Whimsy on a Wednesday bringing you:

Summer’s Reluctant Exit and the Wisdom of Wolfits

Is it autumn? Is it summer? Who knows anymore. The calendar insists it’s autumn, but someone forgot to tell summer she’s overstayed her welcome. She’s hanging around like a spoilt brat at a party, refusing to take the hint while Autumn, the gracious host, stands by the door, coat in hand, eager to tidy up the colourful mess and bring some order back to the place. It’s that awkward time of year when deciding what to wear becomes a game of weather roulette. One minute, there’s a crisp chill in the air; the next, the sun barges back in, turning your cosy jumper into a portable sauna with itch factor. Bring back the cotton!

 It’s a perpetual state of confusion that plagues me through all the “ber” months.

Speaking of confusion, my morning walks with the wolfits offers no respite. As I trudged through the dewy field this very early morning, pondering the indecisive weather, I couldn’t help but think about how utterly incompetent my wolfit, Tex, must believe I am. You see, Tex doesn’t grasp that I, as the supposed pack leader, am intentionally ignoring his wilful antics to maintain some semblance of authority. It’s essential with dogs of his nature to remain the matriarch at all times.

But from Tex’s perspective, I must appear completely daft. Thick as pudding. 

”Bloody hell,” I imagine him thinking,.”What is wrong with this HUMAN? Every day for the past five years I’ve had to spell out what I want. Every single day, she forgets!” 

He begs, grabs my hands, whines, and whimpers, all for two breakfast treats he knows he’s going to get eventually, but only when he’s behaving and on my terms. But patience isn’t Tex’s strong suit. 

“I have to show her how to stand up, that these things at the end if her arms take the treats, remind her that it’s time, and point out exactly where she keeps them by leaping up and nudging them with my snout. And then, as if once wasn’t enough, I have to ask again right after! For the love of harmony!”

The comedy doesn’t end there. On our walks, Tex feels the need to bark at precise moments—when it’s time to turn the corner in the car, when we’ve reached the usual spot to stop.

 “I have to remind her of everything,” he thinks. “When it’s teatime, when it’s time for my meat, and yet she’s the one with the bloody clock! How on earth does this species consider themselves at the top of the food chain? We should have just eaten them.”

And as I stand there, watching him give me that all-knowing look, I can’t help but muse: perhaps in this topsy-turvy world where seasons refuse to change and dogs ponder existential hierarchies, the only constant is the absurdity of it all. Maybe it’s not about who’s leading who but about finding humour in the chaos, even if it comes from a wolfit who’s convinced he’s the brains of the operation.

Before you go, if you’re in the mood for a little less chaos and a bit more colour, feel free to wander over to my other new blog where I share some of my latest paintings. It’s a lot calmer over there—no wolfits, no weather confusion, just a splash of watercolour and maybe a cheeky bit of prose. Have a look around if you fancy staying friends. Click  here  and see what you think!