Scruffy Dogs

Sense of Time

2011-09-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

Kirby: Forget work, it's time for play.

One thing our dogs seem to be particularly good at is knowing what time it is. Baxter and Kirby have little internal bio-clocks that tell them precisely when it is time to get up in the morning, to go for a walk, to take an afternoon nap, to paw at my chair to stop me from working for the day, to eat dinner and to go to bed. And they are spot-on. Daily. I could teach these guys to punch a time clock.

This seems quite remarkable to me, for even though I possess the capability of reading a clock, I still manage to lose track of large periods of time, particularly when I'm focused on projects.

For a person whose work requires me to keep track of my time in 15-minute increments all day long (and I am meticulous about it, mind you), I'm a remarkably time-impaired person by nature. Perhaps it is the rigor of keeping track of my work time that makes me so prone to losing track of my personal time. Or perhaps, out of some need to impose a sense of time on myself, I have gravitated toward work that forces me to account for exactly what I'm doing and how long I spend doing it. I may never know.

One thing I do know is that the time I spend on creative pursuits is time I don't mind losing track of. When I'm in the right frame of mind, I can lose hours on my writing. And when I emerge out the other side, I feel rejuvenated. That escape from time is like a vacation. If I didn't have that capacity to lose track of time, I'm sure the entire creative experience wouldn't happen, or at least it wouldn't happen as well, because I'd be too locked into the here and now.

I guess I really need to be there and then sometimes.

The Frustrations of Age

2011-08-24T14:29:00.000-07:00

Every time I see Baxter trotting along the beach with absolute glee I am reminded that age need not diminish one's joie de vivre. When we took the dogs to the coast last week, both Baxter and Kirby sprinted with glee as soon as we removed their leashes. But this time out, like the last couple of times, Baxter's sprint was short-lived and he soon settled into an easy lope.

For a 12-1/2 year old dog, Baxter can still cover a lot of ground pretty quickly, as long as he can run straight ahead, but anything that requires a quick turn is problematic. At the beach, when a couple of younger dogs approached and wanted to instigate a chase, Kirby was quick to take them up on their offer. Baxter, however, seems to have finally resigned to the fact that he just can't play like that anymore. He gave the dogs a playful look and the slightest play-bow, then just took a couple of steps and stopped to watch the action as the younger dogs circled around us. I could hear a hint of a whimper coming from him. He so wanted to engage in that chase, but his hips just said "no way."

It is hard to watch a dog that still has so much verve being held back by his aging body. He can still get up on the couch (thanks to a step my husband made), but we now need to lift him into the car. We've started giving him S3 chews, which seem to have helped put a little more spring in his step, and aspirin (OK'd by the vet for occasional use) seems to ease his discomfort when he obviously over-does it at the beach.

But in the past couple of weeks, for the first time since he was a small puppy, Baxter has been hesitant to climb the stairs. My husband and I each have offices in the upper level of our house, so every morning the dogs dutifully follow us upstairs and then the dogs make the rounds from one office to the other throughout the day. But lately, instead of following us, Baxter stays downstairs and after a few minutes he barks with a rather shrill tone, as if to say "hey, you guys left me down here!" When we go down to see what's the matter, he just stands there at the base of the stairs, as if he were waiting for something. With a little encouragement, he then makes his way up the stairs along with us, and he moves surprisingly well.

I don't know if he's feeling pain or if he's just not confident that his legs won't buckle and he wants someone there to go up the stairs with him, just in case. Either way, he doesn't seem to be suffering any ill effects once he gets on level ground. But all this just serves to remind me that Baxter is getting older, that despite the eagerness of the front half of his body, he does have some arthritis and nerve issues with his hips and back legs and they just don't work like they used to. It is clearly frustrating to him. And, frankly, it is frightening for me. At times it's all I can do to keep my mind from racing to the inevitable.

I was encouraged when the vet told us that, other than his hindquarters, the rest of Baxter's body is very healthy for his age. He eats well, poops well (which sounds gross unless you are a dog person...we know), sleeps well and still likes to play from time to time. He loves lying down on the patio next to me on warm summer days when I take my laptop outside. He revels in his morning walk which isn't quite as fast as it used to be (but I'm enjoying the lack of pulling). These are the things I hang onto, when my mind starts racing forward.

Baxter is still Baxter. He loves life. And I love every minute I spend with him.

Happy 5th Birthday, Kirby!

2011-07-11T15:53:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday was Kirby's 5th birthday. I can't quite believe it. Five years old. I still think of him as "the puppy" most of the time.

In all honesty, we can't be quite certain exactly when Kirby was born, as he was pretty much feral at the time, or so we've been told. July 7th-ish was the veterinarian's best guess based on his puppy-to-adult teeth progression.

All we know is that somewhere, on a farm near Red Bluff, California, Kirby and his litter-mates were born to a sweet, collie-shepherd-looking mother who obviously wasn't getting much attention from her "owners." At some point the litter of pups was discovered, rounded up and brought into the shelter along with Mom (Meg) and Grandma.

While it would have been better if Meg had been spayed and paid attention to by her original human family, she did manage to have some adorable puppies (but aren't they all, really?) and Mom, Grandma and all the pups eventually were adopted. Whew for happy endings there.

As you know from reading this blog, it took a while to get the wildness out of Kirby, especially when it came to being comfortable around strangers. But through a lot of love and reassurance, he has grown into a cheerful, friendly, playful, at times impish, and always sweet little dog. Yes, he still runs under the sofa when he hears a loud noise and he barks like crazy when someone comes to the door, but that's all pretty normal for a fast-twitch-response little dog like Kirby.

As I sit here at my desk, Kirby is curled up comfortably at my feet -- his usual spot. And it's weird to think how very different his life might have been if he and his siblings hadn't been rounded up and brought into the shelter when they were still young enough to adapt well to life with humans. I also sometimes wonder about the rest of his litter-mates. I bet they are adorable. I hope they are happy and well cared-for. I kept in touch with the shelter for a while, and, surprisingly, there was talk of a "Meg-puppy" reunion at some point, but apparently the person working at the shelter who took a liking to that particular litter and cared enough to entertain the idea, either left or decided not to respond to email anymore. He had a pretty stressful and thankless job at times, I'm sure, with far too many dogs to just get adopted let alone schedule reunions for.

In any case, we are delighted to have Kirby in our family. And even though Baxter still seems a bit annoyed by Kirby's unrelenting enthusiasm at times, he seems to enjoy Kirby's companionship as well. Baxter has been a good teacher and Kirby has benefited greatly from Baxter's calm, well-mannered demeanor.

So they both got extra biscuits to celebrate Kirby's special day, and Kirby had the annual photo session with Jamie, which resulted in this adorable shot. I can't tell you how often I see that little crescent of white in Kirby's eye, usually when he's about to challenge me to a game of tug-o-war or suggesting to me that I really, really, really ought to give him a piece of whatever I'm eating. I'm charmed.

Happy 5th Birthday, Kirby, and many more!

Baxter, Kirby and Jennifer in The Bark

2011-07-11T11:32:00.000-07:00

This morning I received an email notifying me that our picture is featured on The Bark in their "Me and My Dog" section... Woohoo! Our 15 minutes of scruffy dog fame!

Special thanks to Jamie Newton for the great photography and to mother nature for a perfect day at the beach.

Portugal's Scruffy Dogs and a Reykjavik Chihuahua

2011-05-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

Lagos

My husband and I just returned from a fantastic vacation in Europe, and, of course, we have hundreds of pictures of the beautiful Algarve region around Salema, Portugal where we spent a week; Paris, France where we spent most of the next week; and Reykjavik, Iceland where we spent a too-short three days on the way home. But I'm not going to share all those beautiful pictures here...not the role of this blog. Instead, of course, I'm going to share pictures of some of the scruffy dogs we encountered in Portugal -- running free, unfettered by leash laws or protective humans.

Most of the dogs we saw in Portugal were scruffy. Some by breed or hair type, but most because they hadn't had a bath or brushing in quite a while, if ever. That's not to say the Portuguese don't love their dogs. They certainly have a lot of them around and the dogs all seem quite healthy and happy. But as to the guardianship of any particular dog, that wasn't immediately obvious -- the dogs at seem to be more wards of the community... constant, roaming features of the Algarve landscape. Based on stories told to me by my grandparents, this is much the way small town dogs lived here in the US a couple of generations ago, in the days before things like doggy daycare and puppy beauty spas. But the dogs clearly knew who their humans were...

Salema

In the town of Salema, a small fishing village on the southwest coast of Portugal, early morning was the most interesting time of the day for observations of local life, both human and canine.

We saw a scruffy little dog trotting cheerfully with a boy and girl, accompanying them to the school bus stop. Children delivered and mission accomplished, he then went about his other job of roaming the cobblestone streets, sniffing and marking all the light poles, shrubs and parked cars.

Salema

We walked down to the beach not long after sunrise to find the locals already busy at work. A group of men, most of whom appeared to be well beyond middle-age and all of whom were wearing the same kind of wool driving cap perched high on their heads, gathered around a lean-to next to the beach. They untangled fishing lines and nets, prepared plastic tubs and waited for the fishing boats to come in.

Salema

The dogs also arrived early and took their places along the beach. Some waited on the sidewalk, others roamed the rocks and driftwood at the edge of the high tide's last sweep. At first I wasn't sure what they were waiting for (it seems dogs in Portugal are always waiting for someone...at the door of a pub, a store or, in this case, on a beach). One black dog ran out to the edge of the water -- his ship was coming in. Well, boat is more like it. The fishing boats in Salema are usually small one- or two-man boats, not the large boats I'm used to seeing in our local harbors. The dog waited patiently for the boat to drive up on shore (yes, the boats just drive straight up onto the beach), at which point the boat was chained to a tractor that pulled it up the beach to the area next to the lean-to. The black dog excitedly welcomed his fisherman home and the cadre of wool-hatted men went about emptying the boat and sorting the fish. It was quite something to watch.

(Sidenote: As soon as the boats came in they were swarmed by dozens of the local cats, most of whom seemed feral, sickly thin and mangy looking...definitely not faring as well as the local dogs. As soon as the fish were unloaded, the cats jumped into the boats and cleaned out the detritus and remains of fish that were caught in the nets. There always seemed to be a few dozen cats hanging around, largely ignored by the dogs.)

Cabo de São Vicente

This grumpy old dog came out as soon as the gates opened at Cabo de São Vicente. He was intent on digging something out from under that door and was very annoyed when we tried to distract him long enough for a photo. Eventually he gave up and decided to lie down for a nap and tourist photo op.

Podengo at Praia do Castelejo

Finally, we got a picture of what I believe to be Grande and/or Medio Podengo -- the national dog of Portugal. We saw two of them wandering the hills around Praia do Castelejo. The smaller one greeted us as we drove up the road toward the beach and then proceeded to watch us from above. The larger one was napping on a hillside covered with white flowers. Every once in a while he would stand to survey the landscape, turn around a few times and lie back down in the sun.

Salema

In the afternoon, we would see dogs stretched out napping in the shade or curled up next to the boats.

In the larger city of Lagos, east of Salema, the city dogs also roamed free. This one, below, wasn't exactly scruffy, but her eyes were mesmerizing. I love this picture (like all of the others, courtesy of my photographer/artist husband, Jamie).


Not exactly scruffy, but the most soulful eyes...	Lagos

This Spanish Water Dog in Salema was a tourist roaming the beaches with his human. At first I thought he was a small Portuguese Water Dog (after all, we were in Portugal) but when I inquired, his owner quickly corrected me. The dog was cute, but not very friendly and I'm not sure how Jamie got this picture because he never stopped moving...

Spanish Water Dog in Salema

We didn't get any great dog pictures in Paris this time... but we couldn't resist this decidedly non-scruffy Chihuahua in a store window in Reykjavik, Iceland. At first I thought he was part of a display, then he opened his eyes, blinked and went back to sleep.

Reykjavik Chihuahua

That's it for this edition of "Portugal's Scruffy Dogs." I hope to return as soon as possible to continue my research (and enjoy more of those long, lazy, warm days by the beach).

Katie: My First Scruffy Dog

2011-03-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

Katie - 1979

We've been busy going through old boxes...finding things we haven't seen since the past move (or two). Today I ran across this photo of my first dog, Katie. Katie had all the spark, spunk and sweetness one would expect from a Cairn Terrier. She was a fierce protector of our home and had a growl that sounded more like a doberman than a 15-pound terrier. Yet she had the patience to put up with me dressing her up in costumes, complete with hats and sunglasses, and stood still while I took pictures (those must be in an album somewhere...) Katie could "smile" on cue and she had a large repertoire of other tricks which she only performed when she darn well felt like it and/or when you had food to offer. Come to think of it, I never did get her to smile while also being dressed up...

Katie was a natural-born hunter, catching rodents in our yard and dropping them by the back door like a cat. She didn't much care for small dogs, but she was absolutely smitten with the neighbor's gigantic Alaskan Malamute.

Katie ruled the roost at our house. We doted on her, gave her free run of anything and treated her like a queen. She slept in my bed and managed to take up most of it, despite her diminutive size. When I left to walk to school in the mornings, I would look back and see Katie, sitting on the edge of my bed, peering out the window, watching me go, as my mom stood behind her waving. Katie was always the first to the door to welcome me home in the afternoon (Mom was close behind).

In the summer Katie and I spent many an afternoon playing in the shade of the big elm tree in the back yard. She helped me through my adolescence and she patiently listened to all of my teenage problems. I have no idea what she thought about all of it, but when she looked straight at me with those shiny, dark brown eyes, I felt like she understood, and somehow I always felt better.

Katie -- my first dog, my confidant, my friend, you will always hold a special place in my heart!

New Tags Use Barcodes to ID Lost Pets

2011-03-07T23:07:00.000-08:00

I have to admire a tech website that launches with a pet-related story on the home page. It's not often my geek nature and my dog-loving nature collide so happily. The new GeekWire tech news site, which just launched today, includes a story about PetHub, a Seattle startup that's now selling pet ID tags that have barcodes on the back (see: Where's Fido? High-tech tags help pet owners retrieve lost pals).

Instead of the old fashioned methods of going door-to-door, tacking a found pet's photo to a light pole or taking Fido to a shelter to see if he has a microchip, the PetHub ID tag barcodes are readable with smart phone apps that link to a Web "profile page" for your pet, which can provide whatever information you want to share -- an emergency phone number, contact info for your vet's office or a dog daycare, etc.). Cool idea! Although I suppose it won't hit the sweet spot of usefulness until more people have barcode reader apps on their phones. (I confess, I already have one such app...that's the geek nature coming through.)

Canine Ennui and Too Much Pluie

2011-03-02T18:55:00.000-08:00

Baxter - photo by Jamie Newton

Long, cold, rainy days mean neither the dogs nor I get our usual exercise. I have no excuse, as I have a gym membership. The dogs, however, are pretty much stuck inside except for brief forays out to the side lawn. Poor dogs. They have a hard time convincing me to leave my desk and take them for a walk in the rain. I don't melt. I own Gore-tex clothing (after all, I am an Oregonian). No, mostly it's just that I don't really enjoy walking the dogs in the rain... putting on the gear, sloshing through puddles, trying to see between the water spots on my glasses, waiting as the dogs take their sweet time finding just the right spot to do their business, bending down with a poo-bag as rivulets of water cascade over the edge of my raincoat's hood, returning home with muddy feet and realizing I've forgotten to leave a towel by the door...again. I have nothing against rain, mind you. It makes the garden grow. I just get a bit growly about it when there's a tad too much during these short, dark winter days. And I get even growlier when I don't get in my exercise. So it's a growly feedback loop of sorts.

The dogs, on the other hand, just exhibit ennui. They pad around, pick up toys and drop them, gaze out the window, pad around some more and, mostly, sleep. I didn't realize just how bad it had become until the rain stopped for a bit the other day and the dogs got a good walk (with my husband while I was engrossed in a work project). They came in all full of excitement. Baxter chased Kirby around the living room and up the stairs, they played keep-away and tug-o-war and both of them were spinning and hopping with genuine glee. They FINALLY got some exercise!

Of course, playful Baxter, who briefly forgot his age, paid for it later. He seemed a tad stiff. But at least he didn't have that look of ennui in his eyes anymore.

I did. So I finally stepped away from the computer and went to the gym. I didn't return all spinning and gleeful, but I was a tad less growly. Today I suddenly noticed it wasn't dark at 5:00 and that made me feel better too.

Kirby, Colbert & Christiane Amanpurr

2011-02-16T17:31:00.000-08:00

Kirby has an incredible attention span when it comes to watching television, particularly when there are animals involved. The other night he was mesmerized by the Colbert Report and guest "Christiane Amanpurr." I don't think he realizes they can't hear him...

Oh what a nose!

2011-02-08T13:46:00.000-08:00

This article on NPR's site explores the uncanny ability of dogs to sniff-out cancer. According to the study cited in the article, "Japanese researchers report that an eight-year-old black Labrador was 97 percent accurate in nosing out colon cancer..." -- a higher degree of accuracy than any standard test for the disease. Wow! That glorious canine nose reportedly can discriminate at the parts-per-trillion level.

This gives me further pause when I think about going for walks in areas with lots of auto traffic...all that exhaust from cars is right at dog nose level. That even chokes me. It also gives one pause to think about what cedar bedding, strong-smelling perfume and household cleaning products do to the poor dog's sensitive nose. The other day I could hardly taste my meal at a restaurant because the person next to me was wearing so much perfume. I sincerely hope she didn't have dogs at home.

Kirby Demonstrates "Frustration Tolerance"

2011-01-17T19:02:00.000-08:00

I love this video, shot by my husband earlier today. Kirby gets an "A" for impulse control and frustration tolerance...

When Baxter had his tooth pulled we had to feed him nothing but soft food for two weeks (which he loved). To be fair to Kirby, we've been mixing a bit of soft food in with his kibble as well. Kirby always has been the first one to the bowl at mealtime, but this new development has reached near-obsessive proportions. When we take him out in the morning, he does all his business immediately and heads straight for the door. I drag him back to the sidewalk and he begrudgingly follows Baxter and me on our morning walk. Every time we stop, he tries to make a beeline for home. As soon as I let him in the door, he runs at top speed to his dish to see if breakfast has shown up yet.

