Only a few minutes after I put up the bunny pictures on Sunday, Ruth let out one of her rusty, panicky "There's a monster in the front yard!" shrieks. Running to the window, I saw that big brown bunny in front of the house, nibbling grass. It paid no attention to Ruth, and only loped off when Lola the Wolf turned up to add to the noise.
Yesterday morning I took Lola to the vet--such a nice drive up hill and down dale, past many pastures, each populated by different creatures: appaloosas, big black bullocks, a herd of Highland cows. The fog lay low in the folds of the hills, and the recent rains made the river look fuller than usual at this time of year.
I spent most of the day on our porch, nose in a book--a much-loved Anya Seton novel I hadn't read in a very long time, and may blog about one of these days. Couldn't concentrate on my own writing. The birdsong was awesome. A pileated woodpecker (the same one who flew over the deck when we were sitting there Sat. a.m.) was in the tall tree, making that bizarre call of his. Sounds like a jungle animal! The goldfinches are constantly warbling and chirping as they dart to the thistle feeder. Both the male and female cardinal were busy among the rugosas, just below where I sat.
There was good news from the vet. Lola's bloodwork looked good, and no problems with her dental cleaning procedure. By 3:00 she had come out of the anaestheia and was able to come home. I sent the Chap to collect her, I was headed out to see my own vet--I mean, doctor--for a quick exam and to get some prescriptions.
I returned home to find the Chap and Ruth in the upstairs sitting room, gazing at a very wobbly and glassy-eyed old husky. Lola's hind legs were still extremely unreliable, not a good thing in a house with as many staircases as this. She remained extremely groggy all evening, and napped upstairs or on the landing while we watched tv. Ruth was a good little night nurse, occasionally trotting upstairs to check on her chum.
Just before bedtime I went outside with Lola, to see if she could make it down the steep steps (she did, slowly). We heard an owl off in the forest somewhere. Lola wasn't in the mood to engage in their usual owl-wolf conversation. (Usually they "talk" to each other.)
This morning--another grey and drizzly one--the Chap heard that owl again when he walked down the drive for the newspaper.
Lola's doing better, still a bit subdued. After breakfast, Ruth and I had to check out her clean and shiny choppers.
Right now beef tips are simmering in my slow cooker, which means the house smells delicious and will all day long. I'm sure slow cookers were really invented for people who work outside the home, and can leave for the day. It's torture sniffing that yummy food, knowing it's hours before dinnertime! But the machine is a boon to the writer as well...just bung the ingredients into it in the morning, and walk away. No danger of the food burning simply because I'm wrestling with a paragraph and oblivious to clock or kitchen timer.
Season finale of Rescue Me is tonight, on FX. The past months have provided the usual emotional roller coaster ride...I anticipate a wrenching cliffhanger of an ending.
The sun is expected tomorrow. An outing is planned.