It was cold enough yesterday afternoon that I didn't walk far but Casper, who doesn't always come with me since winter arrived, was full of vim and vigour and pranced on just slightly ahead. When she came to us in the summer I had to slow down so she could keep up without her heart exploding—that's how it sounded, as she panted so hard. She's slimmed down some. I used to call her Fat Girl but she now goes by the new moniker Scott has given her, Big Girl. My old friend Shelly, who brought her here from Alberta, was right: she's not fat, she's big-boned.

When I first offered to keep Casper (Shelly was moving from her acreage into a town and didn't want to confine the dog to a fenced yard), Scott was not positive about the prospect. "Two dogs together are stupid," he'd say, since there already is a dog on the farm. He'd register his disapproval that this was happening in spite of his own mild discouragement, for I had taken a page out of my sister Karen's book, ignored his protests, and was getting the dog anyway. (Karen's husband Dick has lived with a succession of household pets for the 25 years of their marriage, despite his objections. She's always been an animal lover and though she's still smitten with Dick, he's smart enough to know she might not be if he forced her to choose between himself and her little creatures. I'm only half-kidding.)

Nowadays Casper waits on the step for Scott to go out in the mornings for the usual banter and rubbing of her thick fur. Till lately she slept under the deck; he brought a doghouse over and set it by the step so she has a better shelter. In the evenings when he sprawls like a walrus on the couch in front of the TV, Casper comes to the window and looks longingly in at him; he waves at her and talks to her in a caressing tone, and she'll lick the window longingly. Yesterday he fried up stew meat and made a fine gravy to go with it ... for the dogs and cats. Yeah, he doesn't like pets at all. (I bet Dick, too, is only pretending.)

***

My nod to today's holiday is to put on a new shirt, red and lacy, so that it feels like a special occasion. I rang the New Year in quietly and with my own thoughts, while Scott snored on the other couch, waking up only a few times in the previous three hours when I'd laugh raucously at some joke made in the CBC comedy specials on TV. I'm not complaining, either. It's been a long time since I wanted to be out doing something celebratory on New Year's Eve.

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