Sleep in heavenly peace

He came into my life just like the proverbial baby-left-on-the-doorstep.

It was a beautiful, cool, early spring morning in 1995 and as I pulled out of the driveway, I saw his little face peeking out from under the shrubbery in the alley. He was an adorable little puppy. Fluffy brown.

When I got to my destination I couldn’t stop thinking about him and after a few hours when I had a bit of a break, I drove home. He was still there. Hadn’t moved but someone had put down a bowl of food for him. He hadn’t eaten and by now the ants had gotten into it.

I brought out a bowl of water and a little fresh food. He was frightened, backed further under the shrubs and barked at me defensively. So I sat there and talked to him softly. After a few minutes he inched forward and took a drink of water. I had to leave again, but I thought he would probably be there when I returned.

He was, and I picked him up and took him inside. He was about the size of a cat and that first day I carried him around with me, singing to him.

Later, I named him Jackson, but always called him Jackie.

He grew fast, shedding his puppy fluff. His adult fur was brown with a black saddle. He had a sweet face and when he was happiest, his tail would curl up over his back.

In the summer in 1996, a homeless adult golden retriever came to live with us. Hemingway and Jackie were wonderful companions for many years. Watching them play together was one of my favorite things.

Jackie changed when Hemingway died on Winter Solstice, 2004. His grief lasted for months and he was inconsolable. The progression of his grief resembled the classic stages of human emotion processing through grief. But one day, in the spring of 2005, he seemed better. Not the same old Jackie, but better. It was as if he was now retired from his former position of Alpha male in the household that now included two younger dogs. He was Alpha Emeritus.

In the years that passed after 2005, Jackie rested more, but still enjoyed barking out an occasional warning to a pedestrian passing by with a dog on a leash. His mobility declined and it was apparent that he suffered from arthritis. He began a regimen of medication in 2007.

When Cristy and I moved into our present home last fall, the change seemed good for Jackie. He loved the enormous back yard. It was like a park and I watched him stroll beneath the myrtles and roll in the grass just like he was a pup again. I was so thankful that he was still able to experience this kind of enjoyment that had made him happy as a young dog.

But his decline in health continued and three months ago the arthritic inflammation around his spine left him without sensation in his hind legs. Thankfully, our veterinarian consulted with me over the telephone because she understood how traumatic it would be to bring Jackie into that office. She prescribed a steroid to reduce the inflammation and told me plainly that it was the medicine of last resort for him.

This past Monday was the last day of Jackie’s life. He was dying and spent most of the day beneath the kitchen table resting on the cool tile floor. I spent most of the day next to him. I carried him outdoors to the back yard a couple of times and he took a few sips of water. He also ate some chocolate cake.

The veterinarian made a house call and around 6:30, I said goodbye to my puppy on the doorstep. I believe, with all my heart that Hemingway was there to meet him at the rainbow bridge.

And one day, when I die, I believe that both Jackie and Hemingway will meet me there too.

Practical application of transitive equality

I was going to write this post for Tuesday (RTT), but it's way late. 3 days late. But whatever. Last time I checked, there were no rules on the internet.

Early last month Cristy had a birthday and I just am about the world's worst at finding the definitive gift. In most cases, I seem to find a little something that I absolutely adore and then think, "wouldn't so-and-so just LOVE this?" So then I purchase it and the gift recipient is left wondering what motivated me to buy this big chunky bracelet that I'm eagerly hoping to borrow when I should have known the recipient is unlikely to ever wear it.

I don't know why this happens. Projection. Lack of coffee. Who knows.

But maybe, just possibly, on this past birthday, I inched slightly closer to that divine place where I selected a gift meaningful to the recipient.

I ordered these two custom stepping stones from K-Dub Designs. They are adorable and made to order to resemble your own dog or cat. The artist behind K-Dub (Karen) is sweet and creative and so easy to work with.

Cristy LOVES mosaics. And she LOVES her two cute dogs. So, by applying the transitive property of equality in mathematical logic, it stands to reason that Cristy would LOVE the mosaic portraits of her two pups.

I think she might. I hope so, anyway.

Here they are.

A full collection will soon follow. After all, we have a house full of 4-legged companions along with the memories of those recently departed. More on that later.

