Brace of Cardis

In Memory

2011-01-09T06:01:00.000-08:00

On December 31, 2010 my heart dog Jojo left this life. He was diagnosed with lymphoma and, when it became clear that he faced nothing but more suffering, his family elected to have him euthanized. You can read about Jojo in the first entry in this blog. Let it suffice here simply to say that he and I had a very close and very special relationship.

He came as a puppy to my daughter Kelly and her family at Christmastime in 2003. At the time my grandchildren, Hannah and Jordan, were in elementary school and it was my pleasure to go to their house in the morning and help them get ready for school after their parents went to work. I made sure Jojo got a good long walk and, as often as not, took him spend the day with me until it came time to meet the afternoon school bus. He spent at least as much time with me as he did with his family.

I realized he was a very special dog when, as a pup, he watched me replace a kitchen faucet. I had cleared out all the cleaning supplies under the sink and was lying on my back, half in/half out of the cabinet, balancing a flashlight while fiddling with the plumbing connections. Jojo walked into the cabinet and sat down beside my head and looked up at what I was doing. He would watch my work for a bit, then look down at me, then back up at the plumbing. He showed such intelligence and curiosity that I found myself explaining to him what I was doing. There we were, as my son Brady later said, me with my "micro manager" fixing the plumbing.

Jojo was the smartest dog in the world and, when he approached doggie puberty, became quite headstrong. I asked Kelly if I could take him to obedience training and for six weeks we spent Thursday nights learning how to behave...both of us. Our instructor, Shade Whitesel, showed Jojo and me how to work together instead of butting heads, and Jojo became a very cooperative and gentle companion. We went on to complete an intermediate course in obedience with Shade, and then Hannah and I took Jojo and Elky (my Cardi who had joined us by then) through a beginning agility class.

I had the opportunity to spend the better part of a day with Jojo and Hannah before his death. He came to me and let me brush him and love on him, and it was clear that he didn't have much time left: he was weak, but still bright eyed and affectionate. I lay on the floor with him and just loved him, and my tears flowed.

A Buddhist monk once told me that animals can be great teachers. I learned from Jojo the joy of giving and receiving unconditional love, and to pay more attention to others' needs. Jojo confirmed for the the value of enthusiasm, pure enthusiasm at being alive. Knowing him has made me a better person, of this I am absolutely sure. I grieve his loss and am profoundly grateful that he came into my life. With Jojo there is no unfinished business: he lived and we loved like a clean bright flame.

Keep them doggies rollin'

2009-05-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday we drove and ferried up to Langley, WA to have Tassel fitted for this cart. As noted in earlier posts here on the dogs' blog, our pretty red & white girl has a bad right knee. (You can see in this picture that she avoids putting weight on it.)

The good people at Pet Mobility & Rehab Center, spent a good hour with us, getting the cart adjusted, teaching us how best to get Tass acquainted with it, and generally making sure that we were fully equipped to deal with what will most likely be a steady decline in her ability to get around.

We are experimenting with solo and "both dogs" walks, bribes with treats, and off-leash meanderings in the back & front yards. The plan is to have her able to use it before it becomes absolutely necessary. She's not the happiest camper when lashed into her cart, but it looks like she'll get used to it before long.

Do Corgis shed?

2008-08-19T11:19:00.000-07:00

Last evening I bathed the girls, hoping to remedy the increasingly 'doggy' smell in our environs. Neither pooch is very happy about bath time, but Elky, to whom all grooming constitutes torture, sulked and hid and, when finally dragged to the tub, stared at me with her shocked and injured look. For reasons that escape me, this week both dogs are (in the parlance of Corgi people) "blowing coat."

Corgis have what's called a double shedding coat. Contrary to all the supporting evidence, this does not mean that Corgis shed twice as much as other dogs. It's a technical term that distinguishes dogs with a certain kind of hair: some dogs, like Poodles, have hair that is like the wool on a sheep: it just continues to grow and grow. I don't think they ever shed. Corgis, and many other dogs, have two kinds of hair: stiff guard hairs and a much finer, softer undercoat. They shed more or less continually during the year, but on special occasions (known only to themselves) they shed 98% of their undercoat. Dog show people refer to this as "blowing coat." If this were a competitive event, Corgis would take the gold every time, hands down.