Every evening about 5:30pm he starts making his little grumble sounds behind my desk chair. If I stand up, he races (no, flies is more like it) down the stairs and comes to a screeching halt in front of his food dish, panting anxiously. Mind you, this dog was two pounds overweight at his last weigh-in at the vet, so he's far from starving. To keep him from diving immediately into his bowl before all the food is in, we've been helping Kirby further develop his impulse control...an area where he does pretty well, but not as well as his big brother, Baxter.

(Funny thing is, if we make Kirby wait before doing something, he always barks as soon as we give him the OK to do whatever he's been waiting patiently to do. It's as if the twitch to move just drives the bark right out of him.)

One of the best pieces of advice I've heard from dog trainers and animal behaviorists is the value of helping your canine companion learn impulse control by developing "frustration tolerance." Making your dog wait before running to retrieve an object or launching out the door are a couple of great examples. By helping your dog develop frustration tolerance you are, in effect, helping them survive in today's world: a world where they are left alone for periods of time in a big house full of tempting items to chew on, where they probably don't get as much time running free as they would like and where the tasty-smelling food bits sitting on the low coffee table are for humans only. In my experience, dogs who have developed a high frustration tolerance are healthier, happier more adaptable creatures. And the same goes for their human companions.

My Psychic iPod

2011-01-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

Ok, this has nothing to do with Scruffy Dogs, but I just had to share what happened to me this morning. I think my iPod Shuffle is psychic. Or maybe an empath. Bear with me here...

Several years ago I was having some trouble with my feet and got some orthotics for my running shoes -- they help immensely, and I've used them to the point they're practically in tatters. So I went to a podiatrist to order another pair. The new ones are slightly different (and, after five or so years of pounding, so are my feet, so that makes sense). I seemed to get along fine while walking, but when I tried running in them the other day I got about a mile and a half away from home when I started getting shooting pains up my foot and leg. I limped home and it took several days for my foot to stop hurting.

Today I decided to get back on the horse. Perhaps it wasn't the orthotic, perhaps I just turned my foot the wrong way or something. So I put on my iPod and headed out the door. First song: "Message in a Bottle" by the Police. I got about three blocks from my house when the pain started shooting up my foot. I swear, the lyric was "sending out an SOS." I walked home and put my old orthotics back into my running shoes.

I headed out the door. First song: "Stupid Girl" by Garbage. Ha. About a half-mile into my run and the song, my foot started hurting again, to the point where I knew I shouldn't continue. I said a few choice words under my breath, turned around and started walking home.

As I walked home, muttering to myself, on came Moby, singing "Oh lordy, trouble so hard..."

I have a psychic iPod Shuffle.

What surgery?

2011-01-11T18:19:00.000-08:00

One would never know that Baxter underwent surgery 8 days ago. At least not by his attitude. Yeah, the large shaved spots and Frankenstein-esque stitches are a giveaway, but Baxter seems to be entirely oblivious to it. He's more energetic than he's been in a long time. Even his slightly arthritic hips seem to be better. I have no idea if this is because of the removal of the lipoma that was intertwined with his hip muscle or if, as I've read in medical articles about humans, the cleaning of his teeth and removal of the abscessed tooth has reduced inflammation in his whole body or if he just feels better not having a toothache. Probably all of the above.

In any case, I don't care. It's as if he were years younger in the matter of a week. And that's pretty cool. I only hope I look and feel as good when I'm pushing 84!

RESULTS: Lumps and Life III

2011-01-08T09:07:00.000-08:00

The veterinarian just called with the results of the pathology report on Baxter's lump -- it was BENIGN! The tumor turned out to be a hemangioma (not a hemangiosarcoma, which was the worst case scenario), and the removal of it is curative. He said they got it all and there's no reason to expect it would return. While it looks considerably different than a lipoma (it's a blood vessel tumor) it's just one of those random lumps dogs sometimes get.

Needless to say, we are all very relieved around here. Baxter, who has seemed entirely back to his normal, earnest, goofy self for the past several days, has no idea why I keep showering him with extra hugs and kisses this morning. But he seems fine with it.

Whew!

Dog Vocabulary

2011-01-07T10:12:00.000-08:00

Today's Science Daily features an interesting article about a border collie that was able to comprehend the names of more than 1000 objects. It describes a study in which Chaser, a border collie, was able to differentiate among objects by name, comprehend multiple names and categories for objects (e.g. toy and frisbee) and even correctly identify novel objects by process of elimination based on knowing the names of all of the other objects.

The border collie people must be all over this one...(I can't tell you how many bumper stickers I've seen around here that say "My border collie is smarter than your honor student"), but I think most people who share their lives with dogs know that this ability to identify objects by name applies to many, if not most, other breeds of dog as well. For example, I know that Baxter not only understands that "slipper" means my fleece slippers, he also understands the concept of an object that humans put on their feet, even though we've never taught it to him. So if I ask him to go get my slippers (which he usually does perfectly, as long as there is a treat waiting for him) and he can't find the slippers (which occasionally happens), he brings down an alternative -- usually a tennis shoe. He came up with that all on his own.

Both Baxter and Kirby seem to know the difference between their toy names. "Ball" is different from "tug" or "bear" or "bunny." And they definitely know that all of the above fall into the category of "toy," which means it's something they can play with and chew on, as opposed to our human objects, which they leave alone. (For anyone who has not visited our home, let me tell you this is quite a feat...as we have a lot of books, art objects, etc. within the dogs' reach and they've never disturbed any of them, not even as puppies.)

It's great to see research into animal intelligence. For a long time many researchers in the animal communication/animal intelligence realm, particularly those like Dr. Irene Pepperberg, who work with "pet" animals as opposed to more exotic ones like dolphins or chimpanzees, have had to go the extra mile to convince other scientists of the value of their work. To some it may seem a waste to study how smart dogs are when most of us who spend time with dogs already know it, but the value goes much broader. It is my hope that as we realize humans are not the only intelligent species on the planet, we will be more likely to show empathy toward non-human species. Perhaps it will help us consider our place in the world in a more humble way and to think about the consequences of our actions and their impact on species other than our own.

Lumps and Life II

2011-01-05T12:43:00.000-08:00

Baxter is doing his best "dog-shui" -- the art of placing himself right where I want to walk. He does this all the time, but today, as I gingerly step over him, I cringe slightly. I am looking down at a big, blue neck wrap and a couple of large, shaved patches on his back and hip, each with 3-4" lines of stitches. Baxter is in a remarkably good mood, all things considered.

Monday he went in to the veterinarian for several procedures: a dental cleaning, extraction of an abscessed tooth and removal of a few of his lumps. Lipomas -- or benign fatty tumors -- are fairly common in older retriever-type dogs, and Baxter has sprouted quite a few of them over the past few years. Our veterinarian does the occasional needle biopsy and usually just leaves them alone as long as they're not otherwise interfering with the dog's health. But because of the placement of a few of Baxter's lumps, our vet said he would take the opportunity to remove them if there were another reason to go under anesthesia. The bad-looking tooth needed to be handled, so Baxter went in for the works on Monday.

I always worry when anyone has to go under anesthesia. In this case I was even more worried due to Baxter's age -- he will be 12 in April. Thank goodness the surgery went well. When we picked him up Monday night Baxter was a bit bleary-eyed and the pain killers made him sway a bit when he was trying to stand still, but he ate, drank water and slept like a log. By yesterday morning, he seemed almost normal -- so much so that we had to keep him from running up the stairs and pulling on his leash when going outside (he's on exercise restriction due to a large lipoma on his hip that had some muscle involvement). Today, without painkillers, it's pretty much Baxter as usual.

Our main concern now is that one of the lumps in Baxter's neck was not a lipoma -- the vet was surprised to see that it was a completely different type of tumor which he could not definitively identify with their equipment. He sent it off to a pathology lab and we should get the results by the end of this week. It could be benign, in which case having it removed means he's out of the woods on that one. If it's malignant, then the type of tumor will dictate next steps. Baxter's blood work was excellent and he has shown no signs of feeling unwell prior to or after the surgery, so that's a good sign that it may be localized and not too invasive.

Still, I am working very hard not to worry. Worry, it seems, comes almost as easily to me as breathing. Keeping it at bay requires conscious acts of self-control and/or complete distraction. Seeing Baxter recovering so quickly, with his sweet, mellow disposition and continued enthusiasm for little things like eating, going outside and being invited up onto the couch, is inspiring to say the least.

So my goal is to stay positive and keep my focus on helping Baxter stay comfortable, heal quickly and come through this as strong and healthy as possible. Any and all good wishes and positive vibes are welcomed!

Mystery Solved: Podengo

2010-12-11T18:56:00.000-08:00

My husband and I were fortunate to spend a couple of weeks in Spain and Portugal this past October. As we wandered along the beaches and through the cobblestone streets of coastal southern Portugal we kept seeing pointy-eared, scruffy dogs -- little ones, medium ones and the occasional big one. We had seen a few similar scruffy dogs in Spain as well. At first we thought they were just very cute terrier crosses. Then as we kept seeing more and more of these scruffy dogs, we started to wonder if they were actually a breed.

Podengo Pequeno

This afternoon I was chatting with a dog-loving friend who asked me if I'd ever heard of the Podengo, a scruffy dog breed from Portugal. I hadn't. This is rare. I'm usually the one my friends turn to and ask: "Do you know what kind of dog that is?"

(As a youth I was desperate to get a puppy, so I memorized the Encyclopedia of Dogs in an attempt to prove to my parents that I was knowledgeable enough to handle the task. I finally got the dog: Katie, the Cairn Terrier, the first of my scruffy dogs. For some reason that near-encyclopedic knowledge of dog breeds has managed to stick with me all these years. I probably could have used that memory space for something more important, like remembering family birthdays or the names of people I've met at work functions, but no).

My friend's comment sent me on a quest to see if the Podengo was that mystery dog we kept seeing all over Portugal. It is. The Podengo comes in smooth coat and wire coat in three sizes: Small (Pequeno), Medium (Medio) and Large (Grande). And it's not just any dog breed from Portugal...it's the national dog breed of Portugal. I guess that explains why they were everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. Rural Portugal doesn't seem to have any sort of enforced leash laws, so these scruffy dogs were running around the countryside, wandering through the city streets and begging for food at restaurants, without their owners anywhere to be found.

Podengo Medio

Obviously I've been remiss in keeping up with the dog times, because, I'm told, this breed is soon to be the hottest must-have dog here in the US. A 2000-year-old hunting breed brought to Iberia by the Phoenecians and now they're being spotted wearing silk dog coats in Manhattan. I guess that's how it goes. And as of January 1, 2011 the Portuguese Podengo Pequeno is eligible to compete in AKC's Miscellaneous Class, which will give it a big boost when all the scruffy dog lovers like me spot these guys trotting around the ring in televised dog shows.

I just hope that their soon-to-be popularity doesn't lead to them being bred indiscriminately. The breed today has almost no genetic disorders and is extremely healthy, smart and well adjusted to family life -- as it has been for millennia. Traces of the Podengo's DNA are found in little, scruffy, pointy-eared dogs all over the world -- pretty much wherever the Portuguese explorers landed -- as the Podengo Pequeno were used as ratters on Portuguese sailing vessels. But it takes only a few generations of poor breeding in puppy mills to destroy a breed. So let's hope, for the sake of the adorable Podengo, that scruffy dog lovers will get their dogs from reputable breeders who are taking care to maintain this ancient breed's wonderful characteristics.

Podengo Grande

We're not looking for another dog at the moment. Baxter and Kirby are plenty of scruffy canine for one small household. If we were ever to get another purebred, it would probably be a Wirehaired Pointing Griffon like Baxter. But I have to admit, the Podengo is pretty cute. And we are hoping to spend another vacation in Portugal some day...

(All photos from the Portuguese Podengo Pequeno Club of America.)

Austin, the Great Dane, on MAX

2010-11-29T11:26:00.000-08:00

I shot these images a few weeks ago, as we were returning from our Spain/Portugal trip. Bleary-eyed and jet-lagged, we were riding the MAX light rail train home from the airport when Austin, the Great Dane, entered and sat down behind us. Needless to say, Austin wasn't supposed to be on MAX, but we were charmed nonetheless. I couldn't resist capturing the moment and neither Austin nor his traveling companion seemed to mind...

Gray Friday and Electric Santa

2010-11-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

This year, in the spirit of giving thanks for all that I have in my life, I have decided to part with some of it. Instead of Black Friday, a day of acquisition, this year I had Gray Friday: a day of pulling out dusty boxes, still packed from the past two home moves, and going through their contents. There was a small part of me that thought "you haven't even considered this stuff for the past three (or, in some cases, nine) years, why don't you just haul it all to the dump?" But the better parts of me -- the sentimental part, the maybe-someone-less-fortunate-could-use-this part, the what-if-this-old-thing-is-worth-something-on-eBay part and, of course, the just-plain-curious part -- just couldn't let things go without having a look.

Gray Friday has paid off in spades. I'm not sure how I got by for all those Christmases without Electric Santa. I've had Electric Santa since I was a little girl. Somehow he became separated from all of the other Christmas stuff and emerged just yesterday from a box filled with a mix of old holiday and non-holiday items. Nothing else in the box mattered much to me, but finding Electric Santa just made my day -- and my whole holiday season -- a little brighter. He's now glowing on the window ledge above my desk and every time I look up at him I can't help but smile. Just the right amount of kitsch and childhood nostalgia.

Another nostalgic find was the box filled with a few of Baxter's things, including his puppy collar. It was sooooo small. It was expandable, but even so, I think he outgrew it in a month. I felt pangs of sadness finding his hiking backpack, though. While Baxter still hikes with gusto and manages to stay a few yards ahead of us all the way, with his arthritic hips we wouldn't dare load him down with any weight. It's been years since any of us has been backpacking... But I think I'll wait until spring to unload the box that says "backpacks and camping equipment."

My Dad used to joke that "three moves are as good as a fire." It's true in terms of being able to find anything. Stuff just gets lost...usually among the boxes that aren't unpacked for so long you forget about them. But unlike a fire, recovery is often possible and sometimes found items feel like blessings from the past. One of those blessings was finding a "lost" box filled with Dad's rock carvings. My dear father passed away in 2006. For a number of years he and Mom were snowbirds, escaping Iowa's cold to spend the winters in slightly warmer Sedona, Arizona. Inspired by petroglyphs he saw while hiking there, Dad took up the hobby of carving similar designs into slabs of beautiful, red Sedona sandstone. He gave them away as gifts. In one of our past moves, the ones he gave us were lovingly wrapped in towels and packed away in a box that somehow ended up in the back of a closet somewhere. Yesterday I found them. It was as if Christmas came early. And as I gleefully unwrapped each stone, I thought of Daddy and smiled.

I've only just begun the excavation (archeological dig is more like it). But the whole process so far has really made me think about what is meaningful and what is just a passing fancy. Some of the items I purchased years ago, thinking they were so necessary at the time, are now sitting in the box that's bound for the Goodwill store. But seemingly insignificant things, like the little red box of white, lick-and-stick paper reinforcements I used for making crafts as a child (and not nearly as often for reinforcing hole-punched paper) took me back to my pre-school days. That's a keeper.

I'm realizing that in most cases, the value of an item is, for me, in the memories I've attached to it. There's no price on eBay that's worth as much to me as plugging in my Electric Santa.

Thanksgiving for Dogs

2010-11-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Thanksgiving 2008 by kmazz

It's that time of year when we unwittingly torture our canine friends by preparing and eating (in front of them) an inordinate amount of rich, savory, gravy-coated food while they stare at a bowl of the usual old daily kibble. Well, actually, our dogs ignore the kibble entirely and just stare at us as we eat. They watch every fork-full move from plate to mouth. That is, until we tell them to stop begging and lay down, which they do, begrudgingly.*

We have never fed our dogs food from the table, but that doesn't stop them from trying. They instinctively know how to pour on the pathos, beaming at you with those large, soulful eyes and an expression that says "I haven't eaten in months." Who knows, maybe this year a gullible guest won't know the house rules? (I think Baxter still remembers our friend in Southern Oregon who would "accidentally" drop bits of food as she ate...one Thanksgiving he didn't leave her side for several hours.)

Given that we count our dogs are among the beings on this planet we are most thankful for, it hardly seems right to let this holiday go by without doing something special for them. Yet (and we know this from experience) feeding our guys certain "people foods" can wreak havoc on their digestion. The trick is feeding them the right foods. As Heidi Biesterveld explains in her great "Dog-friendly Thanksgiving" blog series on The Bark:

"...think of your pet as a lactose intolerant celiac with high blood pressure (i.e., needs to watch his or her salt intake) and with allergies to onion and garlic."

She shares some great info on what not to feed your dog and, in several subsequent blog entries, she provides recipes for delicious-sounding, gluten-free foods that are good enough to serve your human guests and are also suitable to share with your canine friends. It's worth a look.

Another option -- for those of us sticking to more conventional human fare -- is to plop a bit of Merrick's Thanksgiving Day Dinner canned dog food onto our dogs' usual food. It's something special, they love it and it's entirely grain-free, so it doesn't usually cause any digestive distress. Merrick also makes a Grammy's Pot Pie that gets rave reviews (read: gone in 5 seconds) from both Baxter and Kirby.

Once they've wolfed down their special dinners, I'm sure both dogs will maintain their table-side vigil until the last crumb of pumpkin pie is gone...

*Yes, they've perfected the art of begging from a prone position. Oh that look... I must be strong.

The Dog Sofa

2010-11-19T17:24:00.000-08:00

We recently gave up on the "no dogs on the living room sofa" policy. For years it worked just fine, as Baxter would sit or stand next to the couch and put his head on my lap. Enter Kirby, who is too small to do that. It started when we decided it was only fair to let Kirby come up sometimes, as long as he was on someone's lap. The hang-dog looks from Baxter were unbearable. So we got a throw and made the rule: you can get up here, as long as the throw is down and there's a human on the sofa with you. This is working pretty well, and the dogs usually ask before they jump up. Only once have we caught a dog on the couch when we walked in the door (Baxter). We forgot to fold up the throw. He just assumed... Anyway, it's a dog couch now.

