Just had to brush Harold down again from the desk. He's a wonder of a beast, best at two things: being cool & annoying the fuck out of you. For instance, with Peaches, the brand spanking new pup on this planet who shares this house with us all, she just loves, and I mean loves to clobber old Harold. She sees him and her tail starts shimmying and she just gathers all her most excited feelings up and then BAM, she's right on top of him. It's funny. She's littler than he is. And she barks at him and chews on his ears and he just takes it in his good-natured insensitive way (insensitivity can be such a blessing in such cases). I have never heard this cat hiss. He never ever uses his claws, except, I suppose in battle. He's a first-rate mouser and stray cat scarer-awayer. But damn, he can be capital A annoying. He likes to bite my fingers and pull my hair at night and bite my nose, too. I contemplate renting him out to folks who want to introduce dogs to cats. He's a born showman and he just loves dogs (and cats and people and bugs and butterflies and grass and trucks and love love love).

As for Miss Blue, she's lost all that extra weight she's been carrying around for years. She howls up a storm--haven't heard her so vocal since the Tallahassee days. She's been walking in and out of the house all day like there ain't nothin in the world that'd scare her. I suspect it's one part cold, two parts all them extra dogs is gone. Just me and Bash kicking around here today.

Frankie's coming back, however. Sometime in the coming week, when Jeff and Peaches next blow into town. Judy somebodyorother who took her in has been having trouble. These dogs all have pretty bad separation problems and she works all day and lives alone and Frankie and Henry, Judy's five-year-old pup, just ain't getting along. So she's coming back. Two steps forward, I keep telling myself.

Talked to Shawn earlier and he says Custer is, and I quote, "definitely my dog." Well all right little brother.

It's a gorgeous night. I'm just back from a short little walk. I don't want it to be the end of daylight savings. I like for it to still be light out when I get home from work. Alas and alas. I sat out under the sweet gum tree, reading my book, Bash standing watch. Then the stars came. My pop told me while I was home that when he was in the big city a few months ago he decided to go to Hayden Planetarium. He hadn't been there since he was twelve years old and he said he wanted to see the prehistoric sky again. We were outside in the dark field when he told me and we were looking up and he brushed his hand against the sky to indicate the Milky Way. A lovely moment. When I'm feeling particularly sensitive to the great swells of nostalgia, I weep. Other times I grin.

It's the geography of the place I love. I get so hungry for it on the second floor of the library or in town, driving, wishing I were home. I can't stand second floors. I can't stand feeling landlocked, trapped and suffocated, inside. Doors to the outside, great unscreened windows, holes in the floor, spiders and beetles, moths, I don't care, give me proof of the outside. Thanks to all, to god, to the luck, to evolution, to merciful creation, for early mornings, for the outside, for all the non-people creatures roaming around, for home.