Griff Toddlers

The breeder posted this little video of the 2-week-old pups from a few days ago -- they are growing so fast! It is amazing how suddenly their eyes are open and they're howling and whining and romping around...

Puppy Fever - And so it begins...

5 boys, 5 girls...one little future Newton pack member...

Puppy Fever - Meet the Parents

It's official. We will be getting a puppy! Supreme Point Kennels is a family operation run by a veterinarian along with her husband and their three children.

So...a few introductions.

This is the mama dog, Ch. Griffondor Trey
(aka Trey)...

This is the papa dog, Ch. Fireside's Spontaneous Combustion
(aka Buster)...

Breeder Lisa and her daughter/helper Becca using ultrasound equipment to listen to puppy heartbeats.

And somewhere in there is a little Griff that will become a member of the Newton family in late November! Pups are due somewhere around my birthday (fingers crossed on that one). 

Puppy Fever - Part Deux

Timing is everything. And once you decide you are ready to get a puppy, tomorrow doesn't seem soon enough. Putting a more rational hat on, it wouldn't make sense for us to get a puppy in September or October because we're having work done on our house. Bringing a little puppy into this world of ripping, pounding and workmen running around just wouldn't be a good idea.

We decided to connect with a few folks in the Griff world...just to see what was happening out there. I tried to call the family where Baxter came from. They'd moved.

So I looked up the breeder of Baxter's mom. One of her dogs just had a litter -- a pup could come home with us in October... Nope.

Another contact was planning to breed her lovely Griff... We'd love to get a pup from her, but her dog hasn't come into heat yet... Given the likely timing, that would mean the puppy coming home some time February. Not sure we want to wait that long for a number of reasons.

Then I came upon the website of a breeder in Northern California...she's a holistic veterinarian, has started a nice pet blog and her family has a beautiful Griff ready to give birth very soon (likely date might even fall around my birthday...)

We're on the list!  Is our next family member in there somewhere???

Puppy Fever

Kirby doesn't know what he's in for. Or maybe he does. We love our little guy dearly, but we all seem to be missing that big dog energy around the house. Baxter has left a hole in our lives that can never be filled... even so, lately we've been feeling a bit of puppy fever. I'm not sure exactly when it started, but a few weeks ago, both my husband and I compared notes and realized that we each had started looking at websites for Wirehaired Pointing Griffons. We decided maybe -- just maybe -- it was time to start looking for another puppy.

Meanwhile... our last trip to the beach with Kirby made it quite obvious to us that he still misses his pal. When Baxter was around, Kirby used to happily tag along with him as he ran and explored and sniffed every clamshell and bit of driftwood (and the occasional dead fish or bird). They chased and played and Kirby seemed more free and more confident at the beach than he did anywhere else except the inside of our house. But without Baxter, our trips to the coast have been different. Kirby hangs at our heels. He doesn't explore. He doesn't play. He will sometimes run to greet another dog, but then quickly runs back to us. He looks around constantly, flinching at noises and things that move. Oh, he still enjoys the unfettered running, but the paranoia seems to have taken some of the joy out of it.

We thought maybe hanging around with some Griffs would help us know if we were ready to bring another dog into our lives, particularly one who might look and act a bit like Baxter. We decided to visit the woman who first introduced us to the Wirehaired Pointing Griffon. She welcomed us to her home where she now has three Griffs and two Dobermans running around. Kirby played tirelessly with the Griffs (the Dobies were segregated so as not to overwhelm our little guy...three vaguely familiar dogs were overwhelming enough). Actually, Kirby didn't seem overwhelmed at all. We were a little nervous that he seemed quite comfortable running with the big dogs, to the point where we knew roughhousing might lead to tears (ours).

We had a great time soaking in that energy -- and there really is a Griff energy that is unique. It's hard to explain, but if you've ever known one, you know what it is. It's a lightheartedness, a goofiness, a sweetness. Well, here's a wee glimpse of it...



So, perhaps it is time. For all of us. We want that big dog energy, that Griff energy in particular, back in our lives. Now to find a puppy...

Kirby and Mr. Hedgehog

 Last week we got Kirby a new toy. He has always loved stuffed animals and, sadly, most of his older ones had been eviscerated and de-squeakered (by Kirby) and re-stuffed and sewn-up (by me) so many times they were no longer recognizable as the cute little bunny, bear and moose they once were.

