Dancing in the rain

Written last night:

There was a ferocious rain this morning. One woman who crossed my path in the garage was almost dancing. “We haven’t had rain like this in years!” she said. What little does fall usually begins later in November, she said. 

It was raining when I took Zing to the Grateful Dog for his free day of observation. They wanted him to spend a full day there so they could see his ups and downs. I should have felt like dancing too after that, but I really just wanted to be home all cozy, reading, sipping tea and watching raindrops. Instead I headed to the mall with my To Do list, and checked off quite a few small items, like shower curtain hooks and lightbulbs. Zillions of people were shopping with me. 

Earlier, Mary and I had a great talk — Mary calls me when she’s out walking, and she walks far. Both she and Susan told me I must watch today's CBS Sunday Morning segment on dogs, including those with separation anxiety. (Thank you!) Here’s the link Susan sent:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keRp_S8caps

(Zing watched it too and now he wants his own TV show. I said yes -- then he could pay his for his time at  Grateful Dog.) 

I skipped the poetry class — taking two classes is a stretch now. But I am writing poems (don’t worry — I won’t make you read them!) and have discovered a whole community of poets here; I feel glad to be on its fringes. 

And of course, Zing was fine at the Grateful Dog. He just doesn’t like to be left alone. Yet. 

Love,

k

I appreciate you!

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

I just freaked out, alarmed suddenly that my electricity might be turned off soon, maybe in a minute! (No wonder Zing is suffering anxiety… he catches it from me!)  I ran to my computer to check my account, and the bill is paid up, as I’d arranged, by automatic payment. Whew! Still, my accounts are elusive. I think it might be simpler to pay everything by check, like in the old days. It’s automatic bill pay that confuses me, probably because it happens by magic. In Tallahassee it all went smoothly because we had set up the accounts years before. It’s the settling in part that’s taking some work. I think pretty soon I’ll have it.

For dinner Keith brought over great Thai carryout from The Coconut. We had cupcakes and ice cream from Whole Foods for dessert. It was kind of an early birthday for me, and Keith said I shouldn’t cook. (It wasn’t hard to persuade me.) It was lovely to eat on the balcony, where we heard a little street noise, maybe from fans going to the Kings game. Thanks, Keith!

Earlier, Zing and I cruised the farmers market. The strawberries have to be ending, but they’re still sweet as I remember from childhood. Then we did a little shopping, even driving to Roseville to return the steel gray drapery rods that Mary (rightly) persuaded me are wrong, wrong, wrong.  Thanks, Mary! Bronze is what I need. Disaster averted! 

I may joke, but you can tell how much I value the boosts I am getting from all sides. I am like a wind-up doll that needs to be pointed in the right direction; so often I almost walk directly into a wall. I appreciate your love!

k

Dealing with Details

Written last night:

Dear Friends, 

Beginning this morning — oh, it seems so long ago — I began working on wrapping things up. Wrapping my life up. Oooh, sounds like a shroud. I don’t mean that. Just that there are so many, many details that I took for granted and now I have to reinvent them in California. I want to figure it all out soon.

Like how much calcium? how much vitamin D? 
I spent an hour this morning trying to answer. After my GP appointment in Tallahassee in the spring I was told something about these bone-builders. I was faithful with whatever it was. But when Clark died everything went blank and I stopped taking care of myself, eating frozen dinners and ice cream, sleeping whenever I could, quitting the exercise habits of decades. I didn’t decide to stop; I just stopped.

Now I’m in the dark about that new bone-building recommendation. I called Dr. Perry’s office today, but they don’t know, since they've closed my records. I Googled it: take more calcium; calcium causes problems; eat sardines. 

This is just one venture into normalcy; I spent an hour on it this morning. I decided to take some pills and deal with the numbers later.

More issues are what to eat for dinner when you’re cooking for yourself;  how to exercise with/without a dog; do condos get as dusty as houses? 

In a way it’s exciting -- to be making things up as I go along. To be thinking what would Clark recommend? To be asking what do I want?

Leslie called me out of the blue today. It was morning for me and noon for her.What a lovely surprise!

Love,
k

Hard work, being normal

Written last night:

Today:

Kept a careful eye on Zing, seeing how he adapts to changes. With the minimal dosage of relaxer he does seem more relaxed. I’m not sure whether to give him a higher dose. I’ve got word into the vet. 

