The Beddie Bye dilemma

Yesterday marked the last time I'll ride my bike to coffee cult. In the future, I'll probably drive since the route is eight miles further. I won't forget yesterday's ride because it was such a glorious morning for pedaling to and from DiLuna's. I even enjoyed one of those moments while passing Farmin School where we suddenly look at the world around us, take in the fresh morning air, welcome the breeze blowing against our faces and thank God for being alive. Good weather fosters that appreciation.

This week marks a lot of lasts. As mentioned earlier, I'll mow the yard for the last time. I'll walk the fields around the house and try to fix the special images enjoyed every day for 30 years in my mind: the pond, the view of that old red barn from the road, a few more trips to its interior, including a climb up the ladder to the hay mow for one last peek out the south opening toward the airport, to town and over to Goobys.

We'll see the cars coming and going to work for the last time: Larry Book driving by with his John Deere lawn mowing tractor, Karen Feist headed to the store, the Gooby's taking a jaunt to their north field and their Christmas trees, Doyle Reader behind the wheel of that gray pickup bound for a contracting job, the folks in Nick's subdivision and those in Crooked Lane, many of whom always wave. Soon we will no longer see Perry Palmer headed to his heavy equipment shop or the dozens of Quest employees turning onto Turbine Drive just north of our pasture.

One "last" that really concerns me is the last time I call Annie Dog and her two feline friends for "Beddie Bye." They sleep in the bunkhouse at night. When Beddie Bye comes each evening around 8:30, all cats know to report to their assigned areas. Annie Dog knows she needs to report but doesn't always comply right away. So, Kiwi heads to the bunkhouse and waits for her pal. Licker and Fuzzy Wuzzy play hard to get, but they eventually trot on in to the shed where they sleep on a large bed next to Annie.

While I'm still yelling "Beddie Bye" and beckoning for that yellow dog to show up, Lonesome Love and Festus are waiting in the wings, either under the cars or near the nut tree. Once Annie's in the bunkhouse, Lonesome and Festus usually report to the house for their nightly slumber. Charlie's already inside waiting to stare at them each evening and to stare at that black-and-white charged up pup that usually disorders the peace and quiet inside for half an hour or so.

The last Beddie Bye time at this Love house signals some nervous days ahead for my menagerie. I've been trying to tell them about the move to the new home, but they're still content to beg for more Meow Mix or go flop on the couch for a nice nap. They seem pretty unconcerned.

I wish there were a way to prepare these much beloved pets for the upcoming trauma to their routine. I know they'll all be staying inside for a while as they get familiar with the smells of their new home---the house, the barn and surrounding fields. Eventually, however, they'll have the freedom to explore new territory. They'll establish new boundaries for just how far they'll wander each day before returning for that nightly Beddie Bye drill.

I'm hoping that all my beloved critters soon realize that Beddie Bye may be different from what they're used to, but their human friends will remain the same, continuing to love and care for them in Selle just like they've done all these years on Great Northern Road.