This link will give you an idea:

http://www.terenelf.com/SpockShedding/Shedding.html

So last night it was shampoo and conditioner rinse for the Elky girl, who has been looking increasingly shaggy and dull. The hair came off in handfuls...and this morning I sat down with her (that is to say I sat down on her) to see about brushing some of the remainder out before it got all over the house. (Corgi hair shows up everywhere...it may be their attempt at immortality: I have no doubt it will drift merrily around this house long after the dogs and I have shuffled off our mortal coils.) I bribed her with kibbles while filled a plastic grocery bag with what I removed with a comb. Then I ran the vac over the rug where I had her cornered, and got another bag full.

One would think this coat blowing business would happen in the spring, which it does, when dogs no longer need their undercoat to keep them warm. One would not expect it to happen in the late summer...but I'm still learning how surprising these girls can be.

Whose woods these are....

2008-08-12T13:22:00.000-07:00

Across our dirt road is a 40 acre patch of woods, one of several parcels that constitute The Grand Forest of Bainbridge, according to the sign at the crossroads, and thus technically owned by the city. Happily, they are the least used and virtually undeveloped section, and when Tassel, Elky, and I walk there every day we almost always have them to ourselves. And so we have come to think of them as our own.

On a sunny morning the light streams in under the high canopy, brightening little spots along the trail. Here are some photos I took today while the girls explored "our" woods.

Monks and dogs

2008-08-07T17:14:00.000-07:00

We had visitors from California this week: Rev. Master Kinrei Basis, prior at the Berkeley Buddhist Priory (left) and Rev. Master Seikai Luebke, assistant prior at Pine Mountain Buddhist Temple, stopped in for a couple days on their way north to visit fellow monks in the Order of Buddhist Contemplatives in Canada. Elky and Tassel soaked up lots of affection and I think if they'd have fit into Rev. Seikai's luggage he might just have taken them with him.

We had glorious patio-living weather and a good time was had by all.

That's why they call 'em bitches....

2008-07-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

The sweet dog beside the flowers, though you wouldn't know it, has learned to drive her anxious companion (lurking in the doorway) to distraction when it comes to mealtime. The routine goes something like this:

1. Take Elky into the laundry room and closes the door, leaving Tass in the den.

2. Refill water bowl and prepare the kibble.

3. Give Elky her bowl and hurry out the door, hopefully closing it before Elky devours her kibble. Listen to Elky start to whine.

4. Put Tassel's bowl down near the back door (about where Elky is sitting in the photo).

5. Go back and let Elky out of the laundry room and keep her from charging Tassel's bowl. (Tassel at this point is standing at her bowl, but not eating.)

6. Put Elky in the next room so Tass can have her breakfast in peace.

The problem is that Tassel shows little interest in her food unless Elky is staring at the bowl from 4 or 5 feet away. (Closer than that and we have an intense interlude of the snarly-growlies, which I discourage.) Tass wanders away from the bowl, seemingly in search of her antagonist, and will often return to it only when it looks/sounds like I'm about to release Elky the kibble-hoover from her mealtime confinement.

And I swear there are times when Tass seems to bait Elky the Tapeworm; it goes like this: I put E in a down-stay beside my chair in the dining room, say, while we wait for Tass to dine in the den. Elky grudgingly holds the stay, though she remains ever vigilant for my attention to lapse, whereat she sneaks around the corner to see if there might be a morsel left in T's bowl. Tassel leaves her bowl to come peek around the corner at Elky. Elky stirs and gets a "no!", and Tass hurries back to her bowl. Rinse & repeat several times until either Tass has inadvertently eaten her kibble or I have become exasperated and set her bowl aside until dinner time.

What a soap opera....

There goes the flat screen TV...and other musings

2008-05-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

Just wrote a $1400 check to my credit card company for Elky's vet bills. Needless to say, we won't be getting that sexy new flat screen hi-def digital TV that I was lusting after. Here's what I told Ellen when I wrote her a periodic update on the doggies:

Ellen & Marv, just a quick doggie update. We're all fine now, but we had a scary few days there when Elky was hospitalized with hemmorhagic gastroenteritis. The vet says they don't really know what brings on this condition (prolonged gastric upset, vomiting, diarrhea, dehydration) but I think it was due to gobbling crumbs of suet and birdseed that the large woodpecker spilled onto the ground below the feeder. Whatever the cause, our Elky girl was a sick puppy for about 5 days, and for 2 of those was kept overnight on i.v. fluids.

