Sweet and Simple Sample of Summer

Nothing puts you in the here and now as a dog walk. Whether with a young dog pulling you in front, or an old dog lagging behind, the human at the end of the leash is gifted with the canine experience of life. It is called living in the present for all that it is worth.

 

Walking the dog gets you out in all seasons.  You share in the changes in temperature and precipitation. You are able to focus on the sounds, smells, and physical sensations of your surrounding at a pace that has no time.  Well, why not just throw yourself on the carpet of lawn and get a good back scratching?  The grass and ground are cool, and you are one with the earth.

These lovely wildflowers sway in the gentle breeze. I am reminded of my youth, of summers long ago when the last day of school signaled a time that stretched into eternity.

I recall lying in the clover, inhaling its  perfume.  I would make daisy chain crowns and necklaces with my friends.  We would spend hours looking for 4 leaf clovers, believing that it would bring good luck.  Buttercups would be tasted, because the name sounded like they should be tasty. Slender blades would be placed just so in sideway thumbs and blown like a reed, so as to create the call of a bird.

The back yard of my childhood was surrounded by large mulberry trees in which I would climb and gorge myself on the berries.  Sometimes I would tie a blanket in a tree like a hammock, whiling away the hours reading a book, snacking as desired.  The sounds of the birds twittering, a passing car, children at play...all was a soundtrack of vibrant life in the present.

Do you share my delight in the taste of mulberries? It is a simple flavor, but rich in memories for me.  It hearkens the first days of summer and when the sun shines hot, the branches are heavy with berries bursting with juice.  Birds are in ecstasy.

It is free for the taking and I happily partake of this sweet pleasure as Chewy munches on lower level tender green leaves.

A beautiful red purple stain is a tell-tale of my indulgence. As we head home, I step in puddles to wash my shoes soles so as not to bring the mashed berries indoors.

Numerous examples of riotous florals pleasure my eyes and in some cases, offer a lovely scent. Meanwhile, Chewy is sniffing other kinds of aromas, lagging behind or pulling ahead. I thank him for letting me share his walk and reminding me that there is no past or future, only the present, so live it! 

Not Time To Say Goodbye

On this past New Year's Day, Chewy and I went out for our usual morning walk.  It was a beautiful winter day; the sky was cerulean blue and the temperature crisp but not too cold.  We enjoyed the twittering of the birds and the surreal quiet that only occurs on New Year's Day due to most people having the day off and staying at home. I optimistically made lists galore of all the resolutions that I might inaugurate.  My day was off to a good start! 

My mascot, Chewbacca
 

I left for a brunch and then returned home to find that Chewy could not use his back legs.  My happiness dissolved into despair and depression at what I imagined would be a dreadful decision to be made. It was tortuous to wait out the long day and night to see his doctor in the morning.  At our neighborhood Kingsbury Animal Hospital, Dr. Shaw advised that Chewy was suffering from geriatric disc displacement. He suggested a special harness, patience, and even acupuncture. I made an appointment at St. Louis Hills Veterinary for their earliest acupuncture opening.To my utter surprise and relief, Chewy began to get a little bit better day by day.

 

After a few days of rest, Chewy needed exercise to prevent muscle atrophy, but he was still dragging his feet a little and they needed to be protected.  I bought him some leather boots from Petsmart and with the fancy harness from Help 'Em Up (which enabled him to picked up like a suitcase), he was soon handsomely outfitted like a French mountain climber. 

 

At Chewy's first treatment, needles were inserted in his head, back, and hind legs.  Some of these were connected to a gizmo that looked like something you might tinker with in your basements back in the 50's to run a toy train. In addition to the acupuncture treatments, he was administered the ancient herbs of myrrh (for improving his circulation) and aconite (for pain relief).

There were also concerns about his right eye, which required a visit to a dog eye specialist. Turns out it was another 'old age' issue of corneal degeneration that happily was quickly arrested. A broken molar was discovered as well, that would have to be dealt with at a later time. Fortunately, he had no current skin allergy problems. This is a million dollar dog, if there ever was one!
 

Still a puppy at heart, Chewy took these traumas in stride and was soon back to treating himself to a good back scratch on a zosia lawn. Never mind the boots and harness; what was important was doing the things that dogs love most:  walking, sniffing, and scent marking at every opportunity.

Here he is on his baronial bed for Briards having an afternoon nap. He sleeps on an orthopedic foam mattress surrounded by damask pillows and fur throws. The white sheets are washed weekly because he has been prone to skin allergies. It's been a tough 2 months, but he is well on the road to recovery and his old self.  I've had Chewy for a long 15 years, and treasure each and every day. What a relief to have this reprieve and not have to say goodbye just yet!

