It is that time of the year again. I got home earlier than usual this afternoon – not that much earlier, but leaving work fifteen minutes before I usually do meant that there was less traffic on the drive home so when I pulled the car into the garage and opened the kitchen door, there was no dash of paws on the tiled surface to meet me. My husband had decided to take the dogs for a walk and I had beaten him home.
I hate coming home to no dogs. I take for granted the hero’s welcome I am lucky enough to enjoy at least once a day, courtesy of the fact that I have pets. I heard someone (Louis Theroux via Adam Buxton, from memory) say that dogs always believe you are the best version of yourself that you can imagine – and that is true, I think.
Lucy has been slightly different with me ever since I came back from Melbourne. I am not sure what happened while I was away but there has been a shift. She has always loved me but been besotted with my husband and that was fine because Lucy has a lot of love to give, but she has been slightly wary of trusting me ever since I packed a bag and disappeared for a week. I am not sure what my husband did – maybe he promised her a car or something, but she is definitely treating him as the horse to back at the moment.
Archie has remained the same, but he is such an odd character you probably would not notice any difference. Archie’s personality is an ongoing, evolving thing. As long as he can find a bit of carpet to rub himself up and down on while moaning softly to himself in the morning and there are mice in the garden to hunt, Archie is happy.
With the extra time up my sleeve this afternoon, I thought I would be able to get a few extra things done, but then I started hoovering. As I did I realised the time had come to unplug the gas heater and put it away in the back room for another year and get the fan out. This involved moving furniture and then finding new areas of dust and fur to suck up. By the time I was finished, my ambition to also get the electric blanket off the bed was postponed until next week.
Lucy is sitting in the kitchen as I write this, watching my husband cook his dinner through her gorgeous almond shaped brown eyes. Archie is guarding the fence line. What I know and Lucy does not, is that pretty soon, it will be too hot in the afternoon for my husband, who does not drive, to take them to the park and that also I have four weeks’ leave over Xmas. Maybe the pendulum will start to swing back.
I have just realised that Xmas leave (or the end of it in January) will also mark one year of blog writing and my project will be at an end. I wonder what I will do then? It would be nice to set myself a target of a post a week, but I think it is easier to give up altogether when the posts are that far apart – I am kind of an all-or-nothing girl. Still, there is time to decide about that and plenty more stories to write in the meantime.