I slept this Saturday until 5:00 a.m. That’s pretty late for me and I somewhat feel as though I have been playing hooky. I am usually awake between 3:30 and 4:30. I made a pot of coffee in the Bud Cave coffee room. I have Tony Bennett playing on my ITunes through the computer speakers. Except for my small desk lamp, the house is dark. The Lovely Sharon is asleep upstairs in her cozy bed. She will soon be making her annual and seasonal move to Palm Desert. We had a snow storm two days ago and I know that caused her to wish she was already there. But there is work to be done. We need to pack boxes of her clothes to be shipped. We purchased the boxes and shipping tape yesterday. We need to cut down flowers for winter. We need to store away the cushions of the outdoor furniture. We have already stacked and covered the outdoor furniture last Saturday. She needs to get her car packed. Lots of work and only a few days to do it. I have a backyard full of leaves that still need to be raked. I hope they are dry enough to rake today.
Last Monday I turned 60. Unbelievable. Closer to the end than the beginning, by far. I worked a good part of the day and then the Lovely Sharon, my dear wife, and I went to dinner, just the two of us. It was a nice day.
I have written in this blog about “The Neighbor’s Dog”. A big collie next door that I gave dog treats to over the last several years. Each time I would leave the house to go onto the back deck or the lower patio, he would move to the rod iron fence that separates our two yards. He would stare at me until I walked to the fence line and gave him treats. Whenever I would go out back I would put 3 treats in my pocket for him. I would walk to the fence and give him a treat, one at a time. I would pet his head while I fed him treats. The last several weeks when I went outside, I would put his treats in my pocket as usual. But The Neighbor’s Dog was nowhere to be seen. It made me wonder. I hated to think the worse, but those thoughts, the worse, kept coming into my mind. Last Sunday I was in the yard and I saw the boy next door with a white puppy. I asked him about “Collie” (the name of The Dog Next Door). He told me Collie had died several weeks ago. I petted the puppy, who was funny and curious like all puppies. Then the boy and the puppy were off and I walked back in the house. The Dog Next door was not my dog but to learn for certain that he had died was a blow for me. I felt incredibly sad. I choked up for a minute. Now when I look at the place where the bags of dog treats rest, near the lower level patio door, I think of him. I can't yet bring myself to move the treats.
Time to shower, dress, make me some eggs and start working for the day.