Okay, enough of politics!
Time for something light, like a response to The Daily Post‘s challenge to publish something on the word ‘pattern’.
So, what’s my daily pattern, I ask myself. Kay’s out of town, so the pattern is different today. It’s just Barclay and I (or is it ‘me’?).
I get up early, as usual. I make a pot of coffee, open the front door hoping the newspaper’s waiting on the porch, pour myself a cup of coffee (four packets of Splenda – it’s bad for my health but I don’t care; two teaspoons of Cremora – made of corn starch, also bad for my health and for the planet, but I ignore it) in my special cup from our trip to San Francisco. Every morning I wish I were in San Francisco. It’s part of the daily pattern.
I turn on the MacBook Air to check for emails and find a text from Kay who’s in Charleston, South Carolina with her three sisters from Denver, Lincoln, and Charleston. Texts are rare in my normal daily pattern, but there are three of them this morning. I’m not much of a texter, though there are mornings when, though Kay and I are sitting together silently in the living room so as not to awaken Barclay, she will text me!
About 9:00 a.m. it’s Barclay time and Barclay’s pattern takes over for the next half-hour. Out from the kennel he comes, stretching his legs as though he’s been instructed by a Yoga Master, wagging his tail . . . running over to the recliner where Kay should be. “Where’s Mom, Dad?” Sitting on the recliner with Kay is an essential part of Barclay’s pattern, but she’s not here today. He looks at me, lies down on the rug, rolls over on his back for a tummy rub, a brushing and the wiping of his eyes (Cavies have problems with their tear ducts requiring twice-daily depletion of Kleenex). Then he gets his ball and drops it at my feet. Time to play ball – “Get the ball!” “Bring the ball!” “Get the ball!” “Bring the ball!” – until it’s time for a drink and for turning over his food dish to play with the food, as in throwing pieces of food into the air and chasing them down until he runs to the front door to ring the bell that tells me he’s ready to go out.
Anyway, that’s enough about my daily pattern, and it’s only 9:30. The rest of the daily pattern is not very interesting. After lunch we take a long nap together. We have dinner. We go to sleep. And the day begins again with an unhealthy cup of coffee and the dream of being in San Francisco. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat the pattern.
All days with Barclay and Kay are good days!
- Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, March 11, 2017.
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What a beautiful little pup. Makes me think of B-dog (and Midge) We loved him so!
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Like B-dog and Midge, he is a canine, a member of the superior species and, like them, quite ‘exceptional’, of course!😂 You and CA should drop by from PA for a visit.
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Your days sound wonderful!!
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On the whole – but compared to what? The days of the poor, the homeless, the dying, the starving, the refugee, the mother/father who’s just lost a child, Yes. Wonderful. Compared to Barclay? Probably less wonderful than his! He’s full of the sense of wonder, and he doesn’t even know the Doxology!
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I hate when dogs are more talented than me. Which is pretty much all of them.
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In so many ways they are superior!
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No argument from me 🙂
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Love this! Except you fail to mention all the time you put into sharing your wisdom on your blog and other sources. (Working toward another book?)
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Mona, there are three others in the file I’m ignoring. Better get to work! But playing with Barclay’s a great and worthy distraction.
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As are the stories about Barclay — worthy distraction, that is.
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Barclay’s very pleased by your recognition.
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