Carny Dog

Nothing much new

2012-01-23T08:56:00.000-06:00

There isn't too much new to talk about here. Things have been pretty quiet. I think Stella still misses Diesel (or maybe I'm just thinking of me haha separation anxiety(?). We went over to new friend Chuy's house to spend the day yesterday. Chuy's make and model are unknown but he's a puppy and he leans toward the herding, I have more energy than most dogs on the planet - variety. Stella is mostly annoyed by him but she's working on it. One day we were over there (oh yeah) to get our picture made for Coffee and a Canine. Chuy was doing exactly the same thing to Stella that she used to do to the dogs in the dog park at that age. Basically you go up to the biggest dog you can find and punch it in the side repeatedly with your nose until it chases you. Chuy did this to Stella that day a dozen times and each time, Stella told him to back off. The final time he did it, Stella taught Chuy the same lesson the horse taught Diesel. There was no real contact but he thought there was. Hysteria ensued.

Here's a shot of him in a little behind the scenes action from that day taken by my friend Beverly. We were trying to situate the dogs and he took it upon himself to drink the coffee (bad dog!). I was only pretending to drink it in the picture. Once we finished - I forgot (of course) and drank out of the cup right behind him. blech.

We have winners!

2012-01-20T12:47:00.000-06:00

I think this photo was taken by my friend Kathryn Reed. This is her dog Futz. He's made an appearance here before. Rad road dog - without question. Not sure who the black dog is (UPDATE: it's Tiny and they were in New Jersey), maybe she or husband Rod would know. Old Futz is long passed but hasn't got off the road yet. I love that.

So we have two winners from the FIVE (WOW!) entries in our calendar contest..... Winner #1 is our great virtual friend, Susan Rose, photographer and fellow blogger among other things - and Winner #2 is Stalker Laura!!!! Congratulations, both of you. I wanted to send everyone who entered a calendar but that meant I'd have to order more. Thank you for playing though and thanks for dropping by occasionally. I really appreciate your comments and stories. And pictures. Send pictures anytime - or add them to Facebook - if you have or know of a great road dog.

Note to the winners: So happy you spoke up, congratulations! Go over to my main page and scroll all the way to the bottom. There's a contact link there where you can send us your mailing address privately. Your calendar will arrive shortly.

Giddyup

2012-01-18T00:16:00.000-06:00

Stella and I have had a little bit of extra fun this last week. I know she misses her playmate - mostly because about once a day she leaps up in the air and does the play bow to me followed by some basketball-type moves. She watches my eyes and if she sees anything that resembles adventure in them, the chase is on. We race through the house for a couple of minutes then I catch her and then she doubles back and catches me. I start laughing and fall down in the floor. It's a game she and Diesel played twice a day for the last six months. A game Diesel apparently tried to play some variation of with a horse recently.

What Diesel saw in the horse's eyes however was not adventure. It was more like a sign that read: Prepare to meet your God - little man. There with the blur of horses hooves and possibly some earth rattling.

Then, according to new mom "Debbie" there was "rolling on the ground, staggering like a drunk, screeching like a girl and running for the hills". At first she thought he might have been clipped in the mouth by the horse but further investigation determined that the only thing fractured in the melee was Diesel's ego which we know from experience, can be repaired. In any case, it was high drama but he's fine. Let's hope he remembers it for a long, long time. Anybody have a dog/horse story?

Dogs and Humans, A Love Story by Lee Charles Kelley.

Goodbye and hello!

2012-01-13T07:08:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Coffee with a Canine for having us over for coffee and featuring Carny Dog on the blog today. Welcome to any new visitors that might happen along. Feel free to take the tour, join in and comment. We love to hear your stories too!

This is a photo of my most excellent friends Beverly and Carr having one last conversation with Diesel before he went to his new home on the real farm. They were kind enough to take Diesel in during the first week of his rescue/liberation.

The new calendar is here!

2012-01-12T17:49:00.000-06:00

..and it is pretty swell, if I did produce the entire thing myself. I know January is almost over but if you'd like to win one, leave us a comment below and we'll employ one of those random generated number things to pick a winner, a week from tomorrow. That would be Friday, January 20th at 9am. It isn't a popularity contest so you don't have to call all your friends or anything unless of course, you just want to.

I should say a couple of other things about this 2012 calendar. There was only one dog from last year who managed to reappear. It's Eight Ball. Some of you may remember him from the Bumper Cars. This time around I dug out Eight-Ball's puppy pictures. He deserved to be in there twice. He was awesome and is sorely missed.

If anyone knows Kelli of Fred and Kelli please let her know they made it in there too.

Last update: (she said) Someone already wrote and asked me if the calendars are for sale. I hadn't planned on selling them this year but if a person were to drop $25. in my paypal account along with a mailing address, I imagine one might end up at your house before too long. I looked around for cheaper ones this year but the ones I found really were cheaper all around.

*Stay tuned for the Diesel report - which includes horse kicking!
(no dogs were harmed)

The girl

2012-01-09T23:58:00.000-06:00

Here is the first day report courtesy of Diesel's new mom:
(editor's note: Maggie is Diesel's new female companion)

Did you know that Diesel buries his food? He’s a hoarder. He buried a dog biscuit in one of the stalls and later took a mouthful of food from a bucket and buried in the vegetable garden.

He has met two of the cats and doesn’t seem to want to bother them, they don’t seem to be worried about him either. He has been outside with them now – I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t chase them but he was too busy checking out everything else to pay much attention to them after he gave them a good sniffing.

You are right about his obsession with the red booda ball…I had to hide it but I think he’s getting the same way about the truck now…he can’t stop looking at it anytime we are outside and he can’t wait to get back in it.

I discovered that he’s pretty good at chasing a stick and bringing it back to me but it’s only because he doesn’t realize that he can be a couple of feet away from me and I can reach the stick…it’s not like a ball where you have to get right next to him to get it…I think it was a big surprise to him that I could get the stick from him.

The fence is completely working now much to his chagrin so he’s been outside on his own while I watch from the house. He didn’t even get shocked but he’s smart enough to know that it’s on…he can hear it snap. He hasn’t wandered far from the barn without me but he’s exploring a little on his own. He hasn’t gotten over the horses yet, they came up to the deck a minute ago to be petted and he was entirely put out by that.

I worked the tractor for a while and he did go a little postal about the tractor…he tried to climb up to the seat. I had to get my piaffe whip to make him stay far enough away from the tractor to keep him safe…after a few minutes he settled down and just trotted next to it but he wouldn’t take his eyes off of it and kept barking at it.

Maggie thinks he’s Satan.

This was written Friday. Three days have passed and things have begun to settle down, word has it that all is well and that Diesel and his new mom are having fun getting to know one another. He has his own bag of tennis balls and new girl Maggie - though still reserved - may be reconsidering her options. I'm pretty sure it's a done deal. We'll have updates periodically (thanks Debbie) and a few leftover pictures from last Thursday coming before long.

Meanwhile, is Stella pathetic or what? She got to visit the farm too and run in the pasture with Diesel before we went home Friday. He gets to keep his name, by the way, which is great. She's obviously missed him but I'm certain she'll be fine too. We've gone back to walking in some of her old favorite places - which is way more exciting for both of us than our standard romp through the neighborhood.

The Adoption

2012-01-07T13:30:00.000-06:00

About the time we, the three of us got pretty good at all walking together like civilized animals, Diesel hit the mother lode.

The week between Christmas and the New Year, I got two serious inquiries about him. One was a note stuck to the door from a couple of my good neighbors (yes, they do exist). I read the note, felt a little pang of impending loss but went ahead and made the call. He got a short interview from that call from friends of a friend, who happened to be looking for a dog. I passed my contact information on to them and waited. The very next day the rescue contacted me and said someone had called asking about Diesel. I had the idea that maybe it was the same person but that wasn't the case. Again, I passed the information along and a few days went by. Then, there was a message from someone we'll call Debbie on the machine. We spent about thirty minutes talking on the telephone and I wondered after we finished, if Debbie was a hallucination I just had or a really mean joke.

You know how when you're a kid and you get a dog and some time passes how one day you come home from school and the dog is gone and one of your parents tells you that your dog went to "live on a farm"? Some - I'd say even many of you have heard this spiel - you're shocked and sorry, you never really saw the dog go or had a chance to say goodbye but of course it's a wonderful place where the dog can run and play and chase rabbits all day and though you feel just terrible somehow you convince yourself that what your parents said is true and the dog really is going to have a nice life there? Remember that story? This happened at my house more than one time although my mother will deny it to this day, none of those dogs ever went to any farm. They were all taken to the pound or dumped off somewhere or given away. I'll never know the details but it took a lot longer than I'd like to admit to figure out that "the farm" didn't exist and my dogs weren't hanging out at the barn in some canine Nirvana.

Guess what.

There really is a farm. And our friend Diesel found it or to be more precise, the farm found him. It was the second phone call. The dream I couldn't allow myself to have as a foster mom knowing it would obliterate all future candidates, called us right up on the telephone.

Diesel and I went over to Debbie's for a visit. We had a run in the pasture. We petted the horses and had tea - with fruitcake. I know what you're thinking. It was unbelievably good though, handmade-by-a-Louisiana-woman-type good. That was Tuesday. She filled out the application for Diesel and we all traded e-mails.

It was then I started thinking seriously about Diesel's departure and our long history together. The neighbors, the police, him galloping through my flower beds in the middle of May, every May, his predecessor Buddy - who got hit and died slowly in front of my house the night before Thanksgiving and the rage I felt when his owner asked me to take care of it, because he just couldn't deal with it right now, how Diesel showed up weeks later - the rebound puppy, me already hoping for his liberation as he refused to become the bully his owner craved but howled insufferably on the chain, terrifying some of the dog walkers, regularly evading the dogcatcher and finally, how he won us over - me and Stella and all but the wimpiest of neighbors with his sincere loyalty and good-natured affection and now that I was thinking about it everything that's really good in a dog.

