ISN'T IT GOOD JUST TO BE ALIVE?

Mr. Wiggles

Wigs is not a fancy dog. I groom him myself, which really should be "groom" in quotes.  An uneven haircut and bath in the laundry room sink, especially needed after he's found a bit of who-knows-what to roll in.  I need to Google "Why do dogs roll in stuff that stinks?" [OK, I looked it up.  Called "scent rolling,"  the responses range from "because they're disguising their own scent" to "because it feels so good."]  

Last evening standing with Mr. Wiggles by the back door I could see my husband in the window light clearing the dishes.  What a lovely scene I thought.  But Mr. Wigs and I could hear the coyotes and they were too close for comfort. Once it's dark, even if it's only 5 o'clock, we go out with him to ease his fears.  He stays close by then, not venturing beyond the trees that border the driveway.  There was barking last night where there are no houses or pets, nothing but woods and train track.  It was too early for that mad howling we hear some nights late, but Mr. Wiggles knew. 

I heard a sound like a hiss then, close by, maybe under the tree house.  I told myself it must have been the out-breath of a startled deer, nothing more.  But my light picked up only trees.  

Wiggles is a brave boy, routing deer during the early morning which always amazes me.  Such skittish creatures that a 10 lb maltipoo can scatter a herd and they both know it.  He plays his part and they play theirs.  Running and barking while they gracefully leap and dodge.  He can't chase them far.  

By the time we came inside the kitchen was wiped down and it was time to watch another episode of one of those exciting series all of us get hooked on. These are the simplest of pleasures.  In North Carolina a mild autumn night, the dog, dinner over and a little TV.  When I walked out with Mr. Wiggles again at 11 pm he made quick work of it.  I bet you're finding simple pleasures too.