I must brave the wilds of civilization, the crowded environs of population 2600 and not all of them out there, shopping. I NEVER go to Black Friday, those kinds of crowds simply overwhelm me, they pummel me in a panic fugue state, like an emotional sledgehammer berating my hermitage. Can't do it, wouldn't be prudent, no sirree bobbitt. Besides, a shopping day named after the Great Depression is, well, depressing. I mean WHAT were the PR folks SMOKING????
I must hei me to town to pick up more chicken for the Song Dogs. We have extra cat food, extra duck food, extra goat food, extra dog food.. BUT I just want to make sure we have EXTRA extra dog food, because they may need a bit of extra lovins when we get snowed in. Weather Advisory Estacada Weather Prognosis calls for a spot of freezing weather, what? SNOW DAYS! And yes, I am a Snow Goombah, I love it. So I must also fetch a roll of film. Have 1/2 ton of wood pellets!! I am in shock! delight! EXTRA wood pellets, I can SPLURGE and actually turn on the heat! I got it all the way to 60*!! from 50* which is what I usually keep it at. The lowest possible thermostat setting. It's the frugal Scots in me.
I have been putting off working in my friend Doc's garden, I'm been giving myself permission to clean, to heal, to re-organize, to re-assemble the broken parts in me. I'll be better after the snowfall. I'll be better after getting snowed in, embraced by white frozen water crystals, Song Dogs singing with white blankets saddling their shoulders, apple trees providing nesting places for coveys of snow. I'll be better soon.
There's a sick black cat who has adopted us, maybe it's one of the young boys from Puddles' early litters before I caught her and got her spayed. He leaks fluids from his nose and eyes, weeping at what? He has mange in the summer, and he can't seem to be able to eat hard foods. We feed him chicken like the Song Dogs get, he has gained weight, gained condition. He has a pillow to sleep on, in a chair on the porch. He begs for attention, and I give it to him. He loves to have his ears rubbed, and the side of his face rubbed. I am ashamed to say I tried to chase him off this past Summer, but this Autumn, he changed tactics, and stopped, looked at me and did the "Silent Meaow" I do not think he is long for this world, but for the time he has, he will be loved, and tendered, and given a warm bed and good food. It is the least I can do for a Fellow Being who's suffering.
Hark! The Song Dogs sing.