All of this reflection caused a minor league meltdown in the pet food aisle at Wal-Mart. It was warped and poetic, pain and joy all ground together with a discount mortar and pestle against the backdrop of Wal-Mart. It was as my young niece Katie likes to say: epic.

We are so happy to report that as of yesterday, Diesel has his very own family. It is made up of one woman, three horses, a female dog and three cats, a creek and a never-ending supply of rabbits, mice, horse manure and neighbor dogs to run the fence with. I'm guessing if you're a dog it just doesn't get any better than that.

Alone at the dog park

2011-12-30T23:28:00.002-06:00

Today started with a romp at the dog park, unfortunately there were no other dogs there, and ended with the absolute best double dog-walk to date. Not sure what was up with them but I wish I could have bottled some of it up for tomorrow and the next day. Diesel even dropped the ball a few times on command. Crazy.

Happy New Year everyone. Thanks again for stopping in.

Late Santa

2011-12-28T17:29:00.000-06:00

Heart and soul

2011-12-28T08:24:00.000-06:00

Why?

2011-12-20T17:18:00.000-06:00

Somebody tell me, what is so bloody exciting about a wet coffee filter?
What possible reason could a dog have for dragging one across a kitchen floor more than one time?
I have to know.

Alternative uses for the catch pole

2011-12-03T14:58:00.001-06:00

This is a photo of Stella and her "other" boyfriend Pee Wee. Both of them like to sit out in my backyard and study squirrels.

I have a quick (ha) story about a trip I made over to Animal Control last week. As a prelude, I'd like to say that no dogs died in the story. Well, none of the dogs that are actually in the story anyway.

A Russian immigrant neighbor, has two Siberian Huskies. Their names are Baikal and Zima (they used to drive Stella mad). These two recently discovered that if they jump onto the air conditioning unit in their back yard, it's one more short jump to freedom and so of course, they did; two days in a row. After a long run in the neighborhood on the second day, someone called their owner, my neighbor (who is a school teacher) to report the dogs were in her custody. Since she couldn't leave school in the middle of the day so she asked the caller to return them to her yard and secure the fence. The woman agreed but when she got to the house the dogs wouldn't get out of her car. She then drove both dogs to Animal Control and asked them to "remove" the two dogs from the car. Since Animal Control closes before the teacher got off work (at 4pm), the pair of dogs spent the night there (ka-ching). The next afternoon, I came upon the woman in her driveway at her wits end. She had just returned home with the (smaller) female and was now on her way back for the male. Both were uncontrollable, she said and had to be brought home separately. It might be worth mentioning that the dogs spend time in their backyard but they never go for walks or receive any sort of outside stimulation. I was walking Diesel at the time I met her and she asked if I would take him home and accompany her to the dog pound. I agreed.

When we arrived there was a short wait while they retrieved the ninety pound Baikal (named after Lake Baikal) from whatever pen he was in behind the heavy, almost soundproofed door. We sat down on a couch in the reception area whereupon my neighbor said: "This is where you should bring that dog you have - Diesel - up here." I thought she was kidding at first so I followed up politely with a simple, "I don't think so." This woman though, doesn't tolerate "polite" very well choosing rather to shove you all the way to the wall on things, so rather suddenly, it became a challenge. Louder now, she said:

"You can't take care of that dog and feed it and pay the bills, why not? They have to take him if you bring him here."

In much softer tone, I said that I wouldn't dream of bringing him here and that was why I had him in the first place (so that he didn't end up here).

"Why?", she demanded to know. "They could find him a home," she argued.

I was starting to feel nauseated at this point but I really didn't want to offend the people who were working there so I had to think carefully about how to answer. Finally, I told her that if you surrendered your own pet to Animal Control, they almost always euthanize the pet. Believing I was totally misinformed, my neighbor then stood up then, walked to the desk and announced:

"She has this dog that isn't hers and she doesn't want him and can't take care of him. Tell her that if she brings him up here can you keep him until he finds a home."

Another woman standing in the lobby (waiting for the Husky) immediately turned and asked me what kind of dog he was while my neighbor grilled the woman behind the desk. He's a Lab mix I said, I'm not sure what he's mixed with but bringing him here isn't an option. He's my foster dog." I said. "I'm not even sure why we're having this conversation."

The lady behind the desk piped up then: "Metro won't let us keep pit bulls but we try to adopt out as many of the other dogs as we can."

"And, how long are they up for adoption before they're euthanized?" I asked her.

"Three days" she said without hesitating, "but by law, we have to euthanize all pit bulls or any dog that looks like one because you never know when they're going to rip someone's face off."

I came up out of the chair then hoping to catch a bus home and let my neighbor deal with her dog however she could. Before I could exit this fine facility however, the door opened and someone handed the big dog off to the woman in the lobby. What happened next was not what I expected. She (the dog's owner) flew across the room howling and wildly squealing the dog's name at the top of her lungs, over and over and over again like a crazy person. If she had stood on the coffee table and done the Chicken Dance it wouldn't have been any more ridiculous. This sent her already stressed dog - right off the deep end, lunging and barking without restraint. She turned to me then and said "See, he's so crazy and excited I can't even get him to the car."

It was no surprise that poor Baikal rode all the way home with his head wedged between my head and the passenger side window. I was just thrilled to find him still alive. He was tired and dirty and had the sweetest breath of any dog I've ever met.

So after all of that, I'm left wondering how it is so many people came to use the expression "rip someone's face off" when they're talking about dogs of the bully persuasion? I've heard those exact words used countless times and it had to come from somewhere. Some reactionary news outlet perhaps.. talk about misinformation.

Treats for humans

2011-12-02T00:36:00.000-06:00

Diesel and I got a little birthday present in the mail today. We had a cheapie video camera last year sometime but it stopped working (as expected - it was really cheap). This one isn't top of the line or anything but in nice light, I think it'll be fine and I can use it for my impromptu interviews as well. The sound is excellent.
This little clip was just me trying it out for the first time. I predict someone is going to fall hard for this face when it finally does happen. Until then...

Cracks of dawn

2011-11-21T15:30:00.000-06:00

It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom. ~Aristotle

This morning I was awakened at five a.m.
By dogs, standing at the edge of my bed like zombies in the dark.
My cat lay silent, awake but perfectly still while they took turns chest-butting the mattress, their mild whimpering drowned out so purely by the sound of pouring rain. I kept my eyes closed and asked God if he would make them lie down. He laughed along with the cat.

Why I didn't buy that umbrella that was in my hands at the drug store two days earlier, is beyond me. Mine blew apart a month ago in a similar early morning excursion cum thunderstorm. It went skid-flying off down the street in some dark suburban blaze of Angry Birds on steroids. I was sorry to see it go too. That umbrella came to be mine the night I shot the Grand Opening Gala for the Schermerhorn Symphony Center back in September of 2006. It was a nice black version with their logo and a fake wooden handle, easily big enough to cover a woman and medium-sized dog. I should have known our relationship would end on a street in south Nashville. Enter the hooded raincoat. Boots.

Knowing that the odds of running into a lot of traffic or another dog walker at that time of the morning in a downpour were pretty remote so I took both dogs. I figured since they woke me they deserved a real walk, no tiptoeing around in the front yard, if we're getting up in the dark to get soaked by rain, why not turn it into an event. Granted, it wasn't a run or even really a hike but it was pouring rain and I did mention that it was 5:00 right? Forty minutes and two plus miles later we were back home before daylight set in. I made coffee and tossed the wet towels down the basement steps. The zombies bounded around through the house, towel dried and naked, like little colts and the cat was not surprisingly, still in the bed.

For those of you without two big dogs in your fence-less house I might add, that at noon... we did it all over again. Rain shower included and yes, I am going to tell you a story about a treadmill the minute I find a video camera.

They should've named him Easy

2011-11-16T12:49:00.001-06:00

She lifts his entire hindquarters with her head and trots him through my office on his front paws like a wheelbarrow. He doesn't mind. In fact, he likes it. When they pass back through, the situation is reversed and now he is prancing, the loose skin of her jowl clenched between his teeth. She smiles and waves on the way by. I am a bystander. In this canine charade, I can only watch and learn and be entertained.

Pretty soon, someone is going to come along [you] and adopt this beautiful foster dog right out from under us. I can feel it. Stella and I will probably cry our eyes out that day but for some lucky person or family, it's going to be a life-changing event.

Sorry we've been slow to update. It's been extremely busy around here and any free time has been spent parading around the neighborhood with the large adoptable dog and his oh-so-ladylike girlfriend, Stella. Soon.

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T19:01:00.000-05:00

from Stella and her foster boyfriend, Antonio.

Muffin and Tony

2011-10-25T16:03:00.000-05:00

We met Muffin back when the fair was here in town. She's a cross between a King Charles Spaniel and a Bichon Frise and she lives on North American Midway Entertainment's living lot. She loves to ride in the trucks and is also a big fan of the Euroslide. She likes to run up (I assume) part of the way and then slides back down. Tony, her owner says she listens to everybody but him.

We know the feeling Tony.

Oktoberfest

2011-10-20T22:30:00.001-05:00

Stella made it out to Oktoberfest a couple of weeks ago where she was able to charm a whole new crew of admirers. It was really too big a crowd and she was overstimulated (probably by the smell of brats and other roasted meaty delicacies. She kept diving under people and food tents to get some little bite of bread they dropped or licking God-knows-what off the pavement. It was pretty exhausting and I was mad from trying to hold her back all day. This weekend is Barktoberfest. Not sure if we're going to make it there or not. Honestly it would be a lot more attractive if they would include something for the humans there too. Fifteen minutes of organic dog treats and useless swag and I'm pretty much ready to go home. We may go just to check out the costumes though. Could be fun.