• Kings opening game drew crowds to neighborhood. Thanks, Keith, for keeping me up-to-date!
• P&S very busy. Raining in the hills. Raining here now too. First time I’ve used my umbrella in a while.
• Visited Mykelle at Home Depot to choose garbage disposer and kitchen sink. Turns out what I want is several years passé. We found it, though. Newest sinks are copper, FYI. Newest faucets are motion-activated. 
• Took Zing to kennel so I could go to Color Theory class. Left word to call me if Zing seemed stressed. Of course, he wasn’t! Seems it’s just when he’s left home alone. (Maybe I should rent the movie.)  
• Color theory class at Crocker Art Museum was great. We mixed paint.  I’m impressed with the two classes I’ve been taking (Poetry is the other.) Crammed with information, high expectations, serious. I’m learning something. 
• Randy the Handyman came at the end of the day and worked two hours straight, hanging pictures, hooks, design wall. Plus laughs. I lucked out in finding him.

It's hard work, being normal.

Detail of painted quilt for kitchen

Hard work, being normal

Today:

• Kept a careful eye on Zing, seeing how he adapts to changes. With the minimal dosage of relaxer he does seem more relaxed. I’m not sure whether to give him a higher dose. I’ve got word into the vet. 
• Kings opening game drew crowds to neighborhood. Thanks, Keith, for keeping me up-to-date!
• P&S very busy. Raining in the hills. Raining here now too. First time I’ve used my umbrella in a while.
• Visited Mykelle at Home Depot to choose garbage disposer and kitchen sink. Turns out what I want is several years passé. We found it, though. Newest sinks are copper, FYI. Newest faucets are motion-activated. 
• Took Zing to kennel so I could go to Color Theory class. Left word to call me if Zing seemed stressed. Of course, he wasn’t! Seems it’s just when he’s left home alone. (Maybe I should rent the movie.)  
• Color theory class at Crocker Art Museum was great. We mixed paint.  I’m impressed with the two classes I’ve been taking (Poetry is the other.) Crammed with information, high expectations, serious. I’m learning something. 
• Randy the Handyman came at the end of the day and worked two hours straight, hanging pictures, hooks, design wall. Plus laughs. I lucked out in finding him.

It's hard work, being normal.

Detail of painted quilt for kitchen

Zing has an interview

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

This morning Zing and I got to know another pocket neighborhood of midtown Sacramento — and I forget its name. It’s over by 17th and D; maybe it was on the edge of sketchy once, but now it’s just an unprepossessing spot with cozy old houses and apartments and here and there a big Victorian. It’s also home to The Grateful Dog, which you might call a canine warehouse (Capacity is 80.) or play space or (as they like it) Doggie Daycare. We decided to case the area before our 2:30 interview. 

Yes, Zing went for an interview. Like applying for a job or college. You don’t just show your medical record and get in this place. They want a good fit. I had to complete a lengthy bio, which Zing dictated: his birth, family, education, medications, hopes and dreams. Both Cassi and Karen, the UC Davis vet, recommended daycare as an alternative to giving Zing knock-out drugs when I want to leave. This place wanted to look Zing over before saying yes. 

We were escorted to a largish room that was empty except for a couch and a bed. I sat on the couch, rather invisible. The bed is where an employee sleeps and the floor is for dogs who stay overnight. Zing says he likes the place because it doesn’t crate the dogs. They run around with each other in big rooms and outdoors. That’s why they look dogs over before accepting them. They can’t be growling, snapping introverts. Zing hung around in the room while a small dog, and then a big one came in and played with him. Zing passed. 

But he’s not in yet. Now Zing has to go for a whole day (free) and they observe him and send him home with a lengthy report. It is possible that Zing will be found acceptable. Luckily, his anxiety issues only surface when he’s left alone. He’ll do fine here, and I’ll get some flexible time. In addition we have to work on learning to be alone, so I’ll do those exercises of inching gradually farther from him and eventually out the door. 

It’s hard work, trying to be normal.  

Love,
k

Bed time at last!

Written last night:
Yes, I have slept on stones (On Washington Island, WI, where we sailed -- they call the smooth stones on their beaches Lake Superior Sapphires).  And I have considered getting a tatami mat instead of a bed. But right now I am ecstatic that my conventional new bed frame arrived this afternoon. It’s sturdy and stylish. It will not collapse. Believe me, I checked the supporting slats!  