3rd vein

It’s been another weekend of activity. Oil changes, pool cleaning, ceiling fan installation, window shade hanging. Mixed in with a little bird watching, sipping coffee in the sun and keeping company with the dogs. My oldest dog’s mobility has been declining of late and it has me worried. For the past 9 months or so, he has been taking some medication that has helped to sustain him, but last weekend that medicine was no longer sufficient.

Thankfully the veterinarian remembers him and understood that I was reluctant to subject him to the stress of a visit to that office, particularly in his current situation. Through a telephone consultation, she prescribed a new medicine. It is the medication of last resort for him and she had given me this warning 9 months ago when we embarked upon his prior course of treatment.

It is a steroid targeted to reduce inflammation around his spinal cord and restore his locomotion, dispensed in a declining dosage over a period of two weeks. Moving into the second week, it appears that this current dosage level does not seem to be as effective as the previous level because he is beginning to lose track of his back feet again. But he is still able to walk and remains alert with a good appetite.

The steroid has some side effects. I read about the medicine online. It is so difficult to tell whether the side effects I observe in my dog are merely annoying for him or whether they are making him truly uncomfortable. I’ve started giving him an extra dose of his “doggy tylenol” just in case.

In our society we want to act in a humane and caring manner toward the animals who are our companions in life. We want to prolong their lives as long as they are happy, alert and comfortable but we also want to inject human logic into balance. At what point has the animal’s discomfort dipped below the equilibrium of sustaining care?

I’m not presently equipped to be a participant in that determination. And in all honesty, I’d prefer not to be part of that process. I would prefer that my beloved dog travel the journey of his life to its complete end without my involvement, if at all possible.

This process makes me focus on my program more than ever. I have to let go. I have to let each day unfold through God’s grace. I realize my tears come from the sadness of a loss that has not yet occurred. And each tear keeps me away from the joy of my precious Jackie’s life. Living in the now.

Mischief

It was 6:45am Friday and I noticed several cars pulling into the parking lot of a largely abandoned shopping strip on my way to work. Then I realized they were cutting through the parking lot to zip over to the Shipley Donut shop. Thoughtful folks that they were, they were probably going to get a big box to take in for their coworkers. Or maybe not, who knows?

Regardless, it reminded me of a story that my mom likes to tell from time to time. About Shipley donuts. The best darned donuts around, if I do say so myself.

When my brother and I were young kids, my dad would buy a dozen Shipley donuts from time to time, as a Saturday morning treat. He wasn’t the type of man who would get up early on Saturday morning to drive over to the donut store to get fresh donuts. He’d buy them the night before and wrap the box in kitchen towels to try to keep them fresh. My brother and I were kids and didn’t know the difference. I guess my mom and dad just didn’t much care whether the donuts were fresh or not-so-fresh. In hindsight, this is weird, because my dad loved sweets.

Anyway, one particular Friday night, we had a box of Shipley donuts on our kitchen counter wrapped in dish towels.

The next morning, Dad awoke and made his way into the kitchen. He noticed my younger brother sitting on the floor watching cartoons. As he started making the coffee, he glanced over to the box of eagerly awaited Shipley donuts and to his surprise, only saw an empty counter. Naturally, he asked my brother where he put the donuts, thinking he had already snaked one or two from the box.

Hey, where’d you put the donuts?

What donuts?

Uh-oh.

A quick look around the house revealed an empty donut box and some kitchen towels casually tossed aside. And a family dog with an upset stomach casually sleeping it off in the laundry room. Apparently the kitty had acted as an accomplice and pushed the box to the floor for amusement.

No one else was very amused at the time, but all these years later, it is a continued source of amusement, at least for my mom, my brother and me.

Best made plans

Dogs have a way of outsmarting us humans. We make plans and execute our plans carefully. Then a dog comes along, casually sniffs out the one single deficiency, and in a nanosecond, topples the fruits of your labor, all the while wagging her tail happily.

This is the way it has been with the doggy door.

Developing a plan for restricted canine access to the dog run area of the yard throughout the work day was an essential element of our initial move-in plan. We carefully planned a location for the door, selected a contractor for the installation, planned the design for the perimeter fence around the dog run, planned for the exterior pathway leading to the door and purchased all the requisite materials.

