Dear Kid,

Do you know how many steps are involved in cleaning out the garage? 12,384.

Yesterday, Dad and I decided to tackle the garage. The Puppy decided to supervise by napping in the sun. And the shade. And the sun. And the shade. For someone who was napping, there was a lot of relocation.

Cleaning out the garage was a lot like an archeological dig. We uncovered all sorts of things from different eras of our lives.

For example, we found soccer balls in every single size (and condition) imaginable. We found pint-sized golf clubs and middle-sized lacrosse sticks and teen-sized hockey sticks. We found gardening tools for toddlers and baseball mitts for adults.

We had a few disagreements (“No, we are not getting rid of that” “But we haven’t used it in 20 years!” “But I might have a need for it!” I’ll leave it to you to assign the dialog). We had a few compromises (Dad has agreed to get rid of—by which I mean recycle—the two tires that have been hanging around lo these many years. And we had some surprises.

Like the, um, cache we found behind the shelves.

Me: What is that?
Dad: What do you think it is?
Me: Lord love a duck.

It turned out to be a pile of acorns, presumably put there by a rodent of some variety. The Puppy had been very clear all winter that there was something interesting back there, and smirked his “I told you so” look as we swept out the corner.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say the garage is clean enough to eat in (except for the acorn-hoarders among us) but it is much nicer and less cluttered than it was.

I give us 2 months before the chaos re-descends.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Many, many years ago we had a mulberry tree in our backyard (now we have a mulberry tree stump, but I’ll get to that).

The mulberry tree had branches that reached from the back of the yard practically to the house. Dad wanted to cut the branches, but I convinced him not to. During the mid to late summer, the squirrels used those branches as their personal grocery store. They would come waaaay out on the branches and reach for the farthest, hardest to reach, presumably yummiest berries. It was jungle gym and produce section in one.

It was serious fun to watch.

Then we had to cut the tree down because it was dying and unsafe.

The squirrels adapted by trying to do triple gainers from other trees to reach the birdfeeder.

This pleased no one except the squirrels.

As I’m writing this, the squirrels are frolicking in the yard. Seriously, frolicking, as they try to figure out how to get their next meal.

We now have tree whose branches have grown far enough out that I can watch the little dudes up close from my chair on the porch.

They spend a lot of time under the birdfeeder encouraging their avian friends to throw down a respectable tithe.

And they are plotting.

It’s obvious as they pause on a tree trunk or branch that they are engaging in Highly Advanced Physics calculations trying to determine if they can Make The Leap from their location to the birdfeeder.

So far the answer is no, which pleases the squirrels not at all but the humans and birds are happy.

As for the stump, it still sits in the yard. And the squirrels haven’t forgotten it. yesterday, one of them paused on the stump, leaning over the edge, to watch other squirrels play/fight/frolic. Stump as lounge chair.

Très cute.

Hope you have some time to frolic today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Bob the Chipmunk (I named him) has been hibernating in our garage. Turns out our garage is an excellent place for hibernating (warm-ish, dry-ish, mostly predator-free, and you don’t have to build it yourself) until the Puppy gets a snout-full of your scent.

Which happened this morning.

Me: Are you ready to go for a walk?
Puppy: Of course! I love walks!
Me: Okey dokey.
Puppy: Here we—wait! I smell a moose!
Bob the Chipmunk: Wheek! (I don’t speak chipmunk very well.)
Me: We don’t have any moose here.
Puppy: I want to be friends with the moose!
Me: I’m sure all the moose in our garage want to be friends with you too. The chipmunk, not so much.
Bob: Wheek!
Me: Where are you going?
Puppy: Got to find the moose!
Me: I’m pretty sure there are no moose under the car.
Puppy: There might be! If I sniff hard enough.
Me: I don’t think you know what a moose smells like.
Puppy: My nose knows. Don’t argue with the nose.
Bob: Wheek! (Bob is apparently not much of a conversationalist.)
Puppy: Checking under the other car!
Me: Let me guess, still no Bob?
Puppy: Bob? You named him Bob?
Me: Move it, Furry One.
Puppy: Hunting! Very. Important. Hunting.
Me: Puppy! Time to go for a walk!
Puppy: Huh?
Me: Now.
Puppy: Oh. OK! I love walks.
Bob: Wheek!