A Dog of Flanders Wins in Westminster

The Westminster Kennel Club has proclaimed that Chewbacca, a briard, is the best dog in the world.

Every public outing of his life has never failed to elicit comments such as, "What a face!", or questions such as, "What kind of dog is that?", or even, "What kind of animal is that?"

Chewbacca is a devoted and faithful companion.  He is an excellent tail-wagger, knows when it is time for his walks, and can vocalize to the point of nearly talking.  He is a classical music lover, particularly of piano and voice. He works part-time as both a dishwasher and a dust mop.  At 15 years of age, he still manages to be irresistibly cute and as playful as a puppy. Judges were unanimous in designating him as top dog of Westminster Kennel Club, as I am sure you would agree!

The Dreary Inn

The idea, of spending the holiday season in New Orleans was a new one indeed.  I had never spent it away from St. Louis.  But Emily couldn't come to St. Louis, so the decision was clear:  pack up the car and the dog and head on down to warmer climes, with a stop-off mid-way at a dog-friendly motel.

The landscape from St. Louis to New Orleans changed from hilly to flat.  

Chewy

A dog's life - who wouldn't like to be conveyed in this style?

The dramatic six story lobby

Ah, the drama of an off-highway ramp hotel!  It was a middle-America adventure to behold, and one that promised not only to pamper your pets, but promised free breakfast and dinner for the patrons.  The mention of three free alcoholic drinks had a certain appeal as well...But true to form, I was late on arrival and the restaurant and bar were closed.  A salad from Appleby's had to suffice. 

Toilet on an angle

I must admit I was a bit taken aback by the luxurious details such as marble and granite baths, and here, a toilet ON AN ANGLE!  I really liked that touch. It was Chewy's first stop for a drink. There was a flat screen TV and a kitchenette; all the accoutrements of home! Though the tub drain required fixing before I could take a bath, the bed was delightfully comfortable, and I was soon drowsy and in dreamland.   

Dreadful food

Only to wake up to a nightmare...Amidst the frills of an indoor pool, jacuzzi, work-out room, fireplace, computer center, friendly and caring staff and so forth...How could the these high standards suddenly plummet when it came to food?  What I thought might be served in a prison was laughable when served in fancy buffet receptacles. Unfortunately, the hungry patron had to wrestle with toy plastic forks and knives on styrofoam plates. Like a barbarian, I was reduced to tearing my rubber waffle apart by hand. The buffet presented one dish after another of tasteless starch, fat, and mystery meat. White and orange were the dominant colors. These were scraps that I wouldn't throw to Chewy!

Well, if you ask me...there needs to be a certain consistency when "luxury" is thrown around. You can't serve slop on granite countertops.  And don't tell me people don't want it or need it. This is the time for standing up and doing what's right - otherwise, you can say it's all gone to the dogs. And I'm sure dogs don't care if their toilet water is served in a granite and marble bathroom!

Born To Be Wide

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,

    His wife could eat no lean,

And so betwixt them both, you see,

    They licked the platter clean.

In a household of dogs, I call licking the platter the first cycle of the dishwashing process.  They do enjoy it so much, and I hate to deprive them of this seemingly innocent pleasure.  But sometimes good intentions can  be led astray. This is the story of the dogs Alice and Monica; one who is fat, and one who is lean. This is a dog blog.

Alice shows a svelte silhouette shot at the shelter. 

The fatness of Alice didn't start that way.  Some of you may recall her adoption a couple of years ago.  She had the look of a junkyard dog with a wiry brindle coat. Naming her Alice was an attempt to impart some femininity to her appearance. Here she is shown at a trim 32 pounds. I thought she looked a bit lean.  Her ensuing weight-gain, I supposed was due to dietary deprivations suffered while out on the lam. Actually, I felt we had a lot in common, having grown up with six siblings and never knowing where my next meal would be coming from.

Chewbacca, Dog of Flanders

Alice was chosen to be a companion to Chewy, but we found that Chewy, being 10 years of age, could not care less about the 2-year old upstart. The love match that I had hoped to make was a complete failure.  Chewy was aloof to her attentions and I anthropomorphically felt that she languished in the relationship.

Alice enjoying street food.

As it turned out, Alice was mostly interested in eating.  Apart from the 5 course meals she would find on her daily walks, she was frequently getting into the cat food and Chewy's, too, if he didn't eat it fast enough.   The new dog from the pound started to put on pounds.  I personally thought she had just 'filled out' a little, but a trip to the vet produced surprising concern.  Even the receptionist commented that she didn't have "much of a waist", which, looking at the receptionist, was calling the kettle black. Alice had mysteriously ballooned to 42 pounds!  Seemed like she was being fed next to nothing, but perhaps the stolen snacks and street food were taking their toll. Had her tail been straightened and was she a pot-bellied pig in disguise?  Had she been mis-identified at the animal shelter? 

