The Dog Chronicles: Andie Sunday 9/4/2016

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It’s Apple time again

Oh baby it’s chilly outside! Autumn is here. The nights are cold and the days clear, warming to evening and thoughts of changing come and go as colorful leaves drop, branches become bare and the last fruit of the harvest appears sweet and ready. Andie loves apples. The old tree on the other side of the back fence still drops the occasional treasure  and Andie applies her now considerable gleaning skills to the collection of them. It very autumnal en plein air around here these days.

Apples are good for Andie as I discovered last season and I prefer them to  commercial chews to clean her teeth. Rawhide chews can be dangerous for dogs, some of them downright toxic and that includes Greenies, I’m sorry to say. So Andie and I in keeping with the foodie mystic of our increasingly very effete wine country esthetic creep out into the back garden in the full moon light  and dancing the Gian movements of abundance chant in a resemblance  of Steiner’s biodynamic agriculture: ‘Apple, apple growing bright, making sweetness in the night, let me sigh eating apple pie and Andie’s pearly teeth shine bright.’ Really, the origin of all this was finding a Tupperware containing a crab carcass planted three feet down in the Southern axis of what was once our barren yard and nascent garden to be.

We don’t wear costumes or anything or chant on the nights when the Truck-Mart  neighbors are playing with their night-vision mini drone, which on first sight several weeks ago, looked like a flying saucer. It hovered above us in wee hours of their weekend party over  our driveway, a mechanical voyeur stalker, peeper as Andie committed a deposit.

I do not claim beyond the play of humor any disrespect for Steiner, whom imbued  one of my dearest friends with the expressive grace of eurythmy. She did the honor of taking one of my poems as a context for eurythmic play, but became ill before I could see her art. Nothing could honor a poet more than a poem given life by movement and dance—–something very ancient in sensibility and a deeply moving gift from a much loved one.


Meanwhile, life goes forward at Truck Mart. They are good decent folks and otherwise self contained neighbors given to massive machines, sports costumes, and remote controlled toy trucks that look like the mini spawn of their own vehicles. The sound of them…..eeeeeeeeeeee aaahhhhh  eeeeee zooooom zooooom. It sounds like a high revved power saw cutting down brush. Up the street it goes and back down the street it goes. Andie does not like it, I do not like it and so we go inside until  Detroit is put back in its box for the day.

The T-Marter’s have two very large lovable labs that roam free so they are largely immune from the cat pox that finds our street silently united by the fact that the cat lady’s felines have spread out and poop in everybody’s driveway, disturb the gardens and kill fish in the ponds. Everybody pretends it’s coons that are to blame, but I ‘ve caught her cats out there In flagrante delicto.  One of them sleeps under my car at night and drives Andie to animated levels of curiosity. Nobody tells the cat lady though, she’s had a hard life and we just put up with it. I noticed the other day, she bought and placed three new black plastic 20 gallon buckets of roses along side her sidewalk and tended  that scruffy patch of crabgrass  with an old hand mower. Maybe she’s in love again.

One thing is most admirable about the T-Marter’s, they park like pros. At any give time six trucks and a sedan are all carefully choreographed like movable pieces of a Rubik’s Cube to position a maximum efficiency in entering and exiting.  On weekends, when friends and guests arrive, including a cousin’s RV, the assemblage  of chrome and color is truly impressive. The youthful energy is engaging, except that time five years ago when their Halloween party included egging our house. That never happened again. At least they didn’t paint ‘YOU SUCK’  on the front door, which teleologically and theoretically speaking might have been a truism of sorts.

Most impressive lately is the arrival of a huge  RAM truck so tall it has a small ladder with which to hoist one’s self up into the cab. It has six cleg-like lights fixed to a shiny chrome roll bar. They are concealed  with smiley face covers.


simulacra of said truck

I expected a burly, shaved head, tattooed dude to jump out of  said truck, but the other day was shocked to see a young, lithe, 5’2″  pretty blond Barbie woman park and alight from what is arguably the most macho machine in the hood. The little girl, we once noticed when we first moved in eight years ago had grown up.

nocollerFinally,  we must note that our garbage man has become passive aggressive. When I pack the large green bins with pruning scraps it is with the precision of packing a carry-on for a two month trip across country. So, he has to shake it at least three times, rather than just the one, until all comes out in a flora compact resembling a green refrigerator. I think it pisses him off because he drives the extra thirty feet to set the can down behind my parked car.

Worse he often loses ‘stuff’ that ends up in the street trailing behind his boisterous behemoth iron armed truck. That’s a problem. Most recently some complex toy from next door with multiple gears, tubes and brightly colored scraps was run over and left behind. Our G men don’t get out of their trucks for anything. Thus, Andie has been sniffing out these small parts like treasures to chew and shallow. It’s been a busy week trying to spot them before she chokes on one.

At the moment Andie is sleeping in the sun on the patio chaise, a practice she has recently taken up. Just when I think she is growing up….it’s play time and she runs around with turquoise squeak-bug or Leo the Lion, whom we have discovered has mini squeakers in his paws and that fascinates Andie.

Meanwhile, From Andie and Me:  Happy Laborious Day!




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3 Responses to The Dog Chronicles: Andie Sunday 9/4/2016

  1. robin andrea says:

    I can’t imagine your lovely neighborhood filled with so much engine noise. Yikes. Glad it stops and peace restored everyday. Interesting thing about garbage pickup. Just the other day our recycling was very, very full. More packed in than ever before with a lot of my mom’s packing materials and flattened cardboard boxes. Whenever we’ve put out our recycling, which is about once every three weeks or so, it is always emptied neatly and the container placed where we left it. Not his time. The container was moved about 20 feet, and a few of the crumpled up packing newspapers were left in front of our house. We had never seen that before. It did not occur to us that it was a message. Well, okay. Message received. We will be more careful next time. Enjoy your laborious day! Say hi to Andie from us!

  2. Sara Harris says:

    I just read this outlaid to Ken, while we are here in Colorado, and we laughed so hard. What an amazing description of the “hood” happenings!!!

  3. Emmers says:

    Apple time in Vermont – time to brace for winter wonderland – with much left to tidy up in our sprawling but slowly coming together yard. I envy your gorgeous garden room escape and miss you Michael.

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