The week has been a blur.
I’m rehearsing a show at New Line. We are in the last two weeks of performances at Webster University. I’m teaching an extra class this last eight-week term. I taught seven voice lessons yesterday. &c.
Last evening, at 9 p.m. after finishing my last lesson, Auggie and I drove to the grocer’s to find him some dog food. We were out.
I love this little critter.
And in the garden, an iris is open, and this morning I find a peony in bloom — booth of them several weeks early on any normal gardening schedule. The lilacs have bloomed and faded already, again weeks in advance.
I shan’t bemoan beauty, but I shall bemoan the changing of our climates.
45° outdoors. I have one hour between meetings, so I am home to walk the dog and enjoy his company for a few minutes. We are gently minding the porch swing.
My little critter Auggie had some dental surgery on Tuesday.
The aftermath — a slightly moany night as the pain upset him. And upset his system, if you know what I mean.
I have heard said — “You know how much you love a critter by how much of his poop you clean up.”
Now I know. My love for this little guy is unbounded.
And without undue details: sheets and bedspread were all washed first thing Wednesday morning. But not until Auggie, held firmly under my left arm, got his hindquarters severely cleaned in warm water. The look in his eyes was priceless . . . something akin to “I know that you are doing this for a reason, but I don’t know what it is, and I’m not certain I like it, but that warm water feels better than what was back there.”
Add one more thing to the checklist of ‘What I’ll Do For A Dog.’
After our visit to the groomer on Sunday . . . .