She had been sick for three days and, even after I put her on a very bland diet (boiled rice and poached chicken breast) she didn't seem to be getting better. Glad I took her in: the emergency vet (these things always seem to happen on a weekend) said she was seriously dehydrated, and that she was in pretty serious danger of sepsis due to the condition of her bowel. You know how vocal Elky normally is. She had gotten very quiet and subdued and very listless, so it was obvious this was no ordinary tummy trouble. I'm very relieved to report that she's back to 100% now: barking at the TV, at the evil UPS truck that delivers her kibble, at the dangerous children walking to the bus stop, at me when I'm mixing up her kibble, etc. etc. And she has regained the contagious bounce in her stride as she and Tass lead me down to the woods for their morning walk.

Do you find her to be a very serious dog? She seems to be intent on everything she's doing, and I swear she looks at each walk as a major career move: she's completely absorbed, totally concentrating. Tass and I are often 30 yards down the trail ahead of her because she's stopped to study some smell or other, and then she comes racing to catch up. Tassel, on the other hand, is happy-go-lucky Miss Relaxed. Aside from her penchant for staying at the head of the pack, she seems much more light-hearted in her enjoyment of the outing. If I stop for some reason, she politely waits for me 10 yards up the trail, her tail wagging as she watches me to see that I'm not going off on another route or something. If I say her name or just talk to her, she trots happily back for a skritch, and then goes back to resume her position. She will stand there and soak up being petted and loved on, while Elky barely tolerates it. It's as if she's got important work to do and is impatient to be off and doing it.

When we're inside it's sometimes a completely different story. Joanna has put a quilt over the hassock/foot stool where I sit to keep the dog hair off, and Elky loves to jump up there and lie between my feet and rest her head on one of my legs. Joanna says I'm turning her into a lap dog, but I think Elky's really too independent ever to go that far. But she likes her cuddles on her own terms. For example: early morning is my meditation time, and this occurs after I take the dogs out for their early potty break. I sit on a low kneeling bench and a padded mat. Both dogs come to greet me and get a skritch when I'm settling into position, and then Tassel normally wanders off to her heated bed we got for her hip problems. Elky stays there in front of me with her head in my lap in perfect position for me to give her skritches with both hands. This goes on for five minutes or so and then she either lies there snoring through my meditation or walks off to join Tass on the cozy bed. She trots along beside or behind me whenever I'm in the middle of a chore, going to get the mail, take out the recycling, etc, and she sits and the entrance to the kitchen and watches me while I'm cooking. She usually snores beside me when I'm reading or working on the computer. It may be that she figures I'd wander off into the street if not for her constant vigilance...maybe that's part of her job.

Tassel will follow us outside, but when she sees we're only going to the mailbox she stands at the top of the driveway and waits, ears erect and her tongue protruding that silly half-inch that it does when she's concentrating on something. As I write this I note that we just returned from the mailbox: she waited at the top of the driveway and, when Ekly trotted back toward the house with me, did her ambush tactic to get some playful wrestling on the way to the front door. Tassel has taken it upon herself to closely monitor the chipmunk that took up residence under the outdoor storage box where I keep (and usually spill) the birdseed. If Elky is intent on my every move, Tassel is doubly so when it comes to this little guy. She stands and stares into the narrow space between the box and the house, then trots to the other end of the box where it is pushed up against the chimney.

Tass is our protector: no pedestrian or hiker makes it down our road without a sober and prolonged warning from her. No car door closes within a block without her disapproval. She is as intent on our protection as Elky is on supervising my every move.

Well, the trillium are in bloom in the woods across our road and the starflowers aren't far behind. And when we've had a day without rain, it makes for a very pleasant place for walking, despite all the fallen trees we have to scramble across. You're welcome any time to come for tea and time with the girls. Hope the spring is going the way you like it.

Jim

Time does its thing...

2008-04-08T08:49:00.001-07:00

Today we celebrate Elky's and Tassel's arrival into our lives. They have become my devoted "posse", as Joanna calls them, and are better for morale than my 400 daily miligrams of Welbutrin. Who would guess that scratching a smelly dog behind the ears would have such a beneficial effect on the one doing the scratching? But there it is...another miracle in the Big Mystery. Still, it ain't all roses:

The Buddhists call it annica, or change: the observation that nothing remains the same, not really, not even for a minute. Everything is in a state of flux, always. For us the big implication of this, of course, is that we are here on the earth only temporarily. The evidence of this truth is everywhere, and yet in our drowsy wishfulness we ignore it as best we can, preferring to dwell on other things. But reality has a way of persisting on its own course, and however pleasant and comforting they may be, the fact remains: our dreams are awry of the world.

