Maneuvers

Preparing for the French Invasion amid the ongoing circus of dog entertainment

On Friday begins the annual family event we affectionately refer to as “The French Invasion”. Our daughter and two grandsons will arrive from France and stay for a month. It is among the best times of the year for us. But the preparations are a lot of work.

I have—due to a certain ongoing project—been neglecting domestic things to some extent. This means, for example, that the new stair runner I have been meaning to install at the cottage since the end of summer 2022 still sits neatly rolled up in its original plastic. In addition there are linens to wash—each with a lengthy combination of cycles and hours of &%^$ eco-drying—beds to change, mildew to remove from chairs at the lake, two houses to clean, grocery shopping, and all manner of things left undone.

My husband was traveling yesterday, so all dog entertainment was up to me. Now, you may think that dog entertainment would be an optional activity, but when you have dogs as big as ours, one of whom walks on the ceiling (I’m talking to you, Auggie) entertainment of dogs is essential. Otherwise they bounce and cavort and generally romp inside the house, and their restlessness and boredom make them difficult to be around. If you had ever seen them leaping over the backs of couches in a game of tag, you would understand.

Meanwhile, the painter who is afraid of dogs was coming to finish his work. (Fortunately, he has never seen them leaping over couches.) My plan originally was to keep the dogs with me all day in my office upstairs. This meant I had to get up earlier than usual, get some work in, and then, before showering, slather myself—and the dogs—in insect repellent, and go for a substantial morning ramble in the woods so they could blow off sufficient steam to be quiet indoors. The morning ramble used to be a self-directed activity, but since we lost Pete, we have come to understand that the ramble was entirely his project. Now that he’s gone, the shepherds are not particularly inclined to ramble unless we accompany them. This is sub-optimal, but there we are. So…a lovely early morning walk, more or less unencumbered by biting insects yielded happy, calm dogs, who waited eagerly to see what other innovations I might have in store for them.

Today’s dog photo is not gratuitous, but actually related. Auggie on our morning ramble.

They were about to be disappointed.

I have an inexplicable kind of calendar aphasia in which I manage not to fully visualize the timeline of approaching events. So during the morning ramble it suddenly dawned on me that I really didn’t have many days left to finish the runner on the cottage stairs project. So far I had ripped out the old runner. Pulled out old carpet tacks. Filled holes with wood putty. What remained was: Sanding. Wiping down and washing. Letting dry. Painting. At least two coats. Installing runner.

Obviously, I had to get going on this. If the paint dried after each coat, I wasn’t going to be able to install the runner before Thursday. I figured I could do everything with the dogs in residence, up to the painting portion. Then I would block them from entering the area with the stairs.

Scrambling now to get out of the house before painters arrived, I packed up dogs and self—which is far more complicated than you might imagine—and headed to the paint store and then to the cottage. After a minor thirty minute panic that I had forgotten to bring an extension cord, I got everything done up to the painting, and then blocked the entrance to the kitchen, where the stairs originate, with a giant armchair. I knew that Auggie would be able to jump up and over, so I put another obstacle in front of it to slow him down. But when I returned to check, I found him already standing on the chair and gazing at me with an air of pleased expectancy.

Fortunately, by this time the painters had finished and gone from the house. So, the dogs and I trekked back to the house, where I left them, to their extreme indignation, utterly without entertainment, and thrust upon their own dubious resources. I returned to the cottage. Painted stairs. Left for home. Forgot phone. Returned to cottage. Left for home. Arrived at home to find dogs full of renewed energy. Played ball with dogs. Collapsed for half an hour on my bed and slept hard.

By the time my husband arrived home, I had good hair, lipstick, calm dogs, and a glass of wine in my hand.

Today dog entertainment will be his responsibility.

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