"Come here girl!"

I knew it wasn't what he meant but I jumped onto his lap anyway.

"Mrrrrh..." I said, bending down and turning my head, flirtatiously.

He raised one eyebrow, then the other, and I was sure his crusty heart was just melting away, so I bulged out my eyes further and nuzzled myself closer to his knees.

"Geo..." he said sternly. That's what he calls me, Geo Beane. I've no idea why, but I am the cutest Pomeranian you've ever seen, so maybe Bean makes sense.

I call my human Humphrey. Humphrey Being. Just kidding. It's something else altogether. Yet ever since I picked him out at the pound it's what has stuck with me, Humphrey. ....He had looked through that grate at me and said, "Humph." That's all. He barely cracked a smile, though I pranced around on tippy toe, showing one good side, then the other good side; smiling my most Lolly gaggle winning grin.

I don't think he ever contemplated man's best friend as a dog this small. But before he knew it, there we were riding in the front seat with a pretty new pink collar, and my nose pressed against the warmth of his thigh.

"Geo Beane. We have work to do today," he reminded.

I knew it. He was building us a new house today. Aha... Actually, he had closed on a property, a real fixer upper and it was roll up your sleeves and assess the damages day.

"It's day One of our Renovations, Beanieboo," he said firmly, "And you know what that means."

"...mrrrrrh..?"

"Investigations!"

That had me thoroughly interested. I quickly wiggled myself under his muscley arm and was whisked away on the errand, tongue hanging. As soon as we got out of the car and he had unlocked the double locks on the front door, I anxiously squirmed my little peaches and cream self to be let loose!! My schnoz wiggled left and right on autopilot across the tile floor of what was most definitely the eat-in kitchen.

"Rrrgh!" I gave out a little bark at a tumble weed of fluff. Up flew the remnants of what must have been one hairy beast of an Old English German Shepard. Clearly the humans didn't bother to bath or brush the Chappie. Nor clean up before moving out.

"SnSnffsnff..." ...the former residents were also obviously adamant consumers of The Ramen Noodle. Stiff bits were scattered under the fridge, and around the microwave along with a dusty silver square packet of Ready Set Soy Sauce. "Aaaapppchoo!! Arrugh.!" I wheezed.

The dust in this place was archaic. Humphrey was on it; busily making amends, maneuvering the Shark Navigator like a Pro, and building up a wonderfully smelly sweat.

"Good thing there are three air conditioners left over in here, Sweetie" he said reassuringly to himself as I wagged my tail in appreciation, running around the upright vac and in between his legs.

"I swear there is dirt here that I am pulling up from the 1970's!" he huffed, switching accessories on the hose to get a deeper clean along the crevices of the wall. ...Gee 1970, that's well before my time. I'm all ears though when he starts to hum a familiar tune to the drone of the vacuum suction:

I know just how to whisper,

and I know just how to cry;

I know just where to find the answers;

and I know just how to lie.

I know just how to fake it,

and I know just how to scheme;

I know just when to face the truth,

and then I know just when to dream...

Next, Humphrey and I are down on paws and knees. Having vacuumed the pile, he pulled back the rug, and the carpet pad, with a frown. I grabbed a corner in my jaws and pulled fiercely, left and right, against our common Enemy.

Humphrey had been adamant during our house hunt: "No Carpet Geo Beane!!" But this place seemed so good in every other respect that he had relented, hoping for the best beneath the surface. Now, Humphrey was cussing, and I saw him shake his head, slowly, very displeased.

"No wood floors under here Geo. This won't be easy. We need to think of Alternatives."

"Whm..?" I twisted my head, in puzzlement. I thought we were having fun and making great progress, but Humphrey, I could sense, was worried. So, I sat down nearby on all fours, to not give him any extra grief, while he took a drink from a can of bubly water and put out a cool clear bowl for me. He needed a moment to think.

"Let's check out the paint stripper on the green paint," he finally decided, abandoning the rug, and taking a brush and plastic bottle of strange orange goop to the upstairs bedrooms where the beautiful wooden window frames were flaking with what Humphrey had called "viridian green" paint chips. Humphrey applied the stripper methodically, while I sniffed around. I discovered a scrapper in the third bedroom closet that smelled like the wall paint (and spackle) and brought it back to him, very proud my find.

"Goooood girl," he said appreciatively whistling, "What a smart dog!'

