Well, two in a row… aren’t you lucky? Bit of Talking Heads this morning with Wild Wild Life
Plus, bonus, you get a bit of John Goodman in there as well. In fact, I could happily have just run a few John Goodman clips, because I love him as much as this song. Walter in The Big Lebowski has to be my favourite character of his. I see a lot of myself in that character. One day, I’ll get a gun out of a bowling bag and be yelling if someone breaks the rules, I can see it coming.
If John Goodman was a dog, he’d have been my Ralfie. That dog always put me in a good mood.
It’s been a week of sorting stuff out before the exam marking restarts, trying to make sure the garden is neat enough to withstand the rains and cold weather that’s on its way and make sure the house is tolerably clean enough to ignore for three weeks until the marking period finishes. There were two days – two whole days! – where the garden actually looked tidy. Then we had hammering rain on Friday night and it’s back to looking a bit sad and forlorn again.
The early mornings since the clocks went back last week have been spectacularly autumnal, be it mists and fogs or clear skies and hazy morning glow.
Yesterday gave in to soggy, foggy autumn bleakness, which is timely. No point having nice weather if you’ve got to stay inside and mark now, is there?
So what’s to love this Monday morning?
Much love to the fabulous family who are adopting Mimire the blind labrador. You just know when you take in a dog like Mim that he’ll be with you for some time. I was quite prepared for it to be a very long time indeed. But there you go. He is a super-sweet dog with a giant heart of love and loveliness, so there’s lots of reasons to fall in love with him.
The Feff is still here.
In fact, I thought it would be easier to rehome him than it’s proving to be. French people want a guard dog, and I don’t want him to live outside in a car lot or a garden all on his own. English people think he’s either a dobie or a rottweiler. As it turns out, the requests to see him are getting more and more ridiculous. I won’t even tell you about the man who turned up here on Saturday afternoon having harassed me all Saturday morning. I was so cross I almost let Heston out to shout at him. I wouldn’t mind but I’d been perfectly reasonable about sorting out a visit for Sunday. I found myself wondering if the man was confused and angry because his memory was going or something. Either he was really, really bad at listening, super-used to getting his own way (he’d called on Friday when I was en route to the refuge to demand I take Effel… and even if I had had the call earlier, it’d have still been a big fat ‘no’) or whether he actually was just confused and angry. Whichever reason he had, not a good home for the Feff. I’d have adopted him myself if I thought he had no other option.
What annoys me are all the people who think that ‘no cats’ is a ‘maybe cats’ or ‘no kids’ is just a kind of exception they can break. Believe me, if I thought he could live with cats or kids, I’d say so. They’re two big impediments in his adoption. I don’t just make random stuff up for kicks. I know people think they are better at training dogs than they are… and it’s always the dog’s fault if something goes wrong.
Not much love for that!
Much love though for the Wobbly Bob, who is finding the autumn impossibly hard and I’m finding it tough to watch him fade. It’s like grieving him before he’s gone. I’m sure a lot of people wouldn’t notice the little differences that tell me how hard he’s finding things, how he can barely stand to finish his whole breakfast (and won’t give in and have a relaxing lie-down to eat, like Mimire did!) and he falls sometimes down the step between the bedroom and the kitchen, how he falls sometimes in the garden even with nobody around. Yesterday, he didn’t get up to welcome me back from my walk. I find myself looking at him every so often just to check he’s still breathing. His breathing is so shallow and so slow these days that I can be watching him for half a minute or more before I am happy he’s just sleeping. He finds it hard to lie down, so he stands until he has to give in, and then he finds it hard to get up.
Yet Friday, he still got too close to a visiting dog, enough to elicit a bit of a grumble from the other. He’s still a menace with no social boundaries. Love that dog so much. We’re spending as much time on the couch together as we can, just so I can enjoy those last Tobby cuddles.
I also finished my fifth ISCP project, which was about appropriate dog play & mental stimulation – I was going to do something for Hagrid but in the end decided to do something for poor play-deprived Feff. No wonder he has so many issues. This week, he decided nipping the lawnmower was an appropriate herding thing to do. I’m not sure how much I’ll manage to do of assignment six and seven this month, although one of them will hopefully be finished next Sunday and the other will follow. That will leave me half-way through! I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it. I really miss stuff that keeps my brain sharp and gives me a bit of focus.
Well, marking starts today, so I’d better look lively. Much more to squash into the week than usual.