It is a brilliant, cold morning on the outskirts of southwest Missouri, with a north breeze and a total of 9 degrees. “9” is the favorite Newfoundland number here, and Grace fully embraced that. When I took her out to relieve herself, which of course was not a quick trip, on the way back she began studying a bird. Grace, as Holly was, is fascinated with creatures that can fly. She continued her sky-gazing with reservation about going back inside, while I was a lot more interested in going back inside. I finally looked up, and the bird circling directly over our house was a Bald Eagle!
We have a few of those, and apparently there is a nest in the vicinity. It is unfortunate for the smaller birds who are cold-stressed and not moving as quickly. I had gone out to feed them, since one by the patio was clearly impaired, and I may have unintentionally set up a Bald Eagle feeding station. That happens for cats too.
When we came inside, Grace could no longer contain her energy. She had been pleasant and somewhat quiet before going outside, but temperature drops, as we all know, have a trigger effect on a Newf. She bolted upstairs, crashing through the closed sliding doors into the entry area. [Note to self: need something more reliable than the lock on those doors.] She bounded onto a bed and stated with ample clarity that it was time to get out and do something FUN! (her version of fun) It is a good thing that the vacuum battery died last night before I finished in the entry, with leaves being brought inside on her coat. Her free-access yard is blocked off until the new grass grows, but she can exercise in the south yard by going on-leash through the entry. Her blasting power was tripled! I played Stick with her (keep-away), and as usual, I cheat. I pick up a different stick, so she wants that one instead. Then I switch again. Racing past me with rocket power, the brilliance of the sun was reflected in motion off her shiny black coat. This was beautiful to watch. It would have been lovely to have taken pictures, but my attention was fully on Grace. She began getting closer as she passed, and the stick was long. I hesitated a couple of times, but she cleared me with ease. She has learned to balance long sticks in the center of her mouth, and tilt them sideways along her body. Maybe she would be a candidate for FastCAT. I hesitate to train Newfs for high-speed racing, but when she plays in the yard, that is the first thing she wants to do.
Her stamina was inversely proportional to the temperature. After a while, I went back inside. Grace stayed out and went on patrol as I watched. She spotted Greg outside feeding the young bull and raced to where she could get a batter vantage point, then back after he moved. After a while, I convinced her to come in by asking whether she was getting hungry. She was the only house member still outside, so it was an easier sell.
. . . I wonder what she will think about flying reindeer.
Inside, the sun through a crystal gave Grace’s coat a little more artistic presentation:
