I have let Wilbur's parents know that I can no longer walk him. My whole life really did go to the dogs when I tried to deal with Remi walking, Henry boarding, poop scooping, vaccuuming floors, brushing coats, and mopping up wet dogginess. I had no time for anything else. And Wilbur, lovely as he is, required an extra hour of my day on top of everything else.
Spring on balance is lovely ... but ... not perfect ...
On the one hand ...
The solar lights are being powered again and the sun is now shining in my den window in the afternoon and in through the dining room window in the morning creating explosions of blue, yellow and red as the prism breaks apart the sun's rays.
The stream chatters all the time now, and at night, especially last night under an almost full moon, its voice brings me peace.
the warmth ... oh the warmth ... of sun on my face
I can put the clothesline back up as soon as the side yard clears a bit more and I can get a ladder up against the tree.
The birds are mating and cheering spring on everywhere.
I gave them Henry's and Kenya's undercoat fluff for nesting.
But on the other hand ...
There is sand everywhere indoors, brought in by puppy paws that hold it tight even when I dry their feet.
There are smelly things for dogs to discover now that the snow is melting and the lake has again become a playground.
The old cottage's remains are again exposed to view and look even worse than they did when the demolition first occurred.
Doggy doo is emerging everywhere, as well as garbage that was mercifully hidden under drifts of snow.
The dogs are losing their winter coats everywhere.
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