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid Who Smells Like Short Hair,

Things have gone crazy here.

First of all, Mom and the Kid Who Smells Like Long Hair went to the groomers this morning. I’m really glad I just get my fur brushed and don’t have to get it cut, because it took a loooong time.

When they got home, Mom first helped Daddy stuff and seal A Lot of envelopes (I counted) which he had to mail for Ohio River Foundation. (I like Ohio River Foundation stuff. It smells like River and Mud which is fabulous. The envelopes didn’t smell like River or Mud. When I asked Daddy why he said it’s because they are asking people for money envelopes. I think they would be better if they smelled like River.)

Once that was done, Mom decided it was time to Make Some Progress. Do you know what it means to Make Some Progress? I do. First it mean moving a lot of dust around which made me sneeze. Twice. Then everyone had to help pull things out of closets. Mom went through all the things, found one or two items about which she could pronounce “We Don’t Need That,” and then everything else went back in the closets. That’s what it means to Make Some Progress.

I don’t want to be put in the “We Don’t Need That” pile or be put in a closet, so I’m hiding under the couch with my new chipmunk toy.

Mom says once she finishes this, it will be On to the Next Project. I’m hoping she forgets and decides to snuggle with me instead.

It snowed yesterday. I tried very hard to catch some snowflakes but they all disappeared. I don’t know how they do that and then reappear on the ground. It’s very confusing.

We’re supposed to get ice and freezing rain tomorrow. I don’t like ice so I think I might stay under the couch where it’s cozy. I’m also going to practice my pathetic look so someone will feel sorry for me and feed me treats. I love treats.

Hope someone is feeding you treats.

Love, Booker

Dear Kid,

Well, I messed up. Big time. I gave the puppy (who I know so well) a gift the other night. I was expecting joyous tail wagging and toy playing. Turned out the toy was the equivalent of giving him doggie underwear. “This? This is a present? You want me to play with this? Ah, no…. and it doesn’t even have the days of the week.”

I don’t know how I could have been so far off the mark. It was squishy (his preferred mouth-feel). It had stuffing (all the better for pulling out), it had a squeaker (all the better for squeaking and then pulling out), and Daddy was willing to throw it.

Booker sniffed. He sniffed again. And then he put his head in the gift box hopping I’d made a mistake and that his real present was still in there. Somewhere.

I felt badly. I really did. No one under the age of 25 wants underwear as a present. Most people over 25 don’t want undies either. And I have never, ever met a puppy who put underwear on the wish list.

So last night I gave him a different present. A toy chipmunk. With a squeaker, and a bit of stuffing. And (a new addition to the puppy toy world) some crinkly stuff in its legs.

Booker sniffed. And without even sniffing again, he took his beloved new toy and trotted away where he could tell it how much he loves it (and by “tell” I mean “gnaw”) without interference (while keeping one eye out for thieves and villains who might think playing Snatch the New Chipmunk would be a fun game). Home run! The human equivalent of a car. Or at least a really cool set of headphones.

In other gift catastrophes, I had an excellent idea for Daddy for his birthday. A truly wonderful idea for the Man Who Is Impossible to Buy For. Im-possible. But I, the amazing wife that I am, came up with the World’s Greatest Idea. Under the guise of “running errands” I went to buy said gift over the weekend.

Except it was three times the amount I was prepared to spend. Yikes! Back to the drawing board (with very little time to draw).

Any and all ideas appreciated.

Love, Mom

P.S. Don’t forget to call Dad to say Happy Birthday!

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