On the left of this x-ray you can see a dog's laterally luxated patella. I snagged the photo off the web, but if it were from the several-hundred-dollar examination Tassel got back in January it would also show mineralization of one of the discs in her lower back (interestingly, the same one in my back that is herniated: L5-L6) and considerable arthritis in both legs and ankles.

This, our kindly vet explains, is why she now limps around the house after our walks. Several hundred dollars worth of x-rays revealed that her knees and back are as bad or worse than mine. So our forays are shorter and more to the point, potty-wise, unless I leave her behind and take Elky (and sometimes Jojo) to the park or woods for a good romp. Tass is on a combination of rimadyl (for pain), adequan (a wonder drug for arthritis), and a heated bed beside my reading chair. At the age of nine dog years (Tassel last January, Elky next month, Jim way back in 2004) I have discovered that our mortal coil has ceased to be so tightly wound, and I often remind myself that whatever it is that I want to leave behind post-shuffle is best moved to the front burner.

Dog people are silly

2008-02-06T14:08:00.000-08:00

It was about a year ago that we pulled up behind an old gas-guzzler sedan at the stop light. I'm guessing the rather large and seedy guy behind the wheel was somewhere in his sixties. As we waited for the light to change a Chihuahua jumped from the front seat onto the head rest and then into the guy's lap. The driver shifted the dog to his left arm and cradled it there and began to rub noses with the dog. The dog was in ecstasy, licking the guy all over his face, and you could see his lips moving as he talked to the little dog. When the light changed he did a reasonable job of dividing his attention between the dog and the road, but you could tell by the look on the dog's face (in rapt attention on the driver) that the conversation was still going on. Joanna and I chuckled at how some people get sort of loopy about their dogs and to what ridiculous extremes they sometimes go with them. At the time we were coming back from Costco where I had encountered another sixties-something guy, this one with a little schnauzer sitting in his shopping cart. I rolled my eyes when I heard him talking to the dog, explaining things as though the pooch wanted to know the difference between saltines and club crackers, etc. I rolled them again when I saw that he had brought a towel to put in the child-seat portion of the shopping cart so the dog would be more comfortable. Some people.

Three or four months later we adopted Elky & Tassel. Fast forward six more months. I was sitting at the very same traffic light, and realized that I was explaining to Elky where we were going next on our errands (Home Depot). She was looking at me with this rapt expression on her face and when I leaned down to her, she licked me all over my face. When the light turned green, I pulled her up next to me so she could stand on my right leg and see out the windshield (well, if it were possible to see around all the 'nose art' she had deposited there), then I proceeded to Home Depot, having done a reasonable job of dividing my attention between dog and road, where I studied the various kinds of shopping carts to decide which one would be most suitable for wheeling my two dogs around while I looked for plumbing parts and paint. The two dogs looked back and forth from me to the merchandise and other shoppers. I am fairly sure I detected some eye rolling on a couple of them. I suppose it is a common reaction to seeing a seedy-looking, sixties-something guy, crooning away to his dogs and wheeling them around the store in a shopping cart. Some people.

On the way home I found myself wondering if anyone would mind if I brought the girls into the library. I was only planning to be in there for 10 or 15 minutes....

Happy Birthday, Tass!

2008-02-05T09:21:00.000-08:00

Please join me in wishing Tassel a very happy 9th birthday! If you shared your mornings with us you'd recognize Tassel as the goofy red and white girl who starts all the rowdy games with her side-ways dance and "helicopter" tail action. Yep, and she's the one who quickly finishes her morning relief break and then runs back to me for a skritch while Elky studiously sniffs the weeds at roadside for evidence of overnight visitors. Now, for the brag:

A couple of days ago I opened the front door and stepped out on the porch to let the girls have their morning potty break. I'd been getting sloppy about the leash (we live at the end of a dirt road in rural area where there is very little traffic) and just as I looked up to notice a man taking his large boxer for a walk in the road, the girls spotted same and took off at a dead run, barking their heads off. Man and dog stopped suddenly (his dog was on leash), anxious at what these two crazy muscle bullets had in mind. I shouted "no" and called Tassel and Elky to come. By this time the dogs were more than 2/3 of the way to their target and visions of lawsuits were dancing in my head when, lo and behold, both dogs slowed, turned, stopped, and looked back at me! I called them to me again and Tassel immediately trotted back, happy as a clam. Elky followed, looking back over her shoulder and muttering at the boxer, no doubt saying, "You are one lucky dog, mate." Red faced, I apologized to man and boxer alike, sent a silent thank-you heavenward, and stood there astonished, praising the dogs as they stood at my feet waiting for me to clip on the leashes. (Note to self: from here on out, attach leashes before opening the door.)