Now the jostling for position begins. There is plenty of room for all three of us up there (Baxter, Kirby and me), but if Kirby manages to get up there first, he stretches out his little body as long as he possibly can, so there's no room for the considerably larger Baxter to lay down. I usually have to pull Kirby out of the way to make room. But the other night Baxter took things into his own hands...

The Escape Claws

2010-09-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

Baxter is at it again... I felt a tap on the elbow, just prior to the touch of four rather large claws gradually pressing into my arm. Baxter is giving me the most earnest look possible. I've never seen a more earnest looking dog (see example). He knows the neighbor's cat is prowling around the driveway behind our house. He thinks if he can con me into taking him outside (even though he was just outside a short time ago and I'm pretty certain he doesn't HAVE to go), he just might break free to give that cat what he has coming to him. I don't know what that is, exactly, but Baxter really, really wants to deliver it.

Last time Baxter lunged his way loose from my grip and actually caught a cat, he did absolutely nothing. Baxter just stood there, staring at the cat as if to say "tag, you're it!" Of course the cat was having a complete nervous breakdown.

Maybe that's all Baxter wants. Is a little cat tormenting so wrong? Perhaps Baxter, like us, saw the same cat tormenting a little bird last week...

Canine Snore-fest

2010-09-07T09:45:00.000-07:00

Last night we didn't have use of our noise machine. This is significant. One of the adaptations we made to accomodate our life with Baxter (and now Kirby) was the introduction of a whirring air filter machine to help us all sleep through the night. The dogs, who manage to sleep most of the day and still sleep most of the night, each have their noisy night quirks. Baxter has always been quite the snorer. Maybe it's something to do with his large nose or soft mouth. Whatever the cause, he saws logs most of the night as his legs run in hot pursuit of dream cats. Kirby has a wee little snore that doesn't begin to compete with the big guy. But when the two of them get going in tandem, it's actually kind of funny. It's less funny at 3am when we're trying to sleep, but rhythmically interesting nonetheless.

The other canine night noises involve a combination of shaking -- the dog equivalent of the "reset button" -- that must be done prior to changing positions. Before lying down, Baxter must circle in his bed at least two or three times, after which he literally drops to the ground and groans. Roughly 30 seconds later he's snoring again. Kirby, who still prefers to sleep in his crate, just climbs in, kicks the walls once or twice to get situated and nods off.

I had almost forgotten just how much of this commotion takes place in the night because my husband and I have been blissfully snoozing through it for years, thanks to the masking noise of the cheapest, loudest-whirring air filter we could find. But last night the machine was out of order... Actually, I had thrown away the old air filter and had forgotten to pick up a new one at the store. I realized as I was making my way to bed that the whole contraption was still in pieces. I figured we could make it through one night without it.

Needless to say, after about an hour of the aforementioned activities, my husband was up turning on every fan in the house. Fortunately, our home was blessed with a couple of bathroom and laundry room fans that rival the decibel level of small aircraft taking off. Soon the dogs and people were sound asleep in our noisy house, dreaming, snoring and kicking our way through the night.

Vito @ 8 weeks: The Movie

2010-09-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

Going for a stroll with our new little friend... Video courtesy of Jamie Newton.

Welcome Vito!

2010-08-31T17:18:00.000-07:00

A puppy has joined our extended pack... No, he's not exactly scruffy, but he is the new canine in the family of our dear friends (whose sweet Portuguese Water Dog and honorary scruffy, Phoebe, passed away last November...RIP Phoebe, we miss you terribly.)

Enter Vito. Adorable. He's an 8-week-old Lagotto Romagnolo and we had the pleasure of meeting him this past weekend. Not only is he brimming with cuteness, he's also one of the sweetest, most laid-back puppies I've ever met. He has an almost Baxter-like expression -- inquisitive, he looks you right in the eye in a totally non-threatening way, as if he's trying to discern what you are thinking.

I'm probably taken in by the resemblance as well...He looks a bit like puppy Baxter with a body perm... They likely share some DNA, as the all of the modern European water retrieving dogs are believed to decend from the ancient Lagotto.

Photos of Vito at 8 weeks and Baxter at 10 weeks.

In any case, stay tuned for more posts...my husband's camera has not yet been mined and the forthcoming YouTube video will melt you. Really.

Sniff Dog Hotel

2010-08-31T16:48:00.000-07:00

Sniff Dog Hotel is opening up in Portland...Based on the website alone, I almost want to work here... I wonder what it would take to wrangle a PR job with these folks? Anyway, this looks to be a very classy place for pampered pups in the Portland area. What a great concept. I love the array of classes, the idea of a dog/person cafe, etc. Photo: Sniff Dog Hotel website.

Note the upcoming Grand Opening and benefit on Thursday - September 2nd 5p-9p. Proceeds from drinks/food/raffle benefit Oregon Human Society & Dove Lewis.

I'll go if I can make it that day...if not, I'll definitely be checking this place out some other time!

Adios Paco

2010-08-16T10:44:00.000-07:00

It is with much sadness that I post this... We've just learned that our little friend and Kirby look-alike, Paco, has passed away. He was just seven years old.

If you've read my blog in the past, you might remember the story of Paco and Kirby meeting at the Ashland dog park...

Before we moved back to Portland, Kirby and Paco (and their respective "brothers" Baxter and Nemo) spent quite a bit of time playing chase and wrestling and, like their human counterparts, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Paco's "mom," Cheryl, has kept us posted on Paco and Nemo's adventures in Baja each winter and we have so enjoyed the connection over the years.

We are terribly sad to hear of Paco's passing and our hearts go out to Cheryl, Nemo and family at this time of loss.

RIP Paco.

Exercising Options

2010-07-22T18:32:00.000-07:00

Baxter is a walker. He will go anywhere with gusto, smelling every tree, checking every shrub for birds (or cats) and maintaining a lanky lope that I can barely keep up with. Kirby, on the other hand, only likes to walk within a five block radius of our house, and only on days when it isn't too hot or too cold or too noisy or too windy. So every time I try to take both dogs on a longer walk, I end up with Baxter pulling me forward and Kirby pulling me backward (until I turn toward home when the whole thing reverses).

I've been nursing a shoulder injury of late -- dog-related. I'll save it for another time. In short: it's really hard for me to manage this "push-me-pull-you" style of dog walking. So I've started exercising the dogs separately, and they love it.

One of Kirby's favorite things to do, of late, is fetch a tennis ball. He sprints with joy, grabs the ball with laser accuracy (most of the time) and returns it to my feet and stares at it with the intensity of a collie until I throw it again (his DNA is showing through). Kirby will repeat this until he wears himself out or it gets too hot. He then either lays down in the shade or, as he did this morning, jauntily carries the ball back to the door of our house. Perfect.

I open the door, Kirby runs in and Baxter comes out with me for a longer walk, which he absolutely loves. I think not having the little guy under foot suits him better. He doesn't pull on the leash as much as he used to when he was younger. I think he's just content to keep a brisk walk going with an occasional detour to get a whiff of something that's just inches beyond the reach of his leash.

Everyone is happy with this set-up. And it keeps us all a wee bit fitter.

Gentle Reminders

2010-06-03T17:58:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I have one of those days that is so blindingly busy -- you know, that vaudevillian sense of all the plates on all the sticks wobbling and you'll never get them all going again without something crashing to the floor -- that I almost lose my sense of time and place. These are the times I pay the least attention to the dogs, but the times when I most appreciate them. They don't have days like that. For them, it's just another boring day, watching me type and stare at a screen with squiggles on it. And every once in a while the dogs decide to do something about it.

Baxter's style is the big paw on the lap and the earnest look, straight into my eyes, that says "It's time for you to step away from the infernal glowing squiggle machine now."

Kirby usually takes a more verbal approach. Sometimes he'll put his paws on my leg, but usually he'll just sit, staring intensely at me, and start making little growly noises that almost sound like words. Humpf. Humpfrrr. Humpfrrowrow.

It must be time for dinner...

Desert Road Trip

2010-04-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

We recently returned from a desert Southwest road trip with my mom and the dogs. We timed it to see the peak bloom of wildflowers in Death Valley (next to 2005, one of the most spectacular blooms of the century I'm told). We drove to Las Vegas, met family who flew in, rented a van and spent an entire day just tooling around DV. Baxter and Kirby, who are accustomed to having their own gated space at the back of the Subaru, were thrilled to ride unfettered in the minivan. Well, almost unfettered. I elected to play dog wrangler, sitting in the far-back seat with the other half folded down. The dogs frolicked in the back, but soon decided the seat would be more comfortable and both decided to jump onto my lap at the same time. Thank goodness my lap isn't big enough for both of them...but that didn't stop them from trying.

Of course, Death Valley was spectacular. It's always spectacular for its geology, but when you add a blanket of greenery and wildflowers that seem to spurt from impossible sandy soils and rocks, it's off the charts. I don't think the dogs quite appreciated the sweet smell of sand verbena on the wind -- something I couldn't get enough of and ended up spending a great deal of time on my knees bending down to get a stronger whiff. But they were pretty excited to find a nice patch of grass at the oasis around the visitor's center at Furnace Creek. Three days on the road and not a whole lot of grass to be found.

We turned in the van, said goodby to our air-traveling kin and went on to Sedona, Arizona (another of our favorate places). While both Baxter and Kirby are good travelers, I think they were glad to spend a few days on terra firma.

Kirby visited the area briefly as a pup, but Baxter has been to Sedona many times over the years and has a few favorite spots. He started whining as we drove down Verde Valley School Road in the Village of Oak Creek...winding our dusty way toward Red Rock Crossing. There, where the smooth red rocks slope gently down to Oak Creek, the water widens into a pool that is one of Baxter's all time favorite stick-fetching spots.

Now, while Kirby is far better at fetching on land (Baxter pretty much refuses, choosing instead to run off with the stick and chew it) Baxter is the king of fetch in the water. As soon as we released the dogs, Baxter made a beeline for the creek. With the enthusiasm of a dog half his age, Baxter took a leap into the ice cold water and gleefully swam out to fetch sticks over and over and over.

Kirby, who isn't a big fan of swimming, waited on the shore. Each time Baxter returned to dry land with a stick, Kirby proceeded to grab one end of it and run alongside him... A couple of times Kirby successfully wrested the stick from Baxter and cheerfully carried it over to drop it at our feet, as if to take credit. Bax didn't seem to mind, because he knew he was the only one who would venture back into the creek to fetch it again.

It was a warm, sunny day so we took a little walk to dry off the dogs and stretch our legs. We found a lovely spot in the trees, rested in the shade and admired the view of Cathedral Rocks (which Jamie painted and I attempted to sketch). It was a lovely afternoon.

The next day we went for a hike with the dogs, who were more than happy to hit the trail. But like any weekend warriors who are a tad advanced in age, Baxter started showing a bit of wear and tear. Between running across the sandstone and padding up the rocky trails, Baxter's feet were a little sore and his hips seemed a tad stiff. He stepped gently and slowly (no more pulling!) and decided he would only walk on pavement, avoiding the rocky yard at the front of the hotel. After a day of rest he was back in ship shape and rearing to go.

Kirby, whose pads are small and extremely thick (it's as if they have Nike air technology that allows him to bounce), didn't seem to notice any wear at all. Of course, he's young. It's amazing how resiliant young bodies are...a fact of which I am constantly reminded now that I'm no longer a kid myself...

The trip home, through Death Valley again, provided even more spectacular wildflower sightings. The blanket of desert sunflowers covering the hills was at least three times thicker the second weekend. We drove North along the East side of the snow-capped Sierras, up through our old haunts in Ashland (where we had a lovely Easter brunch with friends and Baxter and Kirby got to celebrate Baxter's 11th birthday (which fell on Easter, just like the day he was born) playing with their old friend Jackson.

It was a lovely trip. And while the boys seem very happy to be back home and into their normal routine, I think they had a pretty good time too.

Lumps and Life

2010-02-19T16:56:00.000-08:00

Baxter is an elegant dog. He has always been a tad tall for his breed, Wirehaired Pointing Griffon, but his long legs and lean body create a perfectly balanced and graceful form beneath his scruffy hair. Baxter is a dog who looks as good wet as he does dry (Kirby, on the other hand, rather needs the fluffy hair). But as he's gotten older, Baxter's beautiful tweedy coat has camouflaged his increasing lumpiness. Thank goodness, the vet tells us these lumps are only lipomas -- benign, fatty growths that are quite common in older dogs, particularly retrievers and other hunting dogs.

It's very hard for me to admit Baxter is getting old. On April 4 he will turn 11 -- he is, most definitely, in his golden years. But he has so much energy, such joie de vivre, it's sometimes hard to see the signs of age. But they're there. When I run my hands down his sides, I feel the landscape of a half-dozen lumps beneath his skin. More on his neck, his chest, down his thighs. All covered by that glorious hair.

The vet always takes meticulous measurements to ensure none are growing at a rapid rate that might suggest some other form of tumor. So far, nothing to worry about, he says. I hope so. I just wish there was something I could do. Some way I could hold off the inevitable decline that begins with a few lumps and the occasional shaky back leg. I don't want to see my boy grow old. I want him to always be the spry, athletic, goofy yet soulful pup I've known and loved for the past decade-plus.

Among other things, one lesson I learned from my father's death is that we must cherish every moment we have with our loved ones. But I sometimes forget this. I too often take my family members -- including our dogs -- for granted. When I get done working, doing all those important things I need to get done, I just know they'll be there.

But they won't.

So today I took a nap with the dogs. Something I haven't done in a while. I stepped away from the computer and curled up next to Baxter on the floor. He stretched and nestled into the crook of my arm. Kirby curled up next to my leg. And we snoozed.

Pure bliss.

Kato: A Sad Story with a Happy Ending

2010-02-13T17:45:00.000-08:00

Another long period without writing my blog. It has been such a strange few months since we got back from Japan. Some good things have happened. And some sad things have happened, one of which was the passing of my dear uncle in Iowa and the drama that ensued around the fate of his little dog, Kato.

My uncle had no children. His wife had passed away a couple of years ago, leaving him and their new puppy, a little white pomeranian named Kato, to fend for themselves. Life was never quite the same for my uncle after my aunt died, and while Kato was quite a handful for an arthritic fellow in his mid-80s, that little dog seemed to be the only joy in my uncle's life.

Kato was, of course, the little prince of the household. I'm not sure he ever heard the word "no." My aunt and uncle had always had poms, but Kato was by far the liveliest (and, I think, the cutest) puppy they'd ever had. He bounced. He could spin blindingly fast in circles. He did laps around the house. He loved to play in the snow for hour on end. And, as all puppies do, he created mischief.

According to reports from my uncle, Kato mellowed a bit as he matured, but he still maintained an energy level unrivalled by any of his predecessors. Kato's greatest asset was his sweet disposition. He never growled. He seemed to be smiling all the time. He absolutely loved sitting in your lap and would bathe you with kisses if you let him. And it was that loving personality that kept my uncle going day after day.

I took this video of Kato with my phone when my mom and I went to visit my uncle last fall. At the time, I had no idea how significant this little video would be to Kato's future.

We learned the news of my uncle's passing when we returned from Japan. My heart sank. Then my sadness quickly turned to concern -- what about Kato? He had stayed in my uncle's house and was being fed by a neighbor while my uncle was in the hospital. Now what? He needed an immediate temporary home and, at some point, a permanent home.

Still jetlagged from my trip and overwhelmed with a combination of grief and a nasty chest cold, I made finding a safe place for Kato a number one priority. I contacted the national Pomeranian rescue and learned there wasn't a rescue organization taking poms anywhere near my uncle. So I put the word out to some of my friends and family on Facebook... And here's where I most appreciated Facebook's capacity to make connections with old friends.

Through Facebook I had re-connected with Lisa, a dog-loving friend from my childhood days, who still lives in the town where I grew up (the town where my uncle lived). Lisa (dear soul) immediately ran down to the local shelter and asked about rescue resources... Within the day she connected me with Linda, a woman who provides temporary care for dogs in her home. Linda agreed to care for Kato until our family could get back to Iowa or until we made arrangements for his adoption...whichever came first.

The next morning Linda was at my uncle's house, picked-up little Kato (who was, by now, quite confused and lonely) and took him straight to the vet, where I had made arrangements to have him neutered. She picked him up from the vet, took him home, cleaned him up and proceeded to give him as much love and comfort as a sweet, lonely little dog could take.

I turned again to my dog-loving connections and sent around the little video of Kato...hoping that someone among my friends or family back there would want to give him a permanent loving home. A few days later I got a note from one of my cousins...she had sent the video to some dear friends in Minnesota who were looking for a little dog, and Kato's video had simply charmed them.

To make a long story a wee bit less long... I had some long talks with Kato's temporary caregiver (who had also fallen in love with Kato, but couldn't keep him permanently due to family concerns). She said he had been wonderful with her grandchildren, got along splendidly with her cat and would make a fine companion for a family with children. He was just in need of some basic training.

I had a few long talks with the prospective family, asked them questions, told them of Kato's sweet and gentle nature, and made sure they knew Kato would require some firm guidance to learn the rules of the house. They were OK with it all. They seemed like wonderful people. We had a new home for Kato!

When I went back to Iowa for my uncle's funeral I had a chance to visit Kato before his new family came to pick him up. When he saw Mom and me, his little brow furrowed and he got this look of concern on his face... Did he remember us from my uncle's house? He snuggled into my arms and looked up at me with his sweet, dark eyes. At that point I almost had a hard time not packing him up and taking him back to Oregon myself. But I knew this was the right thing...so many people had come together to help this little dog. And there was a nice family just a couple of hours away who were incredibly excited about adopting him.

I spoke with Kato's new family recently. He's settling in. The kids love him. It took the cats a while to warm up to him, but now they play chase and get along just fine. He adores playing in the snow and snuggling up in the evening. He's had a few behavior issues to resolve, as expected, but with love and firm guidance, he is making progress. Most of all, he's happy. And his new family is happy. And I know that's what my uncle wanted for his sweet little Kato.

Japan Has Dog People

2009-11-19T18:11:00.000-08:00

ScruffyDog has been on a bit of a blog holiday... Actually, I was on a real holiday -- in Japan -- and dealing with all the craziness that happens when work compresses leading into and out of a vacation. We had a wonderful time. Mom house-sat with the grand-dogs and the neighbor was our dog walker.

