It’s Lily’s Gotcha Day – the fourth anniversary of the day we brought her home. Three beautiful things about that day:
1. John lifts her up for the first time to help her into the boot. On the motorway, she is quiet and still. I take some photos and stare at them repeated over the next weeks and months: our gorgeous dog.
2. I lie next to her on the carpet. I’ve never had my face so close to a dog’s face and I’m a little wary, not knowing yet that she is amazingly gentle. She opens her mouth and for the first time, I see her tiny white teeth in her pink gums. I squee with delight.
3. Her separation anxiety turns out to be worse than we thought: we try to leave her to sleep on her own in the living room but she objects, loudly. Not yet ready to give in a let her and let her sleep in our room (that happens on night 3 and every night since then), I go to sleep on the sofa. Without hesitation, she jumps up to cuddle with me and we sleep together until our early morning hugs.
And three from today:
1. The various blues – in a narrow range from Tiffany and duck egg to wedgewood – flapping around on the line.
2. I joke that I excel at the inconsequential and John replies that it should be our family motto.
2b. The washi tape hides the staples and pulls the whole thing together. I will be the only person that notices.
3. The drivers that let us across the road.
3b. The ramsoms are beginning to come into leaf. The garlic smell in the woods is slight but definitely there.
3c. The recent rains have wrecked that wood: muddy gouges and stagnant pools abound. But they’ve also revealed (to me) dozens of new streams, moving down the hill with ancient manmade assistance.
4. The bus is at the end of our road and as I walk towards it, I seek him out. We wave and I signal for him to get off the bus at the next stop rather than the one after where we’d arranged to meet. We reach the bus stop at the same time and hug. I see people looking at us, maybe wondering if we’ve been apart for a long time. Yes, a whole eight hours!
5. A perfectly wrapped parcel.
6. Lily’s eyes widen – she is never normally allowed a whole can of tuna to herself. I sing to her, a reworking of the Futurama birthday song, while she eats. Later, she wears her hat.
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