THREE LESSONS

Thursday, 8:30 AM.  19 degrees F, wind WNW, light with moderate gusts.  The humidity is 80%, the barometer stands at 30.14 in.  It was a pitch black dawn (if that’s not an oxymoron). And the dark clouds are just now been pushed to the eastern and southern horizons, where they resist further movement with  sullen determination.  If it weren’t completely contrary to the laws of planetary motion I would think the sun to be stuck somewhere in the southern hemisphere, as it has made no evident progress in almost two weeks since the winter solstice.  But it promises to be a blue-sky day!
    Buddy is literally in the dog house, after being a very bad dog yesterday morning.  After we came in from our walk he was playing loudly, barking and charging around, tossing his toys, which we allow because it causes no harm and is rather endearing.  But, unsupervised, he chewed up a new cover I had just purchased for the grill, and demolished a pair of old binoculars that he took down from a shelf.  I think he swallowed one of the lenses, as it is nowhere to be found. 
    This all started several days ago when Joan let him play with and chew on an old slipper of hers.  She denies any responsibility of course, saying that I am the dog person, he is my dog, and I should have confiscated it. So I have learned three lessons from this little episode, which I pass on particularly to my male counterparts.
Lesson one: don’t let your dog chew on anything except a designated, identifiable  toy.  Lesson two: don’t trust your dog.  Lesson three: it’s always your fault.