Cutting out the middle man

2011-10-13T22:41:00.002-05:00

Here are a couple of stray shots I forgot to include in the last post. Believe it or not, that little duck appeared to be teasing Diesel. It kept coming back to us for the better part of an hour. I guess it gets pretty boring just floating around on the lake. Of course Diesel might as well be wearing a t-shirt that says Rookie on it so maybe it just couldn't resist.

Water Racer

2011-10-13T08:15:00.002-05:00

So you don't have a fenced in yard and your dog is unpredictable around strange dogs and his recall isn't what it should be or will be and you have to find a way to drain the energy out of him in order to (as some famous dog trainers might say..) make a clear path to his mind.. So what do you do?

Well, our choices are somewhat limited but the best thing I've found so far involves a lake and a tennis ball. Let it be known that our friend Diesel is a little bit obsessed with the ball under most circumstances but after a few swims, his demeanor is much more relaxed. He begins to "drop it" automatically. This gives me the opportunity to "catch" the behavior and name it for him. Over and over and over again until he is asleep sitting up in the back of my car.

At first he wouldn't swim at all. Then I explained the whole Labrador Retriever thing to him and an hour later, he was a pro.

The Graduate

2011-10-08T20:22:00.000-05:00

We got the certificate.
Diesel, formerly misunderstood, outside, chained to the doghouse, could've been a junkyard dog, Diesel - is officially a Pup Scout graduate. Many thanks to his teacher Jane and his anonymous sponsor and all the other pups and owners who graciously put up with us for nine weeks. We commend your brave spirits.

Up to the very last week, he/we had trouble getting into and out of the room where our class was. I mentioned at the beginning we had to pass through an agility training room filled with equipment and dogs each week. At this point in his fresh start - just opening the door to go into this room was like plugging him into a wall socket. He did (mostly) get used to being around the other dogs in class though and that part was very good. That's actually the biggest hurdle we faced and the reason I wanted to take him in the first place. It was established early on that he's some kind of boy genius. Smarter than I ever gave him credit for before. He learned to sit and lie down, stay and come and all of the basics on the first or second try. He's seriously food motivated though so if you don't have any in your hand - his responses vary, for now anyway. For some reason he blew off every trick I tried to teach him and didn't learn a single one, not even with Stella and her oh-so-theatrical demonstrations. We'll more than likely try again on some rainy day or save them for his future owner to work on.

Spike

2011-10-06T21:05:00.000-05:00

Spike - yes that is his real name, he's awesome isn't he? - is indirectly related to Skippy. He's a Basset Hound - Golden Retriever mix Surely there's a clever name for that, a Goldenasset Hound maybe? Anyway, he lives on the lot with his extended family but likes to go over and visit his Aunt Pat at her motor home (two doors down) first thing each morning. Apparently she's the cool aunt. Check out the tail.

Skippy

2011-10-03T08:36:00.006-05:00

Skippy with Jean

Jean and her husband got Skippy from a breeder who gave him away for free. Apparently he was freakishly big to be considered sellable in the world of Yorkshire Terriers. Despite his AKC "birth defect" he may have ended up the luckiest of his litter mates, as he now travels all over the country with a loving family and has many more friends than most dogs could ever dream of.

Suburban Oddities

2011-10-01T14:56:00.000-05:00

My neighbors have an invisible fence. Their dogs charge us every day (up to a point). Last Friday, they added a goat. I don't know if they just got tired of mowing the grass or what.

Things I never said before I owned a dog:

"You can sleep in the bed when you learn to do laundry."

"Walk on the inside please. If one of us is going to get hit by a car, I want it to be me."

"If I come back in there and my bra is in your mouth, things are going to get ugly."

"I think it's time you got a job and started buying your own food."

"I didn't ask to go pee, you did. So pee."

"Stop barking. For God's sake, it's a goat."

Fred & Kelli

2011-10-01T09:37:00.000-05:00

Fred and Kelli, living and working at the Tennessee State Fair, 2011

Field Trip + separation anxiety (mine)

2011-09-25T14:31:00.001-05:00

Diesel (bathed and manicured) went on a field trip Thursday with a kind person who I reckoned might be a perfect match for him. He got a manicure with the Dremel tool. I can't believe two big dogs in a row have let me use that thing on their toenails. Anyway, I was nervous about him going in the same way a mom is nervous about the first day of school. Would he be good? Would they like him? Would he play well with others? Once he'd gone I was fine. Stella, on the other hand was a little distressed. She laid in front of his crate much of the evening and even manged to parlay that into sleeping in the bed with me and the cat.

It ended up being an exercise as much as anything. Although I'm told he did play well with others for the most part - it was also true he wasn't a good fit for their particular household. There were variables, like work schedules and energy levels and roommates. And roommates' pets that came into play, derailing his chances this time around. The good thing though is that everyone took something from the experience.

This begs the question: Once someone is interested in your foster dog - what is the best way to go about setting up meetings, home visits, etc.? What's best for the dog and the dog's eventual success. Every situation will be a little different but I found once the interest was there I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Should we meet in the park and go for a walk? Should I have them over to my house? Or go to theirs? Sleep over? Loan the dog out for a day or a week? Would two nights be better than one? Do I wear him out before he visits or let them experience (and drain) his energy first hand?

In this first instance, there was someone I knew who could vouch for the potential adopter so though I didn't exactly know him, he wasn't a total stranger either. He suggested the sleepover and I just went with it. He was young and seemed perfectly capable, even well-suited I thought, to tend to the needs of a big goofy dog. Had it been someone that showed up out of the blue, or seemed only partially qualified, I think we would have moved much slower. My friend Beverly suggested a polygraph and a background check (she's taken a shine to Diesel herself) but that could be construed as excessive, working against us in the long run.

Hypothetically speaking, if this person had decided to adopt Diesel - then what? I know the mechanics of the application papers, the rabies tag and microchip transfer, that could all happen in an hour but is there some window of time or schedule of events that's better or worse for the dog? Should I let the new owner pick him up or should I drop him off?

Am I talking about the dog really or am I talking about me? It's hard to say but I can't wait to meet the person who realizes that he's going to be their next best friend.

Max

2011-09-21T08:05:00.000-05:00

This is Max, whose mom Lore, will be thrilled to get back home at the end of this season so Max can actually get a good solid free run in the yard. Apparently he's been storing up energy all summer and can now pull that bicycle he's standing in front of at about thirty miles an hour. Unfortunately we didn't get to see that in action and we fear Max may get a sitter for the next summer route, but he sure is an amazing and beautiful canine. Friendly, like a big Siberian Eskimo Bear. (There's no such thing of course but if there were....) Many thanks to Lore for leashing him up and bringing him back out of the motor home after my stalking them all the way across the fairgrounds. He was impossible to miss.

Lizzie Ann and Annie O.

2011-09-20T10:25:00.000-05:00

This is Jim Phelps, who was kind enough on Sunday to let us meet his two road girls, Lizzie Ann and Annie O (in the background). Annie O is fifteen years old and feels right at home on the lot with Jim and her much younger sister. We're hoping to get the chance to spend more time with the three of them next year and wish them all the best making their way to Mississippi.

Meanwhile, we'd love to run your pictures and or updates here on the blog or on our Facebook page (simple to load) so DON'T BE SHY. We know all of you have a camera phone now so you're welcome to submit a picture of your own dog or any carnival dogs you happen to see out on the road. Sometimes there are even prizes...

STellabration

2011-09-16T17:08:00.000-05:00

Well it was a big day for me and Stella. Yesterday was our anniversary - year three. We usually try to celebrate the day of but this year was a little busy so this morning we went over to the fairgrounds and hung out on the midway for awhile. We walked down on the old midway too, now a parking lot of sorts and sat on the exact spot where we met. I asked Stella if she was cool with the fact that I'd retired her from the carnival life but she was busy sorting out all the wonderful smells vying for attention in her nose to answer. She'd found an entire corndog on the ground earlier and I (almost) felt bad not letting her have it. After the midway we went and got lunch at the taco stand by K&S World Market (best taco stand in Nashville if anyone cares). We sat on the curb and had a little picnic out in the grass there and a whole car full of Mexican guys stopped and flirted madly with her.

After lunch we drove up to the feed store for dog food and on to one of Stella's very favorite places, Lowes. The last time we were there a guy heckled us (surely I wrote about it?). He started ranting to everyone in earshot that next time he came to the hardware store he was planning to bring HIS dog and wouldn't THAT be fun. Like a third grader. When he left the guy behind the counter looked at me and said: " I hope his dog has a better attitude than he does." Today was more fun though and just about everyone we saw was happy to see us coming. It was the first time Stella's been away from the house for any length of time since her boyfriend got here.

Hope lives on

2011-09-08T17:08:00.000-05:00

I was delighted to find our latest cover girl Hope and her master Frank Chrisco at the fairgrounds today. Hope has spent her entire life on the midway, she'll be eighteen on Valentine's Day and although she's got cataracts and is nearly blind, she never lets on and still knows her way around the photo joint.

Snoozefest

2011-09-05T20:23:00.000-05:00

He sleeps on his back. Front paws pulled up tight against his chest, back legs splayed open, a proud display of his man parts, what's left of them. The tail wags when you look at him even if his eyes are closed. That cracks me up. It would be sweet even if you never heard the soft snore that goes with it all. Occasionally when he's dreaming he snorts and whimpers loud enough to garner the attention of his current girlfriend. She rouses from her own slumber and walks over to him, sleepy-eyed and swaying. Careful to pick out a spot just under his rib cage she punches him in the gut with her nose until he stops. Then she goes back to her own bed and lies down. He hasn't suggested anybody make him a sandwich yet but I'm sure it's coming.

Stella and I are headed to the fairgrounds this week if only for a quick peek at this year's incarnation. Ordinarily, we would've gone today but it hasn't stopped raining here for the last thirty hours.