Today Zing and I embarked on life with his meds. For starters, we tried the lowest doses. That strong one did make Zing sleepy! The relaxer may very well have relaxed him a bit too. It’s hard to judge what’s working on the first day. 

I talked to a friend who is life-and-death sick. Life is winning.

Love,

k

Farmers Market Flowers

Rx: for Zing

Dear Friends,
There is no real news about Zing, after today's three-hour meeting with the UC Davis veterinarian Karen. It is as you and I suspected all along: it will take time. 

Zing suffers acute separation anxiety. Suffers. Therefore, do not make him suffer more. Don’t give him an electric collar. Don’t leave him alone yet. Don’t scold him for barking. Don’t lock him in a crate.

Give Zing a nice bath mat to call his own. Encourage him to relax there. When he does, give him a treat. (Don’t worry — it’s pretty easy — I will know relaxing when I see it.) Little relaxing, little treats, big relaxing, big treats. 

When Zing learns to relax, then I should edge away from him. There are specifics. I will tell you if you want to know more. 

Karen recommends drugs to get Zing over the hump. Again — if you want to know more, I’ll tell you.  

She also says he will be fine with doggie day care or dog-sitters or overnights. I should use these services until he is well. Right now, he just needs someone. 

I’ve got to juggle these pieces, and try to relax as we both get a solid grip on life. 

There are two great things about this whole experience (Yes, Zing, something good is happening here): One, Cassi is bolstering me along the way, and she is in turn being reinforced that her ideas are echoed in the university. Cassi was a great support today, and her video of Zing frantically trying to escape his crate was defining — helped the doctor see the extent of the problem.

The second great thing is the arboretum walk at UC Davis. Today Zing and I did the whole circle, and we’ll be back soon. It is a cross between Miami’s Fairchild Tropical Garden and Tallahassee’s Native Nurseries, with California’s carefree mood thrown in.  Just what we need!

Love,

k

Back to Davis

Written last night:

Zing told me he is going to write a book about the mysteries of being a dog. He said I will be of no help, thank you. And tomorrow morning he is taking me to a behavioral psychologist at UC Davis. He thinks I need help. He is right.

Today something drew me back to Davis, home of the Veterinary school. It is Sunday, after all, and I try not to have plans — just follow my instincts. So Zing and I walked the arboretum trail again, and today it was full of all kinds of people (and dogs). The only bad part is its cement paths. I prefer leafy mulch or sand. Picky!

Then we walked the busy streets at the heart of town, a place of serious fun, where braininess is a celebrated and sold: A young man in a coffee shop wore a T-shirt that said, I’m very into science; kids were being dropped off at the mA+hnasium (“We make math make sense”) study center, and even ordinary shops had plays on words: “Puppy Hour” happy hour at the outdoor beer garden; The Artery artists cooperative. (Maybe it was all a bit much … but a great place to visit.)

And in the morning there were a couple of phone calls to boost me. Thanks, Mary, for saving me from a serious decorating disaster! 

Love, 

K

Hills have no logic

Written last night:

Zing and I drove to Auburn this morning. I’d heard of it for a long time, because Keith and his family lived there.  So Auburn was a picture of distant loved ones in a house on a leafy street, but now it’s real. It’s about 30-40 minutes from Sacramento (probably more during rush hour), the first “country” town past the suburbs of Roseville and Rocklin. It’s all up-and-down hilly, with a historic town center (I didn’t visit that today). There’s a kind of strange park that picks its way along a stream through the valley part of town. The park seems to end with a community garden next to the police station. (You can tell I’m not used to hills — they divide a town without logic.) 

Zing and I walked along some hilly streets and then went to the farmers market. A sign said no smoking and no dogs, so I locked Zing in the car again and cruised the stalls quickly. 

I grew up in the hills of southeastern Ohio and thought nothing of that topography, but I guess I’ve spent so much time since then in Florida that slanted living takes some getting used to. 

I am so glad to be able to explore again! I was frozen for awhile; even driving in midtown Sacramento terrified me. I’m sure I’ll return to Auburn because people say the area has lots of lovely parkland to explore.

