Munson has been out of quarantine for a week now and is still very much happy as any dog not lonely, sleeping on concrete and surrounded by stressed barking dogs can be. He’s spent a few afternoons in Sydney Park, and walked many loops of the neighbourhood.
Gustav likes taking Munson for a walk up the high streets just so he can hear passers-by cry out “you’re gorgeous”. There’s definitely a big difference in being out when Munson is in hand.
One morning we passed several long queues of school children waiting to see the show “Possum Magic” at the Enmore theatre. It was one long squeal of delight from beginning to end. When we got to the end, Gustav thought we should go around and do it again.
As we’re sleeping on the floor (Gustav and I slightly elevated by a borrowed mattress) until the furniture arrives, there’s not much difference between Munson being beside the bed and on it. Sometimes I wake up and find one of his paws resting against me as he snores gently on his back.
Scout has been over for two visits, looking very chirpy after a horrible few days at the veterinary hospital due to a flare up of his pancreatitis. I saw him on Monday when he was on his way there for the third time in 24 hours, cowed, trembling and in a lot of pain. Amanda’s car ran out of fuel only a few blocks from my home and I gave them a ride the rest of the way. The timing of my return to the house was not a day too late!
Gustav, Munson and I have at least another five weeks of rattling around in a house of empty rooms, furnished occasionally by one large beast taking his chance to sleep in every single corner. We are at least eating well and have already transferred our home-cooking skills from France with a slow-cooked casserole, a pumpkin soup and a cake produced in the first week. I’m itching to make a pot of ratatouille as soon as I’ve assembled ingredients and utensils.