It seemed like a reasonable plan. Dogs would have the freedom to stay indoors or outdoors during the day, would not be subjected to the risk of falling into the pool, and on lawn mowing days, we would simply pop the cover over the doggy door and they would stay safely indoors.

So we executed against the plan. Mucho time consuming. No small expense.

Flaw #1 – commercially-made doggy door covers are designed to trick humans into thinking that they are actual barriers. This assumption is false. The simple pop-on doggy door cover we have can be removed by a crafty canine in a matter of moments. It is no match for a dog with an agenda.

Flaw #2 – temporary fencing is temporary, at best. During the aftermath of Hurricane Ike, we installed some deer fencing at my old house to keep the dogs inside the yard after the back fence blew down. It was very effective as a short-term solution. We decided to take this success and expand it to a larger scale, for a longer duration, by using deer fencing to cordon off the perimeter of the dog run. However, because of the variable terrain and other factors, there were weaknesses in the fence that the dogs quickly identified. Quick, as in instantaneously. Scaled the fence, no problem. Over the subsequent months, we (and when I say we, I actually mean Cristy) have conducted countless repairs to this temporary fence to remedy each breach of integrity.

These two initial, but fatal flaws in our logic resulted in a ripple effect of downstream problems, exacerbated by our attempts to outwit our clever companion dogs with creative solutions to these problems. Each activity, consequently falling into the aforementioned mucho-time-consuming and no-small-expense categories.

The remedies seem to be the most obvious. 1. stack up some heavy things in front of the doggy door blocking access to the door. 2. get a professional to build a real fence.

OK (head hanging in embarrassment), OK.

Fencing contractor completed the work yesterday. After we return the leftover lumber to Home Depot, I can start working on getting the leftover splinters out of my hands and maybe, just maybe, put the doggy-door episodes to rest.

Too optimistic? We shall see.

Spa treatment

My little guy Tristan is a stinker. And I’m not talking about him being a cute little rascal either. Although he is. I’m talking about this really bad habit he has of finding stinky stuff outdoors to rub against and getting the stinky smell all in his fur. He stinks. He’s a stinker.

He did it about a week ago. When I get home from work during the week, there is usually a lot of animal activity. The dogs start running around the house and yard. Barking ensues. Toys. Sometimes the little dogs decide to give the kitty a requisite chase around the kitchen. But then it subsides and I feed them and then take a seat at the kitchen table while i get busy with some little project.

So last week I'm sitting there and noticed an unpleasant smell. I was hoping it wasn’t me, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint the source. Later, Cristy noticed it too and we both decided it was Tristan. It was not a good smell. That evening, he got the spa treatment. Shower, shampoo, blow dry. He is a furry dog, so this is a rather time consuming activity. But afterwards, he was soft and clean and sweet smelling for approximately two days.

Then he found another stinky spot outdoors and felt compelled to transfer the fragrance to his own fur. I tried a shortcut this time – a household wipe. We didn’t have any baby wipes and hey, he’s part of the household, so why not? I wiped it over the fur around his head and neck, where he likes to rub in stinky spots. It helped. Not a permanent solution, but better than nothing.

This morning as I was leaving the house, I noticed a very pronounced smell outdoors. A skunk. Undoubtedly a skunk that probably had an unfortunate encounter with an automobile at some point during the night.

So, even though my little sweetheart Tristan is indeed a stinker, there are still some creatures in the world that carry around even a bigger stink than him. By the way Tristan, your next spa appointment? Coming up soon.

The clever canine

Living with a household of dogs is never dull. Their individual personalities have plenty of opportunities to claim the spotlight. Lately, my oldest mixed-breed, Jackie (14 years old), has been asking for more attention than normal. It might have something to do with his chronic aches and pains. Besides his daily medications, I give him massages and walk around through the house with him when he seems restless. We’ll position a space heater near him when he’s lying down for extra warmth. And there are plenty of quilts, throw rugs and towels on the floor for him to lie on in the rooms where the dogs like to sleep.

