Pup #1 went with his new family yesterday. He will be living in New York state, in a household with other dachshunds. His new owners named him “Rocket”.
Pup #2, Arthur, did OK by himself until this morning around 3AM when he started howling and barking…and kept up the ruckus for what felt like the better part of an hour. It’s amazing how a dog that small can crank out a racket that loud. As a result, Robin and I got a few hours less sleep than usual, so I was dragging a bit this morning. Arthur won’t be going to his new home until October, and I sincerely hope the little shit won’t repeat that performance every night until then. If he does, I’ll have to buy artillery-grade earplugs.
We’re going to the Scottish Highland Games in Lincoln, NH this coming weekend. We went last year and liked it so much that we put in a reservation for this year as well. I’ll be wearing a kilt at the Tartan Ball Dinner & Dance, but with some luck, there won’t be any incriminating photographic evidence of the event. I also have tickets for the Scotch tasting on Saturday, so there’s a built-in good time right there.
The last few months have been all go-go-go, but with the onset of the fall I feel like I’m getting my equilibrium back. There’s still plenty of work to do to get the Castle ready for the winter, and there’s always writing work on my plate, but it doesn’t feel like rolling a millstone uphill anymore. I’m probably weird in that respect, but I don’t care much for the summer. Too hot, too many bugs, lawn that needs mowing every week…no sir, give me a crisp New England autumn instead. For my money, it could be late September weather all year long, but then just about everyone would want to live here.
How’s that for a diary-type entry? I need to keep that kind of stuff in check, lest they kick me off WordPress and make me switch to LiveJournal…