He took away my chew toy, but I let go willingly, because he scratched me under the ear and chin so affectionately, with his other hand, and it made him quite happy. A few minutes later I watched curiously as he scrapped the window frame with the thing, and some of the goop and a layer of slimy paint came up, revealing a very bright layer beneath the dark. He scrapped some more and then we saw that there was also a layer of midtone ("powder blue," Humphrey declared) under the white.

"Alright," he resigned with a sigh. "We made our test. We'll see how it goes after soaking overnight. Now to the front tile."

I ran down the stairs, and did a few circles around my tail, while Humphrey walked down doing some stretches of his own. The staircase is magnificent. Humphrey said so. It has black treads with green painted beneath the non-slip patches and what seems to be the original solid wood banister complete with carved flower post at the end. The landing is a lovely floral motif tile, in perfect balance as to be ornate but not gaudy.

The bottom floor, though, is a worn out broken brown vinyl tile. Humphrey dropped down to his hands and knees and began chipping away at the lost parts. As the loosened pieces began to fly, I yapped and corralled them into a neat little heap, "Rarrah! Rahr! rah!"

"Alright, girl. We did a good job. That's all for today," he said holding out his hands to me. I jumped into his grasp and planted some sloppy doggie lover kisses on his chin.

"That's enough, that's enough," he said pleased. Then securing me under one arm, he jangled through his keys, and locked up.

"We'll see what we can do tomorrow, Beanieboo."

It was Saturday, so we get to spend a little extra time under the covers.

"Geee-yo... o, gooood mornin'," yawned Humphrey with a heavy sleepy left hand on the top of my ruddy head resting on his chest. His arm wrapping all the way around me for added warmth and protection.

True, I've got my own cushion on the floor, and I am the dog of the house, but I've slowly worked my way up. First, I conquered the foot of the bed. Humphrey of course had said: "No Dogs on the Bed," but he suffers from cold feet, poor fellow, and what better hot-water bottle than a doggie? Once the feet were warm, and he was sound asleep, I would steal up to his core to reclaim my lost body heat.

I would be happiest right next to his ear, but Humphrey draws the line at his pillow. He refuses to share. Sigh. So, we have compromised...

We are having a typical Saturday morning, except Humphrey reminds us:

"Boo, it is day 2 and we have to keep the momentum going, even though it is the weekend."

I swear my human has more than two arms. He is now juggling several devices, a notebook and pen, and making something he called "estimates." I'm reading the tattoos on his right arm like comics. These never fail to entertain. Something about the old fishing dock days, I speculate.

"...mrrrwfff..." I let out a little sniffle, to get a reassuring petting of my presence, which he quickly but absent mindedly delivers while mulling over some input.

He's already checked out a few stories on Prose and posted some new writing, and now he's Googling Home Depot and Menards and Lowe's, comparing data.

"I had an idea while Youuubee were sleeping, Geo..."

I raise my tuffy forehead with undivided attention and full concentration.

"We can't afford solid wood floor installation right now, even if we did it ourselves; but we can do is put in easy upkeep vinyl that will keep us on schedule for move in. What do you think of that, eh??"

I give his ribs an affirmative nudge, while my stomach growls. "Good," he continued nodding to us both, "then we'll finish ripping up the tile in the foyer, and start pulling out the rug in the den..."

By now we're in full swing of morning dance, pulling on jeans and t-shirt, and finding my leash. He gives his face an appraisal in the bathroom mirror and declares, "Shower and shave will have to wait," and runs a comb through his hair.

"Arff argph!!" I cheer him on in approval cause my stomach is really rumbling now. And I want a walk. So much to do. "So little time!" says Humphrey, which I can never understand. Time. To me one thing just naturally comes after the other. And now it's time as always for more fun!

We're hopping in the car, with windows fully open and our hair and fur on fire, listening to Bat out of Hell on full blast. Home Depot is "a bust," according to Humphrey. He darkly frowned at the limited selection, which he said did not match the online inventory and did not have what we wanted. He then checked the paint aisle, where the attendant gave me a paint mixing stick to chew on, and a gratis can opener that refused to sit still in the cart, while Humphrey had a selected can of white put in the spinner to check out the True Color... It was "perfect," but he tapped my nose and said, "Geo Beane some things are not meant to be, and We are not going to be suckered."

With that he put the can back on the shelf, and said, "Off to Menard's. Menard is a duck, and a duck is luck."