We did get to dog sit this weekend for Banjo and Ginger so we managed a few laps in their pool on Saturday before the rain showed up. Diesel loves the water. I can't wait to take him to a lake.

Webcam Volunteer

2011-09-03T12:50:00.000-05:00

The new web cam makes me pretty queasy but Diesel isn't shy. He's sitting in my office chair (all his idea). The real trick, as evidenced in the pictures, was mastering the controls with him in it.

Big Black Dog

2011-09-01T20:46:00.000-05:00

Emmylou Harris could sing a song about chip dip and it would be one of the better songs you heard all day. If anyone is in the market for a big black dog.... I know where to find one. I'll even vouch for him. Barring that option, there's a dog over in east Nashville that is on his way to Metro Animal Control. You all know what that means right? His name is Harpo. He was found sleeping in the front seat of a car at the home of some friends. These kind people already have three male dogs and are unable to keep him even temporarily. They (along with myself) have spent the last two or three days calling on all of their friends and offering all manner of financial support in return for temporary shelter - to no avail. Much like the case with Diesel, no rescue was willing to take him unless someone agrees to do the heavy lifting. If anyone either in Nashville or beyond has an idea (sometime in the next twenty four hours) please don't hesitate to contact me here. It's a shame he was probably dumped by someone or left home himself to find a better life and now like so many others, he appears skinny and beat up, headed for death row.

Payaso

2011-08-30T13:05:00.000-05:00

It was last Tuesday, the third Good Pup! class at Pup Scouts. We're working on the usual, basic commands and good behavior. Loose leash walking. Sit. Down. Come. My personal favorite: Leave it.

Our patient and talented trainer Holly, got out the long leash and announced that we were about to work on Come, only this time - from a distance. I checked my treat pouch to make sure I had enough to distract Diesel from what I thought (shame on me) would be his downfall. The other dogs.

Thankfully, we walked away from our classmates a pretty good distance before starting. I was still unsure. I peered into his eyes though and said the words: "Diesel, come." Without the slightest bit of hesitation he launched into this cartoon-style peel out where his legs were going like a freight train but his body wasn't moving. He was suspended in time and space. When he finally did get his feet planted he was over to me in about two seconds. It was hysterical pretty much every time he did it. I was laughing so hard the third time that when he came sailing into my arms he rammed his whole head in the treat pouch and cleaned it out. He didn't stop wagging that night until long after we were home.

Newsflash

2011-08-21T22:30:00.000-05:00

So, there's a little fox in my neighborhood.
I suspect he's the one looting my tomato plants.
Both dogs spotted him this morning on our walk
at about the same time he spotted us.
It's a wonder there's any skin left on my elbows at all.

If dogs could laugh

2011-08-19T08:58:00.000-05:00

Back to school

2011-08-17T18:07:00.001-05:00

Diesel posing in the dining room chair he claimed at Beverly's house

Obedience school may turn out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to Diesel. Except for the actual getting in the door part that is. And the leaving. During class Diesel is a dream. He's figured out exactly how to get the pay off and really the biggest roadblocks have been that and him joining in in on any and all barking. He is without a doubt the best barker of the bunch so once they get started he's more than happy to show off his skills. It's fine.

The room we have to walk through to get to class is like a small gym. It's set up for agility and there is typically one or more well-behaved dogs off leash, running the course. This drives Diesel mad. Last night we arrived early and when we walked in and he did his thing, everyone felt compelled to move to the other side of the room. I didn't blame them. I would've moved too. Fortunately though, we got to watch the agility class for a few minutes and that was great. Once Diesel calmed down, he was totally fascinated. I mean fascinated in an "I really think I could do that" kind of way. We may be early birds next week too, just to be the audience. Despite the little behavioral issue, I can see him becoming more confident and relaxed. It's really a lovely thing to watch. He was always a good dog, don't get me wrong, he was just limited in the ways he could express all that big dog energy. Meanwhile, we're just here, laying on some foster love and keeping a keen eye out for energetic adults who might benefit from seventy pounds of goofball inspiration.

Oh and if anyone is looking for a new high powered dog treat... try BilJac frozen dog food. I don't know what's in it but apparently it's like crack cocaine for dogs.

I've taken a little hiatus here to install some new software (Lightroom) guaranteed to keep me busy for the next decade cataloging pictures. The good news is: Among other things, I've found a few old carny dog shots that were lost in the cyber-filing cabinet. The bad news is: I may never leave the house or do dishes or for that matter, eat - again.

Don't. Stop. Don't stop.

2011-08-09T17:43:00.004-05:00

She walks slowly up to him from behind
careless and refined.
Her feet fall perfectly in line with his
she hesitates in the stillness

Side by side, their eyes meet.
She pulls back then just enough to make him quiver
and presses her face ever so gently into the side of his jaw.

She whispers...
Douchebag.

Next thing I know, it's like a WalMart riot in the middle of my office floor. I've had to get out a whistle. After about a week I managed to get some control over the situation but now they're switching up the time and place.

Fortunately we all went a-dogsitting this last weekend at Aunt Beverly's house (pictures to follow) and the two of them got to get some of it out of their system ripping through the yard and engaging in all manner of Smackdown-type maneuvers. It's really a joy to watch although when they get running I feel like all the humans should have a helmet on.

We're off to obedience school tonight. I hope Diesel can hang with the other dogs and not be too stressed. If he can make that particular hurdle, I suspect he'll be an honor student.

Boot camp

2011-08-03T15:48:00.001-05:00

I do not have a fenced in yard at my house so after summer camp there was/is Boot Camp. He's been here two weeks now so I feel compelled to give you all the Cliffs Notes version of how things have progressed. We do after all, need to get busy finding him a permanent home and I'm happy (and a bit relieved) to say that behaviorally, he has a ton of good qualities working in his favor.

The first forty eight hours (after the honeymoon week at Beverly's) we were attached by a leash, he and I. If he made a move, I knew it, even during the night. What with all the regular exercise, he slept through the night from the beginning and once he recognized the routine - house training and crate training were a breeze. Mind you he isn't all that excited going into the crate but he doesn't mind it once he's in there, even sleeps there voluntarily during the day. Stella taught him about the crate and the "going outside" as well. All I did really was dole out leashes and open the door regularly for a few days.

Walking them together is a challenge but we're managing pretty well. I started out with short distances. They outweigh me by ten pounds and since Diesel has been walked very little in the past, it's conceivable that I could get caught off balance and wake up in Wilson County so I do try to be cautious. Also, for those who believe in karma, I once laughed at a woman who went cartwheeling into a ditch behind two out-of-control dogs chasing a squirrel, so there's that. I figure I'm getting a skinned elbow for that at the very least and for the record, I shouldn't have laughed, she could have been hurt very badly - it just looked so much like a cartoon I had no choice. Anyway, together or separately, the two of them have done remarkably well in just a short period of time.

Maybe the best news of all is that my dear friend Christine, the one with the oh-so-well-behaved dog pack, has offered to sponsor eight weeks of obedience school for Diesel. Hooray! We start next Tuesday and I'm really excited because he appears to be such a quick study. If he gets adopted and moves to Rhode Island - maybe we can donate the remaining classes to some other needy mutt.

Here is a wonderful poem about dogs by Charles John Quarto.

Here again, is the link to Diesel's Petfinder page as well. I suppose I should just put it in the sidebar until that kid moves on to greener pastures. Let me know if you all hear of anyone looking for a new best friend.

Summer Camp

2011-07-29T17:54:00.003-05:00

Late in the day, I brought Diesel back home to my house and snuck him in the side door. It appeared my contact for emergency shelter that night was a no go, which worked out for the best. Leaving him in a pen somewhere totally strange would have been unnecessarily traumatic and I would've spent the night worrying about him.

We came into the house through the basement and the very first thing he did - the very first thing - he did after seven hours of exercise and more stimulation than he'd had in years, was pee in my brand new chair. It was the first upholstered chair I ever bought new. I put it together with my bare hands a couple of days earlier. He's tall too so it wasn't just on the side. It shot straight into the seat and ran down onto the carpet. That was the moment I learned I could scream and twirl at the same time. Stella couldn't get in her crate fast enough.

He slept like a baby that first night. He didn't want to go into the crate at first but sliced turkey is a powerful motivator. I woke him up at three-thirty in the morning. It was cruel I know, but I wanted him to understand from the very beginning who was running the show. We started day two with a long ride in the car and an even longer walk at Spring Hill Cemetery and ended up at my friend (and savior) Beverly's house around seven-thirty that morning.

I apologized. Not only for arriving so early but for bringing along a big giant dog that she and her husband hadn't planned on having as a house guest. They already have two elderly dogs but offered to let him stay since his owner was still across the street, tying one on. I ended up calling the six days that followed "Diesel's Summer Camp period". It would prove to be a big slice of the life Diesel craved, the freedom to run around a big (secluded) yard, rest where and when he wanted to, mark every last chain link in the fence as his very own, have multiple humans loving him up and dog friends, for the first time ever.

There was just one hurdle.

Smiley.

Smiley

If Smiley were a guy he would drive a rusted out LTD. He's a beefy dog, a wire-haired mix of Terrier and Whupass. Rest assured no strange, mega-he-man type dogs are invited over to Smiley's house unless they understand and abide by the rules. There's a test and apparently a hazing period. It's easier to pass the test if you are a female, of course because Smiley likes him some girl dogs but if you happen to be a big beautiful manly dog who stands around looking like (as Beverly called him) Captain America AND you're still what they call "intact" - Smiley has news for you. With no fear whatsoever he's going to stand up on his hind legs like a bear, rest one paw on your back and threaten to tear off your left ear. He's going to peel all of his lips back and show you a nearly complete set of rotten teeth, while he curses the day you were born. In front of everybody. Smiley is from Texas. The best thing to do is just stand there and take it.

