One month of winter is behind us and the cold has arrived. The minus double digits are in evidence throughout the Region and although we are warmer than NB, it is still darned nippy. The dogs are enjoying the stove in the den and spending little time in the elements. Our Ken has his projects and is keeping the roads warm between Belnan and Elmsdale. This day it was ice. As predicted, the plowed drive with heavy rain and then dropping temperatures offered up an ice rink. Worry about the dogs as well as human capabilities in traversing the large expanse of sheer slipperiness offered up a major project. There is sand, There is salt that isn't salt and there is salt that is salt. Not certain that there is an appreciable difference since the temperatures stayed cold and the winds were bitter but the project was a serious one. Only Clint missed the memo. Down at the gates heralding the day, he glimpsed Our Ken doing something interesting at the kennel door. And up he roared - only realizing 50 feet out that stopping was going to be a slight issue. Mind racing as fast as his feet, he realigned himself and skidded up the little snowbank, sliding upward as he defied gravity and perching on the top with a shake and glance around to share that he had planned to be there! And there were visitors. Paula said her 'hello's' to a great couple who wanted to visit with the Welsh. The little prince also made a cameo appearance. Admiration abounded.
The kennel is quiet. Only Clint, Lola and Marguerite were brave enough to spend much time outside. Their yard is well screened from the winds and games are necessary after all. The rest settled quietly in the warm kennel, welcoming Mischka for his winter visit. He has settled in the double run - that is his favourite spot - and has repossessed his yard.
The house dogs are happy and enjoying the house - go figure. Atlas is attached to Lee and follows her every step whenever possible. His preference is that she light in the den so that he can sit and look at her on a level that supports Airedale visual communication. Barring that, he simply lays behind wherever she is standing. Better than Lee fall over him than that she escapes when he has nodded off. Thinking about it, there are similarities to Our Ken. Piper of course is not impressed by Atlas' devotion and shoulders him out of the way, looking surprised to see him after her not so gentle shove. And then there were the Norwich. Mid-evening they move as a unit to the large dog bed, spreading out in the knowledge that they will completely undo poor Charlotte. The Airedales return to the house after their evening spin and all find their beds. And there are the Norwich, looking like peas on that bed, one eye of each open so they won't miss Charlotte's reaction. She stops suddenly when she sees them on her bed. She stands over them and stares. She backs up and contemplates this terrible situation. She turns around using the revolution to help her think and hoping that things will have changed at the 360 degree point. Then it is a sad march to the kitchen and back, tail down and a picture of misery. On her return, Ken has generally surfaced, is settled on the couch and the Norwich are up with him. Charlotte's bed is now free and all is well in her world. She won't leave it until morning.
Meals must be regular and plentiful on these cold days. Hot cereal seems necessary. The Stilton-tomato soup followed at lunch time. Dinner required a bit of thought. Enchiladas seemed a good choice - at least to Lee. So the afternoon was spent putting them together and making a lovely rice accompaniment and a dessert. Ken had requested the chicken be for dinner, and had added his cranberry jelly to the table. That was going to be interesting. Dinner was plated and was surveyed by Our Ken. "I thought we were having chicken?" R. - "This is chicken" Our Ken in usual eloquent Ken-style "Oh". And off came the top of the cranberry jelly (since Ken had put it on the table, it had not been decanted, of course). There was about half of a jar at the beginning of the meal. The bottom of the jar was almost covered at the end. A guess can be hazarded that this was the only house in Canada that sported enchiladas with cranberry jelly. Dessert was Lee's most famous bittersweet chocolate pudding. And Our Ken made the most of it. Lee hasn't yet mentioned that there is yet another enchilada meal to be had. Life goes on with a smile . . .
The kennel is quiet. Only Clint, Lola and Marguerite were brave enough to spend much time outside. Their yard is well screened from the winds and games are necessary after all. The rest settled quietly in the warm kennel, welcoming Mischka for his winter visit. He has settled in the double run - that is his favourite spot - and has repossessed his yard.
The house dogs are happy and enjoying the house - go figure. Atlas is attached to Lee and follows her every step whenever possible. His preference is that she light in the den so that he can sit and look at her on a level that supports Airedale visual communication. Barring that, he simply lays behind wherever she is standing. Better than Lee fall over him than that she escapes when he has nodded off. Thinking about it, there are similarities to Our Ken. Piper of course is not impressed by Atlas' devotion and shoulders him out of the way, looking surprised to see him after her not so gentle shove. And then there were the Norwich. Mid-evening they move as a unit to the large dog bed, spreading out in the knowledge that they will completely undo poor Charlotte. The Airedales return to the house after their evening spin and all find their beds. And there are the Norwich, looking like peas on that bed, one eye of each open so they won't miss Charlotte's reaction. She stops suddenly when she sees them on her bed. She stands over them and stares. She backs up and contemplates this terrible situation. She turns around using the revolution to help her think and hoping that things will have changed at the 360 degree point. Then it is a sad march to the kitchen and back, tail down and a picture of misery. On her return, Ken has generally surfaced, is settled on the couch and the Norwich are up with him. Charlotte's bed is now free and all is well in her world. She won't leave it until morning.
Meals must be regular and plentiful on these cold days. Hot cereal seems necessary. The Stilton-tomato soup followed at lunch time. Dinner required a bit of thought. Enchiladas seemed a good choice - at least to Lee. So the afternoon was spent putting them together and making a lovely rice accompaniment and a dessert. Ken had requested the chicken be for dinner, and had added his cranberry jelly to the table. That was going to be interesting. Dinner was plated and was surveyed by Our Ken. "I thought we were having chicken?" R. - "This is chicken" Our Ken in usual eloquent Ken-style "Oh". And off came the top of the cranberry jelly (since Ken had put it on the table, it had not been decanted, of course). There was about half of a jar at the beginning of the meal. The bottom of the jar was almost covered at the end. A guess can be hazarded that this was the only house in Canada that sported enchiladas with cranberry jelly. Dessert was Lee's most famous bittersweet chocolate pudding. And Our Ken made the most of it. Lee hasn't yet mentioned that there is yet another enchilada meal to be had. Life goes on with a smile . . .
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