When Emily visited with her own newly adopted dog, Monica, Alice found a fast friend.  You might make the mistake of thinking that Monica is malnourished, but she is part Whippet, which is a racing breed that is naturally slender.  She is extremely agile and can run like the wind.  Alice tries valiantly to keep up, but to no avail; not many dogs are as fast and willowy as Monica.  Not many dogs are as fat and wide as Alice.  She and Monica are a study in contrasts, like Lady and the Tramp.  Like a junkyard dog, Alice can't get enough to eat, and like a lady,  Monica is dainty and disinterested in all-you-can-eat buffets .

Monica

It was decided that the two young dogs would be better off with each other, plus, there was the hope that Alice would lose a few pounds with the extra exercise of playing with Monica and visits to the Dog Bark. Seems like an oxymoron to go to New Orleans to lose weight, but off to the 'fat farm' she went.  At first, things seemed to improve, and regulars of the Dog Bark complimented Alice's new figure, saying that "she looked less like a potato" and "had developed the semblance of a waist".  But the waist was not won for long.

Alice in her favorite play position

Despite a seemingly stringent diet, Alice exploits a household of 20-something roommates who are sometimes unwittingly careless.  A carrot cake, for instance, was too close to the counter edge.  A visit from a Bolivian study-abroad house guest resulted in the mysterious disappearance of his sheep-hoof necklace, a full bag of cocoa, and another trip to the vet.  "Oh, you like the snacks, don't you!", smirked Dr. Dog.  Alice did not eat for three days.

Alice in Underwear 

There's no sexy Victoria's Secret for this mutt!  Emily got some 'emergency underwear' as a gag gift when she recently went to South America.  It was a little paper packet that expanded when put in a glass of water. It seemed to be on the large size, but Emily decided the size was just right for Alice.

Arcs in space - one thick and one thin

"Now I know it might be unrealistic to expect her to get back down to 32 pounds, but maybe you could go for 34 or 35", the vet gently offered.  At their most recent visit, Emily hadn't volunteered discussion about Alice's weight, but the vet brought it up as if to a parent bringing in an obese child.  "I guess I can see it now, but I just wanted to believe that she was husky", explains Emily.  Dog Bark regulars sympathized that maybe she was "just a chunky little brewster and there's nothing you can do about it".  

New Orleans-style King cake with plastic Baby Jesus in center

It didn't help her gluttonous reputation that at a recent Mardi Gras party, Alice got into the King cake, but in this case, we should call it the Queen cake.  Custom is that whoever gets the piece containing the baby is King or Queen of the day.  Fortunately, Alice threw up the baby and escaped another trip to Dr. Dog. When Emily told me this story, I took her literally and thought that Alice had thrown up on an actual baby in attendance.

Queen Alice, queen-size on the queen bed

aka "The Bearded Weasel" for her interests in burrowing into holes

aka "Dr. Alice B. Scruffington" for her medical acuity

Alice snores.  She growls if you try to push her cinder-block-like body away on couch or bed.  Although loved by her guardians, she seems to take pride in her savagery.  As if of an ancient barbarian culture that can never forget her scavenger roots, she is only partially domesticated and diet-defiant.  Alice is wild and wire-haired, and perhaps as a new American breed, born to be wide.

Sidewalk Symphony

I made a serious dog-walking miscalculation the other night.  A fierce thunderstorm had just passed through, and I thought that was the end of it .  I hitched up Chewy and we prepared to puddle-jump around the block.  Half-way, another deluge dumped, and we were soaked in seconds.  I managed to get to a shop canopy to wait it out.  It's times like this that I can practice singing, and indeed I was singing in the rain!  After it ended, I passed a fellow under an adjacent canopy...guess he got an earful whether he wanted to or not! 

Then fireflies flickered on and off, signalling that the real concert was about to begin.  Cicadas whirred, the percussion of sycamore bark crunched under my feet, and an owl hooted an aria. Living in the city doesn't get much better than this! 

A Life Interrupted

Howard

2000 - 2011

Howard was in the front yard irises when he was attacked on a recent hot and humid June morn.  I heard a cry and I looked out the window to see his body locked in the jaws of a large dog.  Horror, terror, and profound sorrow ensued.  It was unexpected and unprovoked.

He came to our home with his brother eleven years ago. They were adopted from the local animal shelter when I got it into my head that having a couple of kittens was a good idea.  Of course, I chose two of my favorite colors: black and gray.  Emily and her best friend, Caroline, were given the responsibility of names.  They decided the black one would be Howard, and the gray one, Simon. 

Raining kittens reign topsy-turvy.

They could have been named Yin and Yang!