At first Diesel looked at us like: "Is he serious?"

It got heated a couple of different times and lasted longer than any of us would've thought primarily because Smiley's girlfriend Pepper showed up and Diesel felt compelled to express his dude-ness with her and old Smiley went off like a rocket once more.

Fortunately, Diesel's man parts weren't the only things intact. His survival skills are multi-faceted. Instead of launching an attack the likes of which might have caused no telling how much chaos and destruction not to mention all of the humans going haywire, he chose the high road, soaked it all in, put up a low level defense and went galloping off around the yard. Eventually, the two of them decided that collusion was the perfect option and by later that night they were patrolling the yard together on some real or imaginary squirrel hunt, with Diesel as the extra muscle to Smiley's worldly ways.

That week Diesel and Stella got to play together for the first time in three years. Diesel went to the vet and got "tutored". He returned drunk and confused but a grill full of chicken brought him back to reality, good as new. He is listed on Petfinder at Critter Cavalry Rescue of New England. There, I'm told, people are more likely to appreciate his magnificence. Active dog-lovers in any state are welcome to apply. Of course, there may be a test to pass. And some hazing... :)
(continue)

After three years of small-time bickering, Stella and Diesel finally had the chance to play together.

That first day

2011-07-26T12:39:00.006-05:00

I'd started taking him for walks a couple of weeks earlier when his owner was out of town working. If I had known he could be such a great walker, I would've done it a long time ago but his family gave up easily the few times they tried. His initial burst of energy told them he was too rambunctious to learn. Not true. Same with house breaking. I noticed on those early walks that once we were away from the house, he calmed down considerably and was a better natural walker than dare I say our resident protagonist, Stella.

That first day was exhausting for both of us. I took Diesel straight to the park and we hiked about two miles, the extra steep route I use when Stella seems to need a tranquilizer, then we went to the library (just to drop off books), the bank, and Sonic, for a hot dog - no bun. He loved me then, by God. He didn't realize we were celebrating both his freedom AND the end of his junk food diet. Truly, that's a whole blog post of its own.

Several people said I should change his name but I'm probably not going to. Not now. His new owner can do that. If I'd met him a few days ago, it would be easy but we've known each other for too long. That's part of the reason I decided to foster him myself, alongside Critter Cavalry, in Franklin (many thanks to Gayle and Candace for their help). His transition will be easier that way, he'll get to learn some manners from his friend Stella, she'll have a real job for a change. It's win-win. Oh and I almost forgot the most important part, somebody gets to end up with a pretty great dog too although we can't take much of the credit for that. Before last Thursday, my experience with Diesel was pretty superficial and like I said, rarely positive. I hadn't had a chance to know his personality. By the time we got to Sonic, I could tell Diesel was going to be fine, perhaps even outstanding.
(continue)

Liberation

2011-07-25T21:48:00.002-05:00

Few people enjoy letting go of a pet. My neighbor was no different. He had deep feelings for Diesel despite what could be construed by many as evidence to the contrary. I mislead him at the outset but our goal was the same, a new future for a dog who was about to go from poverty to homelessness. At one point around two years ago, he gave Diesel to a guy he worked with and then about six weeks later retrieved him when he realized he was keeping him in a pen with an angry male dog. I believe his intentions were good but overuse of alcohol limits everything; financial, physical, and emotional resources.

It was Thursday morning when I agreed to pick Diesel up. I got up at five-thirty made some coffee and took Stella for a walk. I assumed she would spend much of the day confused about why I was suddenly having awesome fun playtime with that big sweaty dog across the street. Over the years, she and Diesel had come to an agreement. He was welcome to come sniffing around her as long as he didn't charge us like a bull at which point she was going to go all Lara Croft on the side of his head and end their relationship once and for all. He understood.

There were photos to deliver that morning to a client who had just celebrated her own dog's first birthday with real birthday party. That afternoon included a beautiful little luncheon and all manner of doggie paraphernalia; nine dogs and twelve or fourteen humans. There was a lot of "Oh, that's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" and "Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" conversation. It was without question the polar opposite of what this week had become. Driving across town with Stella to deliver the photos I told her things in her world were about to change only this time, it wasn't going to include a bunch of nut-ball kittens.

When we got home I put her in the house and carried her leash back out the door with me. I walked across the street to Diesel's yard and as always he barked his regular greeting alerting my neighbor who emerged from the basement door. When I asked if I could have the chain he seemed surprised but gathered it up, put it in a box and carried it over to my car. He bent down then with a heavy heart and hugged his dog, told him that he loved him and assured him that he was going to a better place to live, all of which was true.

Diesel seemed anxious but cheerful about the whole transfer. He bailed into my car all seventy-one pounds of him, like a fifteen year old boy. I asked my neighbor for the first time if he did okay in the car (brilliant on my part). I knew he'd been in a car but not often or recently.

"Great," he said, "he loves to ride in the car."

"Oh good," I said "I'll let you know how he's doing."

"Thanks Sue, see you later," he said, "Bye Diesel."

I gave him a minute to make it home and started the car.

(continue)

The story of Diesel

2011-07-22T15:34:00.003-05:00

There's a dog I haven't talked about.

He lived across the street from us for the last three and a half years. I think I've never mentioned him because I didn't have much good to say. His future was always unpredictable and very much at risk. His predecessor didn't fare well and it was easy to see this dog was headed the same direction. Speaking honestly about him now could get me in a real bind with his extended family but I've resigned myself to thinking what I did was for the best and that in the end, even the dog's owner would understand. I know. Countries have fallen under the same rationale.

Diesel, his name is Diesel, was still technically a puppy when I got Stella. He was about nine months to her three. His owner was one of those guys who really wanted a big macho dog, a pit bull if possible, to help promote his tough guy image. Interestingly, he didn't need a dog at all to get that idea across. He's not a small guy. I'm guessing 250-265 lb. He spent enough years in jail to have procured the full catalog of tattoos. He was released as inmates are all too often, without any rehabilitation whatsoever yet he wasn't a bad guy at all when he was sober. When he wasn't sober, things became problematic. He regularly came home from working, had a few beers, and let Diesel out of his tiny pen to run the neighborhood. This dog used to (and this is funny looking back on it but at the time it wasn't funny at all) charge me and Stella and not knowing his intentions, Stella would go berserk snapping and growling at him whereupon he'd look momentarily confused and then trot UP ON MY PORCH and empty his bowels. To say that I didn't like him was an understatement but at that time it was easier to just project my anger onto the dog.

When Diesel got big enough to escape the pen, his owner put him on a tow chain. He isn't a pit bull, by the way, he's some sort of Lab mix. I think that's when many of the dog walkers and neighbors started to soften on his behalf. They'd sneak down the driveway and give him treats just to make sure he had water in his bowl. They called rescues and others who were inclined to help dogs escape such situations. They (and I) called the police and Animal Control numerous times when my neighbor was drinking and either let him run or beat the snot out of him for some unknown infraction. For the record, listening to a big dog get a beating will drive a dog-loving person clean over the edge. That's the day I vowed to take the dog if and when the opportunity arose. It took a long time but that day finally came a week ago.

In the end, I didn't have to take him. It took about two weeks. It cost me a three dollar pack of tobacco and some groceries. His owner was about to be evicted and thankfully chose rehab over homelessness or jail. He surrendered him to me, based on the fact that I told him I had a friend who was looking for a good dog. Over the last couple of years, he'd offered up the dog a few times but none of the rescues I contacted back then could take him right away. Seeing as alcoholics change their mind every few minutes, each time I tried to secure the dog's freedom, everyone was busy. This time, I sent out nine or ten e-mails. Three people responded and one of the rescues agreed to take him on. When the moment came to collect him, I couldn't help myself. I stood there with a straight face and lied my ass off. Kinda'.

continue reading

The latest haul

2011-07-14T07:40:00.000-05:00

Stella will steal the dog toys right off your living room floor. She shoplifts at Pet Smart too if I don't keep an eye on her. Rawhide here, stuffed duck there. I shot a dog birthday party the other day. It was just this side of professional suicide but fun nonetheless. Stella wasn't invited but I stole her a bakery bone.

Hm. Maybe she got that shoplifting thing from me. Anyway, have a great Thursday. I'm off to liberate a dog. Film at eleven.

Lefty and Domino

2011-07-11T10:15:00.002-05:00

Saying Hello and Goodbye (to the felines)

Sorry I've been out of touch but it's been wild around here for the last two or three weeks. Janet and Lefty went to PetSmart last Thursday. Janet was adopted last night and according to sources, Lefty has a sign on his cage that says: Almost There. That basically means someone went home to either think it over or get their checkbook so it looks like we're kitten free. I've started putting the house back together - finally.

Momma'cat Domino, or as my friend Karen called her "Momino", is going to her forever home this Saturday. Me and Stella are crazy about her but my original cat Gigi, isn't that easily swayed. Domino basically hit the mother lode when my other friend Pam decided they'd be a good fit. She's going west of Nashville to live in a beautiful house in the woods where she'll have her own screened in porch, among other things.

Stella meanwhile, has empty nest syndrome. The night after I took the last kittens out of here, she slept in the doorway of the spare bedroom most of the night. It was sad but it looks like there's a chance we'll be getting a (temporary) foster DOG now so I don't expect her grief to last all that long.
More on that later.

The kittens were a wonderful experience for Stella (me too) and I hope they love their new homes as much as we loved having them around. I wrote to someone yesterday and told him that after this I was going back to rescuing people because they don't usually tear your drapes off the wall*.

(*Attention new kitten owners: The curtain thing will pass. Until then you can tie your curtains in a knot at the windowsill or take aim with a spray bottle of water (my personal favorite training tool). Either way, thank you, enjoy, and don't hesitate to send us an update now and then.)