"Mrr??" he had me at duck. This I had to see. I love riding in the pushcart, by the way, with all the cares of the world scooting-by underfoot as Humphrey rushes us along, back to the SUV. People smile and wave to us like I'm famous in this Imperial Orange Home Depot Litter. I grin from ear to ear and turn my head appreciatively, while Humphrey whistles amusedly.

At Menards, I'm so disappointed. "Rrrrh..." no ducks. I jump up and down dangerously in the cart and Humphrey is giving me the evil eye. But how can I settle down? Apparently, he's found everything HE was looking for... but the sticks for the roller brush extension that would usually get my sincerely interested nibble, along with the roller itself, fail to entertain because all I want is the afore promised DUCKS which are Nowhere-to-be-found. Definitely not in the tile aisle where Humphrey is lugging a big box of 40, to add to the cart next to the paint cans, and now there is hardly room for me in here and I just want out. Out! OUT!! OUT!!!!

"GEO BEANE," he said sternly folding me into his chest to calm down, while the cashier cashed us out. I gave a huff and a whimper and rested my muzzle on his shoulder begrudgingly.

"We're heading home for some lunch, coffee and some office work," he reassured us in the car. "We'll go back to the new place later and tear up some rug." That cheered me up right away, and I sat like a Princess in his lap the whole drive home while he hummed some tune he's been working on...

Later, when I woke up, Humphrey was very busy on his devices and gadgets.

"Oh, looky who's awake..." he said with lots of pets, hugs and tickles.

We packed up the new materials and made the ten-minute drive to the renovation. I helped supervise, while Humphrey bagged the chips of old tile, and cut up some rug. The rug had deteriorated badly, and the carpet cushion was now covered with what looked to be sand but was actually grains of the synthetic backing of the wall-to-wall carpeting. I'm a clean Pomeranian so The Idea of rolling around in it would never occur to me...

"Good girl," Humphrey warned sternly, holding up a hand just to be sure.

Admittedly, I had thoroughly enjoyed frolicking and cavorting in the dirt from under carpeting yesterday, but Humphrey was not at all happy with me. Instead of joining in the fun, he waved his hands frantically in the air, hollered to high heavens about nails and tacks; then called it a night, and expediently hauled us out of the renovation site.

We drove back absolutely mum. On opposite sides of the cabin. Me, apologetic-eyed.

When we got home, Humphrey proceeded to repair my damages, brushing the plastic grit and rug fibers out of my fur and giving me a brisk scrub in the tub. He used pleasantly warm water and the good bath stuff. Bolero bar soap. Sweet Vanilla Rose. The scent was so soothing that I accepted all his scolding submissively and disregarded any gruffness in handling as he worked out the mats in my back that had formed while rolling around so foolishly...

It made me quite drowsy, and now looking back I can't understand what possessed me... that gross old carpet, yuck, with leftover kibble and puke or what from the Ole German still lodged between the napz...

Zzz snz.... zWhmr!! what time is it?! Sniff, fsniff. Coffee. My Humphrey was already up and about. I could see that it was cloudy and if I didn't get a move on it, we wouldn't make it to the park before rain. When I trotted cautiously to the kitchen, I was assured there was no love lost, as with a quick scoop, tousle, and appreciative whiff to acknowledge the effectiveness of his grooming last night, Humphrey poured us breakfast and began to narrate the day's itinerary.

"Yoga today, Beanieboo..."

And I could see large drops polka dotting the surface of the deck, through the glass sliding door. No worries, we have lots of fun doing down dog and updog and upside down dog. I was more concerned about the renovation. I wagged my tail lightly. I could see that he was going to avoid mentioning the whole rug incident. So, I perked up my ears attentively, watched and waited.

"We're going to test a small sample of the paint. Check for viscosity, coverage, dry time. And I have a theory about how we might deal with the old flaking paint and the stripper."

"Mrrragh!"

"But first things first, I have some office things to do. We'll go in the afternoon, when it stops raining." With that he put on Eylem Abaci for me on the TV and took the oversized mug of coffee to his den. Doing my squats and Pilates, I could hear him clacking away on the keyboard and cell phone and some other electronic devices... so much so that I fell asleep again....

Humphrey had gotten wise to my antics and strategized well this time. He had carried me asleep to the SUV, and I was so pleased that he hadn't left me behind. I cautiously lifted my muzzle onto his knee during the drive and put my nose in the palm of his right hand.

