A Productive Humping On Hump Day

Yesterday, I was an absolute wreck dropping the Beagle Brothers at The Dog Ranch.

It started on the way there, when Smokey, the dominant, more sensitive and more vocal of the pair, began softly Beagle baying in the back seat. He sensed something was up. Luckily Lisa was there or I certainly would have turned around and brought them home.

We were a little early in our arrival, so I left Lisa in the car with the Boys and went inside to see if we could drop them before schedule. The lovely woman behind the reception desk, sized me up as a nervous doggy day camp newbie and immediately deescalated my anxiety with calming words that reflected that this predominately woman run outfit not only were dog whisperers, but men whisperers as well. Further proving that the old saying I repeatedly heard throughout my youth – All Men Are Dogs – is true.

Anyway, I went out and got the dogs, and the wife, and led them to the reception area, where the bewitching receptionist immediately took their leads, and gave me a look that said, “leave.” Lisa led me out by the hand and, as I was about to pass through the door, I turned and locked eyes with Smokey, who was now staring back over his shoulder. Was that a look that said, “Judas!”

Anyway, as I sobbed in the front seat, Lisa seized upon my emotional vulnerability and said, “You know how you promised to put those edging stones around the black mulch in the front Jack The Spruce Grotto? Why don’t we swing by Home Depot and grab them to get it out of the way?”

For those of you that may have forgotten that Sisyphean task, here’s a reminder.

https://thewisenovelist.com/toiling-in-my-garden/

I nodded, my mind elsewhere, and before I realized it, I was humping the first of three trips of large garden wall blocks as well as bags of white stone back to Casa Claire.

Of course, any married man who has painted one room in a house knows that the nicer you have made that room look, the more likely it is that you will be forced to paint the others.

Thus, it is with yard work, especially when your wife is determined to collect on your Insurance Policy.

So, as I railed against the gods for compelling me to keep my promises with the garden edging stone work, I noticed Lisa staring determinedly at the gate that separates the JTS Grotto from the front property.

It is a gate that, like the Gates to Hell, must never be opened. Therefore, I leave the area overgrown so that Smokey and Mittens (aka Mike), the feral cats of Casa Claire, can avoid predators and find comfortable patches to sleep in between meals. Their regular patrol also keep the rodent population in check.

But given that Lisa has discovered that I may actually be another bald man that is preternaturally unbreakable,

she decided to push the boat out.

“Let’s build a pathway.”

For the record, I have documented the following ordeal with videos on my FB page –

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/4010707419216880

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/1791425015138021

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/1078273577590924

That I recorded to be presented at the Inquest after my unnatural passing. I also shared phone calls with Pete Sheridan, explaining that, should I suddenly disappear, he should have the authorities dig beneath the new pathway.

But I have taken some stills that capture the ambiance of my wife’s ambitions.

And, afterwards, Claire and Honey even offered to pose in the photo in front of Jack The Spruce just to establish the scale of the project.

And I will admit, the white stones do offer an eerie glow that adds to the mystical feel of the JTS Grotto after sundown.

Well, the good news out of all of this is that the ordeal distracted me from the anxiety of the Beagle Brothers evaluation at The Dog Ranch. At one p.m., I received a text saying I could come and get them and that Smokey and Bandit had completed their evaluation, played well with the dog group, and were sparklingly spiffy after their baths and mani-pedis.

They were indeed.

And were happy to arrive home at Casa Claire.

So, as the Bard has told us, All’s Well That Ends Well and yesterday’s Hump Day ended well. The Boys have been duly accepted into Doggy Day Care at The Dog Ranch so they are scheduled to spend Scarlett’s Birthday frolicking with their new friends while Lisa and I herd the little flesh devil attendees early next month. Of course they rolled in the dirt as soon as they got home, but at least their nails are trimmed.

I am thrilled that I know I have back up to watch the dogs should I ever mysteriously disappear.

https://www.tiktok.com/@magnoliastreetpod/video/7215354431720803626

Note, I have Lilac Bushes out at the roadside end of my driveway.

That’s right, these lilac bushes.

Anyway, we are now at another Thursday, Friday’s Handmaiden. A beautiful dawn is rising over Casa Claire.

I just need to get through today without Lisa commanding another impossible Herculean task so I can enjoy my Friday, and tomorrow night’s Orchestra/Gold Circle Seats at Colorado University’s theatre.

https://www.facebook.com/COShakes/videos/1414282003120709

Lisa gets the Gold Circle seat (nothing too good for my better half), I, the Orchestra (right beside her), and yes, I got the Senior Discount!

Our evening trip to Boulder one Friday towards the end of each July is the cultural highlight of our summer season here in NoCo, where I get to commune with a truly great writer across 400 years time, like one of the groundlings at the premier.

I will enjoy it as a Death Row detainee enjoys his last meal, because I know the weekend promises further painful additions to my Honey Do List.

Anyway, you fine, five readers make sure you wrap your work week by COB today. Friday magical potential must be left intact for truly wonderful things. The weekend awaits.

And no matter what we get up to, let us make today a great one.

Oh, and Happy Birthday to my sister, Veronica. Love ya.