The tennis ball and rope toy seemed to be holding his interest for a while... But when I saw the Hedgehog in the pet department at our local store, I just knew. Anyone who says dogs don't show expressions on their faces hasn't spent enough time around dogs. And no, I really don't think I'm anthropomorphizing when I say Kirby was ecstatic when I presented him with his new little friend.

For several days he just carried Mr. Hedgehog around, squeaking it, licking it gently, lying down with his paws around it and attempting to smuggle it into his crate at bed time (at which point Mr. Hedgehog was quickly discovered and removed so that the human inhabitants of the house could get some sleep).

That was the romance stage.

Then, as usual, things got more complicated. Mr. Hedgehog's squeaker was eventually squished to the point where it no longer worked. I don't know if it was the disappointment or just the desire to change things up a bit, but we have discovered that Kirby is now in the process of plucking Mr. Hedgehog, hair by hair, and spitting out the yarn in little piles around the house.

Mr. Hedgehog has not yet been eviscerated, much to my surprise. Perhaps Kirby has finally learned that when the stuffing starts coming out, the stuffed toy goes away. So he's doing it slowly, fiber by fiber.

I'm not sure I should allow this indignity to continue to fall upon Mr. Hedgehog (or the carpet or Kirby's innards). But the bald spots seem to have remained the same for a few days now. Kirby continues to carry his little, depilated Hedgehog around the house (albeit not with the same level of enthusiasm he once had) and, when we've been away for a couple of hours, he still greets us at the door with Mr. Hedgehog when we come home.

When I look at Kirby's sweet little face with the pudgy little Hedgehog in his mouth, I can't imagine taking it away. At least not yet.

Kirby Goes Solo

Life without Baxter has not been easy for us. I could write an endless number of posts talking about all the little things I miss each day about him. But not today. Today is about Kirby. The other dog. The little guy. Little Mug. Kirb.

Kirby has had a period of adjustment as well. Being the only dog in the house is entirely new to him. Since birth, he's always been around other dogs. At first, Kirby seemed to be waiting. He seemed quieter, more somber. His barks were tentative (in the past, Kirby would sound the alarm whenever anyone came anywhere near our home, then he would run and hide under the sofa and continue to bark while Baxter ran to the window or door to investigate). They had this worked out. Kirb was the alarm dog, Baxter was the brave investigator, the enforcer. Anyone who tried to break in thinking there was just a little dog inside would have been greeted by a very tall, very scruffy dog. Without his enforcer present, I think Kirby is being a tad more judicious about his barking. This is not a bad thing. Although he does seem to gradually be finding his voice and his courage.

Over time we have noticed that Kirby has become much more interactive with us, more tuned-in to what we are doing. We always thought that Kirby -- while very sweet and, at times, downright cuddly -- lacked the sort of deep social attachment Baxter had with us. I thought perhaps this was just a breed thing. Now I'm realizing that Baxter really was Kirby's translator most of the time. Kirby would let us know when he wanted something, but he didn't spend much time watching us, gazing into our eyes or even checking back with us when we were all on a walk. Baxter did all of those things while Kirby gazed at Baxter, picked on Baxter, played with Baxter. Now he is turning to us more as playmates. His tennis ball is with him most of the time, and the second there's an open moment, it's dropped at our feet. He sits on my lap and looks me right in the eyes. He checks back when we are walking. He asks to come up on my lap while I'm working, something he only used to do when we were on Skype (that's fodder for another post...) In short -- he's communicating with us more.

There's not doubt that Kirby has helped us through the loss of Baxter. Just having him around is a comfort. And I think he feels the same way about us. We've always loved Kirby, but I think now we are getting to know him in a new way. And it's really quite endearing.

Baxter Henri Campagnard: 4 April 1999 – 23 April 2012

This is the Scruffy Dogs post I never wanted to write.  Our beloved dog, Baxter, has passed away. It has taken me a while to get to the point where I can even begin writing about him. And even now, more than a month later, it is incredibly difficult.

Baxter Henri Campagnard was the scruffy dog who inspired this blog a number of years ago. He and our little dog Kirby, who came along later, provided fodder for most of my musings about dog companionship over the years. Baxter made it easy. He was the sweetest, gentlest, most soulful dog I have ever known. And while all dogs are special, I can’t tell you how many people over the years Baxter was in our lives told us what a truly unique and special dog he was. Of course, we knew that. We knew it from day one, when the family who bred his litter opened the gate to their back yard and that little, scruffy puppy with the golden eyes just sat there, right in front of the gate, looking straight at us as if to say “well it’s about time you got here!”

