verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Got Nap?

Take a good look at this picture.

Get a good look.  Go on, look.  But tip toe, please.

This is a rare moment:  Millie is sound asleep.  She's really and truly sleeping.  Precious sight, yes?

SHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! You're getting too close!  I SAID TIP TOE!

Do you have any idea how many dog-walking-miles this nap represents?  Do you have the slightest idea how much up-and-down-the-road time it takes to wear this little poof-ball out?  Well let me tell you, dear reader, it takes much more than you might imagine!

When Millie is here, I don't bother to take my coat off because by the time I get all un-scarved and de-booted and defrosted, it's about time to get all suited-up again.  I, being a smart dog walker, know to wear boots that don't require zippers, buckles, ties, velcro, or other complicated hardware (but in case you think that means they're ugly, you're so wrong).  This means I can quickly kick them off at the back door and move about the house in a semi-ready state for Millie's next burst of energy, which usually comes within 45 minutes of our last excursion.

We go everywhere.  We blaze trails, we walk the roadways.  We visit every single neighbor dog and bark bark bark the latest gossip and news.  We walk, we run, we leap, we fly, we walk more, and some more, and some more.  We sniff wherever the deer have touched the ground, all the deer and all the ground.  We chase every single (and I mean every, single) shovel-full of snow.  We can't resist knowing all about what's happening down on one end of the street and then making it our business to report back to the folks at the other end.  When Millie's inside, she parks herself at the bird-feeder window and debates the birds at the feeders, who patiently keep their distance until we head out--again-- down the road.

But I'm not complaining.  Millie keeps me moving and helps blow the stink off.  I get a good dose of crisp fresh air.  I get good and worn out.  No treadmills or seasonal lethargy for me, no sir-ee!  I have a keen (or would you call it nagging, daughters?) know-it-all sense about road conditions and the moisture content of air.  I can tell you the weather report without having to watch it, all thanks to Millie.

But if you'll excuse me--I see the birds have come back to the window feeders and while she's you-know-what-ing, I'm going to tip toe out of here for a little shut eye before the next.....


  1. Pssssst! Do you think Millie chooses that chair for the camouflage, or is it a happy accident?

  2. Lovely post. Very present. Wish I had something clever to add, but I don't. I just enjoy the hell out of your blog.