a squirrel, a possum, a song bird, a paperclip.
Into a false winter where the sun still feels a balmy 69 then sets when it damn please. 5:40, thirty, before I’m off work and the grackles judge from the moontower anchor wires and it’s too dark to take the dogs outside. They don’t scrimp on the welcome home attack, puppy tongues a cross of dead fish breath yard poop and pure love digging their missing me into me, snug into the curves I make with my legs.
Got some holiday shenanigans in,
though decorating felt odd with all the green,
Christmas improbable without proper socks,
and impossible without family. So the human parts of our pack took airplanes to see North Dakota, eat cheese logs and chippers and stand on frozen lakes.
Arthur was a good sport.
I was so glad to go home, then so glad to come home.
Wednesday was Arthur’s birthday. I take considerable pride in my gift wrapping prowess. But this one takes the cake (which I also made, German chocolate with the icing homemade, it was awesome, yeah).
Saying that it looked like an episode of Lost, he did not fail to notice that this is our house, Google Map gift wrap plane crashed about our yard, we’re in the flight path, after all.
He did not guess, though, that I got him a green laser for extending his wonder and touching the stars (and hopefully never taking down aircraft). Yippee!
Then for good measure we prowled around a cave.
Inner Space Cavern was discovered in 1963 in Georgetown, Texas, during the construction of Interstate 35.
As in, whoops! Here’s a cave!
The Texas Highway Department wanted to pump it full of cement, but the landowner-cum-cave-master would have none of it. They’ve since uncovered bones of prehistoric animals with sections of the cave still unexplored.
It includes adorable tiny bats, aptly described as furry chicken nuggets. They kindly did not get caught in my hair even once.
Here’s one of the resident baby ibex.
There was also a zebra, but the zebra was a jerk.
No internet fame for jerk zebra.