Of Play and Plovers

My, how time does fly. It’s been roughly a month since I last wrote. And if, as they say, a dog year equal seven human ones, that means it’s been more than half a year. For me, though it has gone by in a flash. That’s because I’m having so much fun with Chica.

Before she came I used to lie under the covers all morning before rising, eating and going back to bed. I was just sleeping my life away. Now I’m up as soon as my mistress gets out of bed, usually around 7:30. Chica is still in that stage where she can’t bear to have Mary out of her sight, so she follows Mary. And I follow Chica.

Mary puts us outside immediately, since she is trying to train Chica to do her business there. The housetraining regimen has not been altogether successful. I am of course an excellent role model in this respect, but sometimes Chica blows it indoors. I do hope she learns. Two vets have told Mary that since Chica is more than three months old, it may not be possible to train her. One of them added, “Aren’t you glad she weighs only five pounds?” This is cold comfort, however when one steps on a nasty in the night.

We have continued to go to the country on weekends despite the drought and worsening heat. Last week we saw a clutch of plover eggs in a little depression next to Hondo Creek. Also called killdeer because that’s what their call sounds like (to a human anyway), the lazy things lay their eggs directly on the ground. We saw a killdeer pretending to have a broken wing and, on to their strategem, we didn’t let her lead us away. Instead we searched the immediate area and lo! there they were, all splotchy on top so as to blend in.

The creek below was hardly flowing and one of the tanks at the back of the place has completely dried up, but if the killdeer figure there’s a future for their fledglings then I feel like surely the rains will come. They must.