In My Own Voice # 17: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year


If only this could go on forever. Perfect Weather.

I wake, cuddled on the sofa, with the hum from the basement signaling warmth is on its way.

Savoring the heat, I hear the click, click, click and then whoosh as the burners light in the kitchen. The high-pitch whistle of the teakettle. I know this means the female will soon wander in to open the blinds. I am up. When she heads back, I follow for breakfast.

Then it’s bustle, bustle, bustle. Everyone’s eating. Packing knapsacks. Heading out the door.

opening screen door
Having pulled on the lower handle, Pettigrew exits through the screen door.

Standing at the back door I wake for her to open it. For some reason I can’t begin to understand, while they have installed a handle on the screen door, they haven’t done the same for the back door, so I have to wait for assistance. You’d think they’d want to make it easier for me to come and go on my own! I don’t get it.

I poke my nose out. If it’s too cold or I can see that the grass is glittering and sparkling in the sun, I head back to the sofa for a nap. Better to let the sun rise a bit higher in the sky.

But once we’re out on our walk. Oh, it’s a treat! Leaves crunching with every step. And the scents. Woodsmoke. Freshly raked leaves. Newly uncovered earth. I can tell that deer, fox, birds, and squirrels have all visited the same spot. I sniff and sniff and for once, I’m not pulled along.

Then we run! Down the hills. Around the corners. I am filled with the need to move!

Back home my stomach grumbles for more food. A good long drink. And it’s time for a nap.

Perfect, perfect weather.



5 thoughts on “In My Own Voice # 17: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s