I've had dogs over the years, but I have NEVER had dogs who would, on command, break off from flat-out, hard running pursuit of the temptation of the moment, and come to me. Am I not blessed to share in the lives of these two miracles?

Dog noises: When Tass is tired of waiting for me to finish my coffee and serve up the kibble, she flops on the floor nearby giving a loud and laughable sigh/grunt that is equal parts world-weariness and exasperation. What a character!

About Elky

2007-09-04T17:11:00.000-07:00

I have already told you a bit about happy Tassel, who moves in grace in beauty. Let me now sing a loopy and spontaneous song to Elky, the vociferocious girl.

The thing is, this little dog has some issues. The same true to some degree for all of us, I suppose, and while Elky's issues are nothing to be alarmed about, they sure make living with her an interesting proposition. Take mealtime: she follows me around the house most of the time, but when mealtime approaches she stays particularly close. When I walk toward the laundry room where I keep the dogs' bowls and food, she begins to whine in a squeaky voice in anticipation, and when I take down from the shelf and open the plastic bucket containing the kibble, unless I have given her the "quiet" command (the hand signal accompanying the verbal command is to draw the right hand knife-like across my throat), she will bark at me and growl at Tassel. I feed her in the laundry room with the door closed, lest she run between her bowl and Tassel's, growling and fretting.

Elky considers anything to do with grooming as torture. Yesterday the dogs managed to find some stagnant and fetid drainage from the compost bin and, as dogs are wont to do, rolled in it. As the worst offender, Tassel went into the tub first and was her usual compliant self, even standing still while I trimmed her nails afterwards. When I called Elky for her turn she sat across the room staring at me as though she couldn't understand what I wanted her to do. All I have to do is say "brush" (a common expression in a house with two Corgis) and she starts looking for a place to hide.

In the evenings Tassel generally goes to bed in her crate around 8:30, but Elky prefers to stay up with us regardless of the hour, even if it's simply to doze at our feet.

On our trips in my pickup truck to the park she gets very excited whenever we slow down or when she hears the turn signal...which she interprets as "Are we there yet? Oh boy!" She has an adorable intensity in everything she does: be it watching me with her bright eyes to find out what is next on the agenda, dancing around me on the way to the back door to receive her afternoon treat, or jumping into and out of the truck before and after our morning run. Her intense gaze conveys the impression of a sharp curiosity about the world...in particular whatever it is that I am doing in her world...and perhaps because of this impression I find that I engage in a fairly continuous one-way conversation with her: "OK, Elky, here we go. You're a great dog, but wait, WAIT!, till I get the leash on you and Tassel. Want to start at the pond or the soccer field? When we finish our walk I'm going to have to run by the grocery store and pick up some things for lunch, but don't worry, I'll park in the shade and won't be but just a minute." And so on. She divides her attention between eye contact with me and and intent survey of our route and progress. To observe dog and man would be to conclude that the old guy is certifiably losing it, the creature at his side is perhaps really a small person in a Corgi suit, or mabye that he is wired up with one of those disconcerting "no-hands" cel phones that have people walking down the grocery aisles speaking as though to the canned tomatoes or an imaginary friend.

Joanna, my bride of 42 years says that my one-way conversation with the dogs is like when I was a boy and sang to my dog.

She refers to a childhood memory I shared with her when we were in the process of adopting Elky and Tassel: it is a dreamy summer day and I am sitting on the shady back porch steps with my first dog, Sandy, a female Spitz-Chow mix. The dog lay on her stomach on the cool concrete and I knelt there with my arms around her neck. I was about nine years old and so full of love and adoration for my dog that I felt my heart would burst with it. There was every comfort in her nearness and I remember singing to her loopy, spontaneous songs that seemed to pour out of me.

Dog with the happy heart

2007-08-03T17:24:00.001-07:00

It is hard for me to describe one dog without reference to the other. Elky and Tassel are quite different in temperment, and I have come to think of them as two differently charged particles that in many ways seem to define each other. But I will try to keep the focus on Tassel alone in this post, the girl in the picture cooling her heels at a recent herding event.

