Day: December 16, 2017

People who come for dinner will often compliment Maria on the food, as if she shopped for it or cooked it. I understand that many women just assume men are useless and incompetent (or these days, much worse), and I sometimes laugh and sometimes sputter at this.

In my home, I do all of the shopping and most (not all) of the cooking.

Maria, who I adore, is very focused on her work, and her idea of meal preparation is usually coming in from her studio through the back door and bellowing “I’m hungry.” And when Maria is hungry she usually needs to eat quickly, or Maria gets grumpy. We don’t need that. When Sicilians get grumpy, it’s no good, even the dogs hide.

She is about as domestic as a wild boar.

This year, to my surprise, she is in a bit of Christmasy mood, she has had some epiphanies about the holiday, we actually had a dinner party the other night in honor of a friend who is moving up here from Long Island, and we had a wonderful time getting ready and preparing the veggie casserole.

We are also hosting an informal “drop-by” at the farm tomorrow for some friends we want to honor this Christmas. We are both liking Christmas this year, we are figuring out how to celebrate in a way that is comfortable for us, and with our new community.

It feels good.

Still, I was absolutely unprepared when Maria sat down at breakfast and whipped out her sketchbook, and instead of sketches or drawings, there were lists.

Lists, the first domestic entertainment list I have ever seen from my wife. She had not only been counting the people we have invited and scratching out those who can’t make it, she had actually prepared a shopping list so we can go to the market together and make some Hors d’oeuvre together.

And she was quite blase about it, as if she had ever done it before (not.)

I can’t imagine when she did this, it must have been in the middle of the night, or in between repairing the slate roof or re-building the porch.

Hors d’oeuvre!

We  have never served Hors d’oeuvre, thought of Hors d’ouevres, or had one in our house, unless you count wheat crackers with week-old cheese. My world had changed.

” I can’t wait to go out shopping with you,” she said, beaming happily. Another idea I have never heard come out of the mouth of Maria. She hates shopping, loathes spending money, has never asked to go shopping with me, or ever happily agreed to do it. Shopping with her is a rare and unhappy occurrence, it’s like shopping with an antsy and distracted teenager who is dying to call her boyfriend on her cellphone, or is eager to use the bathroom.

But not today. Today it was different, perhaps this Christmas spirit thing is more powerful than I have recognized.

So we set out this afternoon to celebrate our new appreciation of Christmas.

We hit a few thrift stories and loaded up sacks of clothing for the Mansion residents.  I am getting to be a whiz at Thrift Stores, tearing through the aisles and spotting nice clothes at bargain prices. I did well today.

We ran around all day. We went to the dump to bring out trash and thank the men and women who work there.

We stopped at Tractor Supply and got mash and feed and for the chickens and feed and alfalfa cookies for the donkeys and a giant bag of birdseed for the songbirds at our feeders. We got some toys for the dogs for Christmas.

Then we went to the supermarket. We are only having a small number of people drop by, but they are going to have a lot to eat.

It feels like the opening night reception for the opera at the Met here in our little farm house.

Cucumber sandwiches was on the list (we are fighting about this, but I think I am losing.) Guacamole and corn chips. Shrimp cocktail on lettuce. Eggnog. Olives. Lemon an lime. Lamb sausage in blankets (we got some croissant dough at the market) Crackers and gouda cheese, wine and grapes, prime cashews in a bowl, cookies and Godiva chocolates, fizzy water and hot chocolate.

I’m beginning to wonder how many people she has actually invited.

This is unprecedented in our domestic life, I can’t even picture what will happen. Speaking for myself, I’ve never had enough friends to invite to a holiday drop-by

Tonight, once she gets through remodeling the kitchen wall which she began doing after dinner  – I hear banging and shuffling as I write this, she is off on a tear –  we will be cooking the shrimp, cutting the sausage and cooking it and clearing off the dining room table.

We will also make sure all traces of dog vomit are cleaned up and odorized, and there is nothing too revolting behind the sofa cushions.

The surprising truth is we had a lot of fun doing our Christmas shopping thing today. We took our time.

Usually all I here is “are we done yet? Are we spending too much money? Let’s get out of here.” Today she was purring like a kitten, jollying up the fish guy, stuffing wine bottles in our cart, agonizing over the right lettuce head.

We came home with bags of Christmas stuff – but I keep starting at this woman wondering what she did with my wife, and when she will wake up and start shouting, “I have to finish my quilt! I have to finish my quilt! Who brought all of this stuff into the house? Who are these people coming over?”

Tomorrow, we get up early to find some fresh-baked bread for the cheese and other spreads, and also some Egg Nog from Stewart’s a local convenience store. Maria didn’t think the Egg Nog in the supermarket was acceptable for us. She has never even tasted Egg Nog, but she had a “feeling” about the market’s Egg Nog.

I think tomorrow may  be fun, and I am absorbing the shock.  I think our friends will b shocked. I don’t know if this is a seismic change, or some kind of seizure caused by too many hours at the sewing machine, or the onset of the dark days.

We are all capable of great change.

“This is all great,” I said, “but you do know you’re going to have to greet all of these people and talk to them, and not work on your art for at least one full day.” She looked at me strangely, and ran off to turn the oven on.

If she starts singing carols, or pulls a frilly apron out of a drawer with a bow in the back, I’m out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

I took Gus to my Writing Workshop today and he behaved well, chewing on some rawhide, dozing under the desk, annoying Red.  He was exhausted when he came home, and fell asleep gnawing on his teddy bear.

