Why is the wind so restless? It begin to howl yesterday afternoon and during the night it droned on endlessly waking people and dogs alike. Charlie demanded to go out into the windy night twice, unlike him to wake from his comfy slumber on the sofa in our room but the wind brought out the wild in him. He spent time on the lounge in the yard, poised like a sphinx, nose in the wind, whiskers blowing. We too were restless, listening to the howling up here in the tree house. We are perched above, in somewhat of a wind tunnel, and while it looks like a restless breeze, it sounds like we are living in a haunted house.
This morning we struggled to rise, not as rested as we would like, to face the wind again for our dutiful morning walk with Charlie. Somehow he never tires of the outdoor adventures, though in-between he sleeps deeply, contentedly, owning the sofa or curled in his bed. He really demands so little: morning and afternoon walks, cozy sleeping arrangements, a nuzzle here and a dog hug there, yummy treats and cool water. He gives so much: unconditional love, tenderness (like the way he gently licks the peanut butter hiding his daily pro biotic off of Gary’s finger in the morning), companionship (nestling in next to the bass drum as Gary practices or planting himself at my feet as I write), and serving as the lone “brother” in a house of daughters.
People come into our lives for reasons known and unknown. The same is true of animals. They arrive and are woven into our family fabric, becoming part of traditions, histories, and etching permanence in our hearts.
Today I appreciate this good old boy of ours, hearing his gentle breath and soft snores as I enjoy my last few days of winter break.