It was 8F the other morning,
so before taking my little red Cavalier Bisou out for a walk I dressed her for
the weather. By the time I had zipped her into her coat and stuffed her limp
feet into her booties and fastened the Velcro straps around her ankles and
loosened them so she wouldn’t get gangrene and then tightened them again so
they’d stay on, twenty minutes had elapsed.
Once we got outside, she felt
so encumbered by all that gear that she just wanted to go back indoors.
This is why on days when it
is too cold/snowy/icy/rainy I exercise Bisou indoors. It is one of the joys of having a small dog: you can give her a real workout even in a space as
small as our cottage. After fifteen minutes of running and jumping after her
ball, Bisou considers herself well entertained.
I get a little workout too,
doing forward bends to pick up the ball and perfecting my throws with both
right and left arms, avoiding hitting the glass-fronted china cabinet and my
spouse’s head. And the cat Telemann, who if
Bisou and I went for a walk would be left staring forlornly out the window, also
gets a workout during these sessions.
Sometimes he runs after the
ball along with Bisou. Or he perches on the back of the sofa and bats at the
ball as it flies past him. But what he likes best is to hide behind one of the
side doors. Then, as Bisou runs past him, he leaps out like Nureyev and
executes a grand jeté over her back.
When we’re done, Bisou flings
herself panting on the sofa, where I join her with my book. Soon we hear a
thunderous purr and Telemann is upon us, literally, kissing and nosing and kneading
both of us until he finally dozes off.
These are dark days, in more
ways than one, but the weight of two contented animals on my lap grounds me and
keeps me from obsessing fruitlessly about the state of the planet. 2017 has
not been an encouraging year, and its waning moments are as soul bruising as
its beginning.
How to get through this bleak
midwinter? Let's try to be kind
and generous, and then let us find comfort in the good things at hand: the
chickadee at the suet, the geranium on the sill, and the certain knowledge that
tomorrow the earth, bless her, will once again tilt her face toward the sun.
Happy solstice, everyone!