They're both upset, realizing we'll be leaving the house to do the week's grocery shopping. Jackie is especially out of sorts. He refuses the usual little cheese treats while I'm setting the table for breakfast. On our return from shopping, he refuses the usual offerings of cauliflower florets that Jillie snaps up. He won't eat his breakfast even though it's been topped with barbecued chicken bits. He doesn't want his half of the hard-boiled egg we prepared for their after-breakfast treat. He mopes, his tender feelings hurt. And he won't be tempted.

The supermarket wasn't crowded. Most people still wear their masks, though many, including those with pre-teens accompanying them, eschew masks. Nobody, however, makes as though to crowd out anyone else. We keep getting surprised by price increases every time we do our shopping. I've got to the stage where I just don't care. We can afford those higher prices, and we're fortunate that we can.

This morning, several people turned to us as we passed by the meat counter, outrage writ large on their countenances, and addressed us with words to match the anger they felt, over constantly rising prices. Irving commiserates with them. It's just that hard on many peoples' disposable income for living necessities. You think items have reached a maximum price, so much more than you know you paid a week ago, but no, prices keep creeping upward.

It's not hard to sympathize with those people for whom this is a calamity. And it makes you wonder how prepared they will be to face additional increases when this government's new regulations on agricultural use of fertilizers comes into effect. As though the carbon tax increases doing their part to make deliveries of all products more expensive isn't enough. 

 

We usually go to the same cashier every week; he's friendly and efficient and just a really good person. I appreciate that he takes the trouble to extract all the items I've placed in a separate bag meant for the Food Bank, ringing them through and replacing them in the bag. Today's contents of the bag reflect the usual weekly non-perishable choices; 4 boxes of Noodle/cheese dinner, four tins of vegetable soup, four cans of tuna, and four cans of flaked chicken.

 

It has turned out to be another in a lovely series of hot, sunny late-summer days. So I wear a sleeveless top and shorts when we shove off to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie. As usual, Irving stops briefly before we descend, to offer tiny cookie treats to the pups. Jackie is disinterested, unusual for him, and Jillie snaps hers up. Less than five minutes later, Jackie begins leaping at Irving's bag until he extracts a cookie and to our surprise, Jackie eats it. His appetite suddenly restored.

 

Along comes a neighbour who lives on the street behind ours, with his great, loping Rhodesian Ridgeback. The dog is gorgeous, a burnished red coat, beautifully conformed, graceful and friendly, though not inclined to hang around longer than it takes to sniff our two pups.

 

Passing through part of one of the trails we call the 'orchard', we remark on how unusual it is that few of the wild apple trees are bearing fruit this year. We see none, unusually, within easy reach. But when we look up into the higher reaches of the branches, there they are, some already turning red. They're too high to be reached when they do mature enough to be eaten. Usually the lower reaches are hung with apples ripening; not this year.