Housesitting
All the children will sleep well tonight. At least that’s what I heard on MPR this morning.
But I just can’t draw a closed circle of truth these days. My hands are freezing and don’t work properly. I start the pen in an irregular angle and end up south of fiction, working on finding one damn fact that hasn’t been kicked around like a Oaxacan street dog. It’s uncertain and cold times like these that make people – families – go to the Mattress. That’s exactly what I’ve done this week. Technically, you could argue (just not with me) that I’m simply housesitting my parents crib whilst they prance along the beaches of Saint Croix. But It doesn’t feel right to call it housesitting. The term implies that it is I who am taking care of something, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The House and everything in it is taking care of me. More specifically, the fine assembly of goods (fireplace, sauna, full kitchen, books) and a dog named Fess are taking care of me and the missus quite well while we hunker down.

I am positively baffled by the dog though. She’s terrific and impossibly trained. Our morning walks are brutally cold as the sun is just turning the sky I blazoned steal blue when we set out to take on the neighborhood. The streets are pretty quiet except for a few kids who are already waiting for the bus. We commiserate with the other half asleep adults who are shoveling their walks or taking their beast for a stroll. Frequently, Fess lurches to take little breaks, usually to check out some mysterious odor lurking within a pile of dried crusted leaves in someone’s lawn. When the opportunity presents itself, I steal quick glances into neighboring windows searching for other unfortunates who are already at battle with the morning.

Returning to the house, I thaw my hands by rubbing Fess’ mane until she looks at me askance, as if to say, “enough already buddy – go make us some coffee.” Which I do. Then she (Fess) is freed up to go about her chores. Or I should say her chore. Her one mission in life is to stand guard at the big bay window on the second floor and watch for moving objects that pass outside on the street. Then, with dramatic force she herds them along by doing repeated high intensity figure eight laps around both the living room and dining room tables. Do not stop until the object, be it a bunny rabbit, a car, or another dog passes completely from your field of vision. Sitting in my morning chair, sipping my coffee and trying to get a read on the sports action, I am laughing at her work, which is fundamentally gorgeous to watch and hilarious in spirit. If you let her, she will do this all day until she gets put away in her crate at 10PM. She will only stop to run around the back yard and piss a bunch. She’s got her purpose down. Find one thing your good at in life and be better at it than anyone else. Hell, not one beast I know can herd moving objects outside this house better than Fess. Not one.