Love,

k

We gaze at a hawk

Written last night:

Zing and I drove to Davis, CA, around noon today so we will know the way when we go to the UC Davis Veterinary school Monday morning. The town is less than a half-hour from Sacramento, but a world different. I read somewhere it has 50,000 + residents, but it’s got the feel of a small college town. Very few stoplights, many four-way stop intersections. Blocks and blocks of busy shops and crowded on-street parking. Rows of charming apartments and houses. That’s what we drove through on the way out of town. 

But first we headed to the vet school, which includes several large buildings (equine, small and large animal, etc.) and a people-sized animal hospital. It’s adjacent to an extensive garden with secluded paths and an arboretum. Zing and I couldn’t resist taking a long walk, which was wild with squirrels, and even one large rabbit hopped our way. We were in heaven. Before we headed home I took Zing to a dog park (Got to tire that dog out!) that was part of a grassy sports complex edged by an elementary and a high school. Duh! What a great location for schools. I chatted with Tina, an 81-year-old whose hands shook with Parkinson’s. She's a living history of the city of Davis, having been in real estate there 45 years. (She said she’s selling her last house right now.) She had much to say about the town’s development. Obviously, she loves the place. So do I. 

Then -- you know how it is when you get home — packages and mail and dog collars and keys all need attention — so I was distracted when I walked into the bedroom to store a box of curtain hooks that had just arrived. As I walked across the room to put the box down, I glanced out the sliding glass door to the balcony. There, on my shabby rattan coffee table sat a large bird staring in at me. At first I thought it was an owl, and I stepped back to the bed and kept my eyes on it, motioning for Zing to stay back. He jumped up on the mattress with me and stared at the motionless bird. By this time tears were streaming down my face because I thought it was Clark returned to us in the guise of an owl. Then I realized it must be a hawk. I really didn’t care. For 20 minutes, or maybe a half-hour, I looked at the owl’s eyes and he looked (or seemed to) at me, and Zing stood motionless looking straight ahead as well. I have never gazed before, not really. 

Finally I broke the spell and went for my camera and also my sketchbook; he/she was still there when I returned, so for another long time we stared at each other again. 

Except for turning its head right and left to show off its formidable beak, the bird did not show any inclination to move, let alone leave. 

I have to admit I couldn’t keep up the intensity, or maybe we’d be there still. I hadn’t had lunch, so I went out to the kitchen and opened a bag of popcorn. How low-life of me! When I looked out the window again, all I could see of the hawk was a clutch of feathers clinging to the railing. 

Love,
k

I feel trapped, and so does my dog!

Written last night:

Today I don’t feel quite so trapped in this condo with Zing (no offense, Zing. I still love you!). I decided not to fret, but count on the experts at UC Davis. I am going to take it easy on Zing and on myself until our Monday appointment. 

I read some ASPCA  tips on separation anxiety, and two things stood out: that I should come and go calmly, with little fanfare, and that some dogs do fine if they are left in the car (when the weather is temperate — no cooking the dog!) I used to assume it was cruel to leave a dog alone in the car, and it's a relief to know I’m wrong.  This morning I was so desperate to live a normal life that I tried it. After all, Zing has always seemed to enjoy the car. 

First, because it didn’t seem right to not even get groceries, we went to Safeway Supermarket, where I left him in Rosa for about 20 minutes. (Let’s call Rosa the dog-sitter.) I bought dog treats, of course, and gave one to Zing when I got back, because he was sitting placidly in the back seat. There were no signs of frantic upholstery-ripping or window-licking. Then I took him to the dog park, and he got so tired out that afterwards I zipped over to the nearby big-box mall and returned curtains I didn’t want. It took less than 10 minutes in each, Target and then World Market, and Zing was nearly napping each time I got back to the car. 

(I know this is tedious!)

Earlier there was paperwork. There is no end to it. In the process I pointed out an error to Toni, a paralegal in Tallahassee:  she’d sent a form that said Clark died June 4, 2015, not 2016.  “I’ll fix it,” she said. “It’s no big deal.” I knew exactly what she meant — that she could fix it easily, without the many steps some legal things take. But unbidden I began to cry — I guess because that year certainly was a big deal to me. She was apologetic, and I tried to reassure her. It was uncomfortable, but I think we ended up knowing we are both human beings with feelings. That doesn’t often happen in legal encounters.

And this evening Zing and I went for a walk in a nearby neighborhood called Southside Park. It is changing, but seems to be traditionally Chinese, with small, cozy homes. I ordered a carryout from The Coconut restaurant, and phoned again from the sidewalk because dogs can’t go inside. The waiter brought yellow curry out in a second. It was delicious.

