Hey, Hey, Hey (human for barking),
Suzanne is busy with the move of the studio from the country to the city. She is fretting about what to take to New York City and what to leave in the country. While she is so occupied, I can write.
Because I am a dog, you may think I can't write. You would be wrong. Suzanne got a new app called DogPress. With that, and a keyboard specially outfitted for my paws and my new reading glasses, I am good to go as blogger. I can give you the real scoop on these past several months in the Pine Plains studio. Hey, Hey, Hey, don't get me wrong. I love that space in the city. The East Village is a great place to paint in the fall and winter months. But there is something very special about helping Suzanne in the country.
First, the smells. They are much better here in the country. Sure, there are many smells on the city sidewalks (mostly food of the beer and pizza variety). Hey, Hey, Hey, they are nothing compared to all the smelly stuff in the country. I can sniff all kinds of animals. My favorites are chipmunks, squirrels, deer, woodchuck, and Sam, the cat who belongs to our neighbor, Ralph. I also get to smell all of those plants in the garden. I am very careful in the beds, so Suzanne lets me wander through them. I breathe in all kinds of flowers and leaves, and my favorite, that deep rich smell of mulch.
At this time of the year, things in the garden are drying out and dying. While I am sniffing, my lovely white coat picks up lots of stuff, thorn like stuff. Hey, Hey, Hey, I like that. Suzanne and David fuss over me as they carefully pull out each piece. And Suzanne is sure to worry and ask: "David, are you sure that isn't a tick?" That's when I lower my chin and look up at them sadly with my big eyes, give them what Suzanne calls my "Lady Diana look," and let out a little sigh. The look and the sigh always get to them, right in their hearts (Suzanne says her heart has gotten bigger since I arrived). Then, they give me a treat. Oh, how I love those dried cod skins. Hey, Hey, Hey, dried cod skins are to dogs what potato chips are to people.
My leash. The other big difference between the country and the city has to do with my leash. This summer, Suzanne finally lightened up. She now lets me walk on my own, off leash, to and from the house and the studio. Actually, I don't walk. I run. I love to run and bound over tall ground cover. Hey, Hey, Hey, you know my breed (Havanese) is famous for circus tricks. I get to do tricks here in the country.
No such playing on the streets of New York City. No more letting Suzanne get ahead of me so that I can make a mad dash to catch up with her. No more rushing out the door so I can run over to the stone wall and terrorize the chipmunks who live in it.
No more jumping over the stonewall and down the hillside to find that woodchuck hole. While I do this last trick, Suzanne's heart moves closer to her throat and she runs inside to get the whistle. After just one lesson, I learned to rush right back to the house when they blow the whistle. I learned quickly because I didn't want to risk their putting that leash back on me. But in the city, it is the leash all the time. Thank goodness, I have some cute outfits to wear with my leashes.
Uh oh, Suzanne is moving from fretting to obsessing. She is asking me, the dog, things like: "Can I leave this big brush here, Ula, or will I miss it too much in the city?" This woman has a hundred brushes but she loves each and every one of them. Time for me to start hopping on my two back legs, bark a little, and do my dance in front of the studio door. That always works as a signal that I need to do something outside. She will put down the brushes, even the ones she loves the most. She will open the door and come outside with me. That will give her a break and hopefully restore her senses.
So, I need to stop writing and go help Suzanne. But I will be back online again soon. Hey, Hey, Hey, this blogging is fun.
The Countess of Ulanado (small island off coast of Cuba)