Birds of a feather

2011-06-19T15:47:00.000-05:00

Soon after I got Stella I realized I wasn't the only one who was ignorant about her breed. Several people (including my mother) suggested that I save myself and the lives of countless four-year-olds and give the dog away as soon as possible. I'm sure each one of those well-meaning advisors had a different picture in their mind of the guy they thought would (or should) own such a dog.

Six months later, when Stella had to have her knees operated on Mom and I were talking on the telephone one night and knowing it would be a huge financial burden, she declared: "You need to just have that dog put to sleep." A few cold seconds went by and she added, "or give it away before you get attached to it."

That is when the Patron Saint of Irony airlifted a dog out of some neighbors yard and set it down right on my mothers back patio.

A month went by before she mentioned it.

"There's a dog that's been hanging around here but we aren't keeping it," she said.

"What kind of dog is it?"

"Well we don't know yet but she looks a lot like Stella, in her body."

"I don't think it's a pit bull though", she said adding:

"It doesn't matter because we're not keeping her."

"What's her name Mom?"

"Dolly."

Well of course Dolly stayed and she's even allowed in the house now and I never miss a chance to tell Mom that maybe she ought to have that dog put to sleep before she gets too attached. Now she shames me for suggesting such a thing. Dolly has exactly Stella's body. It's almost a mirror image although the thing about Dolly is that she gets most of her exercise CHASING DEER through the woods. Her muscles are more well-developed than Stella's. They're a perfect match for each other although I believe Dolly might be the product of a Boxer and a Jack Russel Terrier, which if you think about it in relation to the pit bull, is a similar combination of genes. Willful, hard-headed, strong, tenacious dog. They met briefly back in the winter but had never officially hung out together until last Saturday and their friendship got off then to a rocky start.

When I get Stella out of the car, there are three adults and a dog on the patio waiting for us to walk between two Biggie-sized cars. Think of the view (not to mention the exhilaration) athletes get running out of the tunnel onto the field and you see where I'm going with this. Eight pairs of eyeballs, one if them a strange dog, all trained on her. And basically, because everybody thought they were going to fight - they felt compelled to. There was a lot of trash talk but no puncture wounds. We got them apart and mom announced that Dolly was going to have to be put in the basement for the rest of the day.

"No," I said, "Dolly is NOT going to be put in the basement. If we do that, then they'll hate each other forever. I think we should just keep them on their leashes and give them a chance to sniff around and figure each other out."

I can't remember who did the play bow first but right after that, it was on. I let Stella off her leash first and after a few minutes Dolly was also liberated. It turns out they both like to wrestle. Over the course of the day, they had six or seven different rounds of Smackdown. It was so easy to see how a bunch (idiot) humans could have cajoled them into a real fight. People sometimes get nervous about this particular style of play because it's rough but the dogs always seem overjoyed to find one another. Stella's only encountered a few playmates who really fit that description, one of them was the German Shepherd, Sampson, another a white Labradoodle named Zoe. Both really gave her a run for her money and they ended up exhausted and lying in the dirt next to each other. Dolly fit the bill too and I think it's safe to say that she and Stella are officially BFF's.

Happy Birthday

2011-06-16T23:59:00.002-05:00

Stella and I took the two orphan kittens to the vet this morning for their first round of shots. I knew there was a carnival set up down the road so we left early and stopped there first. Today was Stella's third birthday. There were some great vintage rides there, a Paratrooper, a Loop (which looks like a very young Kamikaze) and a Tempest. It was too early for corn dogs so we took a few pictures and kept moving. Thanks again to the Dickson Carnival Company for letting us cruise around on the midway when they weren't even open.

It's like the National Geographic Channel around here. Another turtle showed up in the yard yesterday, Whiskey Nick and Cowboy weren't at Petsmart forty-eight hours before they both got adopted. Stella and I went to see them this afternoon (I'm really glad we did that). When we took the little ones in to the vet, it seemed to take forever and just the moment I was beginning to get annoyed, a couple came in with their dog and the doctor took them ahead of us. Thankfully, I didn't have any place to be and wasn't really in a hurry because when they came out, there was a lot of crying and no dog. I felt terrible for them and Stella did too. It was the only move she made the whole time we were there and she did it simply to sit next to the girl who felt awful. Good dog. More later.

Thunder and Sun

2011-06-15T22:58:00.000-05:00

Last night the call came that there was a cage open at PetSmart for the kittens. I thought it was going to be easy, truly I did. I got out the pet carrier and collected the original three kittens. Gypsy, Cowboy & Whiskey Nick. Their paperwork was already filled out and ready to go. I had even printed a nice picture of each of them and put the address of this blog in each envelope, just in case any adopters wanted to see pictures of their formative years. I put the packets on top of the carrier and got my car keys. When I got back into the room Domino was posted outside of the pet carrier, wearing her mom face.

"Say goodbye," I said turning to leave the room one last time "and no crying."

I didn't feel awful until we were actually on the road. At one point I turned to look at them in the carrier and all three of them were gazing back at me. When our eyes met, they all meowed in unison. That pretty much did it.

They went into the big cage at PetSmart without hesitation. The only one of the three that appeared frightened was Cowboy although I suspect he's bounced back by now, I hated every single minute of it. They all watched me walk away. When I arrived home with the empty carrier, Domino was still checking every room, calling out to them. She tried again around five this morning. The two little orphans are still here so they came running but of course, they weren't who she was looking for.

Now, after a long quiet day, she's taken to the pet carrier. This feline foster mom thing is brutal.

So two things: if you live in Nashville and are thinking of bringing a new kitty in your life, go to Cool Springs Petsmart, or actually check the Nashville Cat Rescue page for a whole host of choices I won't force my kittens on you but that's where they are, Cool Springs. Petsmart. Second, Tomorrow is Stella's third birthday. We may have to go over to the Cool Springs Petsmart ;-) and get her a present. I can't wait to tell you all about her new friend Dolly.

The Visitor

2011-06-10T15:50:00.000-05:00

This creature has been tracked extensively on my old blog. She makes an appearance each year (with the exception of last year) right around Memorial Day. I try to be in possession of a fresh peach when she shows up. This year it happened Sunday. She ate a couple of bites from a slice in my hand before settling into the plants for a much needed rest. Now we've moved on to blueberries. She shares something with Domino during this regular visit. Assuming things have gone well in her love life, one night this week at dark, Sunny the turtle will dig a hole in some unassuming place in my backyard and drop 4-5 eggs in it. It takes about four hours and when she's finished you can't tell anything was ever touched. She will then hang around here for a couple of weeks, eating strawberries and other delicacies like earthworms and voles (everybody say Amen) before moving on. I'd love to know where she spends the rest of the summer, maybe back at the creek where she comes from.

Then, at the very end of August, just when I think those eggs must be hard boiled, a thunderstorm comes along to soak the ground overnight. The next morning there will be a pristine little hole in the ground with baby turtles the size of quarters spilling out of it. It's like God stopped by for dinner and decided to spend the night.

Alterations

2011-06-08T23:10:00.001-05:00

Whiskey Nick, not altogether thrilled about his recent surgery, does a full inspection less than twenty four hours later. The older kittens went in Monday for their spay/neuter appointment and Tuesday morning they were back to absolute normal (chaos). It was as if nothing happened.

Hostel

2011-05-26T23:10:00.003-05:00

It's coming up on time to say goodbye to the original three kittens. They go next week to get fixed and have a second round of shots. Then after a couple of recovery days, they'll go over to PetSmart where I'm reasonably sure they'll be adopted by wonderful families who for whatever reason, decided they need companionship in the form of a cat. I'm sure most will get new names that suit their owners and my coffee table will go back to looking like it used to. Boring, but functional. Stella will probably think something's gone awry but like Domino, she'll adjust.

Speaking of Stella, we have a temporary house guest whose home was wrecked by a fallen tree. Stella has pretty much disowned me (except at meal times - of course) in favor of the new guy. She sits up on the bed with him and when I call her she just looks at me as if to say "Who are you again?" There's a word for that but I won't say it.

Stella and Walter, living it up on my futon.

The three of us went down to the fairgrounds today and there was a woman walking her dog there that I'd met a couple of years ago. A professional dog owner, she walks her dogs regularly without leashes. I let Stella off the leash too since it's all fenced in down there anyway and she immediately went to the creek. We've never been off leash at a creek before so you can imagine what came next.

Wallowing. Head-completely-under-muddy water, digging up sticks, sort of wallowing, followed by bounding through waist high grass and weeds and more wallowing. In between the two was a fair amount of beaming on Stella's part. I think her favorite thing is being off leash. When we finally got back to the car (and this was after fifteen minutes at most) she was completely soaked with mud and grass, cockleburs, and God knows what. Throw in some chiggers and a tick or two and you get the idea.

Our friends from the cemetery walk (and I've been meaning to say this for a few weeks now and just haven't thought of it) - were given a lecture about the leash laws a couple of times by a bored park policeman. The property is enclosed by a stone fence except for two very long driveways. Anyway, he caught up with them again recently during their early morning ritual whereupon he proceeded to write them four separate tickets at $75. apiece. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Yeah, I know, it's the law and it's a very effective law in most instances. I think there should be some flexibility though. Maybe a workshop that teaches police officers to use some rational discretion, some common-sense interpretation, particularly when it comes to that chaotic underworld of outlaw dog walkers.

Notes

2011-05-19T16:53:00.000-05:00

1. Whiskey Nick has a crush on Stella. She was lying on her side the other day and he squeezed his whole body into that little triangle between her front paws and her chest and went immediately to sleep. Not sure who had the biggest cartoon eyes. Me or her. I laid my hand on her hip and told her to stay, which she did. For the better part of three minutes. He did the same thing against her butt a little while later and she dealt with that pretty well until he rolled over and clutched her back leg with his front paws. You could almost see the shivers roll down her back. I wasn't able to get to the camera either time but it was pretty sweet.

