Benji was a dream overnight—Jacob enticed him into the crate with a couple of small treats, and I never heard another peep out of him until morning. I know he woke about six, but he was patient until seven when I let him out and fed him. Then back inside, I grabbed an extra snooze, and he was quiet and good. This afternoon, even before I headed for a nap, he put himself in his crate and settled down for a long sleep. He’s responsive, enthusiastic about being loved and talked to, and easy. And he’s loving having almost constant access to the backyard, although when he is in the cottage, he now mostly lies by my desk while I work—yesterday he paced. Just now, he put himself in his crate. I guess, like Soph, he considers it his safe spot.
But yes, there’s a downside. He has the highest,
shrillest bark ever—and he barks, as far as I can tell, for no reason. Christian
asked why it bothers me, since Sophie was also inclined to bark—but she barked
at squirrels and was quiet for long periods outside. Benji barks every few
minutes, and I am hoarse from calling him to come inside—which he mostly does
happily. I don’t want him barking incessantly and offending the neighbors. I’ve
had long conversations with him about this, but they don’t appear to be taking.
It’s still early in the game. Christian’s theory is that Benji has discovered
lots of new friends in the neighbors’ dogs and is talking to them.
AS I posted elsewhere, I was
appalled to read that state troopers in riot gear were called out to quell a
student protest at UT/Austin. For those of you my age and even a bit younger, I’m
sure that brings memories of the horror of the sixties and the Kent State
Massacre (actually 1970). Apparently it’s not just UT/Austin but there are
student protests across the country. All on behalf of Gaza. I read something
today that said, in effect, if you find yourself opposing the student protests
and siding with the establishment, you are on the wrong side of history—and this
has been true throughout history. I don’t know about such a sweeping statement,
but I think it applies to the protests of the sixties and seventies and to
today.
I feel great sympathy and a
lot of connection to the Jewish people. I was once married to a Jewish man who
is now deceased, but my children and I remain close to his family. I am not
ready to throw Israel to the wolves, but I wouldn’t mind tossing Netanyahu and
some of his cohorts in that direction. I think there’s a huge difference
between Israelites and Netanyahu’s official policies. I think what they’ve done
to the people of Gaza is beyond horrifying. Yes, October 7 was a nightmare and Hamas
must be conquered—but at the cost of all those civilian Palestinian lives? Especially
the children? Today I read of victims at two Gaza hospitals whose bodies were
found with their hands tied behind their backs. I suppose we aren’t sure if
Hamas did that or the IDF. Supposedly Netanyahu said recently, “You will not
teach us about morality.” But I think someone needs to. If those poor hostages,
the few left alive, never come home, it will be because of Netanyahu’s scorched
earth policies. And we frequently read that many Israelis are as upset as we
are.
My measured take on this: it
is possible to grieve for both groups of people at the same time, and America
should reconsider the extent of its longtime support of Israel until Israel
changes leadership. I thought this even before this war, when Israel was being
a bully and grabbing Palestinian land on the West Bank. Over the years
Palestinian-occupied territory has shrunk to almost nothing, evoking in my mind
some sympathy for the Palestinian people. Now, what we see is awful. I don’t
understand the politics of campus protests and the positions of various campus administrators,
but my instinct is to listen to the students.
On a lighter note, I tried a Southern
Living recipe for roast chicken Caesar salad tonight. First of all, I didn’t
read carefully enough to realize I needed a bottle of commercial dressing as a
base. Luckily, Jordan had one. Next I realized I didn’t have croutons, so everything
came to a halt while I fished in the freezer for odds and ends of bread, let it
defrost, and made croutons. Then I realized the recipe called for lining
romaine leaves on a sheet pan, brushing with oil, and broiling. A quick survey
indicated that Jordan and Christian both share my antipathy to charred lettuce.
Now, finally, the chicken is coated with dressing and broiling—and Jordan says
it’s turning black. Ah, the suspense of dinner in the cottage! A PS I was quite
sure this was not a keeper recipe: they both loved it! Go figure.
A mixed day, good and bad, and
I’m tired. But like Robert Frost, I have miles to go.
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