And the song in my head eludes me...

I've finally given up, after realizing with shock that I spent two hours looking for it. The only lyrics I remember are:

Life goes on, given the slightest chance
For the weak or the strong, life goes on

and it would have transformed your life in Ghandi-esque ways, but now I guess not so much.

Total waste of time, and I have no time to waste. Two stakeholders will be arriving tomorrow evening or maybe Thursday, and I've work to do to welcome them properly. Woke up this morning at 3:30ish, and all was well: Magnus taking up about a quarter of the total floor space, Fritz on the other couch, Little Bear in what has become his favorite space beside my bed, cuddled next to my plastic leg, Ghost under a juniper outside, guarding his domain, Click on her bed in the loft. Since Butch bought it some months ago I can't relax on waking until I've inventoried all the critters and assured myself that nobody's disappeared during the night. Little Bear always starts his nights asleep on the porch and then comes in sometime during the night; if I ever reach down on waking and not find his fuzzy hide under my hand, I'll probably panic right through the roof.

Little Bear is now a significant percentage of Magnus' size, but with his stumpy legs still can't jump onto my bed. He's worked out his own technique: getting his front paws on the bed, shoving his head under my arm and then lifting his head and picking himself up by the muscles in his neck until he tumbles onto the mattress. At maybe three months old. Gad, he's going to be a powerful creature. If I tried that I'd spend the rest of my life in traction. My technique for dealing with him at Snacky Time isn't going to work much longer; I've been putting him and his plate on a shelf so the other dogs won't bother him and he won't bother them but he's growing so fast he pretty much doesn't fit any more. He's going to have to take his chances. A couple of evenings ago he tried to dispute Ghost's leftover snacky with Magnus and got the fonging of his life, and I suspect he'll get a few more before he's done. It's startling to watch, but no harm ever comes of it: Magnus roars in outrage, Little Bear squeals in terror, fangs flash and spittle flies and you'd swear somebody (not Magnus) is being torn limb from limb. But the jaws never quite close on flesh so long as there's instant submission which there always is. One day within the next year Little Bear may not submit when Magnus tries that, after which somebody might need a trip to the vet and I'm not totally sure that when the time comes it'll be Little Bear. But that's karma. Nothing I can do about it.

This is a momentous week, and I admit I'm getting a bit nerved up. This time when the stakeholders come, at least two of them, they're not going away again. I've lived by myself here in the boonies for so long now that I'm going to have to learn how to deal with people every day all over again. No more, Joel the Hermit. I joked with S&L Sunday morning that after a few weeks of that I may be living in a tent out yonder. Most of the boys will enjoy having more people to interact with, but to be honest I'm not totally sure I will. But that's karma too: I knew the Master of Solitude phase would come to an end sometime. There'll be more dogs as well, and I'm very interested to see how the boys will react to that. Last time, it didn't go so well.

I should go to town and prepare food for a special welcome feast, but with unexpected expenses last month and this I don't have any money so I'm afraid they'll have to pretend to enjoy bread and fried rice. But everything's in good repair; all I need to do is dust some surfaces and shovel some dog poop, and the place will be as shipshape as I can make it.