Howard with young Chewbacca and old Nick (1987-2000) 

Howard was affable and friendly to all.  To his credit, his hunting was usually no more than bringing home a cicada, which I then captured and released back into the outdoors. He was ever curious, and always causing some sort of mischief or "trouble".  He loved climbing ladders and jumping into bags and boxes.  He loved to take naps and drink from faucets.

He was best friends with Little Earl, a talented boy who could stand upright on his hind feet.  Little Earl, too,  died far too young, at the age of four.

Puss in a pot impersonating a plant

Howard had a huge personality and provided endless entertainment effortlessly.

Here Howard is watching "Charlotte's Web".  He was fascinated by the spider and pawed at the screen. I'm sure he would have loved Wilbur given the opportunity. 

A recent neighborhood yard sale had Howard proving he was at the top of his game.  He always had a great sense of showmanship. 

Alice and Howard

Of late, Howard was best friends with Alice since she joined the household.  Even for his eleven years, he didn't mind tousling with an energetic 35 lb. year-old dog.  Howard's ploy was to lay on his back while batting away at Alice.  When I asked his veterinarian, Dr. Love,  if she thought Howard was overweight, she said he was only "big-boned".  She went on to proclaim that he had the longest whiskers that she had ever seen.  I was as proud as a parent with this assessment!

Chewy and Howard

I will miss the menagerie walks around the neighborhood; two dogs followed by two cats. No more romping across lawns in big, bounding leaps, no more sashaying in his languid walk.  No more yowls if he was left too far behind. 

At 9:00 a.m., on June 9th, 2011, Howard was alive.  Fortunately, he did not suffer for long.  Four hours later, he was not where he should be.  I made a bed of soft muslin and put his head on a small felt cushion, top-stitched with appliqued stars.  In his paws I put one of his toys: a small fluffy ball. 

An ordinary housecat he was not, and his  life was interrupted prematurely.

A Dog of Flanders and Other Stories

When I arrived at my mother's to take her out to dinner last week, her first words were, "Oh, girl of Flanders, where is your dog?"  I knew instantly that she must have been making a reference to my wearing a new hat that she had not yet seen.  Her memory is remarkable for all sorts of strange accumulation, and I was sure that she was accurate in her illustration recall.  I pealed in laughter at her literary connection to my wardrobe.  My mother has advanced glaucoma, so I am astonished that she can see any detail at all!  Her mind, however is quite sharp.

When I got home, I pulled out my copy of A Dog of Flanders just to see how accurate her memory was.

She was spot-on correct!  Old Jehan Daas has on my hat, or I his, whichever way you want to see it. 

 

This then inspired me to dress up in my hat, a peasant type blouse, black pants, vest, and the wooden shoe (singular) that I found in the alley last year.  Here I am with Chewbacca, otherwise known as Chewy, surely the cutest dog in the world (Hollywood take note, because he is getting up in years).  He is striking a proud pose as THE Dog of Flanders.  At a strapping 65 pounds, he could surely pull a cart if he was so inclined to do.  Usually, he just pulls on the leash. Like the dog, Pastrache, who was abandoned,  I found Chewy as a puppy at a shelter.  He had been found wandering in an alley.  Oh, I would have adopted all his siblings, too, if I could have!

As my mother and I proceeded down the hall, I told her that I had just bought a new pair of shoes to wear for my third speech with Toastmasters.  She responded, "What good will the shoes be on your feet, if the audience can't see them?  Why not put them on your ears instead?  Then they can see them!"

Again, I knew she must be making a literary reference to a favorite childhood book, Little Black Sambo. I remember being fascinated at how the tigers  ran around the tree so fast that they turned into butter that was then used to make an enormous pile of pancakes, striped orange and black just like the tigers.

 I couldn't wait to see what the new shoes would look like on my ears.  Using a headband that my daughter, Emily, had concocted for some costume or other served as the tiger reference.  I think that the shoes would have to hang on my ears toes down, because my ears don't stick up like tiger ears do.  Charlie Sheen take note! 

My mother and I continued down the hall singing "Here We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder..." She can remember the lyrics to innumerable songs, poems, plays, and prayers.  I treasure every moment with her and marvel at how did I end up being as I am with her as my mother?

Well, I got fixated on dress-ups, never mind that I was no longer a child, but in spirit, YES!  Another recent purchase was a pair of high black leather boots.  What literary connection could that be other than pirates and swashbucklers?  As the only upbeat story of this trilogy, I thought of Puss In Boots, because that way, I could star one of my cats.

I had wanted to have Simon in this photo shoot, but he was prowling the neighborhood.  Howard, in his usual nap at home, was roused, and recruited.

Here we are, my mother and I, celebrating my recent birthday.  We always precede dinner with martinis, straight up, one olive. And may we have many, many more!  There are so many stories to share.