At my feet, curled in a loose ball, lies a puppy named Wicket. She’s been with us since Sunday. It hasn’t been the easiest transition for Levee, who seems to enjoy her and the company she promises, but is also not fond of having her dangle from her face like a pig wattle. We’re giving her (Levee) space and the freedom to growl and snarl as needed. There have been a few snaps, followed by yips, but no harm has been done. I’m confident they’ll sort things out in a few weeks. Progress on our home has, of course, stalled. It’s difficult to do much with such a little one running between…

I saw the dark, long-haired cat sitting in the middle of the back pasture. I always think of that particular cat as a female because she has an extremely long tail, which reminds me of Stitch’s, the little kitten who showed up the day after Reyka was put to sleep. His tail would swing up over his back and touch the top of his head when he was excited. I like to think of the dark, long-haired cat as his mom. She was sitting, upright and proper, in the crunchy, sun-bleached grass, staring at the house. It’s unusual to see her sitting anywhere. Normally she’s running, her body low to…