Upon our return, after being away for two weeks, the boys were happy to see us and jumped all over us for at least five minutes...slightly longer than the greeting we usually get for being away for a day. I think we were even happier to see them.

For me, a vacation in another culture is such a departure from familiar things, it almost feels as if reality is suspended for a while. Even so, it doesn't take long for us to start missing the presence of our dogs. My husband and I joked that we were dog stalkers on the streets of Takayama and Kanazawa. We'd spot a dog, make eye contact with dog and walker, and soon we were petting the dog and all parties were smiling. It's been pretty easy to spot the dog-people in every country we've visited... They share knowing glances...recognizing the looks on our faces that say "we have dogs at home and we miss them, can we just pet your dog for a minute?"

Happy 7th Birthday Paco!

2009-10-20T10:56:00.000-07:00

Paco, a long time canine friend of this blog, Ashland dog park playmate and Kirby look-alike is celebrating his 7th birthday today.

Baxter, Kirby and the Scruffy Dog family wish Paco a rip-roaring, treat-laden, fun-filled day. Wish we could be there to help celebrate with a few laps around the dog park!

Kirby Likes Kohlrabi

2009-10-01T19:51:00.000-07:00

We don't feed our dogs from the dinner table. But occasionally, over the course of dinner, a wee morsel of something we're eating accidentally makes its way to the floor. For years, if that morsel has been cheese, meat or anything sweet, Baxter is all over it. Veggies pretty much stay where they fall.

Enter Kirby, the veggie-loving dog. I have yet to drop a vegetable on the floor that Kirby didn't gobble up as if it were a liver biscuit. Carrots, potatoes, greens and tonight, kohlrabi. I wasn't even sure I would like kohlrabi. It's a relatively new vegetable for me. We keep getting it from our CSA farm and I'm never sure what to do with it. Someone recently told me "just slice it and eat it raw." So I cut this week's kohlrabi into little sticks and served it with some dip. Rather than double-dipping, I decided to break a stick in half. I lost my grip and the kohlrabi stick went flying. Kirby pounced on it and immediately took a bite. He decided he liked it and chomped down the rest in about 10 seconds.

Interestingly enough, Kirby frequently turns up his nose at the offer of a milkbone or other common dog biscuit but will usually accept a meat-based, grain-free, fancy dog biscuit if given the opportunity. I guess the scruffy little shelter pup has a refined and healthy palate. I wish I could be more like that myself!

Face-off

2009-08-22T13:16:00.000-07:00

Baxter's Tiger-watch vigil at the back door finally paid off in a photo opp. (and probably saved a bird or two as well). The other day, as we were walking past Baxter at his usual post by the back door, we spotted this perfect moment (thank goodness Jamie's camera was within arm's reach).

Tigerchen, the cute and crafty neighbor kitty, recently discovered that the base under our potted bamboo plant provided a perfect perch from which to hunt the birds in the feeder overhead.

Alas, this was a once-in-a-lifetime photo... Much to Tiger's chagrin, we have since covered this nice, flat platform with pointy rocks, making it unsuitable as a launch pad for pouncing on unsuspecting dining chickadees. The doorway, however, still provides an excellent spot for bird and cat-watching and, when open, a perfect launch pad for Baxter to take-off after neighbor cats hanging out on our patio...

Baxter and Kirby on Cat Watch

2009-08-04T12:53:00.000-07:00

Jamie captured this quiet, watchful moment this morning on our patio. I love this picture!

Hot Pants X Deux

2009-07-30T22:49:00.000-07:00

The heat wave in our area has kept us hiding in the air conditioning for several days now. Baxter seems to be the only one who wants to be outside...probably to keep tabs on the neighbor cat. Kirby always seems excited to go out, then hits the hot air and changes his mind. Attempts at dog walks end up with Kirby getting about a block from home, then making a 180 to pull toward home.

Bax has a pretty high heat tolerance -- he's off the ground enough to catch the occasional breeze under his belly. But Kirby, being dark and rather close to the ground, overheats almost immediately.

What's Baxter's secret for beating the heat? A very large tongue. When I'm out with him in the heat (because trips outside must happen, heat wave or not), and he's walking along beside me with his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth, I'm always amazed at just how long and wide that tongue is. A veterinarian friend of mine told me Bax has the biggest tongue she's ever seen. Evaporative cooling.

Feeding Tigerchen, Baxter's Nemesis

2009-07-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

We've been asked to feed Tigerchen (aka Tiger or Baxter's nemesis, the orange neighbor cat who prances around behind our house while Baxter sits inside whining) while Tiger's family is away this weekend. I am certain we'll get the 3rd degree each time we come home...Will Bax ever forgive us?

Baxter's obsession with Tiger has gone a bit too far. Our back window is, essentially, Tiger TV. Baxter will sit there for HOUR ON END at full attention, watching Tiger saunter back and forth, roll in the lawn, weave in and out of the bushes. The other day Kirby actually flushed Tiger out from under a shrub and both he and Baxter went crazy as Tiger took off, hissing. (So I hear, I wasn't there, but now every time we go outside both Baxter and Kirby have to examine that shrub just in case...)

Tiger is a young cat. We're not moving any time soon. Will this obsession with Tiger ever wear off? I seriously doubt it. Baxter had a similar "relationship" with our neighbor cat Lucky in our first home. Baxter actually caught Lucky once and then didn't know what to do...He just stood there, frozen, awe-struck by his own luck.

All I can say is, I hope our screen door on this house is stronger than the screen door on that one.

Howling at Sirens

2009-07-15T18:49:00.000-07:00

Today as Baxter, Kirby and I were out for our morning walk, we heard an ambulance coming down the road. We were stopped at a crosswalk and as the ambulance drew closer -- and louder -- Baxter became quite concerned. Suddenly, just as it passed us, he barked and then threw his head back and howled. I haven't seen him howl at a siren since he was a puppy. Baxter definitely has his own, unique howling voice...somewhere between Satchmo and a Bavarian yodeler. Nonetheless, it was quite the dramatic moment. Suddenly he stopped and just stood there as if nothing had happened. It was rather like an out-of-body howling experience, I think.

I wonder if he's been taking notes from the local coyotes...? A few nights ago, as we were watching a movie at home, we heard some very loud howling outside...it sounded like the coyotes were practically in our yard. Oh, we hear the occasional howl when a siren goes by. In the springtime we could hear a pretty good sized group that rather sounded like adolescents yipping and howling in the woods across from our home. But this was something quite spectacular and it was loud enough to be heard OVER the movie and the air conditioner and with the windows closed. Baxter and Kirby were silent. Baxter looked curious. Kirby looked nervous. My husband and I paused the movie and ran outside to listen. There must have been a dozen or more coyotes, very close by, singing along with a siren. It was quite the chorus of vocal stylings, apparently from coyotes of all ages and sizes. It went on for a few minutes and gradually tapered off as the siren disappeared into the distance. What a treat.

I love that feeling of wildness being so close to our home... And when Baxter or Kirby howls, it's a reminder that a little bit of that wildness lives with us in our home too.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Kirby!

2009-07-07T14:56:00.000-07:00

Bring on the squeaky toys...for today we celebrate Kirby's third birthday! I say we celebrate it because we don't really know exactly when Kirby was born. Apparently the folks who rounded him up on the farm somewhere in Northern California didn't know how long that litter of puppies had been running around before they brought them in. When we adopted him, the folks at the shelter thought he was a wee lad of 10 weeks or so. His vet subsequently told us that, based on his teeth, he was probably a few weeks older than we thought. We counted back appropriately and decided 7/7 was a mighty fine day for a birthday.

So here's to Kirby -- Happy 3rd!

Life is Better with Dogs

2009-06-30T17:10:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since this picture was released, but I have to say it is one of my favorite POTUS pictures ever. I can't even begin to say all the reasons why I love this picture, but most could be categorized under "dogs bring joy."

Flights of Stairs

2009-06-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

We met a fellow at the dog park the other day. He had two Irish Wolfhounds and said he lived with them in a relatively small townhome. Wow. These were BIG dogs. I thought about Baxter, who looked small in comparison. We also live in a townhome. And while Baxter is normally pretty low energy in the way he pads around the house, there are times I sense that he's cramped. He just can't cut loose and run around the way he used to when we had a bit more space. This makes visits to the dog park an essential element of life.

Kirby, on the other hand, is just the perfect size for townhome living. He runs around and under the furniture with ease and considers the stairway a recreational area. He likes to take his rubber bouncy artichoke toy and drop it from the top of the stairs, chase it down, grab it at the bottom and run back up to start again. If I sit at the top, he brings the toy to me to drop in a sort of stairway fetch routine (that's the collie in him coming out).

What's most interesting about watching Kirby navigate the stairs is the way he seems to effortlessly "fly" down them. I swear, the movements of his feet are so quick and slight, it appears as if he's not touching at all. His back legs extend fully behind him and from the rear he seems to be sliding down on a cushion of air mere inches from the surface. His feet seem to touch ever so briefly at the landing (appropriately named), as he makes a sharp left then continues "flying" down to the bottom, landing squarely on all fours. It's quite a sight.

It gets even more interesting when Baxter and Kirby attempt to descend the stairs at the same time. Baxter has to take it relatively slowly, as an increase in momentum would likely result in crashing into the landing or a long skid on the hardwood floor at the bottom (we've seen it). Bax is pretty elegant in his stairway style and he usually maintains control. But there's no doubt all four feet are taking turns on the steps. Kirby usually navigates around or under Baxter on the way down, completing the flight in about half the time.

At the dog park, the situation is reversed, however. Baxter takes longer to get up to speed, but once he's there, he glides with an elongated, elegant gait. Kirby starts out fast and scampers at a top speed that's about half of Baxter's.

While both dogs enjoy the dogpark, I tend to think of it as Baxter's time. He needs room to run. And seeing the joy on his face is worth the trip every time.

Not Acting One's Age

2009-06-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

I struggle with this one, and apparently so does Baxter.

I feel younger than I am. I'm still working on what I want to be when I grow up. I would still much rather play than do anything else. And I still have the sense that my body should behave like it did 20 years ago; the realization that it doesn't usually comes in the form of aching muscles and kinks in places I didn't know could kink.

Baxter has similar issues, although he doesn't seem to worry about them nearly as much as I do. Hanging around the house he's still the same loafer he's always been. At 10 years old, he's a tad less riled by strange noises than when he was a youth -- he's figured out what's worth getting upset over and what merely warrants a lift of the head and a sigh before going back to sleep.

But at the dogpark, it's play time. And in this milieu he frequently forgets that he's not the limber puppy he used to be. He'll run with abandon, spin around, dip into a play bow, jump up and tag a dog to start a chase. Only once in a while all that running and jumping and spinning results in the kink, the pulled something-or-other that stops him in his tracks. He suddenly gets quite solemn and limps toward the gate. Time to go.

It usually works itself out in a few hours. But when that happens, it always makes me feel a little sad. Like me, Baxter still just wants to play. He doesn't know he's getting older, he just gives it his all. And sometimes his body just doesn't have as much to give. When I stop to think, relative to his expected lifespan, how much older Baxter is than I am, I'm quite amazed and encouraged by his youthful exhuberance. I hope I'm as enthusiastic and curious as he is when I'm his age.

The part that's hard for me to think about is how much faster his life is going by than mine. It's hard to think of Baxter as growing old. I see the little lines around his eyes, the freckles on his light brown nose and the eyes that have a little less shine than they did when he was a youth. But if you didn't know Baxter up close, you would never dream he's in his elderly years. He's in great shape. And when he's running across a field he's beautiful thing to watch -- the elegance of his long stride, nose in the wind, ears flying.

I don't want to see him hurt himself, but I also hope Baxter never loses his playful nature, his joie-de-vivre. And I hope the same for myself. I guess we'll just have to pace ourselves.

DNA Update

2009-05-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

I've been having a pleasant email conversation with one of the staff people at Canine Heritage (very nice and responsive). She provided me with a bit more detail around Kirby's DNA results. Turns out, only about 50% of his DNA can be matched to specific breeds. It's likely that some of that other 50% is one or more of the terrier breeds that haven't yet been DNA mapped, such as Jack Russell Terrier. So the guessing game continues!

Also, she provided some clarity on the numbers...

There is approximately 23% to 25% Chihuahua in Kirby. I asked if that meant a grandparent was all or part Chihuahua or if it just all adds up to that percentage. She said that when it states that Chihuahua is Secondary, that could be more than one Chihuahua in his background, and "it certainly doesn't mean that a purebred Chihuahua was in the woodpile either."

Lhasa Apso is approximately 14 to 15% and the Collie / Shetland Sheepdog is approximately 10%. The rest of Kirby is unknown.

While I had a good time with the DNA test, I am not at all bummed to only get half of it... I've always found a certain comfort in mystery. What we don't know keeps us curious, and curiosity keeps us thinking and asking questions and pondering possibilities. And it provides more fodder for dog park conversations...

Kirby's DNA Results are In!

2009-05-23T13:03:00.001-07:00

The results of Kirby's Canine Heritage DNA breed test have arrived! Drum roll please...

Primary DNA: None

This is not surprising according to the CH people..."very few mixed breed dogs have a breed listed in Primary. The dog must have a purebred parent to have a breed in this category. Even then, the breed can end up in Secondary."

Secondary DNA: "Reports the DNA of breeds detected at significant levels within your dog. Breeds in this category can have a strong influence on your dog’s appearance and/or behavior." Kirby has only one in this category:

Chihuahua?!?

Ok, that was totally unexpected...

In the Mix DNA: "In the Mix category identifies breeds that appear in your dog’s DNA, but only in small amounts. Sometimes, they may represent breeds earlier in your dog’s ancestry. They may have no bearing on your dog’s appearance and/or behavior."

Lhasa Apso

Collie

Shetland Sheepdog

Unknown DNA: Says CH: "We have the markers for 106 breeds. However, there are 1100 dog breeds in the world. It is apparent that your dog is also comprised of another breed or breeds that we do not have the markers for."

The "In the mix" breeds are not as surprising to me as the Chihuahua. I had considered Lhasa Apso previously, given Kirby's body shape and underbite. We had also guessed that some sort of collie or sheepdog might be in there because of the way Kirby herds us down the beach...and there's a bit of that sheltie look about him at times, especially through the face.

But Chihuahua? That breed has not come up in ANY conversation about Kirby EVER. Wow.

I'm really surprised there isn't any terrier there. Or Schnauzer. Or Dachsund. And while he doesn't look particularly like a German Shepherd other than his coloring, the shelter thought his mom was a German Shepherd mix, so we figured it was a given. But based on her picture and Kirby's DNA, she must be some sort of collie mix.

But does this mean his dad was probably some sort of Chihuahua/Lhasa Apso mix? Apparently "Chi-Apsos" are one of the latest designer dogs - yes, people are actually crossing them on purpose. Although I think it's more likely Kirby's dad was the "design" of some teeny little Romeo who dug his way under the neighbor's fence...

Now that I think about it, Chihuahua might explain the Baja connection. Our friend Cheryl, who spends the winters in Baja and has a little Kirby look-alike dog named Paco, says there are little dogs that look like Kirby and Paco running all over the beaches of Baja. Perhaps some Kirby ancestor made the trek up to Northern California from Mexico, bringing his ancient Toltec dog DNA and some scruffy, non-DNA-mapped Baja dog along with it.

In any case, Kirby's the same loveable, sweet, spunky, bouncy, waggy, happy little dog he's always been. And after all the pondering and blog posts and dog park conversations we've had whenever someone asks "what kind of dog is he?" we're now going to have to get used to giving some different responses.

Chihuahua/Lhasa Apso/Collie/Shetland Sheepdog/Mystery Dog.

A Fetching Chase Scene

2009-05-09T17:04:00.000-07:00

Playing fetch with a dog can be a very satisfying experience. You send some object off and it is cheerfully returned to you. It's a lovely, complete circuit.

I can't say that I've had the satisfaction of that completed circuit when it comes to receiving Kirby's DNA test results... Yes, I had the test kit for a couple of months before actually doing the test and sending it off, but now that it's done, I'm in a big hurry for the postman to fetch me the results. I haven't been this interested in getting the mail since I was in college, hoping for a parental check or a box of cookies.

On the subjects of DNA and fetching...I think we've pretty much confirmed that Kirby has at least some collie blood: sheltie, border collie, Australian Shepherd, something along those lines. As I've reported from our previous beach trips, Kirby is a natural born fetcher. Add to that his keen ability to herd us as we stroll down the beach, and I think we can be pretty sure of at least one bloodline on the DNA test. Kirby may have some definite terrier traits, but I've never met a terrier who would herd and fetch right out of the box. Kirby's eyes light up at the prospect of chasing a stick and his execution is near perfect...the stick is thrown, he makes a beeline for it (no stopping to smell jellyfish or roll on dead birds), he grabs the stick, turns on a dime and brings it immediately back to drop it at your feet. Kirby will do this over and over and over with the same gusto each time.

We made another trip to the beach this past week, where Baxter did his usual "take the stick and run off to chew it to sawdust" version of "fetch." Kirby, in the meantime, was doing a superb job of demonstrating his keen retrieving ability. Perhaps it was Kirby's success at pleasing the alphas with his fetching prowess. Or perhaps Baxter just had a wild hair. But all of a sudden Bax decided it was time to steal the stick away from Kirby before he had a chance to bring it back to us. What ensued was a chase scene that brought to mind a combination of Buster Keaton, barrel racing and Wild Kingdom.

Kirby realized that Baxter was gaining on him. He darted left, darted right, ran around us, between us, around us again with Baxter in hot pursuit. I have to say, for a 10 year old dog, Baxter was doing a spectacular job of keeping up with a dog 1/3 his age and his size. But every time Bax was just about to get his jaws on the stick, Kirby would escape by mere centimeters. After about a dozen laps Bax finally gave up and Kirby brought the stick back to us for more. By this time the two had attracted a smiling audience.

So we threw the stick again and the whole thing happened a second time. This time it ended in a dog tug of war and the whole fetching mood evaporated as the two of them finally decided it was a draw, dropped the stick and stood there panting and looking at us as if to say "now what?"