But what really made my tail wag was that he had brought me a ball!! A rainbow ball. A complete surprise for once we got inside the house. And while he tore up the rest of the carpeting in the room downstairs, he would intermittently play catch with me, and I did my utmost to keep quiet and stay out of trouble. Finally settling contentedly to just chew possessively on the acquisition.

"The house is really grand with so much room to run around, Geo. We're spoiled."

"Arf!" I agreed wholeheartedly.

Humphrey had brought us a snack, and while we ate, he took a look at the new paint. It needed a good stirring, but it wasn't too thick, and had no offensive odors.

"Hmm," he said, not particularly pleased. "The coverage isn't as good a hide as I hoped it would be, Beans. That means, we have to scrub the walls really well to get rid of the scruff marks, before painting... otherwise we'll be doing three or four coats. Good color, though."

He picked it for me, I was sure. I only see black and white and shades of gray. This I could discern was a most fantastic white. Pristine.

We cleaned up quick. It was raining harder now and night was falling. Humphrey secured me tightly under the flap of his jacket and headed home to settle us in for a nice quiet evening. Dinner and a movie.

(Humphrey took me to Doggie Daycare!)

"Today we are doing some heavy-duty work, Boo."

We? ...Mrrph.

If it wasn't with me, it certainly wasn't we.... Then Who?!? Rrrr...

He had picked me up under the arm pits and was doing some eye to eye soul searching. It was me who broke gaze first, lest he discover that I had gotten into the petunias once again... But how could he know? We hadn't even gone out yet for our morning walk! ...And anyway, he was convinced it was "Those Damm'd Gophers..."

"I am sorry, Geo, but it must be done."

With that, my favorite bowls and best mélange sweater vest were packed up, and the fancy-outing leash snapped on. He tickled my belly on the ride there, but that only made the agony all the worse.

"Welcome to Doggie Disney," said the manicured attendant at the Goofy and Pluto reception desk. Well, Humphrey proceeded to fawn all over the place with Mickey Mouse smiles and cheery quips. Now, I had several frenemies gawking.

"What a pretty girl! ...What's yer name?"

Whmf... at Humphrey. ...Rhrrgh... at Rapunzel.

After much reassuring that I was the sweetest, best lap dog ever, I was led through the golden gates to the land of Magical Memories. ...Humphrey becoming a mere ant arching an antenna in the distance.

...In the evening on the ride home, Humphrey told me how he had made good progress with the floor in the new den, and though he hadn't been able to paint yet at all, and he had had an epiphany!

"Beans, I had it all wrong. Tile would be a mistake. A terrible folly of a waste. We need to return it all. After scrapping the bulk of the floor today, I can see that it is lumped something awful and we'd run the risk of having the corner of the vinyl poking up, inevitably in parts, by force of Nature in due time. What we should do, is put a good couple coats of Polyurethane right over the subfloor and embrace the rusty marbled look that it already has. Upstairs the subfloor is plywood instead of the same particle board, so we'll stain it and varnish. What do you think..?

We'll need to take a trip to Menard's for a return tomorrow..."

Menards...we?... Arf! Arf!!

"The Poly will have to dry overnight... in each room... it'll smell nasty and be very sticky... no place for a..."

Princess like me.

Sigh. wmph... so it'll be Doggie Daycare again tomorrow, right?

Humphrey did not make the mistake of sending me back to any Doggie Disneyland.

When he saw what the handlers had done to me (what with the curled fur, painted toenails, cone party hat, frufu tutu, glitter, and other Disneyfied regalia), he was rightfully indignant and declared that never again would he let His Geo be turned into a fruitcake.

Instead, he fortuitously gained a favor from the next-door neighbor, who kindly lets me wander freely through her yard sometimes. She had a few vacation days this week, and Humphrey had recently fixed her broken garden gate; And thus, it was amicably agreed. Humphrey always calls her Mrs. B., and Mrs. B. has a daughter, she calls Bonnie. So then today it was me, Mrs. B., and Bonnie, gardening and sunning, while Humphrey took off in the SUV waving with a sense of assurance that we were all good here.

And we really were. Time went quickly, though of course, I missed my Humphrey.

