I'll take 'Unfortunate Timing' for $200, Alex
No substantive change on the running-around-and-panicking-financially front, but at least so far that means no change for the worse, knock wood. Advent Calendar obviously not happening in its proposed form, but I'm not ruling out a surprise or two before the next installment proper, which I'm hoping to run on a specific date that's coming up soon...
***
Sandra's finally managed to keep a pregnancy past what seems to be the danger point. I know I'm imagining that it seems obvious, the swell of her furry flank, but Jason's shoulder-butt is extremely gentle when we meet on the footbridge. David and I look at each other's hands on the respective leads; "She's ninety," he says with a shrug of amused resignation.
I suppose it's the first time anyone's knit him warm woollens. It's cold enough I've resorted to knotting the shawl Cecily left behind her the last time she went round my neck. (Shapelessly bundled in the depths of winter I'm addressed as Ma'am surprisingly often. I've learnt to laugh it off.) There are prints in the snow on the iced-over river, ducks and what might be a coyote come to the water to drink. Not a fan of having wild animals running around who aren't me, Jason's said of the intermittent reports of sightings. I tell him he's not a small enough pet to need to worry.
David stamps a foot restlessly against the chill as his wife sticks her muzzle through the bars beneath the handrail to look down at the ice. "You're sure you're all right being out in this, love?" She whuffs, as if she's been getting an earful of his concern already. "No worries, I'm just asking."
"Wolf's sort of weather," I point out. Even if our two city-wolves are wearing citified mittens on all their feet. Jason shakes himself as if to fluff out his coat, though with his tight curls this produces little visible effect. "Should be happy it's not enough snow on the ground for them to be digging a den in it."
"Yeah, 's just..." David sighs, and admits: "Bit on edge about her, yeah. Weren't even supposed to be trying again yet, reckon it saves mucking about with test-tubes anyway." Jason headbutts David in the thigh hard enough to jar him sideways. "No offence, just don't want to get into that yet."
Jason snorts out a long plume of steam, but seems willing to accept the apology at its face. I wonder if any of them do appreciate just how extraordinary it is, that the circumstance that hagrides them could be got round with modern miracles. What Helen might have given...
Probably a blessing, though, that some of us don't multiply in the ordinary way. Quite strange enough to be a wolf-pup in this sceptical age; I can see Jill's insistence upon the point, sometimes.
***
Sandra's finally managed to keep a pregnancy past what seems to be the danger point. I know I'm imagining that it seems obvious, the swell of her furry flank, but Jason's shoulder-butt is extremely gentle when we meet on the footbridge. David and I look at each other's hands on the respective leads; "She's ninety," he says with a shrug of amused resignation.
I suppose it's the first time anyone's knit him warm woollens. It's cold enough I've resorted to knotting the shawl Cecily left behind her the last time she went round my neck. (Shapelessly bundled in the depths of winter I'm addressed as Ma'am surprisingly often. I've learnt to laugh it off.) There are prints in the snow on the iced-over river, ducks and what might be a coyote come to the water to drink. Not a fan of having wild animals running around who aren't me, Jason's said of the intermittent reports of sightings. I tell him he's not a small enough pet to need to worry.
David stamps a foot restlessly against the chill as his wife sticks her muzzle through the bars beneath the handrail to look down at the ice. "You're sure you're all right being out in this, love?" She whuffs, as if she's been getting an earful of his concern already. "No worries, I'm just asking."
"Wolf's sort of weather," I point out. Even if our two city-wolves are wearing citified mittens on all their feet. Jason shakes himself as if to fluff out his coat, though with his tight curls this produces little visible effect. "Should be happy it's not enough snow on the ground for them to be digging a den in it."
"Yeah, 's just..." David sighs, and admits: "Bit on edge about her, yeah. Weren't even supposed to be trying again yet, reckon it saves mucking about with test-tubes anyway." Jason headbutts David in the thigh hard enough to jar him sideways. "No offence, just don't want to get into that yet."
Jason snorts out a long plume of steam, but seems willing to accept the apology at its face. I wonder if any of them do appreciate just how extraordinary it is, that the circumstance that hagrides them could be got round with modern miracles. What Helen might have given...
Probably a blessing, though, that some of us don't multiply in the ordinary way. Quite strange enough to be a wolf-pup in this sceptical age; I can see Jill's insistence upon the point, sometimes.