Pretty Sure It's a Canadian Thistle Out There

June 27, 2010.  Sunday.

Situation:  Last night Moi came home to work, with Atlas in tow.  She was distressed because sometime while she was down at Jazz’s with Atlas, the dog had gotten into her purse and ate a whole bottle of her thryroid medicine.  After trying to call several local vets, she finally got in touch with our vet, Lenny, who assured her that the medicine would not do Atlas any harm.  Nevertheless, the incident set the whole tone of her evening.  She was unable to get Atlas into Ezra’s kennel (I had to make a trip over to Ezra’s place, and succeeded in getting him in the cage).  Moi had one job to do in the afternoon, and ended up going to the wrong place.  Then we had our usual job to do together at night.  That went well, but her distress over Atlas continued over to this morning.  She seemed to be beside herself as she was getting ready to go back down to Jazz’s.  Finally, after taking Atlas out early in the morning, she got herself together and she and the dog drove down to Jazz’s.  Moi left me with the parting words:  “I’ll probably end up killing myself driving down there.”  I took Mway out after they left: just in the back yard to throw stick.  After that, I went to my work for the bulk of the day.  When I get home, about 6:30, I take Mway out for her afternoon walk.

State of the Path:  Before we head out on the path, I have to throw out some feed to the chickens.  When Mway and I get to the juncture with the side path, Mway starts to go down the side path.  I say, “Whichever way you want to go, Mway,” which she interprets as meaning that I want to go down the main path, so she turns around and heads that way.  After a few feet, she starts to slow down, and I can tell that she wants to poop, so I stop to let her.  As I’m standing there, I look out into the weeds and see a new flowering plant.  I don’t quite know what it is, but the name Canadian thistle comes to mind, and I think to myself that I should recognize this distinctive plant.  As I look up the name in the Audubon just now, I find a picture of it: I’m pretty sure this is what’s out there.  As Mway and I head down toward the creek, I become curious to see what the water is like – Moi said that it rained a little late last night.  I also become apprehensive about running into the raccoons:  I really hate to disturb them.

State of the Creek:  Down at the tree stand, Mway heads into the creek at her usual spot, and I follow close behind.  I’m grateful not to come across any raccoons, but I’m shocked to see that the pool of water has shrunk even further.  Now it’s all mud in front of the large maple tree, the tree that the raccoons had climbed up.  Further down the creek, I check on the rest of the pools.  They’re still all there, but not much so.  In another of the pools, Mway goes in to have another sip of water: I’m surprised she doesn’t get a mouthful of the bugs that crowd the one end.

The Fetch:  Up at the clearing, Mway fetches the “pro-quality” stick with her usual enthusiasm.  In contrast to Atlas, she’s a model of regularity, patience, and restraint: after all, she spent close to eight hours lying alone in the house waiting for this moment.  We play “Put it down” about five or six times.  On the way back to the house, I see some purple plums from Moi’s plum tree that have fallen to the ground.  I pick one up, and it’s all dry.  I look quickly into the tree, but don’t see any purple ones there, and I feel bad that Moi is not here to check her plum tree more closely.