Next time I'm bringing the video camera...

Happy 10th Birthday, Baxter!

2009-04-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that today is Baxter's 10th birthday. It doesn't seem possible that nearly a decade has gone by since we fell in love with that adorable, scruffy puppy. And yet, Baxter is such an integral part of our family, it's hard to remember what life was like before he was around!

I've said this so often, but Baxter really is the sweetest dog I have ever known. I've loved all our dogs and quite a number of other peoples' dogs as well. But Baxter is special in a way that people only understand when they get to know him. I've seen family members and friends raise their eyebrows when we talk about him that way. I understand. Everyone's dog is special to them. But I've also seen those same family members and friends spend some time with Baxter and end up saying the same things to other people. He's a unique individual, an incredibly soulful, sweet, trustworthy, goofy, loving and intuitive dog. He charms people. He gets along with everybody and nearly every dog. Ok, he likes to chase cats, but he never hurts them when he catches them. (He is, after all, a dog.) But he's just, well, special.

In honor of Baxter's special day, we took the dogs to bigger dogpark a ways from where we live. While we have a nice dogpark here, we used the excuse of a lovely, sunny day to get a little change of scenery. Baxter romped and wrestled with a very cute, scruffy Airedale, then proceeded to roll in the mud and get totally filthy from head to toe. He had a great time. Kirby spent his time trying to befriend a little dachsund who didn't want anything to do with him. But he got in a bit of romping and wrestling as well. We hadn't really planned on giving the dogs baths today, but alas... At least both Baxter and Kirby smell good now!

We topped off the day by giving them each an antler to chew on and a helping of Baxter's favorite soft dog food: Grammy's Pot Pie . It was gone in about 15 seconds. Better than cake. For a dog anyway!

Happy 10th Birthday, Baxter...and MANY more!!!

Irritated Feet, Irritated Homeowner

2009-03-30T17:37:00.000-07:00

I have lots of ideas and thoughts about what I "should do" someday. One of those has been becoming more active in our neighborhood's homeowner's association. It's been easy to put-off, until NOW. After a trip outside, Baxter and Kirby proceeded to start madly licking their feet. My husband washed them thoroughly, but they have remained irritated -- particularly Baxter -- all day. On the same walk my husband noticed a guy out spraying around the houses and we looked into it. Apparently our HOA's landscaping service sprayed some toxic pesticide today and didn't bother to warn anyone about it.

I checked with the landscaping service (very helpful) and found out they have never been asked to notify us in advance or post signage about spraying having been done. Meanwhile we have LOTS of dogs and a few children who actively play in the greenspaces and yards around our neighborhood. Not to mention the protected wetland smack in the middle of the neighborhood. I was just remarking yesterday what a lovely variety of birds I can hear singing in the wetland. In addition to killing bugs that make your lawn a little less golf-course-like, this pesticide is very toxic to birds, bees and a variety of water creatures...not to mention dogs, cats and humans. Of course, I don't know the quantities they're using and I'm no expert on toxicity. But a day of constant foot-licking is not an insignificant warning sign in my book.

We have a new landscaping service this year and I'm wondering if the "perfect lawn" people are in charge of the HOA board? Or perhaps the "we don't care what you guys use, just make it pretty" people who don't ask questions and don't even give a thought to how pesticides are used around our homes and green spaces. In any case, I think it's time for the more environmentally-aware parents and pet lovers to become involved in the HOA. I'm fired-up. At the very least I'm going to advocate for posting signage when spraying occurs, and, if possible, I'm going to suggest we look for less toxic alternatives.

I guess this is my cue to "act locally." I'm just sorry that it took poor Baxter's and Kirby's sore feet to get me off my derriere to do it!

(Next stop after pesticides...getting solar panel approvals!)

Black Wolves and Dog DNA

2009-03-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

Since I'm on the subject of dog DNA these days, I took particular interest in an article in this month's Smithsonian magazine. In the "Wild Things: Life As We Know It" section there's a small, but interesting little blurb about black wolves. Most wolves have grayish coats. A few are white. But, says the article, the only place where black wolves can be found is North America. Intrigued by this unusual coat color, researchers at Stanford University and elsewhere compared wolf DNA with DNA of coyotes and dogs.

"The black coat gene, the researchers found, appears to have come from dogs. Some North American wolves likely interbred with domesticated dogs, now extinct, that accompanied people who crossed the Bering Strait from Asia more than 10,000 years ago," the article states.

We all know there's wolf ancestry in every dog...but it's kind of interesting to see that a bit of ancient dog found its way back into the wolf's DNA as well. The result is stunningly beautiful and mysterious.

Bloodline Bingo is ON: Guess Kirby's "top 3" ancestral breeds...

2009-03-23T13:56:00.000-07:00

Yep, after much fanfare about ordering the DNA test kit, I'm finally getting around to doing the actual test. I swabbed the little guy's cheek this morning, and sent the test kit off to Canine Heritage. I should be hearing back in a couple of weeks with a certificate and information about Kirby's ancestral breed heritage...that is, the breeds which have the closest DNA profiles to his.

So, I invite my readers to send me your best guesses on Kirby's "top 3" breeds. And in a couple of weeks I'll post the results.

In the meantime, for review... a look at Kirby's sisters and brothers -- I wish I could see how they turned out! Kirby was the only black-and-tan puppy in the bunch.

And Kirby's mom...we were so happy to hear that she had been adopted as well.

Soon, the Bloodline Bingo mystery will be solved! Well, sort of. There's no way we'll ever know for sure, but at least we'll have fun guessing!

Another Kirby Cousin?

2009-03-15T17:08:00.000-07:00

We encountered yet another Kirby-esque scruffy at the beach a few weeks ago... one of many. There must be something very basic about Kirby's DNA, something very old that comes out again and again among little scruffy dogs. And every one of them is a little heart-melter.

Of course, I always find it interesting that when we go places with Baxter and Kirby, everyone asks what kind of dog Baxter is. He's pretty striking, well-built and has the look of a purebred something-or-other. On the other hand, almost NO ONE asks about Kirby. This is because he is just one of those little scruffy black-and-tan terrier types one sees at shelters, running along beaches in Mexico (so I've heard) and just about everywhere else.

So here's to all the scruffy little unremarkable Kirby-kin out there...you are adorable and sweet and our lives wouldn't be the same without you!

Children : Dogs

2009-03-07T18:21:00.000-08:00

I've seen this sign in a number of establishments...usually coffee houses. It always makes me smile. I think few things could be more destructive than a caffeinated toddler and a puppy together. This got me to thinking once again about going places with dogs. In France, dogs are welcomed in most restaurants. Children, while tolerated, are not as often seen. I've read that the French tend to think of eating out in a nice restaurant as an adult activity that calls for Grandma or a babysitter to entertain the little ones elsewhere. There must be some grain of truth to it, because I see far fewer children in restaurants in France than I do here. Granted, I'm not going to the French Chuck-e Fromage's when I'm on vacation, but still.

The thing is, most of the dogs I've seen in restaurants in France...scratch that, make it ALL of the dogs I've seen in restaurants in France are well-behaved. I cannot say the same for the human children. The dogs lay quietly under the table and the floor is cleaner when they leave than when they came in. Again, quite the opposite with human children. (Bless the thoughtful parents who pick-up the five dozen Cheerios beneath the high-chair before they leave...most don't.)

Now, if we just allowed well-behaved dogs in restaurants here in the US, the Cheerio problem would largely be solved.

The Dog Beard Patent

2009-03-02T11:40:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking of taking out a patent on a new invention...if I can isolate the special material from which scruffy dog beards are made, I will have discovered a material that is capable of holding and transporting extremely large amounts of water. Imagine the uses...light weight vessels for carrying water from distant sources in the Sahara, streamlined backpacks for hiking in the desert... I would just need to figure out how to keep it from dripping between here and there.

I just know it would sell. Better than a Sham-Wow!

Stick-stealing Beach Boys at the Oregon Coast

2009-02-20T17:29:00.000-08:00

We recently had a wonderful day with Baxter and Kirby at the Oregon Coast. The boys ran constantly for hours and my arm is still tired from throwing sticks.

Despite a total lack of training, Kirby is a much better retriever of sticks than Baxter is. While Bax will retrieve from the water (all day if your arm can take it), he doesn't like to retrieve on land...he much prefers running off with the stick to chew on it. Kirby, who doesn't much like the water, seems to truly enjoy fetching sticks on terra firma. Of course, with the two of them, it's always a competition. But Kirby and I got in a few rounds while Baxter was off sniffing something.

It's hard to feel too bad for Kirby when Baxter comes and steals the stick from him...because Kirby is notorious for stealing Baxter's toys right out from under his nose. Kirby will sidle up stealthily, wait until Baxter stops to look at something or lick his paw, and then dart in and snatch the toy and run under the sofa so Baxter can't get to it.

In fact, just yesterday Kirby tried a new tactic... Baxter was proudly prancing around with one of the toys. From under the sofa, Kirby barked suddenly. Baxter was startled and dropped the toy so he could bark too. Kirby darted out, stole the toy and ran back under the sofa. Crafty guy!

Clean and Mean

2009-02-07T20:14:00.000-08:00

The boys got their baths today. As always, it was fairly traumatic for Baxter. Despite nearly a decade of regular bathing, Baxter has never gotten used to the idea. At the mere mention of the word "bath" he runs for his bed and trembles.

So today we started off with a nice, long walk in the sunshine -- just Baxter and me. I let him take me where he wanted to go. He took me through the park, down a path through the woods, across an office park and straight to the big pond in front of the Oregon Graduate Institute engineering school, where he ogled the ducks and seized a brief opportunity to roll in some goose poo. He was sooooo happy. I was sooooo glad we were about to have a bath...

I realized I haven't combed Baxter nearly enough lately... he has a tendency to develop dreadlocks under his chin and around his hind quarters and while they're easily disguised by the rest of the scruffy hair, a quick comb-through makes them quite obvious. At one point my husband and I both had to hold Baxter to get him to the point where a couple of delicately placed mats could be removed. We definitely need to be better about staying ahead of that.

Next the bath. Once again, the brave dog who fords mountain streams and swims in snowmelt with nary a shivver, became a trembling ninny once he caught sight of the nice, warm, steamy shower stall. My husband usually does the honors these days. And once the shower door closes behind them, Baxter knows the alpha WILL get the job done no matter how pathetic the trembling becomes. As usual, Baxter emerged with glee and reveled in the opportunity for a blow-dry (yes, he actually likes the blow dryer...I can't imagine hating a warm shower and liking a blow dryer, but I digress...)

Kirby, being the contrary sibling, acts as if he enjoys every minute of the process. I took out the comb and he came running, actually inserting himself between Baxter and me so he would have to be combed first. (Baxter loved that one and seized the opportunity to take off.) There were a couple of mats he really didn't like having removed, but he otherwise was very cooperative...almost as if he wanted to show Baxter up. He whined the entire time Baxter was in the shower, eager to have his turn. When Baxter trotted out, Kirby practically jumped into the shower stall. An opportunity for uninteruppted warm, sudsy time with the Alpha was actually a positive event for him. But we don't even consider the blow dryer. Loud noises aren't Kirby's thing.

Now they're dry and smelling sweet and fealing feisty. For the past hour they've been fighting over the remains of the antler from Christmas. When Baxter wins control, Kirby orbits him, biting on his ears, taking an occasional jab at his hip or neck. Eventually Baxter responds by snarling, snapping or simply giving up. Kirby now has control of the antler. I guess the old guy just got tired. Kirby is relentless.

Soon they'll get into their freshly laundered beds and, I'm sure, within a couple of days they'll stop smelling like fresh dog shampoo. But in the meantime they'll both get a few extra snuggles. I can't resist a freshly bathed dog....

Best Chew Review: Antlerz

2009-01-26T14:13:00.000-08:00

We haven't done a product review in quite a while, but one product caught our attention recently and it's definitely worthy of a positive review: Antlerz.

It all started on a holiday shopping trip with my mom, who was searching for the perfect gifts for her "grand dogs." We stopped at a natural pet store where a new product caught Mom's eye... deer antlers, packaged up as dog chews. My first three thoughts were "Will it last more than 15 minutes with Baxter?" "Does it splinter?" and "Man, that's kinda spendy!"

The clerk assured us these antlers last as long as bones and do not splinter, rather they grind away gradually into a mineral-rich powder. There are no plastics or chemicals in them and no slaughterhouses involved in the processing...the farm-raised deer naturally shed their antlers each year. The company cleans and cuts the antlers.

Sounded good, but the price still seemed rather steep for such a little chew. I figured if it was like every other natural chew we've tried, it would be gone at a rate of roughly a dollar a minute. I was ready to walk away. But being the wonderful, "spare-no-expense" grandparent she is, Mom said "I'll take one for Baxter."

I'm so glad she did. And so is Baxter. Of course, so is Kirby...all things dog are community property at our house.

Baxter helped me open the package on Christmas morning. He was immediately enthralled, engaging in an Olympic-worthy chew session on that little chunk of antler. At some point Bax decided to focus on something else (probably dinner) and Kirby grabbed it, giving quite an impressive chew performance of his own. By the time we packed up to leave the next day, the antler didn't even look like it had been touched!

Here we are, a month later, and the once four-inch antler piece is now down to about an inch-and-a-half and the dogs are still working on it. It hasn't left any greasy mess. No powder on the floor. No splinters. Just hours and hours of intense chewing on a gradually shrinking antler nubbin. I can honestly say we have NEVER had any natural chew last this long.

I haven't noticed any side effects except slightly drier stools for Kirby -- I'm assuming that's from the minerals in the powder that passes through. The positive side effect is cleaner dog teeth and calmer, happier dogs.

For all the joy this antler piece has brought to our dogs, and for its ability to stand up to two vigorous chewers for longer than any other natural chew we've tried, I'd say Antlerz are worth every penny!

Planning for a Cheek-swabbing Adventure

2009-01-22T23:09:00.000-08:00

Ok, I confess, I've had Kirby's DNA test kit for a week now and I haven't yet swabbed the little guy's cheeks. Why? Well, mainly it's because I want to do something special with this once-in-a-dog-lifetime event. I've been thinking that Kirby's mysterious lineage might just create an opportunity for some sort of wagering...a charity "dog gene pool pool" of sorts, with the proceeds going to the local animal shelter. Trouble is, I haven't figured out just how to design such a thing. I have research to do. I have friends to hit up for money. I have to publicize it. I have to swab, mail and wait for the results. Then I have to figure out how the winner can "win" while still raising enough money for the shelter. Right now I'm thinking the winnings will just be a donation to the shelter in the winner's name.

Anyway, the jist of this is I WOULD LIKE YOUR HELP. If you know of a particularly good format for such charity wagering, please let me know. And if you don't, well, stay tuned. I have a weekend coming up, the Web to search and dog cheeks to swab.

Nice Promo for a Shelter

2009-01-21T13:29:00.000-08:00

Found this one through a new creative online service called "elements." It's a creativity-inspiring site that is fun to play with and quite useful if you are looking for some visual stimulation.

The DNA breed test kit is on its way...

2009-01-04T19:11:00.001-08:00

Yes, I finally decided to take the plunge and get a DNA breed test for Kirby. I took advantage of one of the end-of-year specials...so the kit should be arriving any old time now. Then we'll be swabbing his little cheeks and sending it off with much anticipation.

I'm contemplating holding some sort of friendly pool or contest for guessing Kirby's "top five" breeds...with all proceeds going to the local animal shelter. Still working out the details on that one. But I'm taking any and all suggestions.

Kirby and the Snowdog

2009-01-01T16:23:00.000-08:00

The texture of the snow on Christmas was perfect for snowman-making. So, while I was inside bouncing our new niece on my knee, my husband and his siblings decided to get creative. They sculpted a snow family that was, I must say, quite lovely, right down to the little Kirby-esque dog. When the dogs and I decided to come out for a look, Baxter gave them all a sniff and then wanted to run around in circles in the snow. Initially, Kirby was fascinated with his likeness...but he quickly lost interest when the snowdog didn't share his warm greeting. My brother-in-law (creator of snowdog) managed to snap a couple of quick photos during those first few smitten moments...

Snow Dogs

2008-12-23T09:14:00.001-08:00

We're in the midst of the snowiest period in our area in 40 years...It started 10 days ago and hasn't melted yet. And it just keeps coming. Of course, this is new for the dogs. Oh, we've had snow in the yard occasionally, and we've been up in the mountains playing in snow, but most of the time it melts out of the yard within a day or two. And it NEVER gets this deep here at home.

Well, the first few days were fun time -- lots of frolicking and chasing and snuffling through the white powder. Then the layer of ice crusted over the foot of snow, creating an ice rink for Kirby and some alarming post-holing for Baxter and the humans. By the time the ice thinned and another few inches of snow fell, the dogs were back at the playing, getting themselves totally coated in ice balls before returning inside. The only problem was finding a good place to do the business...on this count both dogs seemed to be getting a little annoyed. For Kirby, finding the perfect spot was made all the more difficult by the fact that the snow was deeper than Kirby is tall. So my husband flattened out a few trails and little areas for them.

For the most part, though, it's play time. Baxter sinks into the deep snow, so walking through it is a bit of a chore...still, the cold, crisp air seems to bring forth a whole new set of smells and the quiet of the snowcover, combined with fewer cars on the roads, means the birds and other wildlife are easily heard. I think Bax could stand out there all day...but we don't care to, so it's usually a bit of a chore to convince him it's time to go inside.

Kirby sort of plows his way through the snow as if he were swimming, eating snow all the way. Both dogs really enjoy eating snow and at first I didn't realize just how much water they were getting. One evening Kirby was pestering us to go outside at a time when he doesn't usually have to go (he has this way of wanting to go outside right in the middle of a movie and then goes about a teaspoon...it's just a way to get attention). So when he started his whining and his trips back and forth to the door, we just figured it was the usual. We made him lay down and wait. About an hour later we took him outside and the little guy made it about six inches from the front door and peed on the step. We felt AWFUL. He wasn't kidding. It was a classic case of "crying wolf." But now we know that all that snow-eating has consequences, so we're taking them out a little more often.

