One Photograph, One Story
Always Charlie First
Charlie is coming to see what I'm doing.
I know that look.
He has just come in from outside, made his way through the kitchen and down the hall, and found me lying on the sofa.
This is not merely a social call.
I am about to be searched for treats.
Always.
I mean always.
Charlie operates under the assumption that at any given moment I may be concealing food somewhere on my person. Evidence accumulated over the years has apparently convinced him that no previous unsuccessful inspection has any bearing whatsoever on the likelihood of success this time.
And so he comes looking for me.
That's how this photograph happened.
No composition. No carefully considered camera angle. I was lying on the sofa, Charlie appeared in the doorway, and I had just enough time to aim.
Click.
Only afterward did I realize I'd accidentally photographed quite a lot more than the dog.
If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man. - Mark Twain
He Knows the Way
Charlie has routes through House 173. His usual trip after coming through the back door takes him through the kitchen and toward the living room by way of this little crossroads in the house. To the right, the hall leads back toward the kitchen. To the left, it continues toward the front door and enclosed porch.
Straight ahead on this particular afternoon was me.
His people matter to him. If someone has disappeared, Charlie would prefer to know where that person went.
Presumably this is affection.
It may also be inventory control.
There are variations in his route.
Sunday mornings are different.
After his long Sunday morning walk, Charlie comes through the kitchen, heads through the dining room and makes directly for the sofa.
It doesn't matter whether the sofa is already occupied.
This is information Charlie regards as irrelevant.
He just dives in.
He also has a cushy bed in the kitchen, strategically located where he can supervise cooking and, on days when I'm telecommuting, keep an eye on both me and the possibility that somebody might accidentally drop something edible.HOUSE 173 NOTE
Charlie likes to know where his people are. After coming inside, he'll often make his way through the house to find us. Finding us, however, does not conclude the investigation. Pockets must still be checked for treats.
At night he sleeps in his kennel.
He loves his kennel.
Otherwise, Charlie sleeps pretty much wherever Charlie decides Charlie should sleep.
There are few zoning regulations governing beagles at House 173.
Then I Started Looking Behind Him
Charlie is what I see first in this photograph.Always Charlie first.
But then my eye starts wandering.
Look at the sunlight.
It has come through the house and landed across the old wooden door, turning the lower panels almost orange. It catches the floor. It touches the casing. It brings out grain in wood that has been here much longer than we have.
The stairs behind Charlie are original.
So is the railing.
So are the doors and their casings.
That woodwork was one of the things we fell in love with when we first saw House 173, and one of the reasons we bought the place.
Nearly a century later, it's still in remarkably good condition.
It could use some refreshing.
That's on the list.
Of course it is.
At House 173, there is always a list.
And then there are all the little things that have accumulated around that old woodwork.
Look beside the stairs and you'll see a black rotary telephone.
It doesn't work.
Yet.
I keep a mental list of things I'd like to repair someday, and getting that old telephone working again has been on it for quite a while.
The stand underneath it is another story.
I built that back in 2011 from scrap lumber, turning odds and ends into a little shabby-chic telephone stand. Fifteen years later, it's still there doing exactly the job I built it to do.
Down on the lower shelf is a little Tiffany-style lamp with a squirrel worked into the glass.
It comes on with a timer each evening and casts a gentle, warm light into the front hall until bedtime.
It is one of those small things about a house that hardly seems worth mentioning.
Until it isn't there.
The Bells on the Door
Look closely at the doorknob behind Charlie and you'll see something hanging from it.
They're Christmas bells, the sort you might imagine attached to a horse's harness.
We hung them there years ago because we liked the sound they made when the door moved.
That's really the whole story...
We liked the sound.
So they stayed.
Years passed.
They're still there.
That's the thing I keep finding in this photograph.
Almost nothing in it was arranged.
The telephone wasn't put there for the picture.
Neither was the lamp.
Nobody positioned the bells.
I certainly didn't arrange the sunlight.
Even Charlie wasn't cooperating.
He was conducting an investigation.
And somehow all those unrelated things came together for the fraction of a second it took me to press the button.
Always Charlie First
Maybe that's why I like the odd angle so much.
Had I stood up, straightened the camera and deliberately photographed the hallway, I probably would have made a better photograph of the house.
Instead, I stayed on the sofa, and I got this.
Charlie coming around the corner.
One paw forward.
That look on his face.
Sunlight pouring across ninety-nine-year-old wood.
One paw forward.
That look on his face.
Sunlight pouring across ninety-nine-year-old wood.
The staircase we fell in love with when we bought the place.
A telephone stand I made from scrap lumber fifteen years ago.
An old phone waiting patiently for me to fix it.
A squirrel lamp waiting for evening.
Christmas bells that somehow never came down.
None of those things is particularly important by itself.
Together, they're home.
And right in the middle of all of it is a beagle who has just come in from outside, has located one of his people, and is now approaching the sofa to answer life's most pressing question:
Does he have a treat?
Probably.
______________________________
Keep Wandering
There's more to see around House 173. Choose one below and wander in.
From Scrap Lumber to Shabby Chic Phone Stand
That little table behind Charlie began as scrap lumber in the House 173 workshop. Here's how it ended up beside the stairs.
READ THE STORY →
Charlie's Path: A Beagle's Trail Through the Garden
Charlie isn't exactly a background character around here. Continue with another story about the pooch who has made House 173 his home.
READ THE STORY →
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
