Bridges

Dear readers, followers, and adoring fans: I have every faith you will forgive my overlong silence upon hearing my tale. At my last communication I was mournfully resigned to dying of a broken heart. Hindsight however can bring fresh clarity and recent events have exposed my self indulgence and ingratitude.
It took sometime for Nessarose and I to uncover the reality of our situation. So typical of humans to think we cannot handle the truth. Alas the duty of devotion is often hindered and delayed by such misguided human concern over our canine mental health. Nevertheless we were certain something was afoot as soon as we were moved to Cheyenne's camper. My human had gone MIA( Missing in Aberdeenshire).

Though we were comfortable in Cheyenne's world, I was forced to suffer the indignity of 3 more dogs in addition to the sad simple behavior of my sister, Nessarose.  Though I did get an inordinate amount of bromantic time with Angus,  it was somewhat tarnished by the deranged behavior of his dog Emily.  I would often linger outside,  gazing at the stars, secure in my belief that:

"Somewhere, Out there

beneath the pale moonlight, 

someone's thinking of me, 

and loving me tonight..."-Fievel the mouse

But where?

There were only three legitimate possibilities:

1)  Her aircraft was destroyed by Dragon attack, and she was likely dead.

(This seemed improbable since Dragons large enough to destroy a large aircraft have not been seen in epochs.  However, had this been the case it would have made for an excellent "I told you so" moment, since I am in fact a dragon-slayer, and she had elected to leave me at home.)

2)She had been involved in some sort of terrible accident, was still alive, but unable to return to us.  

(Possible, but unlikely, since if she was indeed alive, she would certainly have tried to make contact with us, Hamish and Nessarose, her beloved pets. )

3) She had been transformed into a Scotsman, by aliens in the shape of custard desserts known as "blancmanges".  Hailing from the planet Skyrock in the galaxy of Andromeda they had come to earth to turn everyone into Scotsmen in a desperate bid to win Wimbledon. In which case we could all move to Scotland and live happily ever-after.  (See the link below for further clarification.)

Blancmanges from Skyrock stack the deck at Wimbledon

( This option seems the most likely, however the season was all wrong for Wimbledon, it being mid-Autumn. )

I confess to being somewhat stumped.  I simply did not have enough information to proceed. Luckily my mystification was quickly resolved by simply eavesdropping upon Cheyenne's telephone conversations.  

Sadly,  my human had not been transformed into a Scotsman, and happily eve-rafter would have to wait as she had been in a terrible accident and mostly died. 

Cheyenne assured us not to worry.  As Scotland is a magical land full of mists, dragons, and miracles, they had immediately taken her to a Miracle Max and after the careful administration of four miracle pills she was successfully revived. 

We were ecstatic to receive this news, and were shortly moved to Washington DC to stay with our excellent Aunt Danielle.  She has no other dogs to share with, but she does not live in the country so we were leash bound for the duration. We anxiously awaited news of our Human's progress.  Nessarose usually hid among the shoes, and I made myself at home on Danielle's furniture. Finally the word came.  She was coming home to Binghamton, not New Jersey, but we would be transported immediately to her side. 

Six weeks after the accident,  we were reunited. There was no fanfare and very little rejoicing. Actually our reunion was strangely anti-climactic.  

I do not wish to make light of it, She was no longer mostly dead, but not at all our usual bouncy human. The miracle house had saved her life, but she was weak and depleted with a long road to recovery. Some miracle. As usual Nessarose and I would have to take matters into our own hands. So with the excellent help of Her parents Pop-pop and Grandma, we began rehabilitation together.  Thankfully we were here. Old habits die hard and Nessarose and I immediately took on our familiar roles.  I set a security perimeter.  Nessarose is hyper vigilant about the squirrels (nasty beasts) and the kitty cats.  Nessa is as always an attention hog and I often have to forcibly remove her from the ottoman so that I may have appropriate canoodle time with my human.  I remain the major motivating force in Her life. She pushes herself daily to build enough strength for picking me up and carrying me around. We are not quite there yet, though she can lift me successfully from the ottoman into her lap. 

