Long Walks With Hektor in Cobble Hill

Ce soir, le vent qui frappe à ma porte,
Me parle des amours mortes,
Devant le feu qui s' éteint.
Ce soir, c'est une chanson d' automne,
Dans la maison qui frissonne,
Et je pense aux jours lointains.

Que reste-t-il de nos amours?
Que reste-t-il de ces beaux jours?
Une photo, vieille photo,
De ma jeunesse.

Que reste-t-il des billets doux?
Des mois d' avril, des rendez-vous?
Un souvenir qui me poursuit,
Sans cesse.

Bonheur fané, cheveux au vent,
Baisers volés, rêves mouvants.
Que reste-t-il de tout cela?
Dites-le-moi.

Un petit village, un vieux clocher,
Un paysage si bien caché,
Et dans un nuage le cher visage,
De mon passé.

Les mots, les mots tendres qu'on murmure.
Les caresses, les plus pures.
Les serments au fond des bois.
Les fleurs qu'on retrouve dans un livre,
Dont le parfum vous enivre,
Se sont envolés pourquoi?

One of my favorite activities is to take Hektor out for a long walk around the neighborhood. I walk with an iPod mini in my lefthand jacket pocket, Hektor's leash handle in my righthand pocket, and we stroll from one pretty brownstone-lined street to another, in search for adventure, or just the random lovely scene.

Recently, my iPod has been playing Charles Trenet's Greatest Hits album on repeat. There is a distinctly magical air about walking around this neighborhood with big band French music playing in my ears; the music transforms everything. I find myself ignoring the parked cars and seeing these old streets in soft focus. Anytime now, a horse-drawn carriage will be rolling around the corner, and stopping in front of a gas lamp. The wrought iron balustrades leading up to the homes grow and swirl into a wall of metal vines and flowers. It is fin-de-siècle, only not of this past century, but of the one before that.

I still go through bouts of ennui in the middle of this seemingly unending winter, but there are bright lights on the horizon: my friend and I are starting a letterpress business; I have finally gathered enough courage to indulge myself in penniless, artful pursuits; life without the 9-to-5 is gloriously thrilling, and my soul is fed by this freedom. I never want to go back.

Pigface Killah

As of January 31, 2009, six weeks since his last measuring, these are Hektor's measurements:
- Neck: 14.75" behind the ears (+1.5"), 14" on the lower neck above the shoulders (+1")
- From nose to tail along his back, 23.5" (+0.5")
- Withers: 15" (+2")
- Chest circumference, 22" (+0.5")
- Weight, 23 lbs (+4 pounds)
- Width of face at widest part, 6.5" (+1.75")

Hektor is officially six months old! The little rascal has learned to sit by the door when he needs us to take him out, so we've been doing considerably less mopping, thank goodness. We've also been teaching him "Drop it" to prevent all the mouthy tussling that generally accompanies any game of Fetch. He's still not that good at it, but he loves treats, and so learns quickly.

I find myself missing him when I'm away from him for most of the day. Hektor is always glad to have us come home, and wiggles his butt into our arms. He's a lot less nippy now that his adult teeth are all almost in, so most of the excitement translates into frantic licks at my fingers, knees, and toes. I am followed everywhere I go in the house, and can hardly get a pee in without having him hang out on the bath rug with me. I was forewarned by the breeder that this is the case with Frenchies, but I am happy that he is my constant companion.

His current leash is not a quick release type leash, and so since his head has grown too large for us to remove it, we'll have to cut the leash off soon. His head is finally catching up to the rest of his body, so he doesn't look like a pinhead anymore. I'm also used to his heft, and no longer groan when I hoist him into my arms when I go up and down the stairs. It's amazing that he is the size he is already, since I see other Frenchies in the neighborhood who were considerably larger than Hektor only a couple of months ago, and now, Hektor has outgrown them. He used to crawl through some wrought iron fencing to get to a tree where he had his usual pee spot, but the arches in the fencing are now too small for him to fit his head through, nevermind his body. They grow up so fast ::tear::.

Hektor has his first playdate with a 1.5 year-old Golden Retriever, Sebastien. I hope Hektor plays nice and isn't an asshole. I would think the same if I were bringing my kid to his/her first playdate, because you never want the being whom you are raising to ever be considered an asshole.