Little Joys

Lift Clique 029, the final Lift Clique

One of my little joys lately is that, on mornings I don’t have folks in the cottage, I make myself an iced espresso in its quaint yellow kitchen. This is between feeding the ducks and feeding the chickens.

The cottage is booked for more than half the nights in July. It’s encouraging to see the success and positive feedback, considering I hope to scale up someday. A few more cottages plus, if all goes well, some amenities like a gym or café-lounge. But a part of me looks forward to August which, so far, seems like it will be slower. I’ll get my iced espresso a few more times next month.

Another little joy: looking at the fruit trees on the ridge near where I’m building the new chicken enclosure. Young plum, cherry, and fig trees all thriving against a crisp cut meadow and the woods beyond. The design plan for the chicken run involves a utility sink with a view of it all, and I think about how full those trees will look, how bees I keep will love to visit them

I’ve spoken with the woman who owns a small market down the road about selling eggs there, or maybe trading with her for bread. I wonder if she’d like fruits, too, when we have them.

This year has gone by so fast I never saw if those trees even fruited. The blossoms were beautiful, but if any started to ripen I missed it. The peaches, in a different area, looked great, but they fell off the trees and fed the birds and squirrels. There was some regret about that, so I reminded myself that grocery stores have fruit that you can buy anytime you like. Sometimes I forget that you can just do things if you want.

Storebought didn’t hit as good as homegrown would have, but goodness are plums delicious. Eating fruit—another little joy.

I’ve been collecting these little joys because of Fox, my aforementioned aging dog. He’s a chihuahua-pomeranian mix… or possibly blonde schipperke (pronounced “skipper key”), nobody’s sure. Poor guy has had digestive issues since he was young, so he gets this prescription low-fat food that not once has he been excited for. He used to sniff it in the bowl and look up at me with something resembling frustration.

This food, again?

Sometimes he wouldn’t eat until lights out, like going to bed was confirmation that nothing better would be offered.

A while back we started mixing finely chopped boiled chicken breast into the unappetizing canned stuff. It worked, for a while. I’d even cover the whole thing with the leftover water from the boiling for a little extra real chicken flavor. Even if the three cats all seemed more excited to watch him eat than he was, at least he started eating again.

It didn’t last. Lately, his interest has died back down.

It’s so easy to just keep doing things because that’s how they’re done. Oh, that’s just what Fox must eat because of his health issues. Oh, that’s just how it goes, he’s not that into food. It doesn’t sound that fair when you really get down to it, though. We’ve got these animals who are now completely dependent on us, the least we can do is give them enjoyable lives. There’s only a handful of enriching experiences a dog can have, after all. I count four: sniffing, running, getting attention, and eating. To completely rob him of a quarter of his potential for joy started to feel just downright cruel.

Staying mindful of his digestive issues, I found a brand of fresh food designed for sensitive stomachs. I cut it open like a thick slice of pâté and broke it up, still mixing some of his old food in like they say to, again to prevent irritation. I microwaved it thirty seconds and stirred it up, then watched him absolutely annihilate the entire bowl and sprint two laps around the house. He hadn’t enjoyed a meal that much in years.

@probablythisHe’s kind of not having it

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There’s something magical about watching a dog’s excitement. It’s pure emotion with no thought for how it soon could end. I want to help him feel that way as much as possible. I’m also now asking, how can I make myself feel like that? Is it possible for a human adult to feel like that?

I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to find out. Step one, collecting little joys.

In the Clique

I procrastinated writing this week’s issue, because I’ve been feeling a little insecure about how to address something. I’m sorry, I know that sounds so dramatic, but that’s just because I’m an overthinker.