Friday, January 20, 2012

Eight days a week

Alas, my days of Hathaway have turned into weeks. Whether it's a matter of being lazy or being busy, I'm not sure. Maybe being busy makes me lazy. And being lazy makes me look up quotes.

It's the first thing they teach you in Journalism School -- leading with a quote is cliche (read: lazy). Sometimes if I'm stuck for a lead, I'll look up a quote just to kick-start the battery; it's kind of like jumper cables for my brain, a little spark for the thought process.

So, I looked up quotes (at no less) about days and weeks and found some from some fellows I find quite insightful and downright entertaining, like Mark Twain:

"I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up."

And George Bernard Shaw:

"Few people think more than two or three times a year; I have made an international reputation for myself by thinking once or twice a week."

I do think at least once or twice a week. I'm finding that sometimes, it's the remembering that's the problem. This morning, for instance, I got the kids up and fed and off to school with snacks and lunches and homework. I got the dog fed and dressed and walked and relieved and settled. I got myself together and to the train on time. I put in productive hours, got home, shoveled the driveway, finished some unfinished business and got the dogs together for their afternoon excursion.

And I couldn't find Hathaway's sweater. I took it off him after our morning walk and hung it up, just not in it's "spot." The sweater has a "spot" so I neither have to think nor remember when it comes to dressing the dog on a cold morning. And the spot was empty. I looked all over, but couldn't remember where I left it, no matter how hard I thought. The kids couldn't find it either.

We took our walk without the sweater, and thankfully without much shivering. The dogs ate, and I sat down to blog, without an idea beyond googling "week."

And sitting here typing, being neither lazy nor busy, not necessarily thinking and certainly not remembering, I found the sweater. Hanging on the bedroom closet door at eye level. In the right place (closet door) but wrong spot (different closet).

I'm guessing there's probably a moral to this story. Maybe I should google "Aesop."

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 8

The pit bull is snoozing next to me all cozy on the fleece blanket, right where he should be.

Some days you are quickly reminded that your friends will be there when you need them. Late yesterday afternoon we helped search for Trudy, a hound dog being fostered by our friend Melissa from the dog park.

Being a hound, Trudy followed her nose and ran off after a scent. The scent led her along the shoreline at the dog park, which however, leads under a state highway to another park that's vastly larger. Trudy, who is available for adoption from the Quincy Animal Shelter, had been missing nearly 3 hours by the time we showed up at the park, and she could have been anywhere in the miles and miles along the river or through the woods between Hingham and Weymouth. And honestly, the idea of her being lost in the woods was not nearly as bad as the idea of her trying to cross the busy, busy road to get back to the dog park as it got dark.

Trudy is a really nice dog, but is wary, and not likely to come to someone she isn't too familiar with. And if she's scared, she'll bark at you, so catching her was going to be a challenge even if it wasn't getting cold and dark.

Dozens of people helped look for Trudy. The kids, Jim and our friend Kevin, along with the dogs, decided to look at the bigger park as darkness fell. We could hear a hound barking and more than than a dozen people helped move her through the woods to a spot where another group could catch her.

Trudy was safe, making for a heart-warming happy ending to the evening for both the dog and her foster mom, who works so hard to take care of her. The heart-lifting part of the story, though, is seeing how many people helped look for her without a thought and without being asked.

Given the size of the area Trudy was in, as well as its challenges -- the road, the weather, the water, the darkness, the coyotes -- it's hard to imagine the story could have had the same outcome without them.