Conditioning is very important.  As I have finally discovered the root cause of this terrible event, and our one chance at a silver lining:

Leah's ill-fated car wreck was fatefully brought to the attention of none other than my Scottish brother in arms: Gerard Butler. 

So whilst Nessarose and I were suffering in grief, nursing broken hearts, unsure if our human would ever be found....she was holding court with movie stars, telling tall tales of dragons and magic, rubbing shoulders with greatness...

For all of my pontificating about her ridiculous fantasies and obsessions, her absurd plotting and scheming, it seems that her trip was serendipitous. She has in fact met Gerard Butler.  Well at least she has spoken to him on the phone. AND she met his mother!! None of this has really brought me any closer to discussing my future with the man.  I remain frustrated at only being able to put my musings on paper.  I feel a certain depth of feeling is lost without the resounding richness of a Scottish brogue to animate the words...alas... I felt certain our inherent Scottishness and inevitable greatness would draw us together but as with most good stories, it appears to be a simple chance happening that has realigned our stars ( and the efforts of a very tenacious reporter, whose name I will protect at all costs). Gerard certainly has to meet me now. I feel a new collar may be in order. 

And so two months have passed here in Binghamton.  We have had two visits to the farm in New Jersey.  It is not nearly enough to maintain the security protocols there.  I will have a lot of work cut out for me upon my return, though Uncle Ed has done his best to patch things together in my absence.

Jessica is much too busy with the horses to worry about security.  So far there have been no serious breaches. 

Things go smoothly in Binghamton. Pop-pop and I patrol the perimeter every morning while discussing philosophy. We all of us read the NY Times over breakfast, and Nessarose intimidates the company with her awkward staring disorder. Leah advances daily, though she will require the administration of one final miracle pill later this season. We are all safely snuggled for the holidays.  

So I will leave you all with a promise to write more often and well wishes for a Merry Christmas to All!  And to all a Good Night!!

 Finally, I cannot help but note the similarities... 

What handsome devils we are.

Loch Lomond

Today is the saddest day of my life.  I shall surely die of a broken heart, my tail never to wag again.  Yesterday my  human was furiously busy house cleaning.   A most unusual pursuit for her.  Then it happened.  The suitcase was laid open and many items began to fill it.  I stayed close to her, watching her every move. Today she did not go to work.  The suitcase and other bags were packed into the car and I was handed this note:
Ahem:

15 September, 2015

My Dearest Hamish,

The thought of telling you in person was too unbearable.  I am so sorry to do it this way, but I couldn't face the tragedy behind your eyes were I to give you the news in person.  I am flying to Scotland this evening.  And I will be away for the next 12 days.
See I tried so hard to get you a visa, but the shots and expense required were too great.  Instead I am taking the cut-out in your glorious kilted image, to share your rugged scruffiness with the Scots as best I can.  I will write often and take many pictures.

Judy is coming later to look after you and your sister.  She has many extra treats.  It breaks my heart also that we cannot take this trip together but I know in your heart you will find  a way to forgive me. 

Look after Nessarose.  She is simple minded and she does not understand.  Look for me the afternoon of the 27th. I love you always.

Yours in absentia,
L

What could I do but bay mournfully at the heavens.  My heart ripped from my body and bloodied all over the kitchen floor.  I had no choice but to suck my feet vigorously and hide under the sofa.  Alas....She is really gone.
This photograph arrived not 1 hour ago

I await my demise.  Farewell to all my adoring fans. May I live long in your memories

"You take the High Road and I'll take the Low...
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye
For me and my true love shall never meet again
on the Bonnie Bonnie banks of Loch Lomond...."

Leather and Wool

Allow me to be perfectly clear: I love my human unconditionally. MOST of the time.  However, OCCASIONALLY, it is necessary to stop loving her for a period of hours or even days.  It is the only way to maintain any kind of discipline as she willfully will respond to nothing else. These are the sorts of offenses that can lead to the temporary withdrawal of unconditional love and affections:

-Touching me with her foot

-Bathing and grooming.

