It's not ALWAYS about Diesel...

There is a "Family Group", renting the house across the street from us. The Grandparents live in a Fifth Wheel Trailer, with a 2000 dollar grill and patio set-up, with a large propane tank for fuel..there's also a pop-up camper adjacent to the Shed, that's painted a bright blue, to match the main house. Judging by the number of vehicles parked in front of and in the driveways, there are quite a few roommates also living there. There's lots of yelling, fighting and occasionally loud music...there's also at least three kids, from middle school aged down to kindergarten. In the summer the kids are usually out running around the neighborhood, staying out late and making all kinds of racket. They're sort of feral children it seems, not much supervision and the supervision they do get seems to be of the yelling and smacking variety. It's kind of sad really. It aggravates me, because suppose I wanted to sell my house...who's going to want to buy a house across the street from a KOA campground? But even moreso, what kinda way is that for kids to grow up?

Anyway, Bailee is sort of a feral child, herself. In her first home, she didn't get a lot of attention and spent most of her days roaming a farm, with several acres of trouble to get in to. When she was allowed in her house, she spent most of her time in a crate, screaming at the top of her lungs to get out...this trait is what initially attracted me to her in the first place, as that's what she did in her Foster Home. A Bulldog's scream for attention is just about the most amazing thing you've ever heard...it's sort of a cross between the trumpeting of an elephant, the bugeling of an elk and the scream of a harpy...each bulldog has a distinct take on this sound and when you hear it, it's impossible to ignore. I suppose it's like the Siren's Songs that lured unsuspecting (and hardup) sailors to their deaths, as they jumped overboard...of course, I'm neither a sailor (though I sure can cuss like one), nor am I hardup, but Bai's siren song is what led me to her...and there's only a handful of times it's led to my near demise...but that's a story for a different time.

I walk the dogs nightly, sometimes I'll take two together and walk one seperately or I'll walk all three seperately, so they get the maximum amount of my time on their walk. This takes a lot of time out of my night, but is great for them and for me, as I can always use more exercise...especially since I can always eat more ice cream...Anyway, it's while I was walking Phoebe and Bailee (The Tall and SHort of it) together this summer, that I struck up an acquaintance with the Feral Children. I didn't really want to, but Phoebe and Bailee are attention whores and they love KIDS a LOT. So when these kids wanted to pet them, what could I say? Of course, they were afraid of Phoebe, with her being so big and all, but Bailee, she's not intimidating at all, nor is she shy about asking for attention. So I chatted with the kids for a bit, they had a lot of questions about the dogs and the girls really liked the extra attention...I figured it wouldn't kill me to provide these kids with a positive adult interaction either...I mean, seriously.

So last night, I had Bai out for her solo walk, and the two boys came running over and wanted to pet Bailee and asked if I would let them runn with her down the street. I was a bit not sure about the request...Bailee may only weight 45 pounds or so...but she's all muscle, leverage and she pulls like a locomotive....plus, if they let go of the leash, Bailee would be gone like there was no tomorrow...she LOVES TO RUN and she's freaking fast. But these kids, really, really wanted to, and I knew Bailee would love it, so I set up some rules. 1. Triple Wrap the Leash around your hand. 2. Do not let go 3. Don't trip! 4. No further than the corner and back.

Well, the kids did great and Bailee had a HUGE time...that little pistol can fly...she was faster than them with no sweat. Her eyes were lit up and she had what looked like a gigantic grin on her face, even though she was panting slightly. The boys too, had flushed cheeks and bright eyes, proud of themselves for doing a good job and for flying with the little powerhouse.

As we said our goodbyes, the boys said "We want a dog just like Bailee" and I hope that some day, they do.

All the grace of a Water Buffalo...

that's Diesel. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't better suited to the name "Turbo", since he still has these absolutely spastic moments, where he's at warp speed. He's getting better though...A LOT better. We have been working on sits and downs; last night I threw in a little bit of a sit/stay.