On a few occasions, we have noticed that his hind legs don’t appear to be working as they should. He demonstrates a fair amount of stiffness and appears to be uncomfortable. But the symptoms are transitory, because as a counterpoint, we also seem him trotting through the backyard and rolling about in the grass. And if someone knocks at the front door, stand back, because Jackie is first to lead the charge toward the door at top speed, tail held high, barking an alert for possible intruders.

Last week Cristy decided to conduct a little experiment. Since I leave for work in the morning first, she has the chore of rounding up the dogs and corralling them into their daytime designated dog play room. Sometimes they can be a little reluctant to get up from their morning naps to relocate. This particular morning, Jackie’s back legs seemed to be acting up, as they have in the past and he couldn’t quite get to a standing position. So he just lay down again to resume his nap. Perhaps he thought he might get an exemption from having to move to the play room.

As Cristy often reminds me, the dogs are clever, but we are the ones with the thumbs. So she executed a little ploy. She stepped around the corner and rapped sharply on one of the closet doors. In a flash, Jackie leapt to his feet, thinking it had been a knock at the front door. Of course the other dogs heard it too, and soon a chorus of barks sounded throughout the house.

The point however, is that as much as I hate to admit it, my sweet dog Jackie, might (just might) be a cunning manipulator, leveraging his aches and pains to try to get what he wants.

But, as they say, he had me at hello. So, I don’t mind playing along.

Tricks of the trade

A busy week of juggling flaming knives, and assembling a mountain of data into a visually appealing format, palatable for the average consumer.

This part of my job makes me think of myself as a sleight-of-hand artist. Figuring out how to disguise information into a candy-coated morsel so that meeting participants will gobble it up rather than glazing over and looking at it in utter disgust.

That’s how it usually is with purveyors of numbers. Dry reports. An endless list of numerals that only someone like myself could find remotely appealing.

Maybe, in some respects, this part of my job is sort of like being a parent and getting kids to eat vegetables in a loving and creative way. Mixing them in with something they already like, maybe macaroni and cheese or pizza.

It works with my dogs.

Oh, but wait, my dogs will eat anything. So no, not really.

RTT

Winter Olympics are both dazzling and puzzling. Those downhill skiers are some athletes. They go faster and I could ever imagine and they make it look easy. The resort villages hosting the events look absolutely enchanting. But I need to understand more about this sport known as curling. I’m sure one of the commentators will provide the background information I am seeking to explain why it is an Olympic event. For now, it simply puzzles me.

And then there’s Bob Costas’ shirt. Seriously, I think I’m tripping. Tiny little stripes two nights in a row. Doesn’t translate well on television. Looks like an optical illusion.

The final rounds of the Westminster Kennel Club dog show was broadcast last night, first night of a two-night event. I love WKC, primarily because of the good basic facts they provide when introducing each breed of dog. The origin of the breed, the dog’s level of energy and temperament as a member of a human family.

But one of the play-by-play broadcasters continues to refer to the competition as a “sport.” Now this is puzzling to me too. The Olympics definitely fall into the sports category. But the dog show? Not so much. The closest thing I can come up with would be a pageant. And I mean that in a good way, sort of like a scholarship competition.

I’ll be tuning in again tonight to see Best in Show and check out Bob Costas’ wardrobe selection.

Walking it out

Growing older is serious business, for humans and our beloved canine companions. Dogs have aging symptoms that resemble some of the ailments people suffer: chronic aches and pains, arthritis, vision problems, bladder control issues, joint stiffness, changes in appetite. I have two older dogs, ages 14 years and 9 years (I think). Between the two, they hit every symptom on this list. The older guy really does suffer from painful arthritis and takes prescription meds twice per day to regulate it to a tolerable level. But sometimes it flares up and he is just plain uncomfortable. So much so that he can’t bear to keep still, so he just paces around. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to help.

When my mom visited us at Thanksgiving, she noticed it and said: I know how he feels. Sometimes you just have to walk it out.

Recently I decided to put this observation into practice. The last two times that my old guy had a flare-up, I gave him an extra dose of medicine, but that didn’t seem to work. He kept coming over to me, asking for comfort. So I decided to walk it out with him. We walked through the house, room to room, on a circuitous route until he got tired and stopped. Then he was able to lie down and rest. Finally.

