2. Chasing Our Mud Ball

January20

Our canyon is dark and wet this morning. It is not uncommon for January to be cold and rainy. This morning though, it is too windy and soggy to take Maggie for her walk. She will instead have to be happy with a game of indoor fetch. She runs pell-mell from living room to bedroom chasing her small rubber tire. It doesn’t go far if you put a nice back spin on it. After a few minutes of that she will curl up with Bob and content herself with a warm nap. If Bob leaves his heating pad for the shortest time, she completely takes over the with a look of, well, smug satisfaction.

Yesterday we bundled up and hit the road. Now, I know, it isn’t as cold as Pittsburgh, PA or Switzerland, but by golly for California it’s cold. The wind whistled through the canyon and played havoc on Bob’s canvas garages. At any rate, we were very proud of ourselves that we had braved the elements. Maggie, on the other hand, thought it was just grand. We wondered if she would consider wearing little boots. Her forays into the wet grass tend to turn her into a mud ball.

As we carefully negotiated the almost gravel driveway, Bob spoted a patch of incredible toadstool/mushrooms in a large patch of wood chips from last years clearing of brush. They were about 2 inches in height and the most incredible root beer color. As they stood tall and glistened with drops of the misty rain that was falling, I marveled at their beauty and thanked Bob for bringing them to my attention. I would have completely missed their glory. They were so close in color to the wet wood chips they nearly disappeared to the average eye. It is wonderful that one of us paid attention to his surroundings.

The horses were eager for their carrots that morning. The steam was rising from under their wet blankets. Phantom snorted and pawed the metal fence wanting Bob to know he deserved to be first. Willow, the paint, waited patiently for hers. She hasn’t learned to take the whole carrot, instead she bit it as she took it from Bob’s open palm. This meant Bob had to pick up the part she dropped which gave Phantom the idea that she had gotten more than her fair share. He resumed his impatient pawing with a vengeance.

The smell of wet animals is somehow reassuring. I’m not sure why, but it is in no way offensive. It is an earthy smell that mingles with hay and trees cleansed by the rain. It make us feel safe, even in these troubled times we can feel secure knowing that we will be welcomed whole-heartedly by Phantom and Willow. I’ll bet even if we didn’t have carrots they would still be glad to see us knowing that, at the very least, Bob would clean the “gookers” out of their eyes and scratch their foreheads.

The walk back up the road toward Gopher Hill Cottage with our mud ball in tow was a little easier knowing that.