Alpha mom is away at summer camp this week, so it’s me, Sasha, back again to cover for her.
And I’ve been given carte blanche — literally. I can write about anything I want.
She was planning to write about summer camp — it’s a music camp, in the woods somewhere in New Hampshire — and her memories of camp as a kid. But she ran out of time.
It takes her three days to write a single post. Ridiculous, I say.
I know this because I am right next to her every step of the way. That’s how I know how to do this. I am very observant. And I’ve been watching her for three and a half years now.
Sunday she does the first draft, decides on the images, then sits on it for a day. On Monday, she putters with it, then sends it to Alpha Pop to take a look. He usually catches something grammatical. Finally, sometime Tuesday, she finishes it up and schedules the post to go live on Wednesday.
Today, I’m going to pump this baby out in an hour. Ready?
If you’ve read any of my earlier posts
you’ll recall that I’m a white shepherd. The white is a genetic blessing that not all shepherds get. The folks at the American Kennel Club say I can’t join their club because of my specialness. I say, “Woof.”
Yeah. I am a little full of myself.
I’m six and a half years old, which is about forty five in your years. And I know I’m slowing down a bit. It bothers Alpha Mom and Pop more than it does me. I don’t really even notice most the time.
Alpha Mom and Alpha Pop left on Sunday for a music camp in New Hampshire. They’re going to sing, and sleep in cabins, and eat in a dining hall, and sing some more. Internet is limited.
She says it’ll be just like the summer camps she went to has a kid. Except there’ll be a lot more singing. Choral singing actually. She hopes to write about it next week, when she’s back.
She says she needs to write about happy things, joyous things. Singing makes her happy, joyous even. And she’s hoping she’ll learn a bit more about making harmony. She loves singing harmony.
Hmmm, I hope she picks up on that for her next post. There are some people who go through life singing the melody; and there are others who prefer to sing harmony. Metaphorically, I’m saying. I’ll mention it to her when she gets back.
I get to stay home with the remaining chickens — yup, she kept seven this year: five Reds, one Araucauna, and one Freedom Ranger. All hens. Alpha Mom’s thinking she might hang on to them over the winter. Fresh eggs are good. I like them too, but not as much as the beans I pull out of her garden. Alpha Pop says she’ll rethink the idea once it starts to get cold.
I get to take care of my Gramma this week. That means keeping her busy scratching my ears and that spot just above my tail. Oooh, I do love when she does that. I’ll probably keep her company when she goes out to harvest the daily blueberry crop. And she’ll need me to show her where all the good raspberries are.
This summer, for some reason, we have blueberries at the same time as our raspberries. Usually, they are a few weeks apart. Strawberries come first, in June; then raspberries; then blueberries; and, finally, blackberries.
Alpha Mom freezes them on cookie sheets, then puts them in containers and stores them in the freezer downstairs where I go when the thunderstorms come.
Not that I’m afraid. Oh no.
I just figure, why take a chance. So, down I go. I can tell when those storms are coming too. I hear them. Or is it that I smell them? I just know when they’re coming. I’m psychic that way.
Well, that’s all I have to say for now.
Alpha mom said to try and keep it to 500 words. I did; I tried.
I’d really like to know what happens to your house pets when you go away. Thanks.