Our girl Lulu’s off her feed this morning. Ate only half her breakfast, threw it up a little later. She’s curled up in the doggie sleeping bag now. I expect she’ll be feeling fine by dinnertime. With three dachshunds, something’s always going on with one or the other (or the other).
The Amazon delivery guy left a large flat box at our door yesterday. We hadn’t ordered anything, but the package was clearly addressed to us. On opening it, we found a sturdy and no doubt expensive child gate, but no paperwork indicating who might have ordered it for us. Whoever it was must have been familiar with the rickety old wood & wire gate we use to keep the dogs out of our living and dining room, on its last legs and held together with Gorilla glue and tape.
I didn’t hesitate to install the new gate. It’s a fine piece of work, metal and sturdy and stylish, with a swinging section that allows us to pass through without having to move the entire gate out of the doorway, which means it can stay permanently mounted.
We thought our mystery benefactor must be someone who’d been over for dinner and witnessed the chaos of bringing food from the kitchen to the table while trying to keep the dogs out of the dining room. Suspicions confirmed: our niece Rebecca had a front-row seat at our three-ring circus a while back and decided a better gate was the perfect gift for us. And it is, and we can’t thank her enough.
I should also mention the main entrance to the living and dining rooms, an opening several door widths across, for which our son and daughter-in-law gave us a super-wide expandable gate two Christmases back. Between the two gates, the floor in our formal rooms is safe from dachshund spillage, and our dinner guests will be able to enjoy food and conversation without a pack of beggars at their feet. Thank you, generous donors!
Lulu’s feeling better already, and it’s still morning. We’re just back from a walk, a long one with her best pal Fritzi, stopping and sniffing every rock, pebble, and clod of earth along the way, fresh and renewed after yesterday’s rain and hail.
Daughter Polly’s still on walkabout, two days now. She’s been texting her brother in Las Vegas, off and on, and according to him says she doesn’t want to be found. We think she’s with someone in town, but since she left with only the clothes on her back and a five-dollar bill in her pocket, we expect she’ll be by soon. Sooner if whoever she’s with gives her the boot. I know she’s dreading having to come back. We’ll do our best to pretend it’s no big deal when she does, but actually it is, since she quit or got fired from yet another job a few days ago, and who’s going to hire her now, with so many bridges burned? Meanwhile we’re taking care of her cat.
That’s the news for now. More soon.