3rd September, 2018 Monday, Labor Day
The wind is up today. The day is cool and bright. The leaves announce the force of each gust. Some caress and swirl like silk and some force all else aside until their wave is done and all stills till the next one comes. In a month these reeds called leaves that sound the wind’s songs will flush with golds and reds and browns as the earth begins to darken and shut her growing down. In two months, those colored flags will loose their hold and fly along the currents of the air. They will fall to dormant earth and swirl across the chilling ground till caught by feet of trees or hedge or fence and lie to crumble into food for more. But they are here now, singing songs and waving at me.
Tea is black with local honey and goat milk. The wind woke me this morning.
So the dream last night was fun. My brother came. Somehow I am in the back seat of the car he drives to run some errands on his way to deliver me to the hall in which I star as the Hatter Mad on stage so small it disappears when asked. Its a play and somehow, not remembering my lines or having any idea where my script has got to, I have been the Hatter Mad once without a flaw. I then can’t find my makeup in the room scattered with the crap that actors tool to cast the spell of Play. I need the thick black grease stick for my face and it is nowhere to be found and this time I truly don’t have any friggin idea how the hell I am going to pull this off but, hey, I must, so off I go. My last great acting teach is there dimly. I don the Hatter hat I found in the costume shop in hippie town, Ca, and swirl the fuscia pink feather boa around my neck and then the dream dissolves.
Today we drive the Wizard and the Zoi. The Wizard is off to Show to win his Title. As I am hopeless and mostly driveless to show him myself, he is ushered with great skill and love by two amazing souls who make their life roaming with dog souls from show to show to gather ribbons, points and titles. We deliver the Wizard to them today for what we hope will be his last time out. We hope his Title will arrive next weekend. They love him and he them. Feels so right to have him go play for Show this way.
They need to see the Zoi. She has come from far away to Show here so she can maybe Mama another generation of the lovely that she comes from. The Roaming Ones will greet her and assess her needs for school before they Ring her. I will be tasked, I’m sure.
She might have far to go. She is so happy here with all her furry souls but in the world, oh boy. “Its a dog!!! OH NO!!!”
This may have something to do with how this pack absorbed her when she came two months ago. The Dachshunds rushed her little self. Then when she cowed, they said, “So what.”
Then the Deerhounds, that was big. So huge, so rough. None of the gentle feather Zoi world does. Deerhounds are the working roughs of sighthounds. Big hearted, sweet souled, oh yes, but have no sense of personal zone. Except their own.
Deerhounds like the couch and when ensconced, gods help the four footed one who walks close by or, even worse, attempts to share the couch or use a sliver of said couch to get from floor to bed or bed to floor. Deerhounds hiss like dragons and then they roar. I swear, all those designing movie dragons have met my Lady Deerhound Bitch, Celtic Banshee Extraordinaire who has the speed of jaguar in her limbs and joy of me in her huge beating heart.
My Deerhound Boy is continent on four legs and when he moves, he streaks impossibly his mass liquid across the ground. He smiles when he’s glad to see you. Here again, the monster designers behind “Alien” had some Deerhound’s grin in mind. Those front teeth sliding out of snout, that’s my boy. His lips pull up so high his nose is squished to one side which causes him to sneeze until his smile subsides. Meanwhile, his feet are moving all the time, as he stands in front of you and in his dance he’ll stomp your feet and never know he did. But you do.
I love my Deerhounds and they are rough. But Golden Hearted, oh yes, they are, and noble, yes indeed. My Lady Bitch, she is the one you want in the fox hole with you as the world explodes. My feral hearted warrior girl. And him, he is loving kindness in a huge huge dog.
They put the wee Zoi in her place right off and she, being raised right proper by her Zoi pack back across the World, was happy to know where she belonged. And then she worked her charms on all of us.
The Wizard had been roaming when she came. He came home and saw her in his yard. She squealed and hid and peed as she saw him coming toward her. He sniffed, she cowered, screaming all the while and then he walked away. We hugged her, oh, yes dear, we see your fear, but thats your Wizard fine, no need to fear. Then she stood and looked at him. He is a God, the Wizard Dog, oh yes he is. And she was struck by Cupid’s shaft. She has not left his side since. Took all of five minutes, this.
Strange dogs do give her pause. She will get through it, yes she will. The Roamers will help. So will I.
Its driving dogs today. On the windy road along that mighty river with the great big wind. Be pretty.
Tea With Me 