It's a wonder I get anything done around here.

It’s a mechanical life I lead, lately. Spring and summer fuels me with an incredible amount of energy but I contentedly collapse at 10pm. Now, it's nearing the end of winter and its numbing routine.

Home from work. Greet happy Boston Terriers. Change into yard clothes and algae/seed-caked Sauconys. Clap shoes on driveway. Check on birds. Play with excited Boston Terriers and give them the cookie they expect. Feed Koi. Clean the kitchen and get dinner started. Glance at the mail. Check e-mail and phone messages. Turn the volume up on the TV to hear Oprah and unhappy local news. Unload the dishwasher and decide whether to post on the blog, or not. Sort laundry and put a load in the machine while thinking of possible ideas for a post, realizing I’m a pathetic grasshopper. Fetch camera and a paper bag. Take care of yard poop patrol. Throw the hula hoop for Bella fifteen times. Drop the poop spoon and bag and watch the birds. Take a few pictures, 99% of which are trash.

Tend to the birds, i.e. wipe the feeders, add sunflower seed, nuts, niger seed, and prepare their special treat of Zick dough, worms, and raisins. Throw hula hoops and golf balls another twenty-five times. Do this all before dinner, and that dough smells good enough to eat.

Chat with Mocker for a little while to calm him down.

They’re all worth it. The sweet Nuthatch amazes me as I watch him pluck a nut and carry it away with the clumsiest bill I’ve ever seen.

And this is how it goes - day, after day, after day, after day. It’s tiring, particularly during winter doldrums and when the atmosphere, so dull, messes with my brain. Sort of casts an unwanted spell on my body and mind. My eyes glaze over during picture-taking and I sigh. With every slow, mechanical step I take, I remind myself of the excitement that spring will bring. A multi-vitamin might help, too.

Does this sluggish routine sound familiar to anyone?

She stole the Carolina Wren’s two teaspoons of dough and worms twice last week. Silently, right behind my back, she lapped them up from a little dish on the deck. Licking her chops, she looked up at me, “Go ahead and holler. Won’t bother me because I have no regrets.” When Chloe likes something, there isn’t much that can stop her and she needs to be watched closely, like a hawk.

I snatched a paper plate of dough before she could run with it. She reveled in getting the empty plate just because... “I have your plate.”

Bella looks to me, S-s-ee? She's a thief. You n-n-need to punish her.

Some nights, it's all about the dogs. I thought about putting this post together last night while sitting at the computer, viewing my photos, browsing a few blogs, but it was impossible to read. A diversion is what I needed and Bella knew it.

Will you play w-w-with me or not?

Two front paws pull my left hand off the keyboard.

Play with me?

Please, my needs attention. You are glum. Let’s have f-f-fun.

Maybe if I be c-c-cute? Demure? Stop the computer.

I resisted for a while.

This was her last, possible ploy and it worked.

I f-f-feel tummy rumblings and I’m gonna let it blow.

Oh, the cloud. I had to get up and go. Seriously, this is true. She got her wish, that sweet little twit.

I believe your pets know when you need a break and have more intuition than you think. We should listen to them more often.