Joanna calls her the dog with the happy heart, and that's how I think of her now. My early morning routine begins around 6:30 or 7:00. I put the tea kettle on to boil, feed the marvelous cats Mavis and Jake, and then go to my study where the dogs sleep each night in their crates...as they have each night for practically their entire lives. They are wide awake and eager for their morning to begin, barely pausing for a skritch before loping to the front door. After a routine "sit stay" to give me room to open the door, they watch me carefully for the "OK" that marks the start of the morning scramble. For a dog who just spent 8 or 10 hours in her crate, one would assume the first order of the day would be to find a place to pee, but for Tass it is to gallop down the driveway, tail held high and wagging, then turn around and run back to me for a quick and enthusiastic embrace before making the circuit again. She is the embodiment of that phrase from Psalms, "This is the day the Lord has made; let us be rejoice and be glad in it."

I have never known a dog so compliant when it comes to recall. I walk Tassle and Elky for an hour or so each morning, and for half the time or more the dogs are off leash: romping up and down our wooded trails or hiking across the open fields at the 95 acre Battlepoint Park. Tassle likes to "take point" to use the old infantry phrase: she'll lead our party, staying anywhere from a few feet ahead to 30 yards or more. She is always sure to know where the rest of us are, even though she might be out of sight. She hesitates at any trail junctions or obvious branches in our walk long enough to get her cue for which way we'll go, but much of the time she is well down the road ahead of us. But regardless of what fascinations of scent or sight she may be enjoying, when I call her she turns at once and comes to me...and she's as glad to see me then as she is on that first morning romp.

There are many feral rabbits at the park, progeny of years of liberated Easter bunnies (and thus of many sizes, shapes, and colors) and it is Tassle's considerable pleasure to chase them to the entrance of their warrens that honeycomb the thickets of wild rose and blackberry brambles. The other morning we came over a little berm and surprised a half dozen or more grazing in an open field near the park's rock quarry. The dogs lit out immediately in pursuit, the rabbits scattered and, while there was little danger of their actually catching one, I called the dogs back lest they bolt through the gate and into the road. Much to my surprise and pleasure, Tass abandoned the chase immediately and came trotting back, tongue lolling, and with a most satisfied look on her face. Elky is so used to following her on our walks that she, too, turned around.

Midway through our walk we come to a paved path encircling the duck pond. A water faucet stands near the path, and some kind soul has placed a large water bowl beneath it where we stop for a drink. I usually wash out the dish and refresh the water, then step back to watch Tass's delightful routine. All the dogs I have known drink by placing their noses near the water and lapping it up with their tongues. Tassel, on the other hand, pushes her muzzle all the way under the water, blowing bubbles out her nose and sipping the water rather like a horse or cow might do. On our walks she follows this by placing both her front paws in the bowl and making little digging motions. Whether she's literally cooling her heels or just doing a little doggie rejoicing in the day is anybody's guess.

One of the things I most like is to watch Tass in motion: she has the most beautifully even gait I have seen on a dog. I would never have thought a stumpy-legged Corgi on the move would be anything but comical waddle, but Tassle has perfect balance and poise. Her ears are at perked, her head is high, and she moves across the landscape as though she were queen of the world.

Change and hitchhikers

2007-07-20T07:51:00.000-07:00

These days we seem to be spending almost as much time cleaning up afterwards as we did romping in the woods. Wet spring weather inexorably moved on to clear skies and warmer days, giving us respite from the post-walk rubdown with the tattered bath towels set aside for the dogs. But as dry weather persists and the season progresses, I find myself doing a lot of nit-picking when we finish our walks. Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast by Pojar and Mackinnon, Lone Pine Publishing, 1994, tells me that the culprit is Osmorhiza chilensis, commonly known as mountain sweet-cicely. We find it along the wider sections of our wooded paths, an unassuming perennial member of the carrot family, about a foot tall, and notable for its spread of coarsely toothed, slightly hairy leaves. It seemed to me that the plant has something of a quiet dignity about it, but in my earlier spring walks I was more interested in the forest superstars: trillium, starflower, and the emerging sword and bracken ferns.

O. chilensis gets harder to ignore as the season progresses. Intent on watching the trillium blossoms morph into seedpod (with the view of picking a few to cultivate in the shadier parts of my yard) I failed to notice the carrot cousin taking on a rangier aspect. The little non-descript white flowers weren't all that appealing, and besides, I was having to keep one eye peeled for the stinging nettles also lurk along our route.

The solstice came and went. The damp carpet of compost and loam dried out and the newly hatched winter wrens grew up and moved on. And all this time mountain sweet-cicely was developing its fruit, about which Pojar and Mackinnon have this to say: "black, needle-like, 12-22 mm long, narrowing below tip, broadening into a beak, bristly-hairy, often catching on clothing or fur." My emphasis. What the guidebook fails to mention is that the mature seeds spring from the weed at the slightest disturbance, show an unfortunate affinity for athletic socks and the knit fabric that lines our sneakers and that, once imbedded, are the devil to remove. And "needle-like" hardly does them justice.

