Dog days of April

April 15 through 17 was the weekend of the New England Folk Festival (NEFFA). I have not missed one since 1988, though having Olive complicates things. I could leave her at Candlewick, but overnight lodging is expensive; I would rather use that option for the Old Songs festival in June and fiddle camp in July. I was resigned to not going this year, then my cousin’s daughter Lisa offered to stay with Olive for a day at my house while she studied for her upcoming LSAT exams. So on Sunday morning I left home very early and drove out to Mansfield MA to catch the last day of the festival, checking in with Lisa by phone during the afternoon.

(I had also considered marching that day to support women’s rights, but the situation was NOW or NEFFA…….Why am I suddenly ducking rotten tomatoes?)

I was glad to make it early enough to get an excellent parking space, and to catch the first session of the festival, which included an Italian jam session. Italian folk music is surprisingly hard to find, considering the huge Italian-American population here in the Northeast. The tunes played were somewhat in the realm of pop music rather than folk, though I still had a good time. The rhythms are different from Celtic or American fiddle music, but I was able to play them and thoroughly enjoyed the session. Immediately afterward there was a New England jam in the same space, which I stayed for and enjoyed as well. During the rest of the day I browsed the various arts and craft booths, caught some performances and a fiddle workshop, and ran into a number of old friends. I ended the festival with contra dancing at the traditional "end of festival" dance in the main hall. In all I had a good day.

My niece Lisa? Not as much. Although she told me she had fun with Olive, the dog pestered her to toss the ball, take her for walks, and otherwise play most of the day. Lisa, a serious student, did not get as much done as she had hoped. Nonetheless, she had my gratitude for watching my border collie. I picked up something for her at the festival and hope to get it to her soon.

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I am happy to report that my friends’ cat, the one Olive attacked some weeks ago, is doing well. I am still flabbergasted that Olive would do anything of the sort; just yesterday morning a cat came up to her and Olive didn’t even flinch. It was as if the cat was an old friend. Nonetheless, I know now to watch Olive around cats.

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People have remarked to me how much having a dog is like having a small kid. Well, Olive developed a case of diarrhea a few days ago that lasted through Friday. I have always been meticulous about cleaning up after her, but when her poop is the consistency of melted ice cream, how does one pick that up? A small amount here, a small amount there. At one point a lady ran out of her  house to yell at me for not cleaning up. I apologized and showed her the plastic bag I was carrying, but how can I clean that up off the grass? It looked like rain anyway (and did rain heavily that night) so that it wouldn’t last long. The lady calmed down, though she did seem annoyed.

Friday afternoon it showed no sign of abating, even though Olive was eating well and as lively and enthusiastic about walks etc. as ever, so I called the veterinarian’s office. The vet prescribed some pills, which I was able to pick up a few hours later.  I stopped at a deli on the way home and got a quarter pound of thin sliced roast beef to wrap the pills in to get Olive to take them. The ruse worked quite well, though I suppose some would say it’s an expensive way to get a dog to take her medicine. By Saturday night Olive seemed to be back to normal, though I am following the vet’s directions to keep giving her the pills twice per day until the pills are used up, which will be Wednesday morning. I’m just glad my dog is ok.

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The other day I was walking Olive when we met a corgi with his human. Olive and the corgi seemed to get along well until the human mentioned that it was the corgi’s birthday. I said “happy birthday” to the corgi and started petting him. At that Olive started growling, as if to warn the corgi away from me. It seems that Olive has decided that I am hers alone, and that other dogs had better stay clear. In other words, she is jealous! I keep telling her that she has nothing to worry about, even if I pet another dog I am hers exclusively. Whether talking to her does much good is questionable.