Wednesday, February 16, 2011
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...
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Oh what a nose!
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.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Kirby Demonstrates "Frustration Tolerance"
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.
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.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
My Psychic iPod
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
What surgery?
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!
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!
Saturday, January 08, 2011
RESULTS: Lumps and Life III
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!
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!
Friday, January 07, 2011
Dog Vocabulary
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Lumps and Life II
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!
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!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Mystery Solved: Podengo
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.
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.
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.
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.)
 |
| Podengo Pequeno |
(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 |
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.)
Monday, November 29, 2010
Austin, the Great Dane, on MAX
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...Sunday, November 28, 2010
Gray Friday and Electric Santa
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving for Dogs
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.
*Yes, they've perfected the art of begging from a prone position. Oh that look... I must be strong.
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Dog Sofa
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...
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...
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
The Escape Claws
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...
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Canine Snore-fest
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.
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.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Welcome Vito!
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.
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
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!
I'll go if I can make it that day...if not, I'll definitely be checking this place out some other time!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Adios Paco
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.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Exercising Options
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)