-Kibble with no meat or milk added.

-ABSOLUTELY, DEFINITELY going away without me, leaving me under the care and supervision of other ridiculous humans, or causing me to believe I may be left behind, even though in the end I am not.

-THE VET.

-Permitting anyone else to ride shotgun.

-Tying me to the trailer hitch all day long at the horse show.

-Enduring her singing on long road trips.

I know it sounds like too much to endure but these things have all happened to me.  Though I find that if I stop loving her for a short time she immediately repents her thoughtless ways and then things are better for some time.  I have read in magazines that this constitutes a cycle of abuse.  There was something about addiction and codependency as well.  Also denial and self loathing.  These sound like normal people problems, not the sorts of things brilliant intellectual hounds and their human caretakers would struggle with.  

We have a way of dealing with things,  it works for us, no one else needs to understand it.  I am not a victim.

But nevermind all that.  Most recently I was introduced to Melaina.  Having never met Melaina, having no knowledge whatsoever of her qualifications, Nessarose and I were surreptitiously dropped at her house and with hardly a kiss or a cuddle simply left for 48 hours. Lest you worry allow me to assure my adoring fans that Melaina's is a veritable palace,  a palace of magnificent smells and creatures.  There were cats. Other dogs. And CHICKENS. A never ending buffet of scents and tastes with too many corners to count for marking.  We got to go for walks and watch television and all in all it was a very pleasant little sojourn, replete with single malt and cuban cigars.   However none of this matters, since my human deposited us there with no knowledge of these things.  It could as well have been the Bates Hotel.  No due diligence whatsoever. It's quite shocking.  

It should be understandable to you all that a shunning was therefore very much in order.  I greeted her upon her return with the same perfunctory-ness with witch she had abandoned us two days prior.  Upon arriving home I immediately retired to the human's pillow on the bed and feigned the deepest depression I could muster. I showed little interest in kibble and treats and I made sure to sleep on the far corner of the bed out of her reach. 

The impact was substantial.  Before bed she had already text messaged several friends her concern that I no longer loved her.  HA! 

I was given many extra treats and after a swim and a frolic at the farm the next morning I had all but forgotten the injustice.  Things have generally returned to normal.  

I had an optimum poop in the bush beside the arena this morning and I was able to shadow my human most of the day.  It was very hot, and she raised no fuss whatsoever when I trenched a shallow hole beside a jump to cool my belly and keep a close watch.  I am only rarely shut into the clubhouse these days, and usually it is by my own choice when it is too hot to remain out of doors.   

#soontobe : The Younger Woman

I have added a group of photos to my #soontobe series. I believe it to be some of my best work.  Our infatuation/fascination with Gerard Butler waxes and wanes.  Leah is recently driven to compulsions over some medieval love affair from the 12th century.  French of course.  Some lovers called Lard and Loise or some such nonsense.  She has begun to speak as though she is translating Latin or maybe middle French, neither of which she can actually speak.  It is affecting my writing. 

I did receive an extra special gift of a particularly attractive pouch in which to store my tablet.  it is made of wool and leather and though I would ordinarily object to its equestrian theme, the deep pine green of the wool is quite lovely and the whole thing quite suits my tastes.  It houses my tablet perfectly and is a great improvement over the sad, cheap case my human picked up at walmart.  I consider it an excellent consolation gift and I am once again totally and unconditionally in love with her. 

Changing gears, I had an exciting photo shoot in my formal wear (kilt and bowtie) this past weekend.  Jade took some excellent pictures and the lighting highlighted my glorious bearded grizzliness to perfection.  I must say I look terribly fierce.  These photos are locked in a small flash drive device I do not understand, so I will need to decipher it in order to post them but I fully intend to share them.  The shoot was complete with action sequences as well as stills and poses.  Something to look forward to.

One might say we are very much in the dog days of summer. I have no complaints at this time.

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more!

