There isn't much good to be said about Bonnie's dementia. I clean up her poop once or twice a day. Her eyes are vacant. Her brain is toast. She's wakes up every night around 3 am and paces and/or barks loudly and suddenly. I try to keep her quiet for Sweetie's sake - he who works second shift and lately, lots of overtime too. (Today for example - in at 1 pm and work until 3 am.)(Of course, my sleep is shattered, too, but I can take naps!)(Mmmmm...naps.)
The Pollyanna in me has found a silver lining in this thing, though. The other night, I took her for a walk at 3:30 in the morning with the hope of either tiring her out so she would sleep or getting her to poop - so she would sleep and maybe not poop in the house. Ha.
Lovely LAconia is exceedingly quiet and still at that hour. One car drove the state road that passes through town - probably a shift worker on his way home. I was marveling at the night sky, lost in the cosmos, when I heard the mockingbird singing. First the sound of a cardinal, then a water bird, a wren, a grackle, and then other, less familiar songs. How enchanting! He sang without stopping for breath, so loudly and so close but invisible in the darkness.
Last night, I waited for Sweetie to get home. I took his hand and said "Come with me. I want you to hear something." We walked up the hill and turned the corner and we could hear him singing. There was no other sound - no insects or other birds. No planes or cars or tv sets. Just the mockingbird.
Why does he sing at night? Is he a juvenile practicing until he gets it right? Did he not get a mate and so sings for himself? I don't know but I am glad that Bonnie brought me out of the house so I could hear him.
It rained today. It has been dry here for a week. Rain to the north, rain to the south, but no rain here. These are pictures of Indiana corn fields and clouds.