Notes from Maine - 2024/11/24
The house is empty. Mom flew back home yesterday—she’s expected in Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving so her travels are merely on a short hiatus. But here it’s just me, Albert (German shepherd), Maybelle (spotted draft), and Earl (shire). The house is in better condition than it has been in a year. Mom worked doggedly to clear out the dining room before last weekend’s party. The dining room was where we had stashed all the boxes of kitchen gear. Some things found a permanent home in the new cabinets, dishes and containers have a temporary home on the counter upstairs, and tons of things went to Goodwill. With a year apart, it was easy to decide which kitchen items I didn’t need anymore.
After some more research and planning, I’ll make my first upper cabinet. They’re simple to build. The difficult parts are the planning and installation. I’ll make fixed shelves, which means I’ll want to consider how everything should be arranged before I make the first cut. I guess I need to start with the corner. That’s going to be the hardest cabinet to hang. I used to keep casseroles, pie plates, a bean pot, and lots of leftover containers in the upper corner cabinet. It wasn’t well organized. I could build it to perfectly suit everything I want to store in a corner cabinet and in two years it would probably be disorganized again. So maybe it’s not worth spending that much time on planning.
Albert is pretending to be asleep on the floor next to me. He has figured out which parts of the floor are heated—he mostly stays on the cool tiles. I prefer to sit above the warm ones. His friend (a little squeaky plush), is between us. Every now and then, Albert casually raises one eyelid to make sure his friend is still accounted for.
Keeping track of Friend is just a hobby for Albert. His only real job is to bark-bark-bark when someone pulls into the driveway or walks up to the door. Sometimes guests will tell him to be quiet. His barks are ear-shattering. I never discourage him from barking. I like the idea that delivery people, politicians, and pest control salespeople all know that an alert, unreasonably-loud dog lives here. If I’m in the basement, the attic, or back in the gym, Albert alerts me when something requires my attention.
That’s what happened the other night. I was lifting weights when I heard Albert. Mom was watching TV in the living room, doing her best to ignore him. Across the street, a big fire truck was pulled into my neighbor’s driveway. The flashing lights and people milling around implied that there was a major fire to be fought. We’ve had a lot of dry weather. But it was just a car that hit a deer. I don’t know why they sent a giant firetruck, or why fire & rescue got here twenty minutes before the police. Mom and I watched through the porch window and then climbed up to the blue bedroom, where the window looked down at the whole scene.
My neighbor was the one to tell us about the deer. The driver was pretty shook up and the car was incapacitated. It had to be towed away on a flat bed. A firefighter tossed something on the blood stain (sand? Kitty litter?). I put the horses in the barn just in case. They don’t like the smell of deer blood. The next day, we couldn’t find any sign of a stain on the pavement. The whole thing could have been a dream except for the fact that Mom and I both remembered it, and I still had text messages from the neighbor on my phone.
I don’t know what it’s like to not have a dog. They’re an extra set of eyes and ears to make sure nothing is awry. Mom spent so much time with Albert this trip. I wonder if she misses him today—I bet she does.