Regrettably, I tried to showcase Diesel's "obedience" moves in front of Aaron, AFTER I made the mistake of picking up one of the leashes. Diesel goes CRAZY whenever it's walk time. He pushes the girls out of his way, jumps up on his crate, slams against the door and generally behaves like a 55 pound undirected missile. While I'm not an animal communicator, I think it's safe to say he LOVES going for walks. As I was trying to get his attention in the middle of the frenzy, Aaron pretty much shook his head and said "It's never going to happen, just take him for a walk before he hurts himself or something."

I wasn't so easily dissuaded. I finally captured his attention and got him to sit, he then managed to do that twice in a row, finally keeping his butt on the ground for at least 2 seconds! (if you count 'em fast) As we went for our walk I started thinking about the other dogs I've known and loved. All of them are different in so many different ways. Diesel seems to be the first who's every TRULY wanted to please, he's such a happy, enthusiastic, loving boy. Phoebe reminds me of a willow tree; she's flexible, yet has an inner core that just won't break. At first glance you'd think she was a total mush who would let you do anything to her...but just TRY and do her toenails! Bailee...well she's something else; a total diva who DEMANDS attention every second of her time; she's the toughest and smallest dog I've ever owned...just don't try and tell her she's little! Bella was a queen that ruled with a velvet glove, she NEVER got toesy with Phoebe (who was naughty!), simply a glance and all was under control. Then there was Foley, who I still have trouble talking about, even though it's been nearly two years since he passed. He loved me and did all I asked of him and more, simply because he adored me...of course, the feeling was mutual. Foley was complex, independent, intelligent, protective...majestic; I am so much better off for having had him...for having them all in my life.

It never ceases to amaze me; the depths to which these "lesser" beings personalities go. They are far more complex and evolved in their ability to love than we humans could possibly aspire to be. These lesser beings are far more than I ever could be.

Home Again

Last week, I was out of town for a few days on business. I thought about extending my trip, since I was in Alaska and amazingly enough, the weather was blissfully perfect, but I felt bad about leaving Aaron home alone for more days than necessary with the horde. The next time I head up there though, I'm taking some time to get some photos and visit some of the native heritage sites. I do love me some Anchorage, it reminds me a lot of Boise; a small city, easy to navigate, friendly people, laid back...Don't get me wrong, I like the PNW and Seattle too, but my spirit feels very much at ease in the ANC.

When I'm out of town for work, it always amazes me how much free time I have, without having to care for the dogs. There's no vying for my attention, meals to prepare, walks to go on or snuggles to give. As nice as it is to have no interruptions, after hours, I do miss my family, such that it is.

I got back to Seattle on Friday night, around midnight. I had no checked bags, so it was a 15 minute cab ride to my office, where I had left my car parked. I got home around 1:30 and Phoebe was the only one waiting for me...she was keeping vigil in her favorite chair. However, she had hardly stretched in her big, tiger stretch and Deeder came barreling down the hall as if there was a major home invasion taking place. As soon as he realized it was me he started jumping like a crazy man, over and under his sisters. These are the times when I realize two things: 1. I really do need three hands and 2. He shouldn't be jumping with his bad patellas.
Mommy was home and all was well with the world...except, the fatigue I had been fighting was gone, the pain in my neck and arm had returned and I was not one bit tired.

Apparently, I'm not all that different from a dog at times...take me off my schedule and it's not easy to get back on board. I kept reading my book, "Dreaming the Hound" by Manda Scott, unable to put it down and the irony of the characters abiding love and honor for their war hounds, was no different than the deep love I share with mine, who while they've never fought for me, or brought me a rabbit for supper, have kept me warm, safe and loved, when even I thought it unnecessary. Like, the heroine of the story, Breaca, I haven't wanted to give my heart fully to another hound...but I see that over time, what we want to give and what we wind up giving can be two very different things.

It's good to be home, with my big brindle, tiger, snoring nearby, my brindle and white clown, with his assigned position on the ottoman, keeping my legs warm and little, red Bailee, in the crook of my arm, like an infant being held. Life is good.