This brings me to the subject of brain freeze. Have you ever seen a dog with brain freeze? It's quite hilarious. Baxter tends to get it when chomping on snowballs...suddenly he stops, his eyes have a momentary look of panic and he pulls back his lips to show his teeth. Really handsome, that.

Anyway, this post is really just an excuse to post some cute snow pictures of the dogs. Kirby is sporting a a nice coating of little ice balls each time he goes outside. Baxter's feet become totally encrusted with ice balls and, upon returning inside, Kirby goes about helping him pull them off (the towel doesn't begin to touch it). Unfortunately the recent snow pictures of Baxter didn't turn out so well, so I've included a couple of previous show shots just so he gets equal time.

Such cuteness, eh?

Mutts and Purebreds

2008-12-19T15:47:00.000-08:00

Baxter is a purebred. He is elegant and beautiful. Under that scruffy coat, his body has a perfection of proportion, form for function, that is a thing of beauty. He is the product of generations of breeding to achieve a set of unique characteristics that qualify him as an AKC-registered Wirehaired Pointing Griffon. But I still get a bit of pleasure when reading that the man who developed the breed, Mr. Korthals, was cross-breeding various hunting dogs and French farm dogs of unknown origin to get that lovely, scruffy mix of family dog and fearless hunter. It's the scruffy French farm dog -- the ones we've seen countless times roaming around the French countryside -- that give him his charm, I think.

As I've said before, while I recognize that the exercise of determining Kirby's various bloodline components is rather pointless, it is kind of interesting to me. We probably won't learn anything about him that we haven't already figured out in a couple of years with him, but you never know. There is some real value in knowing parentage. For example, when we first brought him into the vet for his puppy vaccinations, the vet told us that he looked like he had dachshund in him, and that dachshunds are more prone to having bad reactions to vaccines. He gave us instructions on symptoms and what to do if we noticed anything strange going on. That was one of the best examples I can think of for knowing something about the parentage of your dog. Fortunately, Kirby's long body shape was as good an indicator as a DNA test at the time.

Still, I think knowing his breed ancestry is mostly just a fun thing. But why? Perhaps it's because I, myself, am a human mutt of sorts. My ancestors came from at least six different European countries. When I travel in Europe, as long as I don't speak English, people seldom guess where I'm from (apparently my accent when speaking French doesn't sound remotely English...but my French isn't good enough to be a native speaker). I've asked people to guess where I'm from, and they usually pick some culturally mixed country like Belgium or Luxembourg or Switzerland.

I did have someone once tell me I look Irish. That's interesting, because Irish is the one bloodline that's closest to the old country (Great Grandpa came to the New World in the mid-1800s vs. the 1600s and 1700s for the rest of my ancestors). One British fellow once told me my nose and mouth look like the people from one specific area in Wales. I'm told the Allens (my maiden name) were originally from Wales, so maybe there's something to it.

Regardless of DNA, I'm a cultural mutt, as many Americans are. My relatives are all so removed from anything "old country" that we don't have traditions like my more purebred friends do. For example, I grew up in northern Iowa. Most of the kids I went to school with were of German or Scandinavian descent (sometimes both). My friends' families used to have exotic food traditions like making krumkake or lefsa or, god-forbid, lutefisk. My family had roast beef and mashed potatoes and apple pie. Nothing wrong with that! But it was just not very exotic. The closest thing to an "old country" tradition in my family was that my mother learned to cook from her grandmother, who was of French-Canadian ancestry and somehow managed to pass on the tradition of cooking with herbs and garlic. This constituted spicy food in our neck of the prairie. We ate really tasty roast beef.

A few years ago I undertook a bit of family history research (which unveiled the French-Canadian mystery of the garlicy food). I wanted to know more about where my ancestors came from. While it has had little influence over my day to day life, I think I just wanted to know something about my own DNA and my own cultural heritage. What I realized is that no matter where my ancestors came from, I will always be culturally an American, as were my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents (except the Irishman), and on and on for several generations before that. Perhaps the fact that my ancestors came over from their respective countries and intermarried with people from other cultures does somehow inform how I am. Perhaps this has stoked my wanderlust, my interest in learning about other cultures. Or maybe it's just fun to know.

Is Kirby a Schnorkieshund?

2008-12-15T17:37:00.001-08:00

The massive numbers of people (uh huh) who voted on my poll re: whether or not we should have Kirby DNA breed-tested voted unanimously: YES. So I guess we'll be swabbing his little cheeks soon.

Next question is which test is best? The tests I'm currently considering are (the first two have holiday specials ending December 31):

The Canine Heritage Breed Test -- "identifies over 100 breeds" $99.95

DDC Veterinary Animal DNA Services -- "over 60 known dog breeds" and $68.00 plus free shipping. (How much is it worth for those extra 40 breeds?)

Happy Dog DNA -- "62 breeds identified" $54.95 plus free shipping.

I had one previous comment that recommended the DDC. I'd love to know if any of my readers have had experience with these and is willing to venture forth with a recommendation? Visuals for your consideration...

Bloodline Bingo Redux

2008-12-02T22:14:00.000-08:00

Every now and again the subject of "what the heck is Kirby?" comes up. I recently received a comment on one of my earlier posts from someone else who had adopted a puppy that looked like Kirby and wondered if we ever figured out what he is. We see little Kirby look-alikes quite often, and it always makes me wonder if he is he a throw-back to some early black-and-tan terrier...with very old genes that manage to sprout out of lots of breed combinations?

As an adult, Kirby's looks have changed somewhat. His hair is longer, particularly his beard and head furnishings. His coat has turned more gray than black, giving him coloring almost identical to a Yorkshire Terrier. His longer-than-tall body still suggests dachshund or shorty Jack Russell. His tendency to herd us around and his love of playing fetch suggest some herding dog... And that bark sounds identical to any of the half-dozen or so schnauzers in our neighborhood.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter, but it's rather fun to play the guessing game. Still, from time to time I ponder getting one of those canine DNA tests, just to see what it comes back with (and if we're guessing anywhere close to the mark). I ran across the Canine Heritage dog DNA test. The video cracked me up. I'm not sure why. I think it was the expression on some of the dogs' faces. It sort of made me realize how silly the whole idea is. Then again, I've truly enjoyed some of the sillier moments in my life.

If any of my readers have used one of these DNA tests or has one to recommend, I'd love to hear from you.

French Dogs

2008-11-29T19:46:00.000-08:00

As always, we encountered a number of truly handsome canines in France, all of whom made us miss our scruffy guys at home.

This little guy was running around marking his territory at the Basilica of St. Mary Magdalen in Vezelay. The woman walking him said he was a "teckel" (French for dachshund) and he came there every day to make the rounds. He had shorter legs, of course, but the resemblance to Kirby was remarkable.

This sweet black lab greeted us at the Chateau de Commarin. Well, actually, at first she didn't seem quite so sweet. Being November, a tad cool and and outside the visiting hours for the chateau interior, all that was open to us was the surrounding park. We each put our 2 Euros into the automatic turnstyle and entered the grounds. As we approached the gates in front of the chateau a black lab, who had been sitting patiently by the door of the chateau, stood up and began barking at us. She took a few steps forward, lowered her head and gave us a stern warning not to enter into the inner courtyard. Not being certain if she was friendly or not, we kept our distance outside the gate, separated by a moat and a bridge.

Sensing a curiosity in the dog, I said "hello" in French. Suddenly her ears loosened and her tail started wagging. I said "come here" in French and she started trotting toward us. Within minutes she was crossing the bridge and coming over to give us a cautious hello sniff. Once she had sniffed us and decided we were OK, she ran down the trail, jumped up on the wall next to the moat and waited for us to catch up to her. She then proceeded to lead us down the trail, around the chateau, through the sideyard and into the lovely gardens at the back. She checked back occasionally to wag and cheerfully took us around the entire castle grounds before she said her goodbyes and returned to her post in front of the chateau.

I can honestly say, that's the first time I've ever had a tour led by a canine. But she did an excellent job!

This adorable old French bulldog was sitting in the doorway of a little shop in Arles. That face...

Before I continue, I want to say that for years we have enjoyed traveling in France and have come to expect certain things. Sometimes cultural change is hard to take, especially when we want things to be just as we fondly remember them on previous vacations. But in at least a couple of ways, things in Paris are changing for the better. For example, the smoking ban in restaurants and other public buildings is GREAT. We could sit in restaurants and even bars in the evenings without choking on the blue haze. Of course, we had to pass through a cloud of blue smoke on the way in the door, but it was still an improvement not to have the "non-smoking" table a mere three inches from the "smoking" table next door.

People also seem a tad more casual in Paris than they used to be, and this is reflected in their dog behavior -- we noticed this time that the French dogs were, with few exceptions, far more friendly than they used to be. In past trips, particularly in Paris, we always remarked at how aloof the dogs were...no matter which breed, they would walk alongside their owners without ever acknowledging passers-by. Apparently that was the way dogs were trained and expected to behave. Well, on this trip most of the Parisian dogs we passed cheerfully looked up at us, tails wagging. Some even came over to say hello. In our experience, that wouldn't have happened even five years ago...

Another positive thing we noticed was a significant reduction in the amount of dog poop on the sidewalk. Anyone who has spent any time walking around Paris has, at some point, spent some time scraping off the bottom of their shoes... I don't know whether they're just doing a better job of sweeping or if "le pooper scooper" has also made its way to France, but either way, it's an improvement.

Sitting in cafes with dogs curled up under the tables is a very French experience, and it always makes us miss our dogs. Perhaps someday an enlightened airline will allow dogs to be in the cabin with their owners -- not just the teeny under-the-seat variety. We would buy spaces for our dogs to come with us on longer trips if we had the chance, and I have to believe a lot of other folks would as well.

Two Weeks in France...Missing the Dogs

2008-11-24T18:07:00.000-08:00

Ok, this time I have a couple of pretty good excuses for taking so long to post here. One, I was in France for a little over two weeks and two, I had jetlag for most of last week and could barely spell my own name let alone blog.

But hey, excuses aside, we had a wonderful vacation in France. We really missed having Baxter and Kirby with us -- but fortunately, we were able to con my brother-in-law and my mom into taking turns dog-sitting/house-sitting the entire time. The dogs missed us, we're told, but I think they got the royal treatment while we were gone.

Of course, we saw a fair number of adorable, scruffy dogs while in France...most passing by too quickly to get a photo (got a couple, which will be shared soon). The French have managed to develop a number of breeds of dog that sport that adorable, unkempt look. Perhaps that's yet another reason I like traveling in France so much (that and the culture, the food and the landscape). Among the dog-related highlights of our trip were:

Spotting a Wirehaired Pointing Griffon in a small Burgundy town.
Meeting a Kirby look-alike at Vezelay (for some reason the wirehaired dachsunds in France have shorter ears than here)
Getting a tour of a castle garden from an adorable black lab (seriously, more on that later).

We had a wonderful time, and if you want to see a few of the photos, you can find our friend Kathleen's pics here. (I didn't bring my camera so must rely on Kathleen's and my husbands photos, the latter of which are still to come...)

A Little Off the Ears

2008-10-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there's some excellent evolutionary reason for this, but I've noticed that, much like humans, our scruffy dogs have different kinds of hair on their heads than they do on their bodies. On both of our wire-haired guys, the body hair (fur?) stops growing at a certain length and is more course in texture. But the hair on their heads and ears is soft like human hair and it just continues growing until we cut it.

I'm sure that if we had never trimmed Baxter's ears, he'd have chestnut-colored locks down to his knees (I've considered letting them grow just to find out...I think the max we've ever let them go is about 2" below the bottoms of his ears). Baxter's head hair and "bangs" also seem to grow until we cut them (which is usually about the time we either a) can't see his eyes or b) he starts running into furniture -- both of which occur around the same time).

Kirby's ear hair grows similarly long, although because his ears are only half-bent, it mostly forms into little tufts at the tips of his ears that stick out to the side and bob when he trots down the street. Kirby doesn't suffer from the same vision issues as Baxter, but he just looks a lot better with his hair out of his eyes, so his bangs get a trimming now and again too.

Inspired by another Wirehaired Pointing Griffon we met at the dog park yesterday (a cute, oversized female that, based on her size and place of origin, may be one of Baxter's nieces), who had her ears trimmed close and looked very cute, we decided it was time to give Baxter a trim. We trimmed his ears to just below the earline and trimmed the top of his head to stand up more. He looks quite handsome.

While we were at it, we decided to trim Kirby's ears to the length they were when he was a puppy. We trimmed a little off the top of his head, but left the rest of his facial hair and beard alone. Interestingly enough, with the short, trimmed ears and the big beard, Kirby now looks a LOT like a Schnauzer. It really changes the shape of his head to see his little bent ears (they don't bend as perfectly as a purebred Schnauzer -- each ear bends at a slightly different place to give him a charminly asymetrical look...) I kind of miss the little bobbing tufts when he walks, but he's now cute in a different sort of way.

Pictures to come after the forthcoming bath...

Sit Up and Take Notice

2008-10-21T23:03:00.000-07:00

Kirby is quite the communication stylist. He continues to develop his embouchure and now manages to make quite an excellent "aoo-aoo-aoo" when he is highly motivated to go outside. (We haven't quite gotten him to put a "t" on the end, but hey, it sounds close enough to impress visitors when we tell them our little guy speaks English.)

Kirby's latest development -- which I unfortunately missed today -- involved Kirby positioning himself between my husband and the television and executing a perfect sit-up, without prompting.

Any dog can sit-up, you may say. Thing is, we never really bothered to teach this to Kirby. His idea of a sit up has always been more like a jump-up-and-down-on-the-hind-legs sort of activity. He has seen Baxter attempt to do a sit-up...which, given Baxter's size and legginess, usually ends up being a cute but rather lopsided quick pass at the effort. So for Kirby to just plop down onto his bum and pull up into a steady, perfect sit-up was quite a surprise.

Tonight we tried to get him to do it again, to no avail. Apparently he doesn't do it on request. He did his usual bouncing and when I tried making him sit and pulling him up into a sit-up position, he wouldn't stay there (although when Baxter saw this, he himself executed a real sit-up, with an adorable air of "so there").

We have no idea where Kirby's random sit-up came from or when it will come back. I guess we'll just have to try to watch more television...

Forget Joe the Faux Plumber...Ya Gotta Love the Dog

2008-10-17T11:18:00.001-07:00

Photo detail from New York Times

The media circus around "Joe the Plumber" (who turns out not to be a plumber after all) was a thing to behold. But in all the hoopla around this guy's 15 minutes of fame there was a labrador who absolutely charmed me with his genuine inquisitiveness -- perhaps the most genuine thing about the entire episode.

From Heal to Heel

2008-10-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

While Baxter was subjected to obedience training as a youth, little Kirby managed to get a pass. For one thing, he was always so good at mimicking whatever Baxter was doing, he learned most of his commands without a whole lot of effort from us. But the one thing that a good obedience class helps a dog (and their human) learn is how to walk at heel or close on a leash without pulling hard. Of course, whether or not said dog chooses to pay attention to the command is another matter and mostly the fault of the human methinks).

Baxter is fully aware of the command to walk at heel or close. With biscuits in my pocket he's capable of near-perfect execution of any command. (Sans biscuits he prefers just a slight bit of tension on the leash, but he's been pretty good lately.) Of course, no dog is perfect, and with or without biscuits at stake, the sight of a cat running across the street will send Baxter into a lurching frenzy that ends up bringing my shoulder to the brink of dislocation -- thus the Gentle Leader.

Kirby, on the other hand, is smaller and much easier to control, so the pulling has chiefly gone unchecked. He can run full speed out to the end of his leash without so much as dislocating one of my fingers. Over the past 10 months we haven't been walking very long distances, but if we don't put his harness on him and just go with the collar, the gagging, wheezing and constant pull at the leash is even more unnerving. Shame on us for not ever teaching him to walk at heel or at least close (heel is actually a bit unnerving, I find, with a little dog...too close to being under foot).

So today we took advantage of the nice, cool, sunny morning to try to give Kirby a lesson. He is a quick learner. He's so responsive to any sort of harsh tone or movement, the mere act of barking a command along with a quick snap of the leash (no chain collar required) pretty much stopped him in his tracks. It took a few blocks for him to realize these were not just a chain of random jerking events, but once he made the connection, he was really quite good at checking himself when he got a pull going.

I know, this will take consistency and effort on our part to instill the importance of not choking himself every time he's out for a walk, but I think Kirby gets it. Now if big brother Baxter can set a consistently good example, we'll all be having a much better time on those long walks to come.

The Gloves are Off

2008-10-10T20:08:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, word has come through loud and clear to Baxter that Kirby is now fair game. Yes, Baxter was the first to diagnose Kirby's health a couple of months ago (suddenly, it seemed, Baxter stopped treating Kirby with kid gloves and started treating him more like little brother again -- this actually prompted us to allow Kirby to exercise a bit more), but I think our concern over Kirby's welfare still had put a damper on the chasing and wrestling activity.

No more. I broke up at least three chases around the upstairs today. I actually let them go for a while until the pitch got to a level where I knew there would be tears from somebody...probably me.

Brothers. It's interesting how frequently the behavior of Baxter and Kirby resembles fraternal relations in my husband's family growing up, or so I'm told. In any case, a little part of me is happy to see all the frolicking going on.

Back on the Stairway Again

2008-10-08T22:57:00.000-07:00

The stairway gates are open and Kirby now has free run of the stairs again. The little guy is gleeful. Just tonight he started his old game of carrying the orka toy up the stairway landing and dropping it. He then parked himself on the highest point from which he could still see the living room. It was so sweet to look up there and once again see his highness, the little lord of the manor once again.

Of course, even if Kirby's the little lord, Baxter is still the prince. Kirby's imposed lack of free stairway access has also hampered Baxter's ability to sit at his favorite perch, so I'm sure that in no time the two of them will soon be dukeing it out for the high spot.

In the meantime, it's just great to see him so happy to run with abandon. I'm sure the Kirby Derby will have a renaissance as well...

It's Official: Kirby is Heartworm-free!!!!!

