Devil Dogs and Garden Critters

Yesterday I was admiring the sunlight falling on the devil dogs in the kitchen, and I had to take a picture. Doesn't it seem appropriate that I bought those, and now have a real devil dog of my own? (Ignore the dust.)

Yesterday was pretty low-key. I spent most of the morning reading and doing some minor gardening. At this point gardening is pretty much limited to trying to keep everything alive.

The dahlias continue to perform, and we don't have much sign of powdery mildew, which I'm hoping means the new soil I gave them at the beginning of the summer is holding moisture better than that compost I used last year.

In the afternoon Bailey and I took a walk to the cemetery. On the way we passed this display in front of a neighbor's house. The plants look a little parched but I like the blue pots and the colorful zinnias.

Bailey's new long lead arrived yesterday, and we tried it out at the cemetery. (That's her normal lead above, but never mind.) I envisioned her being able to run around, chase tennis balls and maybe even squirrels, all while tethered to me in case I need to reel her in and away from other dogs. Well, it didn't quite work out that way.

Bailey was happy to run in a wider radius, but she showed no interest in chasing a ball. I'm sure if she'd seen a squirrel she'd have been after it like a shot, but that didn't happen either. It was mostly just aimless sniffing, while I tried my best not to get tangled up in excess leash.

More experimentation is required.

In other news, did you see that Jeanine Pirro dropped the absurd vandalism charges against the Olympic athlete who was accused of damaging Trump's newly renovated reflecting pool? We all knew the charges wouldn't stick, but what made the episode extra delicious was Pirro's assertion that the renovation was "botched" and she had been misled about the nature of the damage. Trump, of course, fired back at her and I suspect she's not long for this administration. Of course, she's a woman, so like Noem and Bondi and Gabbard, she's expendable in Trump's eyes -- unlike Hegseth and Bessent and Miller and the rest of his male co-conspirators.

Some of you were wondering how the arrival of Bailey would affect the garden wildlife, so last night I set up the camera to see what might be going on out there after dark. As you can see, the foxes are not deterred by Bailey's presence. (You'll see Bailey in the first clip, checking out the camera -- I thought her sniffing was cute.) It's remarkable that at least two, and possibly three, foxes wandered through the garden last night and as tightly wound as Bailey is, from inside the house she had no idea. She didn't react at all.

No cats appeared in the video, but honestly, I'm fine with that. I'd just as soon they do their hunting elsewhere. And with our bird feeders temporarily removed to discourage Ratthew, there were no signs of birds, squirrels or small animals. Then again, birds and squirrels aren't usually on the ground at night. Too many foxes around! (I know the squirrels are still here in daytime because Bailey chases them!)

A Possible Culprit, and Thom Gunn

This is Persicaria amplexicaulis, which we have growing in the "Ratthew zone" of our garden below the blackberries. Every time I pick blackberries I wade into this plant and reach through the leaves. Bailey, in her obsessive quest to conquer Ratthew in all his iterations, has been practically rolling around in it. (In fact she's done quite a bit of damage to it, but it's tough!)

Blogger Jennifer asked in a comment whether my itchy arms might not be due to irritation from a plant. I hadn't really thought about it before, so I did some Googling about this Persicaria, and lo and behold, what did I find? "Contact with all parts may irritate the skin," warns the Royal Horticultural Society. Who knew?!

I suppose this may in fact be the culprit when it comes to my itchy arms (and legs, to a lesser degree), not to mention Bailey's itchiness. I don't break the leaves or stems or come into contact with any visible sap, so I'm not 100 percent certain, but it seems likely. Maybe I just need to wear sleeves while picking berries. (I suppose if bugs were to blame that would help too.) I don't think I can realistically keep Bailey out of it, but hopefully her fur gives her some measure of protection.

Here's a less toxic denizen of our garden -- some zinnias, now in full flower and pretty much identical, which is purely by chance because the seeds were mixed.

This was one of my projects yesterday -- to refresh the plants on our front porch. I bought that beautiful Echinacea at Waitrose on Thursday, and the little blue balloon flower I bought yesterday at a florist. The annuals we had out there from the spring were looking sad, so this gives the front door a bit of a lift.

We had a lobelia in that gray pot for nine years (!) but it had been gradually dwindling, and it expired this summer. I think Warren missed it when he watered during our absence and it just got baked. I never liked it much anyway.

And of course I spent more bonding time with Bailey. This is her "pleeeeeeease keep rubbing my belly" face. We went for a walk to Kilburn Grange Park and up through Kilburn toward Cricklewood. She seems like a more dutiful walker than Olga, to such a degree that I worry she's not having much fun -- especially because I can't let her off lead to play with a ball or anything. Her new long lead did arrive yesterday so maybe today we'll experiment with that a bit.

Otherwise, I spent part of the day reading a biography of Thom Gunn, the poet, which I bought a couple of years ago. The subtitle is "A Cool Queer Life," and while Gunn was gay and quite edgy, the book is pretty sophisticated in its discussion of his poetry -- so much so that I'm afraid it's going over my head. I really don't know Gunn's poems, so I struggle when the author gets specific about certain works or wades into the philosophy behind his writing (Gunn was a big fan of Stendhal and Camus, neither of whom I've read or know much about). I'm more interested in his relationships and his life as a gay man in the '50s, and how he made that work in such a conservative era. Fortunately the book goes there too.

I also spent part of the day on the phone with my brother trying to sort out certain aspects of my stepmother's estate. I have to go back to the notary on Tuesday to sign more documents. Ugh!

Last night I made a martini and watched a movie called "M/M," a surreal gay German film that I've had on my list for ages, and ultimately found pretty tedious. I don't know whether the martini hurt or helped!