In the Dining Room with Dogs

The guy in downtown Carlton, as he refers to the sorry stretch of unleased commercial space along Highway 72 between Comer and Elberton, Georgia, has not yet finished the dining room table he's allegedly been making for us since late August, so there's still plenty of open space in the dining room for playing. I've been working in there too, opening up the curtains and letting the sun in during the cold daytimes, and turning a low lamp on in the early mornings and evenings. The bug and the dogs usually stay close by while I copyedit and drink a lot of cappuccinos and espressos out of a fancy china coffee cup. The coffee makes the workload seem more civilized.

And it's sure nice to have dogs around. The bug just spent the last half hour gnawing on a very stale taralli, and Wagner sat next to her, patiently watching her, and didn't try to take it away even though she would frequently hold it out to him and bang it against his food bowl. (I know, I know: not the cleanest thing in the world for a baby to be doing, but I try to keep her clean in the major ways and not worry too much about all the minor ways she contaminates herself.) When she finished up and crawled away happy, Wagner stood up and licked every last crumb up off the floor where she'd been, saving me even this trouble.

The bug and Wagner.

Resting with Cooper in the fireplace. Fireplace dirt is considered minor unless she gets black soot on her hands, in which case I'll wash them off right away. Lost socks are minor too, unless we're in a store and old people start tsking.

And this is pretty much what the days are like around here lately. (The blur is Wags.) The picture would be more representative if there were a manuscript getting trampled in the foreground.

Speaking of Wagner, over the weekend Mr. Chalmers and I put up this cool Radio Fence wire along one side of the yard where Wagner is jumping over the existing fence. So he gets a shock—sorry: "static correction"—through his special collar when he gets within a foot or so. He still goes over (hence "is" above). We need to train him more or try a more powerful collar. I think it'll work, and I'm convinced that soon we'll have full containment capabilities. And a table, even if it's not Made in Carlton.