2. I've probably said this before but it bears repeating. Rabbit is the new squirrel. There are two adult rabbits living behind our house. They're huge. I've refused to get too used to them being here though since (so far) I have a nice patch of Arugula growing back there and we're also a training ground for young hawks.

3. The cicada population dimmed considerably over the last few days (since it got cold) but not before Stella learned how to snatch those things out of the air in one fluid motion. That actually took a little training on my part too seeing as she's sailing around on a four foot leash like some sort of wild pony.

4. Proving once again that you get what you pay for, my $25. video camera no longer works or this kitten thing would be as fun for you folks as it is for me. Better actually, since you all could enjoy the show without the shredded curtains or the aroma.

Janet

Tastes like chicken

2011-05-13T19:39:00.000-05:00

You might know that if it's really loud, looks like something from a science fiction novel and it sleeps in the ground for thirteen years her inclination would be to eat it. Right? I loved the look on her face the first time she picked it up and it started buzzing in her mouth. Three or four more times and she finally got the nerve to bite down a little. Then, all bets were off. It was officially a sport.

She snapped up the next seven without looking up or missing a single step. Then one of them landed right on her nose and she launched off bucking like a little pony. (Note to self: Get a camera phone) That was apparently her limit.

The cicadas were strangely quiet this morning. Their smashed bodies lined the streets as if overnight there had been some massive gun fight. It ended up being a good walk though, which is saying something when it's nearly four miles. Not all of our walks are that distance but Stella has taken to lying or sitting down in the middle of the sidewalk or street whenever the mood strikes her. I don't know if it's the humidity or her knees bothering her, only that it disappears magically if another dog or a squirrel happen to walk by. Little boys hanging out of car windows - that's a surefire cure too.

I say it was a good walk because it had all the elements of a good training walk rolled up into it and Stella, despite the breakfast buffet, let all of that stimulation roll right off. It was seven-thirty in the morning so we had: school buses, speeders, speeding school busses, school kids waiting on the speeding bus, man with stroller passing by on the sidewalk, big mean dog barking from across the busy street, charging Chihuahua, lady with a big yellow dog, lady with a garden hose, Bacon and Hombre running us up the fence, construction workers, and last but by no means least, the Great Southern Brood.

It was also a good walk because she is now asleep in the same room with four kittens, all of which are doing great, even the smallest of the bunch which I've suspected for a week would be blind in one eye - but isn't. The litter is eight weeks old today and the other two are 2-3 wks. They're pretty much having their way with Stella. Last night Domino was nuzzling one of her paw pads and finally bit it. She barely raised her head. Whiskey Nick pinned her tail on the ground and then ran out of the room. This morning after the walk her and Gypsy were trading bunny hops through my office. It's pretty easy to get high on kittens. Maybe on cicadas too.

Kong ball sharing. Who knew?

Flock o' Kitties

2011-05-05T10:04:00.002-05:00

The Fun House

2011-05-04T07:33:00.000-05:00

Now six weeks in, we're going to the vet today for the first round of tests and shots. I expect it'll be something like... oh yeah, herding cats. Lately this troop has been venturing out of the guest room several times a day to explore the house, eat odd things off the floor and climb everything in sight, including the drapes. One of the brand new foster kittens has an eye infection and is much smaller than the other one. We're taking him (?) to the vet too. The other one, is doing much better and it turns out is also a calico. Since we're sticking with carnival names, some of you may be interested to know that carnival women are less likely to have nicknames than the men are. Therefore, instead of naming this kitten Easy, I think we'll go with Janet because she and my friend Janet share some of the same qualities, which I will not list here (out of fear of retribution; this is the same friend who used to threaten to knock me out and give me a tattoo). Plus she's a top-shelf cat lover.

So here we are, the whole gang.

Cowboy

Whiskey Nick

Gypsy

and the orphans, Janet & Lefty

Royal Occasions

2011-04-29T17:26:00.001-05:00

Sorry, I couldn't resist. Stella and I are house sitting for my friend Beverly (from the previous post) and when we found this in her dining room yesterday, just in time for the Royal Wedding, I just couldn't pass it up. Now that we've seen Her Majesty the Queen's tiara out in the light of day, it's even better. They almost match. Well except for the rhinestones. And Stella, who's game for just about anything, didn't even blink when I put it on her.

Those rumblings about the Kitten Report (or lack thereof) haven't gone unnoticed. The last couple of weeks have been a wild ride. Now, what with all the chaos of kittens, and a ton of extra work, as of yesterday morning we (of course) decided to up the ante. An e-mail arrived the night before about two kittens that had been abandoned by their mother. She was jumped by a dog in a thunderstorm. The kittens (7-10 days old) were going on two days without eating (which is really bad in the whole kitten scheme of things) so once I made the call the gentleman who rescued them brought them to my house to see what Domino thought. There was pacing and growling and a little bit of confusion, okay, a moderate amount of confusion considering I was asking her to do this all over again, amid flying six-week-old kittens but..

She did it. Thirty hours in and I think we're now a litter of five. Keep your fingers crossed. Pictures soon.

Shave and a haircut

2011-04-21T15:28:00.001-05:00

Walter being entertained by Stella and Smiley, waits to get his summer haircut

A little over a week ago we picked up our old friend Walter and headed over to Beverly's house to hang out for a little while and get him a haircut. He and many of the other folks he lives with at the group home have gotten to know Stella well enough that it's a big deal whenever she stops by. If it's a nice day and they're all sitting outside, they come over to the car and ram their collective arms in my back window to pet her. She responds by wagging her tail and slobbering all over them and the glass. I haven't mentioned it but she's been a lot better about letting people pet her lately. Early on, she was overwhelmed by the attention and would often lunge in the opposite direction but somehow (maybe just through repetition) she seems to have overcome it, even with little kids, I'd say eighty percent of the time.

Anyway, we picked Walter up and made it over to Beverly's house whereupon we were greeted by two notorious Texans, Smiley and Pepper. This bunch (some of you may remember) used to live on a giant farm in Kentucky. Now (hooray), they're just across the river. Both dogs are seniors and Stella seems to understand that although they're friends, they aren't the rough and tumble kind of friends we normally encounter. Meanwhile, Walter got his hair cut and she had a great time just romping around the yard scouting butterflies and squirrels.

Pepper, looking almost like a puppy again, already got her summer haircut

Meow Mix

2011-04-15T14:40:00.000-05:00

It's been four weeks. The kittens discovered their feet a couple of days ago and now they're racing around my guest room with that look in their eye. You know the look I mean right?

The one that says: "I bet I can run up that wall. Watch."

You can see a little glimmer of it in the photo above.

One of them hissed at Stella the other day and now she's keeping a fair distance which, at this point may be for the best. All she'd have to do to injure one would be step on it, so I've sort of blockaded them in. Mama can come and go as she pleases but they won't be able to escape for at least another two weeks. Knock on wood.

The end of winter walking

2011-04-15T13:30:00.000-05:00

Just pictures mostly. I was going to write something about how regularly walking a dog, you get to see an awful lot of things you wouldn't ordinarily have noticed. Whether you're out in the woods or in the heart of the city, if you're there in the same places throughout a season, you see the changes in a much more intimate way.

I wasn't much of a walker before Stella came along. I spent a a lot of time outdoors working but at those times, I was usually focused (literally) on other things. It may sound outlandish to some but I really feel that walking twice a day has reset my circadian rhythm. I sleep better, I have more energy & less anxiety and I've decided that if everyone who has a dog started walking it twice a day, there might be a lot less Ambien in the world (possibly a few less newspapers too).

Stay tuned for The Kitten Report...

You talkin' to me?

2011-04-06T10:43:00.000-05:00

There's a yard we pass regularly with two dogs in it who are under the supervision of an invisible fence. There's the original mixed breed dog, yellow, (maybe) eighty-pound big barker and an additional well behaved, brown, pit bull. We call the barking dog Chief for no other reason than he seems to think he is one. Occasionally, if Chief is feeling extra brave he'll get to the boundary of the invisible fence and just say something along the lines of "fuck it" and burst on through, running the line of his own yard and smack talking us until we're out of sight. Stella used to respond to his outbursts but now she just passes by without so much as a nod. This of course, makes him crazy. The pit bull might stand up and watch but it never barks or appears agitated in any way.

So the other day we're walking by and Chief comes tearing across the yard at us as usual. He gets about halfway to us and Stella makes a beautiful little ninety degree hop to square off in his direction. He freezes. She then proceeds to pick up the newspaper in his very own driveway (I hadn't even noticed) and slinging it with her head by it's flimsy plastic wrapper murders it right in front of him.

About five seconds into this colorful display, she apparently feels my amusement and begins slamming it on the ground repeatedly until the plastic is shredded, now barely able to contain its herniated contents. She stops and stares at Chief who is not surprisingly, still frozen.

"Drop it," I whisper, and she does. Then she pees. At this point, I can no longer contain my laughter. We turn to walk away, with Stella leaping like a little gazelle (because that's what she does when she knows I love her) and we don't hear another peep out of grouchy old Chief.

More cat blogging

2011-03-29T00:06:00.000-05:00

This is just impossible to resist. Although you can't see it in the photos, the kittens who are twelve days old - have opened their eyes over the last couple of days. Apparently, all kittens have blue eyes starting out. Darling (Aunt) Stella has been in to see them twice so far. Though she hasn't really had any direct contact, she seems to be calm and collected about the whole situation. Curious but totally under control. I've explained to her that in just a few short weeks we're going to be peeling these babies off the ceiling and that no matter what happens, there is to be no running and it is imperative that her mouth remain closed at all times.

These are the moments when I wish I was a cartoonist instead of a photographer.

