. That is a just-so story.
Well, it is true. My grandmother, Maeve, told me that when I was little. I am gathering heat in my solar panels for this evening, when I will fulfill my breed destiny by crawling under the kevers. You will see.