So what began in the spring as an attractive and unassuming border at the edge of the path has become a fanged gauntlet the dogs and I have to run if we're to impose ourselves on the forest across the road. As I go at my socks and sneaker insides with tweezers this morning I take pale solace in the knowledge that the dogs and I are helping to broadcast the message of Osmorhiza chilensis across the face of the green earth. May I get as many trilliums in my yard next spring as their carrot cousins from hell.

Open Adoption

2007-06-24T18:39:00.000-07:00

While Joanna and I may be the dogs’ owners in the eyes of the law, the idea of “ownership” doesn’t convey the true nature of the relationship as we see and experience it. We are responsible for the dogs (and to them); we provide for their needs as best we can. But the idea of an intelligent sentient being reduced to the level of property just doesn’t feel right to me. The pickup in the driveway is mine. The dogs sleeping beside my chair are good friends who live here.

When Elky & Tassel came to us we welcomed Marv and Ellen, their previous owners, to come for a visit with the girls any time they wish. We could see that they were pleased at placing the dogs in our home, and we wanted them to be able to maintain their long friendship with the girls in whatever way they were comfortable. We knew the dogs would be delighted to see them, and we figured it would be best for all of us if they did. Our daughter Kelly laughed when she heard this, saying it sounds like we’re part of one of those “open adoptions” you hear of these days, where the birth mother stays in contact with the child and the adoptive parents and is involved to some degree in the child’s life.

I’ve been sending regular reports and photos to Marv and Ellen, letting them know how well the dogs have adjusted to their new routine, and how much we enjoy having these beautiful and intelligent animals in our lives. Thus it was with delight that we received Ellen’s request to come over for a visit. They are about to embark on an extended vacation, and they thought it would be nice to see the girls before they left town.

This afternoon Marv and Ellen rang our doorbell and were welcomed by two very happy Corgis. After brief pleasantries they took Elky and Tassel to the wooded trails of the Grand Forest park just down the road. They returned in an hour or so and the dogs sprawled on the floor while we went over the details of an adoption agreement Marv had worked up. It contains the usual things: that we’ll maintain the dogs’ health and see that they have regular checkups at the vet; notify them if the dogs become critically ill, die, or we are no longer to continue ownership (that word again) of the dogs. We also agree to allow them future visits and to continue to send pictures and updates occasionally.

Marv & Ellen posed with the dogs for pictures on the front porch and then walked to the car. Elky and Tassel, who were off-leash, stood on the porch and watched them go...both pairs of ears in the full-up and forward position. I briefly worried that one or both would break away and perhaps chase the car but they simply sat at attention and watched their friends drive away. We came inside for cookies, and once again I marveled at Corgi resilience.

The swallows

2007-06-22T14:36:00.000-07:00

We were heading into a stiff south wind in early afternoon a few days back over at Battle Point Park. Elky and Tassel were off-leash, alternately poking into the margins of the islands of blackberry and wild roses that break up the meadows at the north end of the park. (Yes, we knew this is a technical violation, since all dogs are supposed to be leashed at all times, but we had the fields to ourselves and the joggers were a quarter-mile away at least. And besides, both dogs are so conscientious about coming when called that we don’t worry about bothering the innocent civilians.)

When we came out of the brush into the open meadow we found ourselves surrounded by a dozen or so of the barn swallows. They were feeding on insects we flushed from the tall grass, and as they came upwind the birds would glide slowly by, giving us a good look at them before flashing across and racing downwind to start the circle again. The picture shown here is one I grabbed off the web, and it doesn’t show the buff underbelly or the flash of white you see when the bird flares its tail when suddenly changing direction. They encircled us all the way across the 90-acre park, and I stopped every few yards or so just to marvel at how close they came.

The little moments that make us dance...

2007-06-06T22:34:00.000-07:00

The dogs and I have been exploring the 40-acre wood across the road almost every morning for the past couple of months. The narrow paths cut through the thick understory below second-growth Douglas fir and Western red cedar trees, interspersed with big leaf maples and alders. Head-high huckleberry, salal, and salmonberry crowd the trail, the ferns are thick underfoot, and we have to scramble up and over several deadfalls along the way. Where the brush thins out in heavy shade the forest floor is covered with moss, ferns, woodland wildflowers, and jumbles of fallen trees and branches, some rotting away as “nurse logs” where seedlings take root along their moldering forms.