Me too. Finally.

DIY wonderfulness

Before I started writing this blog, I browsed through a number of blogs without leaving comments. I’m not sure what that is called today. In a previous professional existence years ago, more than I care to admit, we would have called it lurking.

The kind of blogs I liked to read had a home interior decorating and design content theme. Most were produced by a content generating staff or were written by individuals who were professionals in that line of business. I still read them and they remain among my favorites. These days, I leave comments from time to time when particularly struck by a topic or item of interest.

I wish I could say that I have a flair for home and interior design, but I do not. In order to compensate for my lack of innate ability, I really pay attention to the folks who are in-the-know. And I’ve gained a little knowledge.

Well, not that much.

One of my favorite blog themes for decorating and design, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here, is the DIY: before & after. The kind of fabulous project that someone, just like me, accomplishes at home on their own, without a consultant, contractor or other design professional. Some of these blog posts are completely inspiring. I have taken a lesson or two and completed two or three of my own DIY projects. Not enough to start my own decorating blog, but had I taken some good photos of the before and after, they might (MIGHT) be comparable to similar projects that have been featured on said blogs.

Today, in a light-hearted attempt to remind myself that I’m not a professional, I present my latest DIY project. The homemade canine haircut. The subject is Jackie, my 14-year old mixed breed. Last Saturday, he was in dire need of a haircut. And he doesn't seem to mind the haircutting process. Much.

In the before image, we see Jackie with his nice fluffy fur. He had become a dog-hair shedding machine. Thus, the genesis of my DIY project.

And in the after image, the same dog, but with a choppy-chic new do. Hey, if Kate Gosslin can get the world's attention with a new hair-do....

Sorry Jackie, I promise it will grow back.

Some tasks are best left to the experts after all.

Rainbow bridge

On this day in 2004 my beloved golden retriever, Hemingway, took his last breath and left this journey of life behind. Winter solstice is, in fact, the darkest day of the year for those of us in the northern hemisphere. And it is one of the darkest days of the year in my heart as I remember his gentle disposition and miss him, almost unbearably so. I can only hope that he will be waiting for me at the rainbow bridge.

Water dog, cave dog

I was just reading a blog entry by super creative Kelly Rae where she described her dog Bella, as an underthetable dog. I know what she means. My oldest dog, Jackie, always seeks a lie-down spot under a table or desk. Anything enclosed. He is the quintessential cave dog.

My theory is that there are two kinds of dogs: cave dogs and water dogs. All dogs will generally fall into one of the categories, although it may not be as obvious as Jackie or Bella.

I’ll run through my own dog family. First, the easy ones.

Edgar is a cave dog. He likes to be in quiet places and seeks out the smaller rooms in the house for his own relaxation. In inclement weather, the only consolation is to give him a cave: allow him to get inside a closet, a small dark room where the frightening noises are muffled.

Jasper is a water dog. She loves being outdoors and is completely unafraid of the water. Prances back and forth across the tiled bridge between the spa and pool. My belief is that she will be the first dog to join us in the pool this summer when it is warm enough to swim. It won’t take much encouragement.

Now for the tricky ones.

Gracyn has tendencies for both water and caves, but she favors the cave dog side more. You might not think this at first because she is all alpha when you first meet her and her favorite thing on earth is to play with the lawn sprinkler. But she prefers to cuddle up under a blanket or bury herself in a mountain of cushions. I suspect that she may eventually join us in the pool this summer, but it will be after much encouragement. Her water love will undoubtedly always be reserved for playing with a sprinkler on solid ground.

Tristan actually does not show tendencies for either water or caves, however he displays one particular mannerism that gives me reason to believe his DNA is grounded in cave dog lore. He loves to walk back and forth beneath something. Under your legs when you’re seated. Under a taller dog, under a chair, under a bench.

But regardless of cave dog or water dog status, all dog love is equally wonderful. My life wouldn’t be the same without my canine companions.

The Houdini incident

Gracyn decided to rehearse her new disappearing act this past week. Thankfully, she did not (to our knowledge) have any accomplices. Apparently there was a breach in the back yard perimeter fence. A fairly significant breach. An entire section was unfastened and there was a gap large enough for an adventuresome 10-pound dog to pass through. So her journey began Monday morning.