He has been with us for about eight months, and he was the right dog for us, and he was chosen in what I believe is the right way for me, and for Maria, and for our home an animals.

There are many people who like to tell me and others how to get a dog, this is advice I never want or take. I don’t care what other people tell me what to do, i look inside of my own heart and soul to make choices like that.

My way has worked well for me, I have had a wonderful streak of dogs – Orson, Rose, Lenore, Izzy, Red, Frieda, Gus. It has not always worked out the way I hoped, and there is much luck, good and bad, involved in the process. I have made lots of awful mistakes, and learned a great deal.

I do not believe getting a dog is a moral decision, as so many people do. It is profoundly practical, scientific as well as emotional.

There is no honor for me in bringing a troubled or unhealthy or poorly bred dog in my life, which is, in so many ways, centered around working with dogs and bringing them into places, offices and institutions where complete trust and certainty is required.

In the work I do, there is no tolerance for mistakes.The first mistake the dog makes is the last time they work outside the farm with me. So getting a dog is a complex and prolonged choice, With Gus, the system worked.

I talk my dog life over with my vet, who knows me and my dogs, and who I trust. She knew I was mulling a small dog, mostly because I wanted to learn about them and write about them, and was curious. She knew I had my eye on the Boston Terrier breed, a dog with a lot of spirit, brains and personality.

A new breeder named Robin Gibbons brought her pregnant BT Hannah into the service, and when she saw the puppies, she called me up and said this is your dog, this is what you want. I came down to see the puppy and I thought she was right, so did Maria. She liked the good health of the puppies as well as their demeanor.

We were lucky in that, and also lucky that Robin lives just a couple of miles from us.

Dr. Fariello said Robin had gone a great job, the dogs were grounded and well-bred, and grounded is an important word for me when it comes to dogs. Property bred dogs are grounded, calm, affectionate. They listen, adapt and do not rattle easily.  They are trainable. They are generally healthy.

They do not harm humans or other dogs.

Robin invited us to come and visit Gus regularly in the weeks before he was to come home. We went to see him just about every week, we held him, let us get used to our smell, walked around with him, played with him, touched him all over. We bonded.

The transition to our home was just about flawless. He was housebroken almost instantly, loved being in  his crate at night and when we weren’t  home (I don’t believe in coming home to destroyed or soiled socks, shoes or carpets, that is a bad way to get to know my dog). If he was upset at leaving his home and Mother, he never showed it. He never whined a minute in the crate, or hesitated for a second to rush in when we asked him. And why should he? It was a clean, warm, dry place filled with toys and things to chew on.

Gus loved Red and Fate from the start and took to the farm.  He was happy to walk with us, ride in the car, and he never bothered us or our food while we were eating. He has never been fed human food except by accident, and does not expect to get any.

From the first, he walked alongside of us, and never ran off. He does not need a leash when he walks. He is a farm dog in every way, he has befriended the donkeys, charmed the sheep, adores people,  loves to run in the pasture and try to move the sheep around, like Red does. He can’t, but enjoys pretending and trying.

He responds to his name, he sits and stays and comes, if not instantly,then close. I feel like we lucked out. I also feel like we did the work, we did the due diligence that is at the center of getting the right dog.

We failed in our effort to keep him off of the sofas and chairs, but then, we didn’t try that hard. These dogs believe they are enormous, and also entitled to go anywhere they want. I didn’t see it as worth the fight or being certain of victory.

I don’t feel smug about my dogs, but we did the work it takes to get a good dog.

We bought Gus from a good and ethical breeder who worked hard to ensure health and good temperament and succeeded. We got to know all about the mother and father. We worked with our vet, whose recommended was important to us.

We used the crate from the first, it is the best tool for training and focusing behavior, and allowing a grounded dog to settle and learn how to be still.

We did not treat Gus like an adorable toy, but as a dog, like the other dogs. We rarely pick him up – he can walk and jump, e don’t talk baby talk to him or think of him as a baby.

This has paid off, he can go anywhere in the pasture in safety. He has never threatened or frightened a farm animal, nor does he permit himself to be nosed or pushed out-of-the-way. He adores Fate and Red and wants nothing more than to work with them. He loves to sit on the donkeys backs.

We did not listen to the many people who told us there is only one way to get a dog. They are not our friends, they are people who want to use dogs to make them feel good about themselves. The best way to get a dog is to get the right dog  for you and give him or her the life they deserve.

The dog you truly want, for almost any reason, will be the dog you love and show how to live safely and well in our world.

Gus, like so many small dogs, is a dog of entitlement. Because of his grounding and good breeding, he is confident and alert. He seems at home everywhere – in the car, other houses, the pasture, the house, the yard. He seems to see the world as his home or playground and moves fluidly from one place to another.

He is strong and quite sure of himself.

We worked hard to socialize him and acclimate him to new people and new experience and  that has been successful.

For me, there is no magic to getting a dog, you get as much out of the dog as you put into getting the dog.  I did not get Gus because it made me feel good, Gus makes me feel good because we thought long and hard about how to get him in the right way. That can be done with a good rescue group, a professional shelter, or a good breeder. The only advice I ever give to people about getting a dog is to make sure they get the dog they want, not the dog other people tell them to want.

Tonight, Maria and I talked about Gus and we feel really good about having him. I think we did it in the right way for us, and he is exactly the dog we wanted. And I am loving learning about small dogs and writing about them. That is something that I needed. And I worked hard to get it.