We came to our place in Idaho for Thanksgiving, but we didn’t drive so we couldn’t bring the dogs. It’s very strange to be here without them. Even the kids say it feels like we’re missing part of our family. I wanted to bring Harry’s ashes here to have a little ceremony before the snow fell, but my youngest said, “No! The dogs won’t be with us and they were part of Harry’s life too.” I couldn’t argue with that, and anyway it snowed before we got here. So Harry’s ashes are still at home, on top of the lockers right inside the back door, in a cardboard box. I haven’t moved him from there because his favorite place to sleep was right there in the hall next to what we call the mud room, but is really just an alcove with lockers, a bench with drawers underneath, and hooks for coats. It’s in a high traffic area. We used to have to step over him to get in the door, sometimes even get him to move before we could open the door. Anyway I like knowing some part of him is still with us, and I take comfort every time I open the drawer where we keep the leashes to walk the other dogs and I glance up and see where he is. I know it must sound morbid, but it’s probably no different than the comfort people take in having the remains of their relative in an urn above the fireplace. And Harry most definitely is a relative, for our family anyway.
Without the dogs, the kids have had to engage with each other more. Dogs are great buffers. They are warm bodies to hug, playmates for frolicking in the snow, and companions for when you’re “it” in Kick-the-Can after dark and maybe a tiny bit scared to be alone. Unfortunately for my husband, he is the next best thing after the dogs, no better than the dogs at saying no to the girls, and so they pester him unmercifully until he relents, playing Kick-the-Can while our son and I stay inside by the warm fire reading in utter and blissful peace. Though I almost wished I’d seen the last round of the game because apparently my youngest daughter was in jail and my husband was “it” when my middle daughter came galloping down the burm, long legs windmilling like Olive Oil’s in a Popeye cartoon, until she hit the compression of the driveway and splatted. She might still have made it to the can but where the driveway meets the lawn is like a curb of snow and she fell again, giving my husband the necessary few seconds to beat her. She still hadn’t accepted defeat though, taking a flying leap towards the can like a runner coming into home plate, hand outstretched to swipe the can and free her sister, but to no avail. Her Dad got there first, and long gone are the years when he let her win.
Middle daughter also persuaded my husband to build an igloo, which is almost finished. This is their second attempt, the first being year before last when we had a huge storm. That time same middle daughter started it on her own after bugging her Dad for days and finally losing patience with him. Unfortunately she made the original circle too big and it took them days to finish. They had a video and honestly, if they hadn’t been bringing snow and cold air in every five minutes I would have laughed at the spectacle they made checking their progress on the TV. They are both visual learners. They scoured the house looking for the same video yesterday, but couldn’t find it and decided to wing it, hoping they remembered the important bits. The igloo is smaller this time which definitely cut down on the labor. They were going to finish it tonight, but middle daughter persuaded her Dad to take them to some hot springs instead. I heard him trying to redirect her with the satisfaction she would gain completing the igloo, but she was impervious to his attempts, having long ago learned that sheer force of will often won the day. Even her brother, who I heard saying would rather go tomorrow, didn’t have the slightest chance of withstanding her persuasion. Youngest daughter was only concerned with bathing gear, having been a go from the start. She has learned from experience that at times risky (i.e. getting into trouble) or downright scary, her sister’s capers are usually opportunities not to be missed. The result for me was another interlude of utter and blissful peace. Shattered only this second as they just tumbled in half naked and freezing, fighting over who gets to shower first. Time to help my husband with the turkey curry he insisted we make for dinner. Yum.
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