Change of Address

A few weeks ago, we moved from the only house I’ve ever known.  (Not counting Shelley and Steve’s, in Ardoise, Nova Scotia — but that was only for 10 weeks, and to be perfectly honest, I only know about that because Beagle Man told me so.)  It was weird: Little by little, stuff started disappearing.  First, no more beige easy chair in the bedroom to fall asleep on.  Then, no blue couch in the playroom where I’d watch out for cars and people.  And
finally, no comfy green couch to curl up on in the den!  (See photo, above right: me in the sorry den the day we left Devon Road for good.)  I wasn’t sure where all these things were going, but you can bet I kept Beagle Man in sight those last few days — to make sure I didn’t get thrown in the dumpster or get left behind!  But once we moved into the house on Danbury Avenue, I got right down to business finding new spots to make myself comfortable.  I heard Beagle Man telling someone he was amazed at how easily I got adjusted, but really,

getting adjusted?  That’s just what dogs do.  Your guy moves, you move.  You’re tired, you find your old easy chair covered with fleecy Mets blankets in the new house and you go to sleep.  No biggie.  Also, the block where we live now has a lot more people-and-dog action going on, which I like.  And even though our yard is tiny, we’re five houses in from Compo Beach!  ( I think you all know how I feel about beaches.)  Bottom line?  Good move, I’d say.

Beagle Man and Ricky always have a lot to say, so I’ll just pipe up in The Duck Dog Speaks whenever I can.