Security breaches are rare due to our excellent emergency protocols and my extreme vigilance.  There is however no accounting for human errors and thoughtlessness.  They are a careless species and no amount of training and counter-measurement will eliminate incidences altogether.

I blame my human mostly.  She stood right there as the horse "Paganini" pushed his door open with his nose and sauntered out slowly.  It took her several moments to react.  I remain baffled at the human lack of reflexes.   They are so slow to respond to anything.  Suddenly Paganini was walking briskly down the aisleway. He paused for a few mouthfuls of hay at the edge of the barn before trotting exuberantly into the parking lot and then exploding around the trailers.  By now all the humans were following him with halters and leads in hand.  I hung back knowing full well he couldn't be captured in this way.  To no avail, the humans sent him bounding across the rocky swale and though he hesitated for a moment he crossed through a breach in the tree line into the neighboring farmer's field at a flying trot.

"Houston we have a problem!"  Jack and Jade were now flying full tilt after him on their long legs.  Now completely beyond the farms boundaries there was no telling where he might go.  My legs may be short, but my low center of gravity means I can handle the uneven pasture terrain with ease.  I bolted straight after Jack who was in the lead closest to the horse.

Into the Breach!  Tail erect and ready, eyes keen, legs pumping furiously, chase, chase, chase! Nessarose

You won't like me angry

was ready at the front line with me.  I started howling instructions in my native scotch terrier dialect, to my human's great shock and horror.  She says my "yodeling" is offensive to the ear.  I say so is her damned singing.  Nevertheless I am a faithful dog, As Jack sprinted into the woods after Paganini's footprints I was forced to come to my human's plaintive worried call.

"Hamish you will get lost out there!" And so both Nessarose and myself were abruptly shut into the office as the humans continued to flail around in search of the horse.  Strange that creatures with slow reflexes and almost no sense of smell whatsoever should undertake the tracking of an escaped fugitive without the assistance of the dogs. (Can you hear me frowning?)

Nevertheless, as is usually the case the horse managed to get stuck in a thicket.  At which point the slow moving humans were easily able to catch up and capture him.  He was returned without further incident. Since there can be no help for their slow reaction times, clearly the humans must learn to latch the stall door, so that the horse cannot simply let himself out.  It is the humans not us dogs who would benefit from electric shock training.  They say with age comes wisdom and I have learned not to waste energy on those things beyond my control.

On a brighter note:  I overheard her say the tickets for Scotland have been purchased.  Ha! Sept. 15th. This is really happening.  I have never flown on an airplane before.  I understand it is very dangerous as they are often attacked by giant dragons and destroyed.  Being a dragon slayer myself I am reasonably confident this shouldn't be a problem on our particular flight.  Friends and colleagues keep asking if I am excited.  Of course I am excited to finally see my native land, though I must admit a certain sense of the inevitable to it.  As I have stated on previous occasions,  Scotland and Scottish individuals are cosmically drawn together by some greater power beyond our understanding.
On that note....I have decided that sometimes it is best to bend with a strong wind rather than against it.
Gerard Butler.  Alas since I cannot convince my human to stop embarrassing herself it seems I might as well embrace the cause.  Possessed now of my own tablet equipped with camera,  I have decided to begin a photographic series titled:
"Soon to Be"

The first installment is loosely inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's "Sunflowers."  Please follow me on instagram @hamishwagsthedog. Here it is:

Sunflowers

Sunflowers in gallery

I will also be further expanding my self portraiture series:
"The Writer's Lens. Self Portraits of a Scruffian"

Selfportrait4

My human reminds me now that I must also return to my children's manuscript.  So much to do.  So little bacon. And I have not been provided with a meatball of any kind in ages.  I understand it's good to have goals.

Finally.  Paganini's mood has been repentant since his escape. But he cannot be trusted.  There is a devil in him for sure.  A handsome one.