Thankfully, Cristy had located her name tag and attached it to her collar just the night before. And since Gracyn is a cute and friendly dog, before too long, she was bound to take a break in her journey to make a new friend. Which she did. And the friend happened to be, luckily, a real estate agent who examined her collar and recognized the street address as a house that recently sold in this neighborhood. The real estate agent put Gracyn in her garage, left for work and called Cristy, since her telephone number was on the name tag. Cristy left work, drove over to the house, retrieved Gracyn and brought her home.

Phew! All within the span of 2 hours. ~Insert big sigh of relief here~

I suppose in true Houdini style, this disappearing act was not a success since Gracyn required an escort for the second leg of her journey.

She won’t be rehearsing again any time soon since we employed Ted the Handyman (his real name) to repair the fence breach the following day.

Hello Murphy

Nothing in life unfolds exactly the way you originally anticipate. That’s why they invented Murphy’s Law, right? And of course, when you have the least amount of spare time to focus on an unanticipated project, that’s when a pesky little project will materialize out of thin air.

This moving effort has been a huge investment in time, money and energy. Yesterday was the day that we officially moved all of our furnishings, appliances and animals from Cristy’s house and my offsite storage unit to the new house. The moving team was great [big kudos to Three Men Movers]. Naturally there will be a few million predictable tasks and errands that accompany a move. Now, thanks to Murphy, we can add three more to the list.

#1 the electrical plug for the clothes dryer is incompatible with the receptacle on the wall. Big problem. We have 5 dogs. Laundry is a constant in this household. We immediately went to Lowe’s to get a replacement connector with the proper plug type. Seemed like a straightforward fix until Cristy started working on it and found that she was unable to remove the old wiring. After consulting with several family members, Plan B appears to be to hire an experienced appliance repair person to replace the wiring. Cha-ching!

#2 Jasper figured out how to climb over the dog run fencing. OK, not a problem as long as we are here. The purpose of the dog run is to permit the dogs outside access while we are at work, but keep them away from the swimming pool. Sometime during the night, Jasper just climbed over the fence like it was nothing. Not good. We will go back to Lowe’s and buy another spool of fencing mesh, the taller kind, to replace the shorter segment that she scaled. Cha-ching! She is a clever dog, and obviously very motivated. I predict this will not be the end of the story.

#3 Jasper (again!) figured out how to dislodge the cover from the dog door. Another big problem. Having a cover on the door is a requirement to keep the dogs IN the house. Like when the lawn maintenance service is here, or when we are treating the yard with insecticide, or when we are entertaining outdoors and don’t necessarily want the canines standing at the fence howling to join in on the amusement. The solution to this problem is out of our current span of imagination. But I predict there is a high probability the cha-ching noise will accompany the solution.

In spite of the complaining about Murphy, it feels good to be here. Incredibly good. It will take longer than I anticipated to unpack and longer still to furnish it as beautifully as I want, but I’m not complaining. Every one of the non-Murphy projects can be planned, anticipated and will serve as a source of joy and inspiration as we feather this beautiful nest. For now, I sit here at the kitchen counter looking at the soft light all around me, the sleeping dogs and the haphazardly arranged furniture and feel nothing but pure bliss.

Revolving dog door

Between 3:30 and 4am, the dogs usually wake up to go outside for a bathroom break. Edgar is the first one to let me know it is time. He stands near the kitchen door and whines softly. For many families, letting the dogs out is just not a labor intensive transaction. But this morning, as I was standing by the kitchen door, becoming more and more fully awake and aware of my surroundings, the logistics involved in this early-morning activity seemed, well, ridiculous. Here’s a play-by-play.

• Edgar and Jasper go out
• Tristan goes out, I go out with him to steer him into the grass (the grass was wet and he has a tendency to avoid the grass)
• Tristan changes his mind and comes back inside
• I let the kitty in through the front door
• Edgar and Jasper come back inside
• Jackie goes out; Jasper and I accompany him
• Jackie comes back inside
• Edgar stands by the door with me looking out
• Jasper comes back inside
• Jasper tries to pester the kitty
• Gracyn goes out
• Tristan goes out again
• Jasper goes out to join Gracyn and Tristan
• Gracyn and Tristan come back indoors
• I walk around the house taking a head count and determine that Jasper is still out. I stand by the door and wait for Jasper – I can hear her jingling around in the yard. She finally comes in and everyone goes back to sleep for another hour.

