If we didn’t have dogs around, this place would be much quieter. Barking is, of course, always a given. Shadow barks at people going by. She also barks when I woof or bark. Ryder also barks at people or cars going by. She also has this old dog woof . . . woof . . . woof that she relies upon when she wants to go out or needs water or fed.

Tonight, for some odd reason, I heard her more distressed bark when I came into the upper quadrant. I looked around and did not see her. I was worried because she sounded like she was in distress. I finally figured out that she was in Pete’s Black Hole – the door had shut behind her. She was happy to get out.

There are also other sounds, like the sighs they make when they are in their beds, the clanging of bowls when they eat, and the click of their toenails on the tiles. There are more sounds, and now that I have written down a few, I will be more attuned to them.

This is life with dogs. We’ve had five dogs in the past 40 or so years. Bootleg lived to be 17, Jenna lived to be 12, Rainbow lived to be 15, Ryder is in her teens and Shadow is still in the single digit age range. That’s good, to have just three dogs pass in that period of time.

Alys and Jenna

In general, animals around here are long-lived. We see the cycle through.

I would like to get another dog, preferably a puppy, in the spring so that I can take it with me when I go riding.

I would like to do more riding. We are making progress with the book project, and I am already having more time. In part this is because we have not been getting as many books. We’ve also had the right number of volunteers.

Winter impinges. The solstice is 18 days away. It may not snow until then, so the roads may remain clear. I don’t enjoy going back and forth to town, still nearly every day. I stall at both ends, first before leaving our cabin, then before leaving the former banquet room of the historic Eagle. I am not sure why it is difficult, making this transition, but it is. It could be because I am not a lifelong commuter.

I remember, a number of years ago, writing dispatches in which I extolled the virtues of having a commute that was simply upstairs/downstairs. I really did believe that this would never change. I forgot that change is constant, and this is a constant.

I pause, my mind is drifting, me thinking about what I did today and what I will do tomorrow.

The best time to work on the present is when I’m walking or riding horses. I think the horses know when I’m thinking of other things besides them, and it maybe frustrates them. I will do better. There. Writing as problem solving.

Next: 325. 12/4/25: An Ideas Day in the Evening