The connection was immediate for both my husband and me. As for Baxter, his place in our lives seemed perfectly natural, expected. There was no transition period, no crying for his mother or littermates. Baxter just nestled into our lives with a comfort and confidence that he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

He charmed us, inspired us and made us laugh. He drove us crazy at times with his puppyhood antics: the shredding of whatever we put into his puppy crate; the discovery of the bowl of Belgian seashell chocolates that, when consumed, set off a frenzy involving a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a turkey baster; the penchant for eating whatever stinky things he found along the sidewalk; the insatiable curiosity that had us following him around the house saying “no” and “leave it” almost constantly for a few months. He tested his boundaries and he tested our patience at times, but every moment of puppyhood and adolescence was worth it because Baxter grew into a thoughtful, loyal and trustworthy dog – a dog who never destroyed anything in our house that wasn’t in his crate (people don’t always believe me when I say that, but it’s true); a dog who learned not to touch the food we left within easy reach; a dog we could trust around the delicate pieces of artwork throughout our house. (There was the mysterious disappearance of a hotdog off the hibachi at a 4^th of July cookout, but I’m still not sure it wasn’t eaten by one of the human family members...) Baxter earned our trust and that, among other things, made him an incredibly free, relaxed and easy dog to live with. 

Everyone in our lives who came to know Baxter – even those who didn’t particularly like dogs – were quickly won over by him. Baxter was a consummate diplomat, at the dog park and among humans as well. There was just something incredibly charming and disarming and goofy and completely non-threatening about him. If he sensed that anyone, dog or human, didn’t want him around, he took it on as his challenge to get them on his side. He managed to break down the defenses of some of the most grouchy dogs at the park (and a few people as well). Part of it was his gentle nature from the get-go. I'll never forget his first encounter with a toddler, on a hiking trail. Baxter was still a puppy, less than a year old at the time. We rounded a corner and he came face-to-face with a little girl, a pre-verbal toddler, who had managed to run ahead of her parents. The girl ran right up to Baxter without an ounce of fear, reached out and grabbed his big, brown nose with her little hand. Baxter just stood there. He wasn't afraid, he didn't jump or try to play with her as he might have done with us. He just calmly waited as the little girl giggled. Finally his eyes rolled up to look at us as if to say "it will be nice when this nose-squeezing stops...can you help that along perhaps?" From then on, babies, toddlers and children of all energy levels were immediate friends.

Baxter had a way of looking at you, directly in the eyes, with an earnestness and an inquisitiveness that felt like he was reading your mind. That look was never confrontational. Rather, it felt like he was striving to connect with you, to understand you – to read your words, your intentions, your wishes. He did seem to comprehend human language better than any dog I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he usually responded to our thoughts and spoken words with an uncanny accuracy that further demonstrated his level of understanding. I could go on for hours about all the words and even concepts he understood. I think I sometimes took his communication intelligence for granted because it was just such a part of who he was. I’m realizing now just how rare that is, among people and dogs. And I realize how much he served as a dog-human translator for Kirby.

There is so much more I could say about Baxter and his life with us, but most of it is already here, in the blog entries over the past six years. I want to celebrate Baxter’s life somehow. Perhaps this blog is part of it, celebrated over time. And I’m glad that I spent a lot of time appreciating him while he was alive, even more so during the past couple of years. Baxter still had an incredible joie de vivre, but the changes that come with age were apparent. He was slowing down. And while I missed the energetic, lively, athletic dog of his youth, I grew even more deeply attached as we moved into the soulful calm of his senior years. There is something about a dog who just knows how the world works. Nothing rattled him (except the neighbor cat, still). And he seemed so perfectly happy to just be with us, to pad around the house following us from room to room, to nap with his head on Jamie’s shoulder every afternoon, to curl up on the couch at my feet every evening.

I knew every inch of that dog. I studied him, held him, spent countless hours stroking his wiry brown-gray coat, looking into his expressive eyes and caressing the soft hair on his head and ears. I miss those times. I miss hearing his breathing – even his snoring – when we go to sleep at night. I miss his big brown nose and his giant pink tongue, lolling out the side of his mouth on a hot day. I miss the sound of his dog tags jingling as he shook-off a nap. I miss how he insisted on standing in the yard smelling the wind when I was impatiently waiting for him to do his late-night business. I miss the paw on my lap and the earnest stare that told me it was time to get up from my desk and go outside. I miss the impish, playful glance and the bay-like howl that let me know it was play time. I miss his warmth. I miss his energy. I miss his earnestness. I miss his presence.

