Tjikko's Week

the news onslaught, endless winter, and puppy love

I’ve been in a bad mood for most of this week. My writing has gone horribly every day. I start by skimming through news sources, Substacks and other newsletters, taking in data, searching for ideas. I end up frozen, overwhelmed by the torrent of edicts and atrocities from the city adjacent to mine.

I’m not using the word “overwhelmed” metaphorically. The daily news is too much for me to track.

Also, reading the responses from people I respect—journalists, teachers, spiritual leaders, and others—I feel encouraged but, I confess, still paralyzed, energized but trapped.

It’s like the “exercise” pen we have for Tjikko, our puppy. That’s what it’s actually called—an X-pen, the X meaning “exercise.” Only, exercise is precisely the thing he cannot do in this pen, which is why we have it. Tjikko’s indoor exercise includes “zoomies” (running at top speed through the house) or wandering from room to room looking for mischief, sometimes gainfully employed with a chew-toy for a minute or two before silently disappearing, only to be found happily destroying a new thing that the adults either forgot to secure or did not yet know was in peril.

Literally as I type these words, I see that what he just spit out is half of the plastic clip he had chewed off one of my gloves yesterday, after I neglected to put them out of reach. I had thought the small thing I retrieved then was the entire clip. Silly me.

Tjikko is usually content to be in the pen, and we don’t confine him often or for very long at a time. We use it when neither of us can monitor him, or when we need to clean up the results of his latest mischief.

Tjikko in the X-pen

Back to my feelings of overwhelm: Many writers I follow are urging me to get over it and get out there and DO something. I agree. But my mind is behaving like a puppy, casting about randomly, at times running in one direction then wandering off in another, unable to chew on anything usefully for more than a minute.

But I’m making progress, starting to move toward active participation in the good work of my community, which I’ll write about when I get closer to it.

You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. In this tide of hate, remember what love is. — Rebecca Solnit, quoted in Microdosing Hope, by Rob Brezsny

Photo by Filip Bunkens on Unsplash

“Always winter but never Christmas”*

*The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis

In the newsletters I’ve read this week a few writers have commented on epic snowstorms expected or happening in the moment. They might live somewhere in my region, or they could be writing from anywhere epic snowstorms occur. In past years, I would be aware of the extent of snow in my area and what direction it’s coming from, partly because whether it’s coming up from the south or it’s a Nor’easter makes a big difference, but also because I would be hearing a steady stream of weather reports on the TV news.

Not this year. Does anyone even pay attention to weather news now, beyond knowing there’s an epic storm coming?

Here in the Mid-Atlantic it wasn’t epic, but the snowfall started Tuesday afternoon and by early Wednesday morning about 8 inches covered the ground and streets. This snow experience with Tjikko was different from the all-day storm that occurred on Jan. 6 (that dismal anniversary). Then, the accumulation wasn’t so much, but as soon as the storm passed the temperature dropped into the 20s F and below, with bitter windchill, and those conditions remained with hardly a break for TWO WEEKS.

My snow boots are at least 35 years old and not stylish like UGGs but they withstand all weather and I can just step into them, no lacing necessary, an important advantage when Tjikko needs to go out now and I have 10 seconds to pull on all the layers. I dream of spring, with warm sun and a gentle breeze.

Instead, what’s coming is rain overnight Saturday, possibly heavy, which matters because I still have to take Tjikko out once in the middle of the night. Every night. Next Wednesday will bring more snow and temperatures again in the teens with windchill no doubt in the single digits. Tjikko, nearly four months old now, needs more outdoor exercise than he did a month ago. We take a 20-minute walk, two or three times a day. Today, mid-30s, felt cold. Next week? Yikes.

I am so over this winter.

Snowy walks, all-purpose boots, sunny day, X-pen nap

There are signs of hope, in the new life emerging now from the muddy ground. On Monday, the day before snow, Tjikko took me for a sniffing walk, which is developmentally important for the puppy and fun for me because the pace is slow and I just tag along. I noticed several little joyful things that in previous winters I’ve missed, mainly because I would have been indoors.

The sun was bright and warmed the air to the mid-40s, which I used to consider cold but now feels pleasant. I saw clumps of the green leaves of crocuses and even some tiny white buds. I heard a bird call, an unfamiliar and interesting pattern of notes. After wishing for a second that I had my phone and the dexterity to open the Merlin app while holding the leash, I realized that I could enjoy the song without knowing the singer’s name.

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Yesterday I returned from a walk with Tjikko in the almost warm afternoon sun, toweled the slush and mud off his feet and belly, and went to the kitchen to make a latte. Tjikko headed through the dining room but instead of going into the living room took a right turn toward the bathroom.

Seconds later he was running at top speed through the living room, a long expanse of toilet paper trailing behind him like a bridal veil.

Photo by Claire Mueller on Unsplash

Tjikko is growing taller, which means that he can access objects at ever greater heights. This week, for the first time, he jumped onto a large chair in the living room that for many years was the sole property of Zee, our Cocker spaniel-terrier who passed into eternity in 2023, after 17 love-filled years with us.

Zee was five months old when we adopted him in July 2006. We decided to celebrate his birthday each year on Valentine’s Day, which was close enough to his unknown actual birth date.

Zee and Tjikko on the chair

And they called it puppy love
Oh, I guess they'll never know
How a young heart really feels ...

— "Puppy Love," by Paul Anka (1960)