Havoc in my life ...

Havoc finally arrived last evening. He looked different. Last time he exuded elegance, made you think of runways in Milan or Paris. This time he looked more like a mean, lean fighting machine. It must have been the collar. His stylish red collar had been replaced by one with studs, You know, the kind worn by junkyard dogs called Bruno or Killer whose incisors always show. Havoc's has a Harley Davidson crest on it.

I had been waiting for his arrival since Wednesday evening. Wednesday evening became Thursday morning, then Thursday afternoon ... Thursday evening ... Friday morning ... until he finally showed up on Friday evening. I felt as if I had put my life on hold. I missed a djembe drumming session on Wednesday and a discussion group on Thursday for nothing. I hounded Leonard to make sure the road was plowed. I fielded phone calls to and from the woman who was supposed to deliver him. I even put my car in a snow bank in order to make sure she had a place to park when she arrived. By the time he arrived I was pissed off.

It didn't help that he had insufficient food to last his stay, or that his food was one of those esoteric brands that could not be picked up at the IGA.

And he was famished. His owner had not told her friend how much to feed him and he had been subsisting on two cups a day when his normal ration is five or six cups depending on the temperature and his activity level.

Despite the rocky start, he has settled in quickly, as you can see by the photo. Last night he woke Kenya and me at midnight by leaping off my bed and over her sleeping body to stare out the window, all the while growling menacingly at the snow plow on the other side of the lake, but this morning he was snoring loudly on Kenya's couch, and happily playing with her indoors and out.

He no longer looks either stylish or mean; he just looks like an amiable puppy.

I am glad to once again have a Havoc-filled house.