We have seen scattered starflowers succeed the trilliums at the foot of the alders near the corner where we turn back toward home. We’ve met a family of winter wrens, the parents scolding us as their young took what seemed to me their first forays from the nest. One, a little fellow not three inches long and possessed of more down than feathers, landed in the scrub nearby. The bird and I looked at each other for a minute and then he took wing—and how he managed to fly at all with so few feathers still astounds me.

Corgi resilience

2007-06-05T09:02:00.000-07:00

Since we adopted Elky and Tassel they have taught me a wonderful lesson about dealing with change. On the day of adoption the owners brought them to our home and stayed for an hour or so telling us of each dog’s quirks and preferences and letting the dogs get comfortable with us.

The first indication of Corgi resilience came when the visit was over and the owners climbed into their truck and drove away. As I’m sure you can imagine, leaving the dogs was very hard for them. I was fairly choked up with sympathy for their having to part from old friends, and I know there wasn’t a dry eye in the cab of the truck as they drove away. I had put the dogs on leash because I was concerned that they might be distressed at being left behind and try to chase the truck but, aside from some puzzlement at not having been loaded into the truck with the owners, neither dog seemed all that concerned.

Over the next couple of weeks I remarked to friends how quickly the dogs had adjusted to their new surroundings. They seemed entirely comfortable even the second day with us, which was no small feat, given that it was Easter Sunday and our house was invaded by a chaotic family gathering that included six new people and their four dogs. After the company left Elky and Tassel stretched out on the rug and napped as though it had been business as usual.

“But don’t they miss their previous owners?” a friend asked. “How sad! You’d think they would grieve at least for a week or two.” Not that I could tell, I would reply. Each morning Elky and Tassel emerged from their crates with tails wagging, exuberant barks, and every sign of eagerness to welcome the new day. They happily explored the winding trails in the woods nearby, challenged the UPS truck each time it drove by, romped across the vacant fields next to the college, and trotted around the house behind me as if asking, “O.K., Jim, what’s next? Wanna go out and play?” Their appetites remained robust. I could detect no signs of grief.

Now it may well be that this behavior is typical of Corgis, or it may reflect a sense of security and confidence borne of the previous owners’ good training and loving care (I’ve never met better behaved dogs.) Or maybe it’s simply the way dogs look at things. I have no doubt that if/when the previous owners come for a visit or borrow the girls for an overnight or weekend at their old home, as we’ve invited them to do, Elky and Tassel will be jubilant at seeing their old friends: there will be dog kisses all around. But as for hanging on to the way things used to be, or bemoaning their losses, it doesn’t seem to be the Corgi way. Whatever memories they have of pervious times, they don’t let the past get in the way of the delicious present. I hope some of this rubs off on me as I share my life with these two wonderful dogs. I hope I can achieve some degree of their uncomplicated, uncontrived joy at whatever the day offers, that I can come out of my crate each morning, you might say, with tail wagging and exuberant barks.

About Jojo...

2007-05-27T18:43:00.001-07:00

Why Corgis? My daughter Kelly and her family got this guy for Christmas four years ago. (He's about three months old in this picture.) Since everybody in their house went to school or work every day, I started taking Jojo with me after I'd helped my grandkids off to school. He'd spend the day with me hanging out, running errands, going for walks where he was admired by one and all, and so on. I'm convinced he's the smartest dog in the entire world (though Elky is giving him a run for his money) and he'll always be my first love when it comes to Corgis. Jojo is a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, cousin to the Cardigan, and thus was born without a tail. I took Jojo to basic and intermediate obedience lessons and we now work very well together...but he was a handful in the beginning.

How it all began...

2007-05-27T15:34:00.001-07:00

We adopted Tassel (red & white) and Elky (brindle & white), these beautiful eight year old Cardigan Welsh Corgis, on Easter weekend 2007. It was hard for their owners to let the dogs go, but they found themselves increasingly away on travel and the dogs were being shuffled from one temporary situation to another. So with great reluctance they asked Denise Waiting, Regional Coordinator of the Cardigan Welsh Corgi National Rescue Trust for help in finding a permanent home for the girls. Two years later, as I was looking for a breeder who might have a Corgi pup for sale, I came across Denise's flyer seeking homes for the dogs. We met Elky and Tassel and their owners and quickly realized that they were the dogs for us. Since the dogs have been together for almost their entire lives, I couldn't imagine taking only one of them...and besides, I figured that two Corgis would be at least twice the fun (subsequently proven to be the case). Voila!