Sometimes, it's terrible, but I have this wicked sense of humor, and it crept up on me at one point during the wait of the day. I imagined Humphrey painting upstairs with the construction site boombox playing "I Think We're Alone Now," ...but actually he had no cd player or radio at all, so I knew he was working in silence... maybe hearing the beating of my heart buried under the floorboards... like in that one Gothic house!

In reality, I really regretted he didn't have any music to keep him company; and I was pridefully convinced that he missed me, too, and was busy working and inventing all sorts of things for our amusement later.

I should say that in the evenings, Humphrey tells us stories before bed. Sometimes he reads something he is working on, and tests how quickly I fall asleep. Other times he unravels a plot line and gages my opinion. I'm always so pleased when he says that I "help" him think.

Aarf! Arrrwagh!! mrrh!! jumps, wags, paws, nips, licks, hugs and giggles!! Humphrey!

It was late, but still light. Dinner was done, and the final walk, too. We headed right to bedtime routines. Circle, circle, circle three times; chin on Humphrey's chest. Meanwhile he adjusted his pillow and settled an arm behind his head. The vintage Tiffany stained-glass lamp set on dim, graced the oak nightstand.

"Geo Beane, the 'new' house is really special. Do you know that it is over 100 years old?! It was built in the year 1900 exactly and was in the same family for 94 years. Since then, it has been sold only to 4 other owners, including us. It even has its original windows, with 'sash weights.'

I'll have to show you next time we're there! ...There is a rope and pulley hidden inside the wooden frame, and as soon you release the window latch, the lower part of the automatically opens up all by itself. Eerie, magical. Beautiful and sophisticated, but so delicate! They don't make these kinds of windows anymore. These went out of fashion in the mid-1930s.

...We're in the depth of the historic district of the city! ... and who knows what that original old family endured or contributed during those 90+ years? Maybe we'll check the archives in City Hall. All I know at this point is that the surname was Lane. The last of the Lane's who lived in this house were engaged in some sort of Sales. At this point there is nothing about the place yet to point to any clue for details... but Beans, there is an attic! I took a peek. There is insulation, and no flooring; open beams above and below; but there are things stored up there... we'll have to take a closer look soon.

...that attic is accessed from a little cubby hole in top of one of the bedroom closets."

Humphrey started to yawn a bit, and he turned out the light.

..auwr... It gave me the creeps just listening to the rasp of his voice, with darkness falling, and a pitter patter of rain returning... I dozed off, but I had one of those running feet dreams. A window was chasing me...

Humphrey had said that we would go together to return the vinyl tiles, and he was as golden as his word. He packed us up quickly this chilly wet morning, with just a brief stop at the new place to pick up the boxes. He had opened up two of them the other day, and I had chewed one of the corners, so understandably there was a little consternation over whether a return would at all be possible...

"We have the receipts, Geo, and that is the key."

It had been a few days since I had been at the house, and I was excited and curious to be let back in. My Humphrey can be a force unreckoned... and all around the place I scampered to see signs of where his personal Tornado had flown through, with scraper, hammer, screwdriver, or broom, and especially with paintbrush. The upstairs was well underway, in this respect.

The dungeon gray walls of two of the four bedrooms were now painted a warm gleaming white...

Then, bounding down the stairs, into the car, off we went to Menard's. I myself had relinquished the very thought of ducks, and wasn't going to harp on it, but Humphrey himself brought it up:

"Geo Beane, there may be some Quacks in the aisles, but there are definitely NO ducks in Menard's. "

My ears perked up automatically with interest. I had not fathomed the possibility of ghost hunting...

"Aarrgh!"

"Geo... Quacks are seemingly ordinary people with extra-ordinary confidence in things they know little about..."

uwmg.

"These can be fairly easily recognized by rabid over zealousness in offering free advice."

I braced myself attentively in the pushcart and showed myself ready and on the lookout.

The twenty something year-old with simple pony-tail behind the service counter was definitely not a Quack. I gave her a cheery grin and she eyed me very skeptically.

She did a quick scan of all the receipts and package barcodes, and briskly returned Humphrey's funds to that little plastic card, which he always carries as Club-Card of Middle-Class Bourgeoisie.

We then wheeled at steady clip to the far-left corner of the store where they keep all the paint cans; the same corner where I threw my tantrum several days ago. As Humphrey was hemming and hawing over this stain or that, and whatnot poly-coating for the flooring, I spotted a hammer finish gold that I was very keen on...