I still have a hard time coming to grips with the fact that he is no longer with us. Sometimes I forget, just for a second, and expect him to come along with Kirby to greet me when I come in the door. Sometimes I can feel his presence. One evening, before bed, I looked up at the stairway landing and I saw him there, just for a second, looking down at me. It felt so real, and so fleeting. I don’t want these apparitions to ever go away. At the same time, I hope Baxter’s soul is at peace. And I take comfort in knowing that he is with me in all the wonderful memories of our time together.

Baxter Henri Campagnard will always have a special place in my heart.

Baxter's 13th Birthday

Still handsome.

Scruffy Dog Kudos: Organix Grain-free Dog Food from Castor & Pollux

Baxter

Ages since I've posted. Broken record, right? Well, I thought this was worth mentioning...

A friend sent me a link today to yet another frightening story about toxic pet foods imported from China that are resulting in much suffering and death of dogs around the country. It's frightening. And it underscores how the great power of global trade also comes with a great responsibility to ensure the quality and safety of items we import from other countries. For me it drives home how important it is to know where ALL of our food comes from. Or at least to have a pretty good idea of it.

"Buy organic and local whenever possible" has been a practice I've tried to stick to for human food for a long time. But unless I cook my own dog food, it's much harder to know what Baxter and Kirby are getting. I barely have time to cook my own people food (note how infrequently I blog these days...no coincidence...), so cooking separate, highly meat-oriented dog food for the canines isn't likely to happen any time soon.

So the next best thing, for us, is purchasing high-quality pet food and treats. Also, because of Baxter's issues with grain, we need to be very careful that none of the dog food that we buy has any grain in it at all (not even rice). Some might think this is excessive, but Baxter had recurrent ear infections and horrible skin allergies for seven years, even when we were feeding him lamb and rice and special allergy formula foods from the veterinarian.

On the advice of a different, holistic, veterinarian, we took him off ALL grain six years ago (see this post from 2006) and I'm happy to report that Baxter has not had one skin allergy problem or ear infection since. NOT ONE. And we've had him on several different grain-free foods. It really does make a difference. 

So I was excited when one of our favorite local pet product companies, Castor & Pollux, began offering grain-free versions of their Organix pet food. I've been waiting for them to offer organic, grain-free food for years. When our local New Seasons market, where we do most of our people-food shopping, started carrying it a few months ago we decided to give it a try.

Kirby

First, I have to say this food passed the Baxter and Kirby taste test with flying colors. Kirby is always enthusiastic about dinner, but Baxter usually takes his time and hasn't been very enthused with mealtime for a few years now. Since switching to the Organix grain-free kibble and canned food (we mix a small amount in) he has been right there with Kirby at meal time, waiting for the "go" signal so he can plow into it immediately. He hasn't been this excited about food in years. Even with other canned food mixed in.

Health-wise, the food seems to be good for both of them. Both dogs have shiny coats, no skin issues and excellent bills of health from the vet. Baxter's digestion, which faced a few challenges after a dozen years on the planet, is now in perfect working order. That alone was worth the switch.

And I've been happy to purchase from a local, Oregon company. It's the first time I've ever purchased dog food at our local food market (I have to say, though, New Seasons is no ordinary market). Anyway, it's HANDY.

So, the last question for me about the Castor & Pollux food was origin. Today I sent them an email asking about where they source their ingredients and linking to the article on Chinese imported pet foods. I was impressed that I got a very nice and thorough reply within a few hours:

Over 95% of our ingredients are from the US and Canada, but sometimes the highest quality is from other countries.  Our chicken is from here in the United States and our lamb is from New Zealand, but none of [our] meats or veggies are from China.  All our ingredients are tested upon arrival, samples are tested throughout production, and all finished product is tested for toxins and contaminants before we release it for sale.  The quality and safety of our food is our #1 priority and we would never compromise our commitment to the wellbeing of our four-legged family members by using anything less than the best available ingredients in their food.

I'm taking their word for it. Why? Because they have earned my trust. We've always had great experiences with their other pet products and now with their Organix grain-free foods. They responded to me quickly and thoroughly. And I know where they are. I can drive there and look them in the eye if I want to. And that's close enough for me.

Sense of Time

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.