Be the person your dog thinks you are
And other moonlit musings
Thank you for being here. I love sending these little love notes into the ether.
Saffron, 17 months. Baskerville, 16-weeks
I’ve taken to walking the dogs late at night, just before going to bed. It’s an excuse to burn a little puppyish energy (a hopeful prod to our two baby dogs to sleep through the night) and a last-minute emptying of small (and not so small) bladders.
I’m usually quite nervous of the dark; a hangover from being small, a deeply fervent imagination and a freakish ability to recall every frightening movie scene I’ve ever seen as soon as the lights dim. But with our Irish Wolfhound, Baskerville padding at my heels, weirdly all fear has vanished.
He may only be 16 weeks and all rubbery jointed, as if only liquid sloshes beneath his skin, but his sizeable presence emboldens me. I’m pretty obsessed. He’s so non-reactive, so gentle. A low growl from me and he instantly stops what he’s doing (usually mouthing one of my crocs) sits on those lean haunches and watches. Long, whippy lion cub tail skimming the ground. Wheaten whiskers feathering his chin and brow. A creamy chest and two white sockettes, as if his back paws were dipped in paint. Our first big dog, he’s wise beyond his years and so different to our small, long friends who all have big characters and weeny appetites for obedience. Delightful, but obstinate.
Alongside the dachshunds, Kip (8 years old, grumpy old man, certainly on the spectrum, King of the pack and left to his own devices to sleep on the couch all night) Plum (2, half seal pup, exuberantly friendly, round of sternum, liquid of eye, loud of woof) and Beans (12 weeks, white and chocolate splotched, fluffy as a duckling, perpetually streaked with grub from playing fiendishly with Baski, daughter of Plum) we are quite the assorted rabble.
As I stroll, cuppa steaming in the shadows, they sniff and bound and wag, their outlines gilded by moonlight. Thunder rolls off the night’s distant tongue and the air is warm, breathless. Strewn with glinting satellites and wheeling constellations, I marvel at the cathedral of sky and everything that goes on, every night, hour after hour while I sit inside and watch Netflix.
I’m grateful again, for these silly, lovely hounds, so often my excuse to walk outside the door. To be present, and gentle, and unhurried. To drop into my body as I cup their sweet faces in my hands, to shed my anxiety around productivity. To copy a dog’s habits every now and then (nap often as one can, drink a lot of water, be very serious and excited about dinner, prefer comfortable surfaces, seek company) I think might be quite healthy. It’s not very convenient having dogs. More things to feed, to think about, to take into account around lives bursting with kids and jobs and horses.
But I love to care for them. I love their pretzeled bodies where they sleep, always close. Love that they accompany me to the clothesline, wet noses browsing for treats as I weed, siting to watch from the shade as I spread hay on the garden. I love their funny personalities. How they lie by the bathtub as the children splash like otters, sit on my bag if I’m packing with wounded expressions. They bring life to our home; even though the state of our floors send me into a spiral of dysregulation (life hack: wear thongs inside). I love that the kids are being raised (somewhat literally) by wolves and their joy is matched by the wiggling/grinning/panting that greet them in the morning.
It’s heaven to me to have their cheerful bodies near mine. We don’t always deserve dogs but I’m grateful for the chance to love them.
Work tings
I spoke with author Claire Fletcher for the podcast, Life on the land. We spoke summer reading, her love of love stories and her publishing journey.Articulate, warm and generous, I could have chatted for yonks. Listen here
Articles, articles! Some big ones in the works, I’ll let you know where you can read when!!!!
The list
So many books over summer. I loved Emily Maguire’s Rapture, so impeccably researched and an enthralling concept of a woman joining a monastery in disguise, pursing a scholastic life. Slim book, won’t take you long. I’m inhaling Charlotte Wood’s Stone Yard Devotional, such perfect sentences. This is next on my TBR. I gulped down Rebecca Yarros third installation of dragon porn (lol obvs not the real genre but it’s like a holiday for me. Such a palette cleanser!!!) Onyx Storm and my allegiance will always be to the shadow daddy. I didn’t really know what was going on, but it didn’t dim my enjoyment. I will fight anyone who sneers these books. You’re not there for the writing, you’re there for the frivolity and joy. Don’t be pretentious.
I’ve had a bit of a new year sabbatical on podcasts as I’ve been enjoying my audio books (just started this (Sci-fi) which is gripping and makes gardening/cleaning a pleasure) but I really enjoyed listening to neuroscientist Dr Tara Swart on the Dhru Purohit pod all about manifestation. I listened on my way to Yamba on New years Eve before a delicious four days hanging out with my bestie (sans children) and what a fun way to bring in the new year, dreaming about all the things this year could bring. I’m ruthlessly optimistic about 2025. There’s a lot of joy and beauty in the world.
I’ve been living in these overalls (I have the khaki but the beige is on sale!!!!!) and these shorts - both fit so well and have excellent pockets. I’m no longer interested in clothes that aren’t either 1. practical 2. comfortable 3. spark joy. Everything else can get in the bin.
I had my first deliver of Farmer’s Pick today - a weekly box of imperfect fruit and vegetables escaping landfill and dropped to my door in a cardboard box. Oh my!!! So abundant! I bought a medium size box for $60 and you don’t know what will turn up but you know it will be seasonal, local and incredibly tasty. I feel like 60 bucks gets me a box of eggs and some tissues these days. I’m so impressed with the quality. They’re not delivering everywhere yet, but it’s on the cards. Watch this space. Look at this abundance!!!!
Until next time, take care. Live well. Drink some water.
xx Em
Perfectly timed - I'll pilfer the words to remember when my 12 week old pup is going off like a box of frogs.
So gorgeous, as always, Em. I loved our chat! x