"Mmmrraugh..." I tugged on Humphrey's shirtsleeve, tail wagging insistently. He looked up once, focusing vaguely back onto the small print of the water-based Varathane, then looked up again, intently, and I could see a trace of calculation.

"Interesting, Boo. Very interesting. We'll think about it. Maybe for the trim..."

Aarf! arff!! yes for the trim that was exactly what I was thinking. I am always so proud of Humphrey for tuning into my random channeling.

Rrr... then I bristled. An attendant was marching towards us, Ordinary, with Extra-Ordinary Confidence. I backed up into the far corner of the cart. Was it a Quack? Couldn't be. He spoke with directness and tact that warranted respectful attention from Humphrey, and importantly he treated me like any other proper Patron in the store, with neither distain nor gushing sentimentality over appearances, for which he garnered immediate esteem. (Only later did he bring me some paint mixing sticks to chew on, along with the spun paint cans.)

Otherwise, I was neither Dog nor Man, just ears for listening.

And now, I was listening to Humphrey announce that it was back to Mrs. B.'s and Bonnie's for me, Beanieboo.

Today I got to visit Humphrey at lunchtime.

"Y'not?" said Mrs. B. to herself while clearing our dishes. She was wondering what the new place looked like, and it would be nice to drop in... bring a drink and a brownie...

Why not? I completely agreed, "Wruff, wruff!" and rallied Bonnie out the door.

Humphrey was very surprised, but recovered quickly, and welcomed us inside. He looked admirable with splashes and smears of paint all over his jeans, shirt, face and on the blue beret he wore, "to look serious." Like a partisan of the French Résistance. The speckles of white on Demin and navy blue seemed like the heavenly constellations had descended upon him with great honor.

"Wraff! wraff!! raff!" I ran in ecstatic turns and pirouettes when I saw that he had done it-- Humphrey had gone back and bought the hammered gold paint! And I could see that earlier this morning he had tested it out on the dark trim in the central bedroom. He had cleverly applied it in a light stain, so that the under color was still discernable, creating a distinctive green-gold, which to me (color-blind:) looked like shimmering contrast of light and dark; not done yet, but already a beautifully rich piece of jewelry adorning our house from the inside.

Mrs. B. and Humphrey, meanwhile, had gotten to chatting about what little was known yet of the new neighbors.

"There's a very nice elderly woman, two houses down... Michelle, I believe," said Humphrey.

That was when I realized-- what I did not hear!

For all six days prior, Humphrey and I, or rhrr just Humphrey, had remarked on hearing the drums. As the corner lot, we have near neighbors only on the right side and behind our house. The house nearest us on the right has a very dedicated Percussionist. We have not seen anyone go in or go out, but we hear a well-appointed drum kit including bass drum, snare drum, and cymbals playing almost all day, like it is our personal soundtrack to the whole reno project. This practitioner is a strong devotee of the eat, sleep, do, movement. But today, nothing.

Eerie silence, which Humphrey later reported, had held all day.

Humphrey was quite pleased about it... You see I forgot to mention, my Humphrey is a famous celebrity! Really, all over the internet. He makes his own TikTok creative comedy shorts and routinely features me, Geo Beane, as bonus attraction. I think that is why he chose the name "Geo;" he has stealthy plans for world domination via webcam and aims to go Pompeii International along with sidekick Pomeranian.

Bigger than that famous illustrious dog rapper *Mr. Worldwide* aka the Pitbull.

But now I am dreaming. Humphrey is reading something on his phone, and turning out the lights, with gentle pats, thank yous and goodnights, as it's been a verrry long day and there is still lots to do mañana... zzzzzz...

It was long dull day waiting for Humphrey.

hmph.

I was stuck once again at Mrs. B.'s. and though we enjoyed the sun outdoors and shade inside, it was still mostly a waiting. Midway through the day we took Bonnie to get her haircut. The poor girl cried the entire time, and then wailed for hours after, and was just not herself for the rest of the day. It was like she had imploded to the inside after "losing her hair." I could not understand. She looked cute. We could finally see her face, instead of a shaggy mess.

I myself love to go to the groomers. Humphrey makes me a regular appointment for a doggie shampoo and trim several times a year. I sit very patiently for the preening and pampering. I even get a biscuit treat afterward. But Bonnie had some strange mystical attachment to her locks. After the cut, she simply refused to look out into the world. She shut her eyes and put her hands out when walking, zombie like. I have never seen a human respond in such a way. I think she thought herself invisible, at least to herself.