Birthday wishes

Scotsmen are great adventurers.  Myself I am descended from a long line of explorers, adventurers and all around swashbucklers.  My earliest ancestors battled dragons.

painting by Margaryta Yermolayeva http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/margaryta-yermolayeva.html

These days the beasts are hard to come by, so few of the modern day Macdonish Hamwalders have ever even seen one.  I am mostly plagued by catawampi.  Slippery devils, they are very difficult to track, though easily dispatched upon their discovery as they often fall into long protracted sleeps.

Gandalf the Grey

My stars appear to be aligning.  This seems appropriate since my birthday is approaching.  It is a major milestone.  10 years old for a dog is beyond the middle of life for most of us.  I confess I do not feel middleaged.  Only wiser.  Perhaps I shall become a wizard and live in bearded magical immortal glory. Just like Gandalf.

I admit to spying on my Human.  My industry has paid dividends, since I do believe I have discovered my birthday present. She has been pouring over books about Scotland for several weeks.  She has purchased a number of new woolen items of clothing, and my kilt and bow tie have been got down from the closet.
Therefore I deduce:  We are going to Scotland.

In light of this I am completely at a loss for words.  Nevertheless I must try...

SCOTLAND!  my native land!  The place of my ancestors. Place of mist, mountains....and D R A G O N S
If I am lucky enough to catch one I will bring it home and display it as a full- mount trophy.  Obviously.
My human shall receive a Cleopatra-collar style necklace of its claws.  And I will feast upon its liver!!

I AM THE BEAR! MAGNIFICENT AND TERRIBLE...

I have never flown on an airplane before.  Only because I have heretofore refused to endure the indignity of riding beneath the seat in a pet caddy.  However I will all too gladly suffer this humiliation in order to visit my ancestral lands.  It will be a great homecoming.  I fully intend to elope with some strapping Scotsman.  It is my destiny.  

PS.  Dear Human:  I also know about the tablet.  Thank you. Now please set up my instagram account immediately.  I have a lot of catching up to do. 

Ready?  I was born ready.

Listening on May 14th 2015

I am in the process of composing a masterful blog post but fate has conspired that I lay it aside.  Word came early this morning of my Great Grandmother's passing ( on the human side of course as I have no remaining connection with the canine side of my family).

Grandma Edie. I never got to see her often as her house was deemed to clean for Scottish ruffians like myself.  She enjoyed feeding us table scraps.  Quietly of course so that no one would notice.  She would slip us little morsels under the table and then laugh and chuckle to herself as though she'd gotten away with some naughty deed.

self portrait 2: variation

Quite a business one's human so sad. A dog does what he can to comfort.  She likes to hold onto me.  But what she wants is someone to hold onto her. I'm just not so big.

A deep chest and thick arms she says.  A strong shoulder just to cry on.

I don't have these things.  We dogs just stay close and listen to the heartbeats.  We are ever full of wish.  After all life is short, especially for a dog.

I write often as I can.  But my human's voice is not often heard.  So here I use this platform to share something none of you might read otherwise.

And I say Goodbye to Grandma Edie.  We'll meet someday on the rainbow bridge.
Please read:
I Dream of Bears 

Setting the Record Straight

There are many things to talk about.  I confess the glorious spring weather has me in an elevated mood these last few days and life is good. I am even inclined to admit that though I mourn the recent stripping of my patina, my clip and shave has left me much more comfortable in the heat.  And I was after all left enough beard and brow to give the appropriate appearance of severity when necessary.

Such a Handsome Devil!

