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Morning LightMay 23, 2008 Rhodry was not a morning dog. People were almost unanimously skeptical when I told them this, from which I conclude that morning dogs are the rule and dogs whose human roommates wake up before they do are unusual. On heavily overcast or rainy days Rhodry might not rouse himself before 11 a.m. Fellow Traveller is a morning dog. Since he can't let himself out and since at his age (not quite three months) all requests to go out should be presumed pressing, if not urgent, I have become even more a morning person than usual. Morning is my best writing time; my inner procrastinator doesn't wake up until at least an hour after body wakes and my brain engages. But B.T. (Before Travvy) I couldn't have told you that it's still dark at 3:30 a.m., or that by a little after 5 the sky overhead is light blue. B.T. I was often awake and out of bed by 6:30, but I watched the early daylight hours through the windows. Now I'm outside in them, often clad in my long red fleece robe (which is about to be retired for the warm season) with a fleece vest or my buffalo plaid jacket over it. Where I live is surrounded by trees, mostly oaks (which are leafing out right now -- sneeze, sniffle, atchoo!), some pines, maples, birches, and other trees, and lots of scrubby undergrowth. Some mornings I see the early sun rise glowing through the mostly slender tree trunks. Some mornings mists rising from the earth catch the sunlight and play with it in ways that take both my breath and my words away. Some mornings the colors eastward are vivid through the trees; on other mornings blue does a monologue that minute by minute becomes more intense, then it spills across the sky and everything breathes again. Some mornings the sky is pale gray, the sun off-white, and the trees seem deeper and older than usual. Some mornings the rain is still pelting on my skylights and replenishing the puddles on the little-used dirt road near the house. So far Travvy has been willing to venture out in the rain; anything damper than a heavy fog would prompt Rhodry to turn around at the door and go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Travvy doesn't mind venturing through wet underbrush to do his business either. Rhodry avoided it whenever possible -- the same Rhodry who would often snooze in the rain until told he had to come in. Warm weather has been touch-and-go the last few weeks. My flannel sheets are still on the bed, and my shorts and tank tops still in their box, but that's not unusual, though I and everyone else keep asking, "Will spring ever come -- and stick around for a few days?" The last few days, though, the warm weather has been gaining confidence. The cool spells are more infrequent, and shorter. Puppy has been gaining confidence along with it, and it's wonderful to watch. He mastered stair climbing in his first days here. Stair descending took a lot longer. Have you watched a small, or even not-so-small, puppy go down stairs lately? The head and forepaws are lower than the butt and hindpaws on the step above, and somehow those hindpaws have got to find room for themselves behind the forepaws on a step that isn't very deep. Trav's facility is increasing, and sometimes he fairly pelts down the last few steps (especially when my right hand moves toward a pocket -- he figured out PDQ that good things come in right-hand pockets). But he's cautious. He moves through snarly undergrowth with ever more confidence, and figures out how to untangle himself from brambles. I love watching him figure things out: How do I untangle myself? How do I get that toy away from Tilly? How do I get Pearl to play with me? What does Susanna want now? The "Where's Travvy?" game that we played in his first days here -- I'd run around the cars and pickups outside, duck down, and call, "Where's Travvy?" whereupon Travvy would come running either around the car or underneath it -- has turned out to be downright useful. If he's out of sight, at home or barn or in the woods, all I have to do is call "Where's Travvy?" and he appears. Somehow, though, he got the idea that "Travvy, come!" means "Sit and stay!" I still don't know what signals I was giving that persuaded him that this was what he should do. We're working on that, and more and more he's coming when I call "come" (as opposed to when I squat down, or reach for a right-hand pocket), but sometimes on a path or dirt road I'll call "Travvy, come!" then look behind me and see my sweet puppy sitting stock-still, watching me intently and awaiting further instructions. He's already a world-class imp. When he's crossed, he protests very vocally, and it's not hard to tell when he's tired or I'm reaching the end of his attention span because he gets really cranky. Think two-year-old kid having a meltdown in the grocery store. Then I give him something easy to do, he does it, and whatever lesson I've been teaching is over. Shortly thereafter he usually falls sound asleep. He's been coming along on short trail rides, 10 or 15 minutes. On the way out he needs coaxing (keep in mind when when I call "Travvy, come," he sometimes sits down and waits for further instructions), but when he realizes we're headed back to the barn he scampers alongside Allie and even ahead of her. Occasionally he gets right in front of her, and it's only her alertness and quick response that has (so far) avoided a stepped-on puppy. He's not totally adept at staying out from under my feet either. Yesterday someone suggested brushing him gently out from underfoot to give him the idea that underfoot is not a safe place to be. I'm going to try it. He catches on quickly, even though some of what he's caught on to flies out of his head when he's tired. Me too. One of the consequences of these earlier mornings is that if I'm trying to edit at 10 p.m. I'll start to nod off in my chair or at the computer. That's OK. Bedtime can be anytime -- why is it that "I'm never in bed before midnight" is usually a brag? For that matter, why do so many people claim with evident pride that they can't function before 10 a.m. without multiple injections of a caffeinated beverage? Maybe it's a reaction to Ben Franklin's injunction about "early to bed, early to rise." (As a kid I learned the version that goes "Early to bed, early to rise, and your girl goes out with other guys.") Whatever, morning light is wonderful. Thanks, Travvy-O, for reminding me.
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