She even asked Mrs. B. irrationally, "Mama can I please have my hair back now?"

Mrs. B. fussed and wrung her hands. She worried that Bonnie maybe had gotten soap in her eyes, or hair clippings, or maybe was coming down with fever, or teething... but no such thing. It was most definitely all provoked by The Hair Cut.

She is three. I know that older humans have very strong sentiments about tresses, with long cultural significance, and nostalgia and prestige even. But at three? ...I was quite intrigued by the question whether the value of hair among Humans was acquired or intrinsic; inherent or innate?

When we finally got home, I wanted to tell Humphrey and ask his opinion, but God Bless him, he had not even appeared to notice. He simply smiled at Bonnie and said, "Hello kid, how's my favorite neighbor?" and gave her the pink magnetic drawing board that she had eyed in our kitchen with keen interest the day before. She took it in chubby fingers and promptly sat down to make different sized circles and dots on it. Eyes open. Good old Humphrey. He knew instinctively just what to do to help her look past herself.

The board had belonged to Humphrey's little cousin, and he occasionally used it to doodle ideas, but mostly kept it for sentimental reasons, and for when youngsters would come to visit. The magic of the MagnaDoodle never failed to entertain and offered little ones more control than its predecessor the Etch-A-Sketch, which challenges even adults.

But my Humphrey was terrifically excited. He grabbed me under his arm with an extra squeeze and frumple of my top noggin; and I licked his hands and arms in return. His day, he said, had been full and fantastic. He talked nonstop about painting the ceilings and the hallway, about teetering on the ladder, and resolving the dilemma in the foyer. He was now painting all sorts of things gold, or partly gold, like doors, closets and even the ceiling in the front entranceway.

Mmrrrgh.

Move in day still seems so far away; indefinite.

"Geo Beane, tomorrow we are taking a trip to Indiana. It'll put a little break in our progress on the home front, but we'll redouble our efforts when we return." And he went to take a brisk shower, singing all the while, the Copacabana.

We'd been to Indiana before, and I remember the landscape looming with huge mechanical farm outcroppings. Corn fields yes, but behind these seemingly ordinary stalks towered robotic like forms of Industry.

"Steel," Humphrey had said with a frown, last time we passed through, and I had no idea what he meant.

This morning Humphrey left me Alone.

He was up at dawn, and ready, "Beanieboo, so sorry to do this to you. I'm going to put in a couple of hours at the other house, and then we'll go on our trip," and with that he grabbed somethings from his painting cabinet and vanished into the dark. Groggily, I could hear his descending footsteps on the distinctive squeak of the stairs, step 9, 7 and 3. The door shut, locked click, click, and the motor started.

By then I was bounding down, fully awake, and crouched before the welcome mat on the inside of the front door with its crescent window and round peep hole. I tucked all four paws under me and waited. Time dragged; I began to mope a little. But I listened and waited.

As a pup, I had always detested being left "alone," in the house or the car, even if this was technically with a brother or sister. There was something terrifying about the Absence, or its idea. What it represented, as the possibility of No Return. It particularly scared me to be left in the car, strange people passing on the outside, with me locked in... there was something extra disconcerting about being left Alone, among people.

This was of course well before Humphrey. He seldom did that to me; and anyway, my perspective on it had changed. In the time "between," I had embraced the Alone. I had learned that I could count on no one, and that much more depended on me than I had credited. Also, that isolation surrounded each of us, regardless. I had also experienced the grim reality that eventually doors permanently close. It is when you care deeply for someone or something that you find yourself hovering over that portal. Waiting.

And waiting. Humphrey returned after about two hours, just as he had foretold. He was very pleased with himself. And I rejoiced with him, wagging my tail affirmatively, and fighting the urge to jump all over his legs.

"We've got to keep the momentum going, Geo. I don't want this little diversion of a trip to trip-us-up with our housework. You'll be pleased to know that I put the faux finish down on the front entrance floor and it is now ready for varnishing as soon as we have the den floor fully scraped and set. Then we'll tackle them both at once with a coat of Varathane."

