Sundays! Murphy and I go to the "church of closed eyelids." We need to catch up on our sleep in order to have the energy to read the New York Times. Although, Murph keeps wondering when they will carry cartoons.
As I was working at my desk on Friday, I looked out my window and imagined being a researcher in Antarctica. If I owned a copy of Happy Feet I would have put it on, strapped the snowshoes and voila, the total effect!
There is the famous Andrew Wyeth painting of a Yellow lab sleeping on a bed. At my favorite restaurant in Seattle, the Santa Fe Cafe, the chef and owner also paints wonderful works with his Yellow lab conspicuously present in each piece. And there is my friend Carol, working on her water colors. She has done several pieces with Murphy, including, recently, this one, an homage to Winslow Homer.
I would never describe myself as "new age." Sorry Shirley McLain! But I do believe dogs sense things. For instance, when I first moved back to Seattle I was happily settled on the couch, watching the Mariners in the play-offs (ah, yes, there was a time the Mariners fielded a competitive team) and Riley the Wheaten and Murph began to stir, in fact, both became agitated. Then the Earth rumbled, and we were in the middle of an earthquake. They are my weather/earthquake/mailman Early Warning System.
As I write this, it is a cold, wet, March morning. When I woke up, rain was pounding my south facing bedroom window. I wanted to pull the covers over my head, roll over, and tell Sage we were staying in bed. But no, I got up, and a half hour later we were in the rain, plodding down 34th NW.
I know, frequently I write about nature. It's my "job!" But I am always amazed at my feelings when I have what I call a "nature moment." For instance, I have been walking through a park for about a year, now, and only because of my friends Scott and Ann, have I noticed several Northern White Pines. I supposed I focus on the dogs and birds when I walk. Unusual for a forester. I love the stand of trees that I walk through to get to the creek: Douglas fir, Cedar, Hemlock. But now I am enriched, seeing even more.
Yes. Easter and Daylight Savings Time came early this year (for those of us up at 5 AM, Daylight Savings is a misnomer. It is darker now that we "sprang forward" than it was three weeks ago, so much for saving energy!). 
The meeting of Yellow Lab Enterprises should come to order. Is there any old business?
We are "creatures of habit." On weekdays, if Murphy's toast is not ready by 8:30 AM she begins to circle from my study to the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs back to the kitchen, staring at me, nosing at my lap. Ahem, ahem, Mommy. Sage comes downstairs around 5:25 AM, ready to be let out in back, then waiting, patiently, while I get ready to run. And sometime around 4 PM, they usually begin to stir, knowing a walk will be arranged shortly. Sage leaps into the van whenever she sees anything happen that remotely suggests a trip. She knows luggage.
Spring. Of course, Seattle welcomes it with a brisk cold wind, ominous dark clouds, and weather forecasts that sound like winter. But, I noticed a neighbors bright yellow Forsythia and tulips are beginning to pop up in my garden.
I have been running in the morning for 30 years now. What began as discipline, became an addiction and is now a habit. 
Mornings with Murphy. For some reason after her walk, breakfast, and toast, she spends a couple hours being anxious. She wanders the house, from kitchen, living room, study. If I am working at my desk, she will crawl underneath, causing me a slight panic over the 50 million computer cords I have down there. 
Quiet weekend in eastern Washington. There are signs of Spring. New leaves on the sage, a few buds of balsam, snow in tiny melting patches on northern facing slopes, little bits of green grass sprouting up through the straw. 
My friend Ann, a retired school teacher, said of Sage: Boy, am I glad I didn't have her as a student.
Sage and Murphy cause me to think about the "nature v. nurture" debate. Murphy has always been a "mommy's girl." She's enjoyed her time with me. Frequently she will end up under my desk while I am working or nuzzling me when I read in the living room. If she is anywhere near me, she has a paw on my foot, her head in my lap, or her back against me. 
There are thoughts about a pup. Sage needs a younger, more energetic dog around. What will happen when it's just her? 
Well, it's still all the talk. How much did he spend on what? I realized how lucky I am living a fairly simple life. Few complications, and certainly not spending $4,000 for...
Well, the news is certainly interesting. The governor of New York is owned by a Soft Coated Wheaten terrier. It's probably looking at him with those brown eyes wondering why there is so much tension in the house. It's a good thing the politicians don't expect their dogs to stand at the podiums with them!
While running this morning, in the rain, of course, I thought about the necessity of having towels. To be owned by a lab, you have to have a lot of towels. Both Murphy and Sage enjoy having their faces rubbed when they come back from being outside in the rain. And labs are mud magnets. Not that I am a fussy about house cleaning, but at least the first few pounds of mud should be left on the back porch and not the living room floor!
Sunday. Usually we are out. Fishing, skiing, hiking. But today, home pulled at me. Trimming the cherry tree. Finding a new desk chair. Cleaning. 
There are millions of amazing things Murphy does. One of my favorites is on Christmas. She has her own sock, which of course is filled to the brim with stuff. It used to be two cans of tennis balls would make her happy, but now it's chewies, treats, and maybe stuffed toy (that Sage eventually steals). This year, as presents were brought in and hidden in my study closet, she would go back there and bark. Finally I had to hide the presents behind closed doors in the linen closet!
I have been thinking a lot about change, recently. How I go through life thinking everything is the same then all of a sudden I realize some things are different. Like I am older and my body doesn't move the way it used to. Or how flooding completely altered the watershed I walk the "girls." Change. 
There is a lot written and said about courage. You know, the challenging the frontier kind of courage, or battlefield stuff, or facing horrible disease. Yesterday, I realized Murphy is showing me, in subtle ways, what courage really is all about.
Sometimes it just hits me. Like this morning, I was sitting at my desk, writing, and Murphy came over, nuzzled me. I stroked the top of her head. And I thought: I don't have an infinite amount of days left doing just this. These quiet moments with Murphy. Or the walks. Or the ball throws. 
While taking the girls for our afternoon walk, I listened to NPR. John McCain was talking about "beginning the process to begin to the selection process of deciding who he would select for a vice-presidential candidate." Wow, the whole circus of deciding nominees these days makes the cigar-smoke-back-room deals seem efficient! Or at least more cost effective!
I don't know why I am surprised. It's almost always like this. The first few days of March taunt with spring, then, and of course it happens right in the middle of my morning run, it gets cold, the wind picks up, and rain. 
There was a New Yorker cartoon that I used to have above my desk. A man is talking at a dog and the cartoon balloon over the dog's head says: blah blah blah blah Murphy blah blah blah.
It begins with the Fly Fishing Show in early February. Then the endless catalogs. Finally, the magazines. They whisper, then taunt, that the season is changing, and it's becoming time to think about fly fishing.
I have a horrible cold. It lingers. But this morning, while walking the dogs, I saw daffodils in the local park, and as I write this, my neighbor's lawn is being mowed. Spring is on it's way!
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