2008-10-07T11:41:00.000-07:00

The vet's office just called to let us know that Kirby's post-treatment heartworm test came back negative, and Baxter's "just in case" retest also came back negative. Needless to say, we are thrilled and relieved and looking forward to taking the baby gates off the stairway! Kirby gets his active life back (we sensed he was feeling good so have let him work into a bit more exercise as it is) and we're out from under that 10-month dark cloud since his diagnosis last December.

Whew!

The Follow-up Heartworm Tests

2008-10-06T12:43:00.000-07:00

Today is the day... Kirby's vet said any time on or after Oct. 6 we'd be clear to have Kirby's 6-month post-treatment retest for heartworm. The vet also wanted to test Baxter again, just to confirm his last negative test.

So we packed 'em into the car (they were very excited) and took them in for their blood tests. We won't get the results until either late today or, most likely, tomorrow. So fingers are firmly crossed here and hoping for the best. It will be so nice to give Kirby back his full, frolicking freedom.

Salty Legs

2008-09-13T17:30:00.000-07:00

Let me start off by saying I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a "runner." I am a person who occasionally feels the urge to exercise at a slightly (slightly) faster pace than power walking. Sometimes it just feels good to, as my dad used to say about old car engines, "blow the cobs out."

This past week involved a couple of days of client meetings accompanied by rich food, so this morning was one of those times a run seemed like a good idea. I started off alone. I'd like to run in the company of others, but it has never quite worked out with my family. My husband is a runner, but he's much too fast for me. He actually runs. I usually do something more akin to interval training (run...walk...run...walk).

I tried running with Baxter a few years ago. Big mistake. He would go for quite a while at a perfect clip, right at my side, just long enough for me to stop thinking "watch the dog, watch the dog." Then suddenly he'd decide to check out that cat on the porch across the street and lunge in front of me. I dare not say what was going through my mind in those slow-motion moments as I sailed head first over Baxter's back toward an up-close experience with the asphalt. After the second time this happened -- the time I ended up in the emergency room getting seven stitches in my chin -- I decided I'd better leave the dog at home.

The nice thing about leaving the dogs at home is the wonderful greeting I get when I return. For them, it's both an opportunity to lavish enthusiastic greetings on one of the alpha dogs AND enjoy a tasty, salty snack (aka licking sweaty legs). It's a feeling I can only describe as being at once soothing and annoying.

Today was a rare day when I actually met up with my husband toward the end of his much longer run. We ran together for a spell (he had the patience to walk up a hill with me) and just having him there at my side boosted my stick-to-it-ness as we ran the last bit home.

On our re-entry, I learned that the alpha male's legs are far tastier than mine. We each got our respective greetings, and as the dogs ran back and forth between us, I got about two licks from each dog before they returned to #1 and attacked him like a pair of off-the-wagon dieters at a smorgasbord. He had to fight them off. It was actually kind of funny to watch.

Maybe when I get to the point that I can run the full route with the alpha male I'll be tasty too. For now, I'll just do what I can and keep a bit more salt to myself.

Pecking Order

2008-09-06T11:31:00.000-07:00

My husband and I consider each other equals in the family. There's really no reason for heirarchy, and it's nice. But we live in a canine-inhabited household, and, if you ever wonder where you really stand in your family in terms of rank, get a dog or two.

Just who is the alpha of the pack is pretty obvious in our home. When I come in the door by myself, the dogs rush me and shower me with happy, bouncing, wagging, slobbery greetings. When my husband and I come in the door together, the dogs first rush him with happy, bouncing, wagging slobbery greetings, THEN they come over and lavish me with more of the same. I guess somebody has to be first, and in the dogs' world, that would be alpha male.

This became distinctly more apparent when we were taking care of our friends' dog. Suddenly we had three canines in the house and the new dog immediately understood the order of things. It was as if there were some unwritten rule on the door: "To all canines: When you're here, the big guy with the deep voice is in charge. In his absence, try to mind #2, but just know she's a bit of a pushover. Hide behind her legs when in trouble."

I've read that one reason dogs make such great family companions is because they are pack animals with a strong sense of rank and order. When the humans in the family assume pack leadership and offer up consistent, well communicated rules, the dogs seem happier than ever because they know what's expected of them and where they stand.

Sometimes I look at Baxter when he's sitting there next to me on a hot day, panting, with that giant pink tongue draping loosely over his huge canine teeth and I realize this guy could rip my arm off if he wanted to. But instead he treats me with respect (most of the time) and sweetness and a devotion I often feel I don't deserve. When it's just the two of us, he knows I'm in charge.

But when my husband comes home, the pack order shifts...and my husband becomes the undisputed top dog. Some say dogs give men this position because they have deeper voices and, to a dog, a deep growl has much more authority, whereas a higher pitch -- like the female voice -- is associated with play and affection. I think that's probably some of it in our family. The dogs are much more deferential to him. And let's face it, no matter how low I try to make my voice, I just don't sound as scary when I'm upset about something.

Also, the dogs clearly see the driver's seat as the alpha position in the car. Or Baxter does, anyway. If he's ever left in the car without being behind the gate, he will ALWAYS go and sit behind the steering wheel, even though it's the seat with the least room for him to lay down. It's the power position. And I have to admit, when I get the chance, I defer to the alpha to do the driving. This is not because I'm old fashioned or because I think he's a better driver. I just like being the passenger better than being the driver.

But when it comes to alpha-ness, there's more to it than that. As much as I hate to admit it, my husband does a better job of consistently enforcing the rules. The fact that I sometimes slip up and don't make the dogs mind some rule we set for them means they see me as just a wee bit more of a pushover than the alpha male is. Fair enough.

There are some special advantages to being the cuddly pushover. For example, I always get to find out first when someone wants something. I'm usually the first one to get the unwavering stare, the pawing and, in Kirby's case, the earnest little growly yowling. If I don't respond, they move on to the big guy and work him over. I used to do something similar with my parents when I was a youth.

Even though Baxter and Kirby never get scraps from our dinner plates, and we've taught them not to beg, it hasn't escaped my attention that I'm usually the one they sit next to when we're eating. It's humbling to realize you have been identified as the weakest link. And when we add someone new to the mix, say my mother, the dogs immediately shift their attention to her, hoping that we might forget to tell the visitor about the rules of the house and some tidbit of dinner will make its way down off the plate.

A few years ago we had a guest for Thanksgiving who had two charming habits that Baxter simply adored. 1) She fed her own dogs table scraps as she was eating and had no qualms about maintaining the same practice with other peoples' dogs, and 2) she dropped a lot of crumbs by accident. Baxter didn't leave her side for four hours.

Between the two dogs, pecking order is a constant negotiation. But at least it's clear to them that my husband and I are the top two, and I can live with that.

Hygiene and The Bravery Role Reversal

2008-08-24T17:48:00.000-07:00

Brave Baxter and Cautious Kirby have a complete role reversal when it comes to acts of hygiene. Kirby embraces the opportunity to be combed, bathed and tooth-brushed. He actually comes running and requires little or no coaxing to stick with it -- just the closeness to one of the alpha dogs seems enough for him to almost seem like he's enjoying the process.

Baxter, on the other hand, trembles at the mere mention of the word "bath." I'm not exaggerating. In fact, if one of us goes anywhere in proximity to the bathroom and says "Baxter," he'll run for his bed and lay there, visibly trembling, until he's dragged away by the collar.

This morning Baxter's dog breath seemed particularly pungent, so we decided it was time to brush the big guy's teeth. As my husband loaded up the special dog toothbrush with special dog toothpaste, he literally had to fight Kirby off.

Baxter hid under my desk, shaking like a leaf.

I finally wedged my leg behind him and managed to push him out into the open, where my husband sat, waiting with the toothbrush. It was an ordeal. I'm not sure Baxter's breath smells any better -- he hasn't even tried panting at me since the brushing... Hey, maybe we're onto something else here!

Bravery, Bluster and Territorial Expansion

2008-08-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

Baxter has always been brave in the face of uncertainty. He faces whatever life throws at him with the unflappability and curiosity of a gun dog. When he sees a new person standing in the yard or walking toward him on the street, he walks right up to them quietly...not in a particularly waggy, friendly way, but rather in the spirit of investigation. When there's a loud noise, Baxter runs toward it -- whether it be thunder, a gun shot in the woods or me dropping a kitchen utensil. When we're in a new place, he's an intrepid explorer, running ahead of the pack (as far as we'll let him go), sticking his nose into every nook and cranny. Whenever a box is opened or a bag is unzipped, Baxter is there with his nose right in it. And, as I've mentioned before, every single birthday gift and holiday package we've sent over the past nine years has had Baxter nose hair stuck to the scotch tape.

Kirby is a whole different animal. Frequently, when we open the door to go outside, he exits the house with a deep woof, as if to tell the world "I'm Kirby, I'm tough and I just wanted to let you all know I've arrived." Yet, when he is surprised by a new person in the yard or a neighbor coming out their door, his first reaction is an alarm bark. Any loud noises at all (even just a loud clank of a spoon in an empty bowl) send Kirby under the sofa. If it's thundering outside, we literally have to drag him out from under the furniture to go out and do his business. He'd rather burst than go where the noise is. And I certainly don't have to tell you the reaction when the local air show a couple of weeks ago brought in some fighter planes who made their big turns over our house.

Given these very different approaches to the world, Brave Baxter and Cautious Kirby have very different approaches to going for a walk. Baxter will go anywhere and will pull you there, even if he doesn't know where he's going. Kirby, on the other hand, has definite territorial boundaries. Inside the boundaries he confidently pulls, runs, jumps and frolics as much as a dog can on the end of a leash. He's taken to marking the local trees and light posts and knows all the best sniffing spots. But once you cross his invisible territorial line, he's a different dog. We practically have to drag him down the street. He won't sniff, won't do his business and every passing thing, be it a person, car or squirrel, causes him to hide behind my legs.

So now I've taken to expanding Kirby's horizons -- trying new directions. Today, as Baxter was pulling me forward and Kirby was pulling me backward, I decided to put Baxter's leash through the loop of Kirby's, so I just held Baxter and all of Kirby's backpaddling balanced Baxter's forward lunging. It actually worked for a couple of blocks, enough so that Kirby and Baxter eventually ended up walking side by side gently in front of me.

We may be onto something here...

Dog Days

2008-08-20T18:37:00.000-07:00

Nice article and video in the NY Times... what better way to illustrate the dog days of summer than with dogs?

Though I must add that our 100+ degree days seemed a distant memory as I donned a RAIN COAT to go to work today... Ok, the thunder the other night was cool and the rain was kind of refreshing. But I can't help feeling like those of us who live in the Pacific Northwest make a sort of deal with Mother Nature: we will put up with the seemingly endless drizzle for nine months, just for the privilege of having a perfect summer. For me, a perfect summer involves rain showers that last a few hours, maybe a day. Then bring on the sunshine. Oh, wait, at this very moment the sun is out AND it's raining. Ahhh, Mother Nature has a sense of humor...

Time flies. So does inspiration...

2008-07-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

My inner blogger has been busy, my outer blogger has not. Over the past couple of weeks I've thought of at least a half dozen dog-related subjects to blog about, but I was never in a good place to write them down. Now, here I sit. Nada. Let it suffice to say, it's been a busy couple of weeks. We've had a surprise canine visitor, a new work schedule and some hot weather to contend with. And out of all this, when I finally find the time and inspiration, will come a few stories.

Just not at the moment.

So instead I'll share another Kirby birthday photo...

Happy 2nd Birthday, Kirby!

2008-07-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, July 7, was Kirby's (estimated) 2nd birthday. I say estimated because when we adopted the little guy, they weren't really sure how old he was. Because all the puppies were so small and the mother was relatively so much bigger, I think they assumed the pups to be a bit younger than they actually were. The shelter said 10-11 weeks, but based on Kirby's teeth our vet said he was probably more like 12-14 weeks when we got him.

So we just picked a date around the time we figure Kirby's mother found a safe place on the wilds of a farm somewhere in Northern California to have her litter of little semi-feral puppies.

I'm a proponent of spaying and neutering pets. In the case of Kirby, however, I have to say I'm glad he found his way into the world and graced us with his sweet, bouncy little self.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIRBY!

More Beach, More Friends

2008-06-30T22:16:00.000-07:00

We finally got both Baxter and Kirby all bathed and smelling sweet after the last trip to the beach when some dear friends invited us out for another day of frolicking...this time with Baxter's old pal Phoebe, the Portuguese Water Dog.

While we humans enjoyed the company of both local and out-of-town friends, the three dogs had a terrific time chasing balls, retrieving sticks and romping in the surf.

Kirby and Baxter did their usual dismantling of my husband's driftwood beach sculpture (a tradition in our family)...
With Portys and Griffons both supposedly having retrieving talents in their bloodlines, one would have expected both Phoebe and Baxter to out-fetch Kirby. Well, when everyone saw the ball at the same time, the big dogs definitely got there first. But we couldn't help laughing on a few occasions when Baxter and Phoebe did their usual anticipatory run-out-in-front-to-get-a-head-start-on-the-ball routines only to be surprised when the the ball was thrown in a different direction.

Kirby, on the other hand, waited to see what direction the ball was thrown in, THEN he started after it, got a significant lead and proudly beat the big dogs to it. And Kirby actually brought the ball back to us so we could throw it again. More evidence of that collie/shepherd blood in there somewhere.

To Phoebe's credit, she probably did more fetching than any of them. She has no fear of the incoming surf and LOVES to go out in the water to get the ball. Interestingly enough, our friends tell us Phoebe doesn't like to swim in lakes or rivers. Bax is just the opposite. He doesn't like the surf and only enters it up to his knees, and that begrudgingly. But give him a lake or river and he's diving in after anything we throw. Kirby doesn't much like water anywhere except when he's thirsty or getting a warm bath at home (which, oddly enough, Baxter hates...near-frozen snow melt is fine, warm bath at home brings on fits and shakes).

Go figure. Dog psyches. In any case, everyone had a fantastic time out there once again.

Beach Photo - 20 June 2008

2008-06-30T22:12:00.000-07:00

I love this photo from our previous trip to the coast...Kirby got to the stick first, but Baxter caught up fast...

Welcome to Reverse Peristalsis Week

2008-06-27T18:33:00.000-07:00

We've used up an inordinate amount of paper towel this week cleaning up after our dogs' gravity-defying acts. The thing that amazes me is just how long something can stay inside of a dog before the stomach decides to toss it back where it came from.

Case in point: seaweed. Day before yesterday, a good four days after having returned from the coast, Baxter approached me with a very hang-dog look. He stood drooping in front of his empty food bowl and proceeded to urp up a several nearly-intact pieces of seaweed. It took about three tries on Baxter's part (and about 12 paper towels on my part...apologies to the trees but I just couldn't use one of my good kitchen towels on it) to get it all handled. I guess Baxter will never be a) a vegetarian or b) Japanese.

Not to be outdone, Kirby gingerly slid beneath my husband's feet at his desk this afternoon and proceeded to choke up a rather substantial hair ball. Kirby hasn't hacked-up a hair ball since his days as a kitten. I guess he's been saving it up. Or maybe it's because he and Baxter are once again engaging in their little wrestling matches and Kirby goes straight for the Griffon moustache hair... Another half-dozen paper towels later, Kirby acts like nothing happened.

Ah, the joys of dog ownership. Apologies again to the trees.

Beach Dogs

2008-06-22T22:38:00.000-07:00

We just returned from spending a few days at the coast, blessed by glorious weather and plenty of time for wandering down the beaches, playing fetch with the dogs and reading. We had a great time, the dogs had a great time and, of course, it all went by too fast.

We decided to let Kirby have a wee bit more exercise this time, and I think it was good for his little heart just to have the freedom to frolic on the beach. Kirby learned a few things about coastal fauna (yes, sometimes those little shells in the sand MOVE), and we learned that Kirby has the ability to jump with all four feet simultaneously, at least a yard in the air.

Some of Kirby's mystery ancestry also came through this time... When walking with us off leash he suddenly turned into a little shepherd dog... We couldn't figure out what he was doing at first. I thought he was just frightened and hiding behind our legs. Then I realized that he was, quite methodically, running back and forth behind our heels, from my husband to me to Baxter back to me and back to my husband. He'd circle around the side, pull in close, fade back, cross back over to the other side, etc. We were being HERDED down the beach. Yes, Kirby's mother was some sort of shepherd mix... whether that be German or Australian or what, we're not exactly sure. But our little "terrier" suddenly reminded me an awful lot of my friend's Shetland Sheepdog. I guess Kirby was just doing his part to keep the pack together and fulfill some sort of genetic destiny.

Now, Baxter's a pro at going to the beach and he always approaches it with absolute glee. Among Baxter's favorite beach attractions are:

driftwood sticks -- pick it up and look exceedingly eager to play fetch, get someone to throw it, then chase it, grab it, pretend like you're going to bring it back, then run right past the thrower, lay down on the beach 100 yards away and proceed to pulverize it into wood chips before they come and take it away
dead birds -- great to roll in, and nothing gets the whole family to come running any quicker
salt water -- so delicious and it works like a laxative!
dried seaweed encrusted with shells -- crunchy, salty goodness
wet dogs -- it's a big, wet, sandy dog party out here
freedom -- get that gentle leader off and GO!

And for us, one of the sweet side effects of spending the day romping on the beach is sleeping in the next morning... the sun rises without the dogs, who snore away until well past 8am (a record for Kirby).

More to come...with pictures!

A Little Too Neighborly

2008-06-15T22:24:00.000-07:00

The weather has been glorious for the past couple of days. And, like most Portlanders when the sun finally decides to make a showing, the dogs have been feeling particularly frisky. And I'm just now realizing that the brief bit of freedom we were allowing the dogs on rainy days is now over.

We live at the end of a little alley and the patch of grass just beside our house is fairly private, but it's not fenced. Because we are a ways from the cross street, from time to time we've been letting the boys out into the yard off leash. If we let them out together, they play chase and wrestle (which we're discouraging even more, as Kirby's supposed to keep relatively calm until he gets a clean bill of health from the vet). But if we let them out individually (we always go with them), they're usually very good about trotting out to the yard, doing their business and coming back to the door. Of course, ever since we've been doing this it's pretty much been cool and rainy and I think the boys just didn't want to spend time out there any more than we did.