Being so low to the ground it is absolutely necessary to carry a strong appearance of severity and fierceness in order to convey the appropriate sense of authority, a sort of  Command Presence. A deep voice is helpful to this end also. It is in fact critically essential. No one will ever take you seriously without a strong commanding voice.  At the risk of sounding breedist this is exactly why chihuahuas will never hold positions of high authority. They simply don't have the right vocal frequency to carry it off.  The Scots on the other hand.... well we're known for it.  I hate to state the obvious but the voice of Sean Connery is as iconic as the man himself.  No one anywhere in the world wants to hear the words "Bond, James Bond" with nasal undertones in the soprano range. Think of the infamous "Jock" in Lady and the Tramp, an excellently strong Scottish voice.  His lines are better remembered than any of the tramp's " Everybody knows that a dog's best friend is his Human!"
Shrek.  You can't have an ogre with anything other than a deep resonating brogue.
Vikings.  Almost all of them depicted in film everywhere.  Well at least the vikings in the "How to Train Your Dragon" series. Scottish voices all!  Which brings me to my next point. As I am Scottish, and naturally possessed of the many stout masculine qualities befitting a fierce dragon-slaying scotch terrier, there is really only one possible man to narrate the story of my life and my many characterizations. I would simply do it myself but so few people can speak or understand Scotch terrier, and as I lack the vocal apparatus for actually speaking in English, I shall have to have a narrator or translator if you will. It follows naturally that this can only be none other than the great Scotsman Gerard Butler.

also Scottish. also a Handsome Devil

Allow me to be perfectly clear.  These ideas are entirely my own and they have absolutely nothing to do with the opinions, emotions, obsessions or ridiculous fantasies of my Human.  She is entirely responsible for her own ridiculousness.  However it seems that there has been a great deal of confusion over my alleged infatuation with the actor.  Myself I am simply stating the obvious:  Gerard Butler is the only possible choice to voice my musings, for the obvious reason that he is in fact Scottish, often bearded, quite fierce ( or at least very good at pretending to be which is really the most important thing) and he is also a handsome devil.  These facts bond us eternally as Scottish brethren and we would undoubtedly be very good friends should we ever have the chance to meet.  Unlikely we ever shall, since I am so busy with my writing and my security duties for the farm I certainly don't have time for such dalliances.  I simply need his voice to properly share these fabulous musings with the rest of the world.  I am merely proposing a business arrangement in which I will deign to share my jerky and my canine carry-outs with him in exchange for his audio files of my writings.  A high price to pay for sure, but hopefully worth it in the end. I have read that he is very professional in such matters and he is certainly not a vegetarian, so he would consider jerky fair payment. IF he does a good job I might also allow him to stroke me with his foot.  But probably not.
Now as for the ridiculous, girlish, silly obsession my Human has for Gerard Butler I simply have nothing to say other than PREPOSTEROUS. My human has achieved a level of silliness in this matter that defies rationality and even more preposterous is the manner in which her friends encourage her.  Signed photographs, proclamations of certainty as to their suitability for one another...  It makes a total mockery of my very serious and necessary bid to do business with the man!  There are only four things in the world I hate more than dragons, and that is human feet.  And cats.  And soap of any kind. And being made a mockery of.
I will be contacting Mr. Butler myself with a peace offering of steak and I will be putting an end to all of this nonsense.  I have no doubt the man has better things to do with his time.  ( ie: narrating my life.) No doubt we shall soon cross paths at some fundraiser or awards ceremony, or perhaps doing the Tonight Show. Or Ellen.  Or just walking down the street.  Scottish individuals are naturally drawn to one another.  It is some strange cosmic twist of fate. I believe fully in the inevitability of the acknowledgement of greatness in all things inevitably bound for greatness and all of its acknowledge-able accolades.  In other words I am bound for glory and as such I am further bound to attract others who are also bound for glory or already glorious.  It's just the way things are.  So there, I've stated it simply.

who would ever want to be king?

Chance Favors the Prepared Mind

Many months ago I opened a fortune cookie and my fortune read as follows:
Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.

Subsequently the world has gone completely topsy turvy.  Everything we know changed.

My human is never one to do things by half measures.  She also has a habit of leaping without looking and also fiscal irresponsibility, impulse-driven behavior, as well as some selfish tendencies relating mostly to how we share the chaise lounge. ( Her legs are just entirely too long, they don't fit, and it is very rude. She should have no legs, just like me.)

