Window

I note, tentatively, that spring is here in Michigan. This weekend, worried that the elevated temperatures would leave us sweating in the house, the beloved tackled taking down a few storm windows and putting on screens. Our safe house has the old double hung windows with equally old storm windows and screens to be exchanged twice a year. I believe on the main floor, all of the windows, storms, and screens are original to the house. Given that things were more handcrafted than manufactured when the house was built, each of the screens and storms is slightly differently. Part of the project is always matching the screen to the window. Another part of the project is ensuring that the screens are on windows that open and stay open; some of the old windows are warped and only open a few inches. As you can imagine, this is not a project I relished; I had hoped, desperately, that we would be gone from Michigan by the time the mercury rose. Life seems to not be matching my expectations of late.

I am grateful to the beloved for accepting this task. This morning, as I write, there is a breeze wafting through the house. Vita was sitting in front of a screened window on the second floor while morning sun came in and then she padded downstairs and sat in front of another screen, breathing in deeply the smells of outside.

Over the weekend, Tibe and the beloved practiced looking out the window. Tibe is getting very good at this activity. It is not as easy as you might think. Tibe’s instinct, since we first adopted him, has been to rush up to a window and bark and bark and bark, particularly if there is anything outside moving. He wants us to know, danger lurks just beyond our den. For a year now, our training has been focused on helping Tibe walk away from a window when called. He does that more reliably now. He also has come to understand that he can look out the window at what is happening outside if he does not bark.

That final dependent clause is the hard part. Who wouldn’t want to bark at a rabbit scampering across the front yard pausing to eat a dandelion? And don’t we want to know when a woman in a blue uniform is walking up to the house carrying boxes, perhaps laden with explosives today instead of the usual books? Isn’t it really the polite thing to do to bark when another dog walks by so that he knows this is the home of the great and powerful Tiberius and the equally great and powerful Emma, though she may be snoring at the moment? Sitting at the window and not barking seems counterintuitive to our beloved little Tibe.

Yet, he is learning. This weekend, he and the beloved watched the rabbit in the front window–and later in the day, he watched another rabbit out the back window without making a peep.

He has not yet learned that what he sees out of the back bedroom window on the second floor is not visible from the front windows downstairs. Nor has he learned that there is a connection between sound and sight. Hearing something does not drive him to the window to look. At this moment, we are thankful that he has not gained that insight. We will continue to look out the window with Tibe in wonderment at the natural world around us. The magnolia tree is blooming. The smoke tree is budding. Each day, multiple rabbits visit. Tibe loves the world around him. I am almost starting to believe: the world loves him too.

I’ve learned something about windows and barking. All of that barking at the front picture window back in the house in Maryland? He was right to bark with crazy warnings. Those people near our house were bigots. They were planning an attack. They were evil. We should have been more careful. We should have known the Cossacks were at our door. Tibe was right to warn us. He tried to tell us, barking and barking: be careful; they have ill will; they will harm us. He warned us. He was right. We did not listen.

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