Hi! It’s me, again. Sarah.
There’s been a lot going on at our house lately. Mom says some of it’s my fault, which doesn’t seem to be a thing that gets me more treats.
I think it started about three weeks ago, though I’m better with clocks than calendars.
Mom went out to run a fast errand, which usually means she comes home with food.
Luther and Phoebe and I stayed home with one of our favorite aunties who was helping mom with some stuff that needed to get done.
Luther and Phoebe were in the house. According to Mom, I was being stubborn–whatever that is–and wanted to stay outside.
It’s started to be Fall here!
As the story goes, right after Mom left I got out of the gate.
I’ve done that a couple of times before, though I’m never quite sure how it works.
It seems like I just want something really badly and I’m on the other side, though nobody can quite figure out how. I just go to the driveway and wait for something exciting to happen!
Anyway, one thing led to another and our friend Greg came as soon as he could to fix the gate.
Fixing made lots of noise.
Something called sawing and some more stuff called drilling. We all had to stay inside for a long time.
I wanted to help. Mom said I could help most by staying inside.
Sometimes she’s no fun!
Anyway, the gate is “fixed”. I can’t see through it anymore and it doesn’t move when I push. Also, it smells like new wood.
Mom seems more relaxed now and we get to play outside for longer times.
Yesterday it was really pretty out and we all sat on the deck. Mom was reading to us.
Something called a poem.
It seemed to be about fences, but also a little about me, even though it was written by somebody I never knew called Robert Frost, a long time ago.
“Good fences make good neighbours.”Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his head:“Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t itWhere there are cows? But here there are no cows.”Before I built a wall I’d ask to knowWhat I was walling in or walling out,And to whom I was like to give offence.“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall…”
Mom says fences are often hard but that this one was an easy choice for us.
There’s a big road right behind our house with lots of traffic and Mom seems really sure it’s dangerous.
There’s a smaller road out front but there are rules and one of the rules is that dogs have to be on leads and I never had my lead on back when I used to get out of the gate.
I can’t get out any more.
Somehow, though, I think I can’t get out anymore because Mom loves us, which feels different than the poem she read.
Today, Luther and I chased squirrels and Phoebe rolled on her back in the grass which she likes to do a lot.
Then Mom called us in and gave us all our favorite treats.
She seems to like it when we do what she asks us to do.
(Though, apparently, I’m supposed to try harder!)
Mom writes poems, too. Not usually about fences.
I’m not sure if this is a poem but it might be. I tried hard.