By now we were well on the road to Indiana. We were taking a route I had never seen before, not at all like what I had described with corn fields and metal factories respiring behind. This was country clear to the horizon. A strange country indeed. Still very much industrialized, but in a thinly drawn-out way, instead of sheets of metal silo and spiring electrical towers. Here there were miles of flat farm plains, and all of them populated by huge skeletal metal irrigation "birds," or sometimes even larger very long "dinosaur bones," on wheels. The pipes were sometimes dry, sometimes leaking, either in a fine mist or strong current, apparently based on need of whatever was planted beneath.

We are in a definite drought.

I couldn't help but wonder if it was pure water, or a mixture of fertilizer and pesticide. Regardless, the bones of the structures were a shocking contrast to whatever was proposed to grow below.

An hour and a half later, and we were there. "There," being a strip mall well situated in the midst of abstract Indiana country, meaning no city in particular, at least that I could identify. Humphrey had some specialties he was hunting down for one of his countless hobbies and interests, some gizmos and doodads, which he was hoping that this little retail mall of flea market would hopefully happen to have... He turned to me with that look in his eye and I knew what was up, as he rolled the windows partly down.

"Geo Beane, I hate to do this to you..."

mrrgh... and I put my head down on the seat and waited it out.

It might have been a negated Sunday in our schedule of repairs and renovations, but Humphrey kept us on task in other ways. We did some sightseeing in our City, in a restoration of its own, and we foraged even. Humphrey knows how much I love fresh fruits and vegetables! We picked mulberries, strawberries, and sour cherries. We even found some oregano, basil, and thyme.

Then we went for a walk through in the new place in the very evening. We hadn't seen it yet in this time of day... Humphrey paused here and there trying out different switches, heading to the second floor.

I noted that the Sun traveled from the kitchen directly over to the front hall of the house. It set behind the great big hill, on top of which the grand residence hall of the University next door perched like a mansion. The geographical orientation was very favorable for keeping the house cool in the summer. It was hot outside today, but here inside, even with no fan or air conditioning, we didn't feel it at all.

"I love the light fixtures, Geo. There not at all ordinary. Did you notice? There are no overhead bulbs in the bedrooms. Three have a wall sconce. A wall sconce, so old fashioned!! And the fourth, the smallest, has a spotlight, and a track light like in a gallery... That's the one that will be my studio/office."

He turned the hallway light on and this (an overhead light in the center of the corridor) warm glow emphasized the ten-foot height of the ceiling.

"Ten feet! Beanie, nine would have been wonderful, but ten is majestic!"

Then we wandered back down the stairs to the front hall. I marveled at how Humphrey had painted up the worn-out floor. It was simply grand the way the faux finish he had devised shined like it was part of the original plan. Almost oriental.

Downstairs, there were also no overhead bulbs either in the living room, dining room, nor den. Not even in the kitchen. The fixtures were hidden.

"It's called Recessed Lighting, Beanieboo."

Humphrey fiddled with some black rod poking out from the light switch panel.

"Missing the turn knob... hmm. We'll have to see if we can pick that up next time at the hardware store. Aha!"

Maybe he pushed it in or something, because suddenly the lights came on! In a slow and steady rise like the sun; then setting as he turned in the other direction.

"Dimmers!!"

There were two identical rows of lights like this, three bulbs hidden behind rectangular frosted glass panels in a slight drop-down box along the far side of the ceiling, just above the windows. In the kitchen, Humphrey found a third turn switch, which activated three round spotlights in the middle of the eat in kitchen.

"Beautiful."

Then Humphrey hemmed and hawed over whether or not to finish the floor in the study the same way as the front hall.

"Aarff! arrrff!!"

"Alright then, Boo. We'll do it. It'll take a bit extra, but it'll be worth the effort. And I'm definitely thinking we'll rent a floor sander and refinish the wood planks in the music room and living room with a nice fresh varnish, too."

Today, I should mention was Father's Day and I knew it was weighing on Humphrey's heart. Exterior and Interior Architecture having been such an important part of his growing up. Of his Dad's life. Of Grandpa's life. I knew he didn't trouble himself over things like would they be proud, but others might likely remark on that. Owning a place was no small matter in his estimation. He knew the cost.

He visited the gravestones, in his heart. I could tell by the seriousness of the expression that weighed upon his face throughout the day. An expression very far away.

"Whmm.. wmugh... uhp."

"Ok girl let's go home," he said abstractly, pulling me to his collar bone, and we headed down the narrow rear stoop to the SUV in the carport.