Moments with Gracie, First Month
Remember the one about Gracie escaping the night of the Graham Nash concert? Remember that first night, Raven (at the time) howling in the laundry room-- our best idea of wlecoming accomodations-- and A. and I looking at each other, wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.
Remember when I tried to acclimate Gracie to her bathroom area out back under the deck,
and all she would do is dig furiously in the mulch-- and then later I discovered the nest of ground wasps? No wonder.
Remember how hard I tried to figure out why Gracie rejected her condo in my car. (See "Observations"). Then only later to find that she was fine in the back of Alexis' car. Thus began a renewed search to discover which of the many factors could be modified to make her happy.
This was make or break for us. If I couldn't even take her for rides in the car, I was sunk.
~!~!~!
Memories sort themselves into moments-- the flashback, the smell of Mom's warm kitchen coming in from playing in the snow, a particular expression on a dog's face. The moments are fleeting and the memories flickering. as illusions trying to be born. Autobiography is fiction.