Zing-bound

Written last night:

I am sitting in bed now and Zing is whimpering on the other side of the low wall. I have moved the bed springs so nothing is blocking him. Something about nighttime makes Zing whimper. I feel like whimpering myself. 

He’s still barking when I leave and trying to escape the (now-locked) crate — Cassie’s video today proved that. She insists he sounds less loud. I think he (and I) are adjusting slowly. It’s clear he can’t stand to be alone now. I’m sure he’ll get over it. But I will go crazy before that. I hesitate to leave even to get groceries, and I’m skipping the classes I signed up for. I’ve got to admit it was nicer when I wasn’t aware he was barking. 

(I ignored Zing and he's finally jumped onto the bed.)

Cassi and my friend Susan have both praised UC Davis Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital, and I made an appointment with their behavior service department for Monday morning. The woman I spoke to was lively and encouraging. She told me the school is #1 in the U.S. and #1 in the world. So Zing is lucky. Cassi wants to go along for the learning experience, and she will be able to add her observations too. It’s a three-hour session.

Meanwhile, I’m getting a lot of chores done around the house.

Alarms, morning and night

Written last night:
This was the day of the fire alarm, and instead of a knock at the door there was a voice on the intercom (We have an intercom?), intoning that the alarm would sound in 10 minutes. So Zing and I fled.  We walked far and fast — both of us had fun, and Zing was almost running sometimes. I still can’t run, maybe never will again, because it hurts, but I can walk exhilaratingly fast. Zing was kind of humoring me when he appeared to run. (We used to do that Tuesday and Thursday mornings in the  Phipps woods.)

Because of the disruption, Cassi the dog trainer didn’t come, but she did call and suggest I acquaint Zing with the sound of his crate/house door locking. Click. Yesterday the sound made him shiver. So today we romped on the floor in front of the crate, and I laid traps of treats inside. After he finally got coaxed inside, we played some more and then I gently, silently, closed the door. Many treats and door openings and closings followed, and finally I clicked on the lock. Zing trembled at first, but then he got a treat. Click. treat, etc. I tried to make the click nearly silent. He seemed at ease with the sound. Tomorrow we’ll see what happens when Cassi comes. I told her today that Zing is perfect except for his inopportune barking. Perfect.

Tonight I took him with me to get dinner at the food trucks parked at the museum. Bread and goulash, which tasted  a lot like Mom’s oxtail soup, but with paprika. On the way back we picked up the mail, and there was a big yellow envelope addressed to me from the HOA. I tried to act nonchalant, but my oh my was I worried. A summons? An eviction? A fine? I wondered where I would live next, and how much money I’d lose selling my condo so swiftly. It did seem a rush to take me to court without much discussion or even a direct threat.  I needed a lawyer. Zing needed a lawyer. 

Somehow in the elevator’s zoom to the twelfth floor I managed to rip open the envelope without spilling the goulash in my shopping bag. (the red felted one you made me, Mary.)  

There was a fat clutch of papers, with a letter on top. Dear Kathleen Turner: it read.

Just as the elevator door opened I read the rest. Enclosed is your financial report for this period…

“We’ve made it another day,” I told Zing, and he wagged. 

Love,

k

The one bird I can count on

Written last night:

My goal: entice Zing to stay in his crate quietly, no matter what. He and I spent lots of time, eye-to-eye on the floor. He may be taking possession of his crate home, but when I closed and locked it, he freaked.


An alarm company guy kindly said he’d knock on my door before they made any noise so I can whisk Zing out for a walk. It will be tomorrow, he said.

While I was down in the lobby I ran into Steve, the large, imposing man who works for the HOA. Steve told me my upstairs neighbor had reported on Zing’s bark.  When I told Steve that Zing missed Clark I began to cry. (I don’t do that often anymore, but sometimes tears spring on me.)That is exactly the way I do not want to appear to this guy. I want to appear strong. Maybe I did, after the tears stopped. 

I then worked ferociously at getting things done around here: sinks, shelves, bills … details to hold our tiny household together. Thank goodness for the phone talks with Mary and Mona!

At about 6 a.m. when Zing and I stepped outside, the light was just breaking. and crows were convening in the treetops. Lots of people love crows and I’ve got to find out why, because they seem to be the one bird I can count on around here.

