Almost St. Patty’s Day

Oliver 3_15_14
Oliver in the sun and shadow

This has been the winter that will not end.

Saturday, I did a little basking with the dog outside until the wind started to whip things up. Today, O and I were back to walking our desultory way through the 30-degree air in our coats to the dog park, our illusions dashed by the persistent squirrel-fur hues of the urban out-of-doors.

As a child, I knew that the colors and substances of New York City parks were impoverished. The tan and gray cement sandboxes and pools, the sprinklers and the hydrants flooding tar beaches, the institutional green see-saws, the grim monkey bars.

JP & O

JP & O

With the dirty snow walls still there in White Plains and some parts of Manhattan (and I’m sure Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Queens, too), I’ve got my heart set on spring.

I am looking forward to longs walks with Oliver outside and returning to the cabin in the Catskills.

The city has the dazed looked of someone after a rough surgery. Glad to still be here but not sure what to do.

I just spent 30 minutes combing Oliver’s tangled soft hair. It soothed him (even though he squirmed at points), and it soothed me.

Dog love is as deep as human love, I’m finding out.