Shuffle the deck and repeat tomorrow at 3:45am.

Nature or nurture?

In my immediate household, there are 2 people, 5 dogs and 1 cat. In an attempt to maintain as much relative order as possible, we try to adhere to a set of feeding time and playtime rituals that seem to work. But dogs, being the clever creatures that they are, do their best to steer our behavior toward meeting their desires as much as possible. They learn that humans will sometimes relent after being pestered for a while. I also think that dogs are perceptive enough to detect human dynamics that contribute to stress, fear and sadness and I think that if these situations are not corrected, the animals’ behavior could be permanently affected.

A number of years ago, I volunteered as a docent in the butterfly conservatory of the local museum. It is a beautiful place and on many days, moms and their young children would visit the museum together and enjoy a stroll through the conservatory. The pretty paths are lined with dense plantings featuring plenty of nectar producing flowers to attract the brilliantly colored butterflies. My role was to provide information about butterflies to anyone who might be interested. Mostly though, the visitors just liked to experience the natural wonder of the conservatory on their own.

On one particular day, I noticed a mom pointing out a lovely swallow-tailed butterfly to her child. As the butterfly flitted closer to them, the little boy ducked his head. I heard his mom exclaim, ‘you don’t have to be afraid, these are good bugs!’ She glanced at me and admitted that through her own behavior, she had probably taught him to be afraid of insects without understanding why.

Hmmm. So I guess this might mean that my dogs’ neuroses originate with me? They have observed my behavior, moods and emotional responses to conditions and situations long enough to develop complementary behaviors? Their unruly manners are essentially a reflection of unchecked mixed signals on my part? Could it be true?

Nah.

Labor day weekend

Cristy is making a pie for a birthday gathering later this evening. The fact that she is in the kitchen is not highly unusual but the fact that someone is in the act of preparing food is of immense curiosity to the family canines. We live in a very small house with limited floor space in the kitchen. It is further limited with the lumbering shapes of one or two large dogs lounging on the kitchen floor and the three small dogs hovering around Cristy’s feet, following her as she walks from pantry to refrigerator to mixing bowl, stepping across the large dogs along the way.

Most of the dogs will lose interest in this activity and wander away except for Tristan. He will stay close to Cristy as long as she is occupied with any food related activity because there is always a possibility that something, anything, might fall to the floor and he will be there to discover whether or not it is edible. Generally, this tactic pays off for him and saves us from sweeping up stray bits of carrot, potato peel or bread crumbs.

I wlll be next up for food-prep duty, making a simple lemon-blueberry cake. The blueberries in the refrigerator are not getting any younger and it is time to enjoy them. Tristan’s reward for his vigilance on this day may be in the shape of a small, round sweet tasting berry.

Animal dynamics

It is 5:29am and I am sitting on the sofa with Marlow, my orange tiger cat who is curled into a comfortable circle, sleeping. Three dogs are sleeping on the floor all around us. The kitty stirs and purring, walks back and forth across the sofa, traversing over me as he paces. It is his first night in this house that will be home for our entire family of 2 people, 5 dogs and 1 cat for at least the next 2 months.

He has become comfortable with most of the house but is still rather afraid of venturing outside. We went outdoors to the front porch area for two brief visits this morning. I acted as chaperone, giving Marlow a sense that he was not alone in this unfamiliar territory as he struck out into the garden foliage to take care of a little kitty business. In short order he was ready to return indoors.

The remainder of this day, as Cristy and I nervously await the results of our house purchase negotiations, we hope that Marlow will gain the confidence he needs to interact with all the dogs since we will not be present to impose our supervision during the work week. The two little dogs, particularly curious about living with a cat, are somewhat eager to interact with him and Marlow is not exactly keen on this idea at present. The dynamics of their relationships, not unpredictably resembling their individual personalities.