In short, I am trying to offer all of my loyal subjects an explanation for my extended hiatus on blogger. See I have spent the last seven months putting out fires.
We had to find an apartment and move.  This involved getting all of our belongings out of storage.  It also involved the creation and implementation of a completely new security protocol.  This was needless to say extremely time consuming.
At the same time Leah left her job at the Ridge.  She decided to open her own business again, so while moving house we were also moving horse. This proved to be a much more complicated and extended process even than moving into the new apartment.  Though it has born many fruits.  The most obvious of these being the fact that Nessarose and myself now have free rein over nearly thirty beautiful acres on the magnificent Tolleshunt Horse Farm.   However, I cannot even begin to express or explain the web of security measures such a vast property requires.
Firstly, there are cats.  Two.  The striped one is most definitely a catawampus. hrumphf!
Deer.  Everywhere.  Literally. Everywhere. They are in the pastures and paddocks, on the walkways, and in the parking lot.  ALL OF THE TIME.
Canada geese. ( Otherwise known as the Honking Hellbeasts of the Hinterlands) Need I say more.
Wild Turkey. Foxes. Possums. there may even be a wylie...

Rough Drawing of a Wylie

Although I have not seen it.  I catch its scent from time to time.
Staying on top of all this nonsense is exhausting.  We had no money in the beginning so we were forced to work seven days a week at it just to make ends meet.  Thankfully my older brother Revel fell into a promotion and was able to send us a much needed lifeline.  We might have starved to death were it not for his success.  I am proud to say that Leah, Nessarose and all the horses remain safe.  I believe we have an excellent protocol, and I declare the farm almost impenetrable to hostiles. Though I remain always vigilant.
After about two months of a grueling schedule we were able to take a breath and we have traveled considerably in the past few months.  Though we only seem to have one destination: the Wee Bairn's in Albany, NY.
I have mixed feelings about this.  Of course I love the Wee Bairn.  She is my niece.  I particularly enjoy her feeding times since she throws most of her food on the floor for Nessarose and I to clean up. However,  Leah does seem to forget I exist whenever the Bairn is near.  I have recently had to reduce myself to whining aloud in order to gain her attention.  This is highly unusual, since usually, I can hold an entire room's awe and wonder by simply existing. Though it seems the Bairn is the only one able to do that whenever she is present.  She is also something of a velcro baby.  If I pass within her reach she instantly latches onto my hair and it is very difficult to release her.  For now, the food raining down from the high-chair certainly makes up for all of this.

Some other important developments:
We once again have the king bed.  This means I can comfortably sleep in Leah's spot while she flails helplessly trying to get me to use the other 7 feet of the mattress.  I cannot.  And I will not. Humans just refuse to understand it makes no difference whatsoever how large the bed is.  I will lie on top of you.

The Ithilien Clubhouse

We also have a clubhouse at the new horse farm.  Our very own lounge room with a tartan armchair and ottoman just for me and a fireplace.  It is my sanctuary.  I smoke my pipe and contemplate. No matter how busy I get I always leave time for contemplation. (8 hours a day as a rough guideline) This is how I can be certain I am a fully self-actualized Scott.   Thank you so much Sarah Nir!
My children's literature project has had to be shelved completely, though it remains at the forefront of my mind.  The lack of progress frustrates me. If I am to be famous, I really must get this book back on track.  I must add I have been neither bathed nor clipped in many months.  My patina is glorious.  It shall be its own character in my animated film.  Rather like Pepe Le Pew.

Finally, I have decided to take up the strange human hobby of "Prepping,"in which "preppers" hoard and stock pile essential items in preparation for the end of the world as we know it.  Seems like a slightly flawed notion since there is no real way to know what would qualify as essentials if the world as we know it were to end....However. Since I am the head of security it seems a useful precaution.  I have begun by stockpiling carrots.  I have chosen carrots because horse people leave them absolutely everywhere so I have been able to collect them easily for the time being.  I have begun burying them individually at intervals around the farm.  These intervals are based on a complex algorithmic equation known only to myself ( and I often forget it) in order to give the appearance of randomness.  Leah did catch me burying one the other day, but she seems to have chalked it up to random dog behavior so I think the remaining carrots are safe.

The Bairn and I