What's the hurry?

Written last night:

It’s not easy hearing Zing whimper because he can’t jump onto the footstool. I moved it so he could reach, but the bedsprings are still in the way of his take-off. They are leaning against the wall because of the broken bed. A few years ago I would have thought a woman caring about her dog like this was crazy, and now it’s me!

As I write, Zing whimpers from beyond the wall that separates my bed from the little entryway. 

I am afraid to leave the condo and start a new life — Zing's sighs and barks might disturb the neighbors.

It’s probably just as well. I might not be ready to be out in public. But I tell you I am frustrated. 

In addition, there’s a sign by the elevators that says that they’ll be testing the emergency warning systems in the building Monday through Wednesday. We can expect fire alarms and intercom messages. So just as Zing is getting relaxed in this new space, loud noises will emerge from our walls.  

I am thinking of leaving town for the three days. 

First,  I am going to lift Zing up and put him into the bed. He still sleeps on Clark’s pillow, but I want him to be comfortable in his crate house soon.  

It seems my life pivots on a dog. I suspect Clark is sending me a message that I shouldn’t take things so seriously. Everything will be OK. Maybe I should just go a little slower. Yes, just a little.  

Dog as decorator

Written last night:

I moved an old ottoman in the bedroom about three feet to the left, and Zing is nonplussed. He used to leap onto it easily and jump from there to the bed. I didn’t think of Zing when I moved it. (Don't tell him, but I don’t really want to think of Zing when I arrange furniture). But for now I’m going to move it back where it used to be to make things easier on him.

I’ve got so much more energy to do this stuff now: today was kitchen and bath -- counters and sinks -- and also window shades. Where possible, I copied what we’d done in our Tallahassee kitchen renovation. In the process I got to deal with two great sales people, Scott and Mykelle. Scott (whose last name is Lutheran!) told me his evolution of belief from reluctant evangelical child to adult “kind of pagan” believer in something/someone out there. I like to hear people’s spiritual journeys; at the beginning of 2016 I decided to “collect” them by asking questions and listening. It was really no more than an intention; by the time Clark died I hadn’t acted on it. But now people are telling me their stories even without me asking. I guess you could say I’m a confused believer myself. As I write this I see that I’ve pretty much abandoned certainty, or anyway clarity. But that could change. 

So much for window hangings!

When I go out now I let Zing “decide” to be in his crate with the door closed. Yesterday he opened the door from the inside two times. Today I wrapped velcro around the wires to shut the crate securely. Again, he met me at the front door, chewing on velcro strip. Susan suggested I get a spring hook, so I headed for the nearby Ace Hardware, tying cords around the crate door in two places with double knots before I left. Of course,Zing had loosed them from inside and greeted me at the door again. (At least he must stop barking when he is busy getting the crate open.) Tomorrow we try the hardware.

I drew this self-portrait in August
It's one of the few things I drew then
I'm just beginning to draw again

Laughing, not barking

Written last night:

I didn’t tell you, but yesterday tears woke me, and I didn’t have a sad dream. I was just plain missing Clark in my sleep. It’s as if he was there, whispering Don’t Worry.  And this morning I woke up dreaming of someone decorating my mirror with gaudy colored baubles all around, and I heard Clark saying, “Make your house happy!”

I guess Clark thinks I need decorating advice. 

Which I do. Tomorrow I’m dealing with windows, and maybe the kitchen sink, which is leaking. Today it was the washer and dryer. 

Yes! They are here, plugged in, working fine.  Don’t tell anyone, but I feel grounded because I finally have a laundry. To celebrate I did a load of towels. 

I’m also cooking; that’s what I’ve done ever since we lived in Euclid, Ohio, when I was six or seven, and I let my runny nose drip into the chocolate chip cookie dough, then baked my first batch of cookies. (I don’t do that anymore…)  Tonight I candied some pecans to take to Mui, the wonder woman from Best Buy, who first took my washer-dryer order (Remember, Patrick and Steph? It seems so long ago). Mui made today’s delivery happen. 

And I started drawing again. It’s probably the only day I will want to draw an automatic washing machine.  

Oh, and when I went out for an errand I put Zing in his crate, as Cassi suggested. And yes, Judy and Susan, Zing did figure out how to open it from the inside. He met me at the front door. I think he was laughing, not barking.