But now that summer's finally making an appearance, things are different. Time for new rules.

On the first sunny day, Baxter, on his turn out the door, noticed the next door neighbor standing out on his porch and decided to pay a visit. He gave the man a cursory nudge, then noticed that their door was ajar. So he took it upon himself to shove the door open with his head (something he does at home with any door that's ajar) and I caught up to him just as he was about to step inside. The neighbor was a bit surprised and I was a bit embarassed.

"Curious, eh?" the neighbor asked (he's British).

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," I said as I dragged Baxter home by the collar. Baxter seemed disappointed.

Kirby is usually a bit less neighborly than Baxter. Anyone coming out of a door can be cause for alarm and is announced repeatedly until either they or he goes back inside. And Kirby is also usually a bit more focused than Baxter when it comes to yard outings. He never strays very far from the door and he usually runs right back to the door as soon as he's finished.

So, imagine my dismay this afternoon when Kirby, after finishing his business, took off. I was taking care of picking up his business and when I turned around Kirby was gone. I ran up to the back door, which was open, and asked my husband if Kirby had come inside.

"No, I thought he was with you." Egad.

At this point panic set in. Kirby has never been out of our sight (or the sight of a caregiver) since we've owned him. He has never run off and I've come to trust him. I started yelling his name, expecting him to come around the corner of the neighbor's house. Nope. Finally, I hear his little tags jingling in the distance. He has run down the alley, across the street and down the next alley to go and visit a neighbor dog who was out for a walk.

As soon as he heard my voice, he came running back, sheepishly, with his ears and tail down. I didn't want to scold him for coming when called, but I didn't have to. He knew he was a bad boy. Not only did he run, he ran ACROSS A STREET. Ok, it's not exactly a busy street. But after seeing my first dog, Katie, a little cairn terrier, meet her demise being hit by a car on a non-busy street, all sorts of nightmarish thoughts ran through my head. A moving vehicle probably wouldn't see a little dog dashing out from between the parked cars.

So much for the warm, lazy Sunday afternoon. Perfect for visiting with the neighbors. And out of the blue, Kirby decides it's time, at long last, to be neighborly.

I guess this is the price we pay for helping Kirby build his confidence. When we got him he wouldn't go up to anyone and he was afraid of getting out of our sight. Now he usually wags when he sees strangers approaching him and he has, as of today, discovered that when he's off leash, he's in charge.

No more. The days of trust and freedom in the yard are over. And, I have to say, I am a bit sad about it. It isn't just that Kirby endangered himself by running off (thank goodness it all turned out OK). Or that he's now lost the priviledge of romping around the yard unfettered. I'm sad because I've lost something too...my trust that Kirby will stay near me.

I guess if it means that Kirby is finally becoming a normal, friendly, confident little dog, that's not a bad thing. He's just going to have to be a normal, friendly, confident little dog on the end of a leash.

Flush Puppies

2008-05-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, here's an interesting idea...Flush Puppies, flushable doggie poop bags. These guys make it sound like they invented it, but there are other brands out there. Still, it's the first time it has come to my attention, which is hard to believe since dog poop bags are such vital element of my daily existence.

These, like the others, are made with a plastic film called PVA (poly-vinyl alcohol). I looked it up and everything I find seems to show that it really is water soluble and breaks down with bacteria. Then again, I'm not a scientist, so I'm not sure I totally understand what I'm reading.

Given our experiences with other "making the world better through plastic" issues, they'll probably find something dangerous about it after we've flushed thousands of them down the loo. But I guess the question is, would it be any worse for the environment than tossing your dog's doo in the local creek (a favorite of some of my neighbors, unfortunately) or preserving poop for eternity in a landfill in a normal plastic bag or some-time-less-than-eternity in a "bio-degradable" plastic bag as we do now?

Then there's the back yard dog poo composter...

If you're in a quandry, as I am, the NRDC has published a good overview on the options.

Where's ScruffyDog? Damfino.

2008-05-27T09:39:00.001-07:00

They (meaning the blogging experts) say that one of the worst things a blogger can do is to not write regularly in his or her blog. The audience, who comes to expect to see new material, comes to the blog only to see the same post day after day, week after week. And, as time goes by, the audience gradually dwindles to nothing.

I fear ScruffyDog has come to the nothing point. One of my dear readers finally sent me an email asking if I was OK...she hadn't seen any posts in so long, she wondered if I had fallen off the face of the earth.

Sometimes it feels that way. When the pressures of work and life come to a peak, my creative energy seems to get supressed. This is frustrating. Because if there's ever a time when one needs creative juices to flow freely, it's when the pressures of work and life come to a peak. So I conserve my energy, parsing it out to each project until there's very little left for things like blogging or working on that historical novel I've been meaning to start for the past 10 years.

The one thing I do make time for, however, is playing with the dogs. If there's anything in my life that helps to replenish that well of energy it's canine companionship. I'm not really sure why. Perhaps it's because unlike human interaction, which is wonderful but draining on me, dog interaction takes nothing away. Sure, I expend physical energy heeding the call of the dogs' biological needs, trying to coax the poop bag open on a cold morning, wiping eight wet feet, scraping up the wads of dog hair that collect on the carpeted steps. But that's just stuff to do. The time I spend playing, scratching behind ears, rolling around and napping on the floor with Baxter and Kirby comes effortlessly to me. And it regenerates me in a way nothing else can.

So even though I may not always take the time to focus on my dog blog, I always take the time to focus on its subject matter. And that's what matters most.

Baxter's 9th Birthday Picture 4-4-08

2008-04-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

A little late getting the image from camera to blog, but here he is...the birthday boy. I can't believe he's nine years old already! And still handsome as ever.

Moose-bear R.I.P.

2008-04-19T09:34:00.000-07:00

I was on a conference call. Kirby was being very, very quiet.

Treatment #3 for Kirby, Baxter Tests Negative!

2008-04-16T12:26:00.001-07:00

Treatment #3 was about the same as #2 yesterday. Sore bottom on the little guy and he's lethargic, but OK. He seems to find more comfort retreating to his crate instead of sleeping under the desk or out in the open in my office. Going to his crate during the day is a pretty good sign he's not feeling well... But his eyes are bright and he gets up and comes out whenever he hears a stir. I just wish I could make him feel better right now. But if it's like the previous treatments, he should be up and at 'em more by tomorrow.

I'm also very happy (and relieved) to report that Baxter's follow-up heartworm test was NEGATIVE. This is further indication that Kirby most likely came to us from the shelter hosting the heartworms in his system. Not that that's a good thing...it's horrible. And it's not surprising, given that a) Kirby and his siblings ran loose on a farm with no preventative and no vaccines until they were several months old, and b) he came from Northern California, where heartworm is more common than in Oregon. But I've been carrying around more than a little guilt over the fact that I was an imperfect administrator of preventative...missing a month or being late here or there. The vet says it's unusual for one dog to get heartworm and the other not to, particularly given that Baxter is a much older dog, and that's why the vet wanted to retest. Fortunately, the preventative we gave Kirby early on probably killed the larvae and made the adult worms sterile, so he didn't infect too many other mosquitoes.

Anyway, lesson learned. And I still feel bad about missing preventative doses. Honestly, having been a Portland-ite for so long (where there is almost no incidence of heartworm), I didn't realize to what extent that Southern Oregon is in a higher risk category. I didn't develop as rigorous a habit of giving preventative as I should have. And my husband wasn't tracking on it at all, since it was a job I took on. Now both of us are tracking on it, noting the day each month when our guys get preventative and reminding each other -- even though we're now back in the Portland area and it's probably not as critical. I just know I wouldn't want either of our dogs to have to go through this process in the future.

I've also commented previously here that good-natured people who adopted Katrina rescue dogs (50% or more were estimated to be heartworm-positive) sometimes unwittingly spread heartworm to relatively free areas... all it takes is one of the small number of local mosquitoes sucking the blood of a positive dog, then spreading it to countless other dogs. And Portland is full of good-natured dog lovers, so it wouldn't surprise me if that, plus global warming, plus the way these things travel wouldn't result in rising infection rates here. Well, at least our veterinarian has practice.

That said, I'm so glad there is a treatment for heartworm. I grew up in Iowa hearing, at the time, that heartworm was basically a death sentence for the dog -- a slow and painful death sentence. Early treatments were very hard on the dogs and many didn't make it. The new treatment is still risky, but with a 98% success rate, I feel much better about Kirby's odds of getting through this and going on to be a healthy, bouncy, happy little dog.

Now if we can just keep him from bouncing and racing around the house for the next six months, until he gets his follow-up heartworm test, we should be in the clear.

Treatment #2 for Kirby, Test for Baxter

2008-04-15T11:28:00.000-07:00

We took Kirby in this morning for the second of his three-shot heartworm treatment. The vet also wanted to retest Baxter for heartworm -- he tested negative in December, but sometimes it takes longer for dogs to test positive and if, per chance, he was exposed last summer, it should be showing up by now. Our fingers are crossed that Baxter will still be negative.

Kirby is a bit lethargic, as he was after his first shot. They give the shot in the deep muscle of the lower back/hip area. Occasionally Kirby will curl around to bite at it, but for the most part he just seems tired. He also has his "panic smell." Kirby had this weird smell when we first got him as a puppy -- some of it is coming from his breath, but some of it just seems to come out of his whole body like a little cloud of stink. Now he gets that smell whenever he's frightened or really stressed. These trips to the vet really bring it on. It usually wears off in a couple of hours...hope so, because he's sleeping beside my desk...

The vet said the first of the three shots is the worst in terms of danger to the dog -- you don't know how they'll react, that's when the majority of the worms die, etc. Because Kirby did so well the first time, he's less worried this time -- but it's not over until it's over and we still need to watch him closely for a while. Restricted exercise continues for a few more months as well...

The vet said it's possible all the worms died after the first shot, but they can't get an accurate test for six months and the protocol says to treat all dogs as if they had a heavy worm load. So it's three shots no matter what. Kirby gets the third shot tomorrow morning. Poor guy, he still has a lump on his hip from the first shot last month, he got the other hip this morning. Not sure where tomorrow's will go...he's out of fresh hips to get shots in.

Thanks to all of you who are following Kirby's progress and who have sent your good wishes. They are most appreciated by all of us!

Yet another Kirby cousin?

2008-04-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

No photo this time... As my husband was out for his morning run today, he saw another little dog that looked just like Kenny -- same color and proportions -- walking with a different person. They didn't get a chance to meet, but we'll certainly be keeping our eyes open next time we're in that neighborhood.

Maybe dogs are like cars. Every time I get a new car, or even think about getting a particular model, I suddenly see them EVERYWHERE. Of course, we've had Kirby for well over a year now, but I know my ability to spot shaggy little black-and-tan dogs is definitely more acute.

Meet Kenny, Another "Kirby Cousin"

2008-03-31T17:14:00.001-07:00

We made a trip to the natural health pet store today to pick up some more Hawthorn Plus (supplement to help minimize side effects of Kirby's heartworm treatment). While we were there, a women came in with a little dachsund/terrier mix that looked a LOT like Kirby, only with a tad more dachsund blood -- very short legs and slightly longer ears. His name is Kenny and he's about a year old. He came from a shelter in Albany, Oregon.

I immediately thought of Kirby's dog park "cousin" Paco, who came from a shelter in Southern Oregon. Kirby came from a shelter in Northern California. Kenny's owner said she met someone who got a dog from a shelter at the Oregon Coast who looked exactly like Kenny and was about the same age.

Could there be a little, wire-haired, black-and-tan dachsund/terrier Romeo populating the West Coast?

Most likely there are many. I know the black-and-tan color markings are very common across multiple breeds and they often show up in mixed-breeds as well -- probably a very old gene in the canine gene pool.

In any case, little Kenny's tan markings are in all the same places as Kirby's and the dark part of his coat, while a little longer and softer than Kirby's, has the same mix of black and gray. His eyes have the same shape and the same dark intensity as Kirby's and that little black button of a nose is almost identical. And, of course, like Kirby at age one, Kenny wouldn't sit still long enough for me to snap a clear photo with my cell phone camera!

While I strongly believe all dogs should be spayed or neutered unless they are being shown and/or responsibly bred as part of a purebred breeding program, I still can't help but be charmed by the little "serendipity" dogs -- the black-and-tan happy accidents that charm us with their sweet, spunky little personalities and charming good looks.

Speaking of Paco, here's the latest from Cheryl down in Baja. He definitely has the shortest hair of the three...Kirby's a mix of the two. But those eyes and that face...

The Moose are Back

2008-03-30T13:46:00.000-07:00

I've been remiss in my mending. This past Christmas Kirby got a soft, little stuffed moose from my mom. It was adorable...tan with a pink tummy, pink antlers, pink nose and pink feet. It had a little squeaker in it's tummy. Kirby was thrilled. For the first 15 minutes or so he ran around the room showing it to everyone and squeaking it to his heart's delight. Then things got quiet. As we were all opening our Christmas gifts and eating cookies, Kirby was busy at work behind our feet. The next time I looked down, the little moose's pink tummy had been completely ripped open and Kirby was chewing on the squeaker. Little Moose lasted less than an hour. Other than the abdominal surgery, Little Moose was in perfect condition, so I stuffed him into a bag and decided I would sew him back up some day.

Baxter, meanwhile, had a big stuffed brown moose (aka "Moose-Bear") -- his favorite brand: Castor and Pollux. Baxter isn't one for squeaking, but whenever he gets a stuffed toy, he enjoys carrying it around, sleeping on it and occasionally ripping out a leg or nose. Of course, now that Kirby's around, Baxter seldom gets any time alone with a toy before Kirby zooms in and steals it. I'm not sure which dog was the culprit this last time, but Moose-Bear also managed to get eviscerated...but the squeaker remained. Moose-Bear went into the mend pile as well.

The mend pile lives in the laundry room, in a bag on top of a hamper. Every now and then I'll find Kirby sitting in the laundry room looking up at it and growling under his breath (it's as if he's willing it to come to him). Finally today I decided to get out the needle and thread and bring a couple of moose back to playing condition again. Little Moose got a tummy tuck...this time sans squeaker. Kirby seemed pleased, but a bit disheartened that no squeaking happened when he bit into the little pink belly. Oh well.

I mended Moose-Bear and handed it to Baxter. Bax got a good 3-4 minutes with it before Kirby realized Baxter had a toy and proceeded to steal it away. I tried to give Little Moose to Baxter, but he refused to even touch it.

I don't know why Baxter doesn't protect his toys...I'm not sure if he thinks Kirby is somehow superior to him or if he just figures it's not worth arguing over. In any case, Kirby is now napping with BOTH of the moose and, so far, their stitches are holding.

Cheese Dogs

2008-03-25T22:43:00.000-07:00

Both Baxter and Kirby are getting a bit more cheese lately. Now that we are administering pills and supplements as part of Kirby's treatment, we have hit upon the perfect way to get him to gobble them up...wrap 'em in cheese. He doesn't even bother chewing, the whole mini-cheese-ball goes down in one gulp, no questions asked. The cheese of choice? Tillamook sharp cheddar. It takes a bit of work to get it squishy enough, but it works like a charm.

While all the daily dosage attention is going to Kirby, Baxter stands in the background wearing his best hang-dog expression until he also gets a piece of cheese (sans pill, of course).

Now all I have to do is open the refrigerator door and take out ANYTHING wrapped in plastic. I immediately hear the scrambling of claws on the hardwood and within mere seconds there are two scruffy beggars at my feet.

I'm sure the cult of cheese will continue long after this episode of pill administration is over, and I'll never again open the fridge without four ears going up. Well, up as far as they go anyway.

Spooning

2008-03-17T22:20:00.001-07:00

For the past several nights Baxter and Kirby have been spooning as we sit and watch movies. Each time we haven't had a camera close by, so no visuals yet. Both my husband and I are charmed each time we see the two of them in this peaceful state, Kirby curled up in the warm arc of Baxter's much larger body, both sleeping. Kirby is finally calm enough to stay that way, not giving in to the temptation to chew on Baxter's legs or ears. And Baxter no longer gets up and walks away. The two have made peace. They're family now -- not just by our imposition of a new pack-mate, but by their own decisions to be at ease in each other's company.

So far, so good!

2008-03-13T22:37:00.000-07:00

Kirby seems to be doing well on his meds and herbs and his energy level is pretty much back to normal. As we anticipated, our biggest challenge is making sure he doesn't get overly excited or start jumping (one of his gleeful habits). Interestingly, I think he does sense an increased concern or urgency in our voices when we tell him to stop jumping. He's actually listening and stopping, for the most part, which is really, really helpful.

Baxter seems to sense that something is different. He has been different with Kirby -- sniffing him a lot, tolerating a little more cuddling, accepting when we're paying attention to Kirby. I was away working when my husband took Kirby to the vet on Tuesday, but he said that Baxter was just out of sorts during the hours Kirby was away. And Bax seemed genuinely happy when Kirby came home. Baxter has always been an extremely sensitive dog and I think he knows something is up, probably by the way we're treating Kirby and by whatever different smells and information Kirby is conveying.

The vet put Kirby on a low dose of prednisone to reduce inflammation and I think it is making him a little hungrier. He's now begging for food with much greater intensity and keeps going over to his empty bowl to lick it. Oh well, at least it's really easy to give him his pills -- wrap 'em in pieces of cheese and they go down in one fast gulp!

Kirby's Home

2008-03-11T17:30:00.000-07:00

Kirby went in this morning for his first heartworm treatment, which consists of a shot of an arsenic-based compound that kills the heartworm. The shot, which was given in his lower back, is painful, I'm told, based on the location. That seems pretty consistent with Kirby's reaction so far -- he keeps biting and licking at the injection site. The vet has him on prednisone for a while, I guess to reduce inflammation.

Other than the injection site irritation, Kirby is a bit low energy, but otherwise OK. He's on strict "no jumping" orders, and so far he hasn't even attempted to leave the ground. He's asleep under my desk.

Now we just wait and watch for any signs of difficult breathing or other reactions. As I've noted before, I'm told the most dangerous part of this is if a worm breaks off and goes through the blood stream it can cause a blockage somewhere. So let's hope those worms hang on until Kirby's body can eliminate them micro-bit by micro-bit.

So far so good.