The Fleeting Patch of Tall Grass

I'm not one of those 'feelings' type of journal people. When I look back on this blog I mainly want to remember the details of this or that.

My cousin Bryce marvels at my recolection of minor things when discussing on our childhood visits. He is amazed at Thanksgiving when I start brining up stories... although it's not fun to reminisce when I'm the only one who remembers!

Jase and I were discussing dogs the other day and realized that if all of my dogs live until they are 10 years old it means that I will probably only have 4 or 5 dogs in my adult life.

If this blog lived 50 years I would love to look back on the details of my canine friends. Charlie, for example, is full of storied details. I hold myself back from boring people with Charlie is so this and Charlie is so that stories (I'll save that for when we have kids).

Lawn mowing day is a fun day for Charlie and me. It ALWAYS starts and ends the same. First, he peaks under the neighbor's fence to see if their large dog Brewsky is anywhere to be found. Charlie will squeeze and shimmy under the fence if Brewsky is back there. Otherwise, he moves on to me.

Second, I pull the lawn mower out and for some reason Charlie starts hopping around like it's Christmas morning. Ten minutes into the front lawn he follows me around, barking, jumping around, and grabing onto my shorts. Yes I have mooned my neighbors a few times. Maybe he's is trying to get me to chase him... maybe he's jealous of the lawn mower.

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Third, he realizes I have things to do and gives up on the chase. He finds a bone, lays in the shaded part of the tall grass, and chews away in his own zoned out world. He has been working on this bone all summer. No idea where he puts it and how he finds it each week... but he does.



He'll get up and move to a new spot when the mower comes to close. Moving is more frequent as the tall grassy area closes in. He moves, chews, moves, chews, moves until it is time for the back yard.

Fourth, I lure him into the backyard and playtime starts again. As I mow passed his 45 toys I throw them out of the way and he'll fetch, run, bark, nip at my feet and shorts... (Sorry for the loud breathing on this one.... yardwork + headphones are not a good combo for the camera man).

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Eventually he falls asleep in the sun and is done for the day. This post was more for me when I'm 50 than for anything else.