How do they do it?

As I returned from my 2 mile lakefront walk this morning, I had heard and seen a lot of dogs.  Two of the cutest were the labs, one black and one chocolate, tied at the bike rack and staring at the restroom door in the pavilion. Anxious for their person to reappear with her/his love, acceptance and snacks.  At the corner of 3rd and Poplar dogs in different houses, opposite corners, felt the need to arouse the household just in case I tried to invade.  Young dogs, old dogs, puppies, pretty, ugly and those in training.

But the ones who puzzle me aren’t the dogs necessarily, but my neighbors. She’s late 70s, and he’s in his 80s.  They bought the house across the street about 5 years ago after many years of renting, and they are delightful, helpful neighbors. She makes the most wonderful peach cobbler. She brings me books to read which she has enjoyed.  However, it is a small house and they have a lot of company.

In addition to their own dog, their guests have at least 3, I think.  Plus all the people, four of whom seem to be teen-agers—their grandchildren plus their friends.  Cars, boats, bikes, floats, towels, etc.

We’ve been alone since 1986. I think that much company and that many dogs (one year they had a chicken, and maybe a pet pig), is something one needs to grow in to gradually. Or God has granted them a measure of patience we don’t have.

As I returned from my 2 mile lakefront walk, the largest dog visiting my neighbors—looks like a cross between a standard poodle and Great Dane—began to bark.  It was about 7 a.m.