I wake up appropriately early this day, having slept well enough to feel up for a brand new day that is wonderfully warm after a chillingly cold night. The monster boxer and her giant mischievous friend make their usual racket, but as soon as they’re outside it subsides.
The sky is a remarkably dark blue, the sun shining down at an angle throwing everything in clear contrast. The trees are of a bright fresh green, almost clashing against the dark yellowish brown of the rock surface that makes up most of the main path.
It is on days such as these that I fully understand why photographers rave about the Costa Del Sol, because the light is literally incomparable. Gorgeous!
Knight II somehow manages to get himself stuck to the fence–in the exact same spot– twice during the forty minutes that pass since he’s let out of the cabin, and I shake my head at his sad little whines before I loose his collar and give him a firm smack on the butt to get him moving.
No exercise is on the day’s schedule, so I take my time going through the morning rituals, reading a few Sherrilyn Kenyon chapters before getting dressed and heading to the house.
Sitabah hasn’t learned anything from yesterday’s mishap. She is already in the courtyard by the time my pack and I arrive, and pounces on Lhabana the moment the black lab thunders through the gate.
They wrestle noisily as I try to drag a reluctant Trin Trin through. For some reason she likes staying on the threshold, growling and tugging at her leash in that exact spot and like usual I have to move further into the courtyard before she decides to come in my pursuit by slamming the gate open fully. Then, while she dashes through, skidding on the moist concrete floor, I hurry back and quickly shove it shut before she can start all over.
She’ll look at me with that adorably disfigured monster face, as if wondering what the fuss is about when she is only playing, and then follows me by sticking to my heels, and peering attentively at the heavy computer back I carry. I know that she would like nothing more than to set her teeth in it and be carried inside, but gratefully she has overcome that particular stage in her life. She’s still a crazy dog, however.
I bring my bag to the kitchen and then move back out to get down the dry laundry. Big brother is already there and proceeds to grab Knight II just in time to prevent the giant from pouncing on the clean clothes I carry and deposit on the table.
Calling at big brother to hold onto the Dane a bit longer, I get the new batch from the laundry room and head back out to spend a good thirty minutes hanging it all. My dogs lie around me, Knight bursting out of the house and looking disappointed at the baskets I have placed high above the ground and decides to start barking in that annoying way of his.
It’s very rhythmical; exactly every five seconds and it can drive me utterly insane if he keeps at it for long. He will, too, if I don’t grab a hold of him and make him sit down. Luckily grandfather arrives at that moment, distracting the big lug enough to have him dash off in hopes of bothering the new arrival and trying to catch him unawares for a good pawing.
I prudently call him back, knowing full well that Knight weighs at least twenty pounds more than the wiry old farmer who chuckles at the Dane’s enthusiasm.
Using this moment of distraction in my pack, I finish hanging the day’s laundry and head inside for a quick breakfast.
By the time the coffee’s brewed, I settle down at the kitchen table and switch the computer on and dial up to the Net for my daily messaging session. Just a few today, and after checking up on all the forums and chat sites I like to visit every now and then, it is time for me to do a quick translate for the dog website project I helped create last month. New materials have arrived and for them to be placed the translations need to be done ASAP.
At long last, big brother and I resume editing last night’s progress.
Miraculously, it’s still good by the time we finish and decide to split our attentions, so I can continue adding new scenes while he does some more research.
I only manage half a page of actual writing before it is time to go and see Clue at the vet’s. The sun has settled beyond the horizon by the time we arrive and the young female vet announced that her boss cleared Clue to come home with us this very evening.
With the assistant getting him from the back section, he comes storming towards us, practically dragging the poor girl along in his eagerness to reach us. It’s as if he senses that he can go home today, so while I discuss further treatment with the young vet, big brother takes Clue outside and brings him to the car.
By the time he returns, the vet is handing me Clue’s daily doses of medication, and rereading the instructions left for her, while big brother tells me how Clue literally leaped into the car to greet the cocker waiting there. I’ve never seen the Pointer act this way, but I am literally thrilled at his joy while I turn back to the vet for our instructions.
Five more days of antibiotics, and then, at least ten days from now, removing his stitches. After that he should be as good as new. Good news, indeed!
We’re chipper by the time we get home, and while we eat a light dinner of vegetables and rice, prepared by little sister, we watch Clue reacquaint himself with the rest of the curious pack that hasn’t seen him for at least a week.
By the time they’ve all sniffed him up and down, he starts running through the house in excitement until at last flopping down between the rest of the snoozing pack, right in the middle of the room.
While I resume writing, occasionally shifting my attention between rereads of older material in other books–because big brother and I are already preparing for the next novella–I slowly get the final scene of the story going.
It’s poignant, romantic, incredibly sad and more than a little horrifying, but I’m thrilled by the time the last words are written down and I stare at the screen with a sense of “DONE! Now what?” I know that the post-writing blues will be here soon, but for a little while I really don’t care.
The story will need some fine-tuning, several rereads, proofreading and edits, but the latest finished project brings the “done” list up to a wonderful 24 stories.
Slowly delight begins to take over, both big brother and I tossing back and forth scenes that have been written down in the past four or five days until midnight has passed and it’s time for us to retire.
A few excited words with the sibs are exchanged–I actually high-five little sister, hah–before I loose the dogs and head up for my cabin.
The night is cool, a wan moon shining above the mountain to the west, and stars sparkle prettily in the black night sky as I make my way up.
My quarters match the outside temperature, and as I turn on the individual lights I plug in the heater. I smile at the dogs rushing from one room to the next, and then back again. They still remember last night’s rat and don’t actually calm down until I have dispersed their food and pick up my latest reading material for some relaxation.
By the time two in the morning goes by, I head for the bedroom and set up the laptop for the nightly session online. Even after having been writing for hours, I enjoy writing today down, if for no other reason than realizing that today’s events were a little less heavy then my usual recount.
A day of good news; it makes me feel remarkably well for a change.
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