Goofing Off

I gave myself permission not to work for four days this week. I had two excuses: visitors and hockey. My sister and her family went down to Austin and San Antonio for spring break, leaving their dog, Clark, with me. They're down there lazing around the pool and complaining about how hot it is, while I'm trying to convince a stubborn schnauzer that he really can go outside in the sleet without a guide (meaning me). I'm really not complaining; he's a great dog, but after having a fourteen-year-old geriatric dog around, it takes a while to get used to a four-year-old youngster.

My son, Dan, also came to visit from NYC. I saw him a few months ago on his turf, but my parents haven't seen him for a while; we were all glad to have him around. I love my dad, but after having a eighty-year-old man around all the time, it was nice to have a visit from a twenty-seven-year-old youngster. If either Dan or my dad read this, I'll probably be in trouble.

After Dan and Clark returned to their homes, I still had hockey as an excuse not to work. After chocolate, Red Wings hockey is my biggest vice. I can keep my hockey obsession under control during the regular season, but when it's playoff time I have to watch every game, no matter what time the game is broadcast or what time-zone the game is played in. I'm an early riser, so games on the West Coast really give me trouble. I could barely function when the games used to go into double and triple overtime. Now, I just stay up way past my bedtime and am foggy and grumpy in the morning, though most people don't even notice since I tend to be foggy and grumpy all of the time. Go Wings!

A Rude Awakening

I woke this morning to the complaints of a frustrated robin wanting his morning bath, but finding his pond frozen. His favorite breakfast spot was also closed, due to almost two inches of fresh snow. One of my squirrel friends gave me a look as if to say, Here we go again!

I also wasn't especially thrilled about having to go out to the garage to dig my snow shovel out of storage again. If I have to use it in May, I'm moving to Texas.

Goodbye To A Friend

Elliott Beagle was a good dog. He was close to fourteen years old when he died of lung cancer. Elliott never met a meal he didn't like, a neighborhood dog he didn't greet, or a person he didn't make friends with. He was famous for being one of the few dogs to create a non-aggression pact with the squirrel kingdom.

Elliott had three previous owners whom I know of and he came to me with multiple "issues". He wasn't my best dog, but, he was my favorite dog. He was a good friend and will be missed.

He's pushing up daisies now (actually, tulips). I buried him in my flower bed near the fence where he used to bark at passing dogs. Just a few weeks ago he was barking at a woman who was walking with her little toddler. I apologized to her, saying I couldn't understand why Elliott was barking at them since he only barks at dogs. She said it was their fault, since her little daughter was walking down the sidewalk barking at every dog she saw.

If there is any kind of doggie heaven, I expect Elliott's up there playing tag with his friends Shadow, Cheyenne and Chester. I'm going to miss him.

Wild Nights

I've been wandering about after dark lately, looking and listening for some wild night life. I haven't been in the bars or clubs, I've been hanging around the swamps and marshes. I walk a bit then stop and listen for the sounds of frogs and toads calling for mates. That's right, I'm searching for amphibian sex.

I'm a member of the Friends of the Rouge and am a volunteer frog and toad surveyor. I live in the Rouge River watershed, which drains into the Detroit River, then the Great Lakes, the St. Lawrence Seaway and finally the Atlantic Ocean. Frogs and toads are sensitive to pollutants and other environmental changes on the land and in the water, so changes in their population can be used as an indicator of the health of a body of water. I go out at least once a week to my assigned section of land and listen for frog and toad songs. Like birds, male toads and frogs call to attract their mates and to mark their territory. The reason volunteers go out at night is because frog and toad calls can sound similar to birds songs but, birds usually don't sing at night.

I've gone to bed every night for the last month listening to a cd of the calls of the frogs and toads that live in the Rouge River watershed. I'm pretty confident that I can identify each frog or toad by its call, but just in case, I've downloaded their calls to my iPod so I can double check when I'm sitting by my swamp.

If you want to listen to their calls or see pictures of the frogs and toads, check out their website at www.therouge.org .

Here Comes Spring !

When I woke up this morning the skies were gray and gloomy. I thought the cheeriest thing I might see today would be my roasted pepper and sweet potato salad. As I was eating, I looked outside and saw the crocuses had arrived; a sure sign of spring. It may be 30 degrees tonight, but winter's back is finally broken.