Cherry Blossom Festival

2011-03-27T23:31:00.000-05:00

Stella and I went to the Cherry Blossom Festival yesterday. We got there a little bit late, parked about a mile away and walked to the courthouse. It would've been really pretty if the weather had cooperated. This year, they decided to change the angle a little bit and make it a fundraiser in support of Japanese victims of the tsunami. There was a two and half mile walk along the river so we went ahead and walked that too. It was interesting enough that we'll go back do it again when the weather warms up.

Stella met a big gang of kids while we were there. They were all very dog friendly. and proceeded to put some serious big love on her body. They knew all the right spots to scratch and for once, she seemed to actually like it. If she hadn't made such an effort to drag me under the food booths, it would have been a perfect day. I still haven't figured out how to turn her attention back to me when that happens; without the aid of a stun gun.

The kitten report: The kittens seem to be doing great. If anyone ever tells you that kittens double their body weight in the first week, believe it. It's absolutely amazing. Gypsy (the black and orange) just opened her eyes today and I'm betting the others will follow suit tomorrow. I have a couple of pictures that were shot today but they're still in the camera. Soon.

Transportation

2011-03-22T15:36:00.000-05:00

The Nursery; Day 5

Alright for the sake of discussion, I'm going to temporarily name the kittens. They'll probably change later on when I'm able to tell girls from boys. I'm almost certain that the first born, the one that appears to be black is really an odd variation of a calico (which would make her automatically a girl) but we'll see. She has very faint orange stripes and an orange and white mask across her eyes. I can't wait to see how that fills out, it's really unusual. For now, the black(ish) one is Gypsy. The middle child (Cowboy) looks a lot like Domino and the baby is (Whiskey Nick) a smoky gray with white feet and face. Sorry but last time we had rescued kittens, they got Hee Haw names, this time we're going with carnies. Those are names I'll never run out of. I told someone yesterday, they're only five days old and they're literally getting cuter by the minute.

So night before last I wake up at 2:30 in the morning surprised to find Domino in the bed with me, snuggled up close, almost totally engulfed by the blanket. She had obviously been asleep there. I waited a couple of minutes for her leave but she settled down again. I lifted my head and she did too, giving me that little burst of a purring sound that cats make as if to say "What?" I said, "Why are you in here and not with your babies?" I felt around her body for any sign of them. Nothing. A little panicky now, I got up and went the short distance to my office. I peered into the closet. There was only one kitten, sleeping alone in the box. "(Insert expletive)", I said heading back to the bedroom. Without noticing, I passed Domino in the hall. When I got back to the bed I turned on the light and there was another, curled up on the blanket. One kitten missing. I carefully peeled back the blankets, and found nothing. "What is going on?" I demanded to know from the next room.

No answer.

She'd carried two of them into the bed and then when I got up, she grabbed one and made a bee line back to the closet with it. She never came back for the one that was left in my bed so I took it back and gave her some kind of grandma-type lecture/guilt trip and didn't see her again all night. Yesterday morning she again started scouting around for somewhere to take them. I got out the spare dog bed and put it under my desk. Within minutes, she set about moving them all in and that's where they've been ever since.

Have I mentioned she's in heat?

That warrants a lecture too but for all the good it does - I think I'll skip it.
Happy spring!

Fresh Kittens

2011-03-18T10:14:00.004-05:00

It took about six hours in all, which is pretty standard, and of course it didn't start around lunch time. It was about eleven o'clock last night.

As I said in last night's post, Domino went into the kitten box (in my office closet) and our girl Stella took to her crate, all on her own. She [Stella] stayed there until about two-thirty and then went and got into her bed. When she came into the office this morning, her nose went straight up to the ceiling and she followed it right to the closet door whereupon I took on the role of midwife/mama cat and said something to the effect of: "Git." And she did.

I'm glad it was Domino and not me. She had full on labor for about two and a half hours (I really think two of them, the black one and the one that looks just like her) were fighting to get out at once. Finally, the black kitten was expelled and she jumped out of the box, leaving it lying on the bottom of the box, helpless and alone. I think that may have been the only moment where my attention may have actually helped in some small way. I immediately put her back in the box and she looked at me stunned for a second like "Holy crap, what is that thing?" Then she understood. The other two went pretty fast relatively speaking. Her belly is still pretty big so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of another but for now, there are three kittens, one tired mama, and one moderately confused pit bull.

Note: Not sure if I've mentioned it lately but we here at Carny Dog advocate the regular spay and neuter of all pets. Rest assured that Domino and her new family will adhere to that policy as well, from this point forward.

Hope you all have a fantastic weekend. Meow :)

A variety of charges

2011-03-17T21:30:00.002-05:00

Okay, so we were charged by a Jack Russel Terrier named Eddie today. I told Stella she should make a note of it since Terriers are in fact, a part of her lineage (ahem). Thankfully, she didn't kill him. He ran up to her growling, smelled her behind and then changed his tune. We only knew his name was Eddie because his owners were yelling his name (and peeing themselves) from some distance away.

We went to the vet today and got Stella's annual rabies vaccination. They said she was the perfect weight (57 lb) for her size. There was a chart in the waiting room that pretty much blew my mind. Since some of us are determined to treat our pets like children even to the point of feeding them to death, apparently now there's a market for DIET DOG FOOD. Here's a short list of how human food translates calorie-wise to our pets. It's pretty scary to be honest.

Here's another scary (and upsetting) link that brings to light an issue lawmakers have yet to address. Basically, here in Tennessee anyway, your neighbor or anyone for that matter, can take the life of your pet and assuming they did it in a humane fashion, legally - it's about the same as if they picked up a pair of your tennis shoes and threw them in the river. This story can't help but infuriate people but I hope some of you will pass it on if only to help educate the masses and get the right people interested in changing things.

Finally, on a much lighter note, there's the Kitten Report:
Something's in the air. Domino has taken to her kitten box (the original one that I made in the closet) no less than FOUR times today. What's more, Stella is resting comfortably in her crate, which is totally out of character unless of course, she's done something bad or I'm about to leave the house. I still can't make any predictions. The kittens are moving around a lot more but Domino isn't actively in labor yet. She's just lying in the box, calm and waiting; presumably rehearsing her lines. You know the ones: "Because I said so, that's why" and "Wipe that look off your face." or "I can give you something to cry about." Personally, I hope she makes it through to tomorrow or they'll all end up with Irish names. Happy St. Patrick's Day, btw.

Update: It's 10:18 p.m - I'm going to go out on a limb here (again) and say that we're approaching lift off. Mama cat is experiencing some pretty major discomfort in the last half hour..

1:00 a.m. Should be a kitten any minute. I keep having to remind myself that cats have been having babies for generations without me even so much as looking on.

Bunny Eater

2011-03-14T16:23:00.000-05:00

We got to the ball park and there were kids hitting softballs on the field. I put Stella on the long leash thinking we'd play some fetch outside the fence and she immediately glued her nose to a telephone pole. Eventually, I got bored and walked away still holding onto the handle of the leash. Once Stella realizes she's free to run, that first move is always a joyous one. It reminds me of a little gazelle leaping off the ground. She finally made that move and took off across the way but pulled up short after about thirty feet, her nose fully engaged again. That's when I saw the blood.

A hawk must have dropped it. Young hawks in training need practice. They get distracted, interrupted, they fly away, and drop their kill. The rabbit lay quietly in the grass, recently separated from it's internal organs. In the blink of an eye, Stella chose the carcass. I wasn't positive that it was a rabbit until she turned around and looked at me with those little back feet sticking out of her mouth. She saw my face and tried to run. I stepped on the leash at which point she tried swallowing the entire thing. Thankfully it was too big or we would've gotten to revisit the entire event a little while later. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Realizing I was going to let her keep the prize, Stella did too. Then there was a lot of crunching while I lectured her about how the Easter Bunny wasn't coming to our house this year or maybe ever again and it was probably going to be all her fault. I feel reasonably sure she didn't care.

Kitten Watch: still no kittens (Domino didn't eat today - which is supposedly a sign of approaching labor but we're not holding our breath)

Staff Meeting

2011-03-11T14:07:00.000-06:00

I took Stella to a staff meeting earlier this week. Despite the fact that she hadn't had a long walk that morning, she laid down under the big conference table at the meeting and a couple of people who came in late, never even knew she was there. As the meeting ended Stella must have felt the energy in the room change because she stood up and stretched under the table and put her head in my lap for a few seconds. Then, getting a whiff of lemon squares probably, that pink(ish) nose poked up above the edge of the table and one of the late comers squealed: "Oh my God, there's a dog in here?"

Then the meeting was officially over and everyone had a little dog therapy to go with their coffee.

Kitten Report: No kitties yet.

(I can feel them moving now when mom is asleep but otherwise there is no sign of their impending arrival - stay tuned & have a great weekend)

Mama Cat and her practice baby

2011-03-03T20:38:00.000-06:00

I don't even know what to say about this. Except maybe that my roommates are a bunch of freeloaders and I could really use some new dish cloths.

Confirmation

2011-03-02T23:02:00.000-06:00

For some reason I still wasn't convinced that Domino was pregnant. I think it was the water drinking. It makes perfect sense though, cats are only pregnant for sixty four days. That's a profound hike in metabolism. I had no idea how many days it had been (or has been) but I decided to clear out a closet to give her some privacy. I put a box of soft towels in there with some food and water and left the door cracked. She was doing a lot of pacing through the house and checked it out a few times over the next couple of days but it didn't pass inspection. She wanted in the guest bedroom. I resisted. She sat outside the door for the better part of a whole day and I finally gave in. The only comfortable chair in the house is in there and guessing that's exactly where she wanted to be, I covered it neatly with sheets and towels. Again, I left the door cracked so Stella wouldn't venture in (she could drag a Volkswagen down the street but doesn't realize she can push a door open). Domino however, went right in.

Just a few minutes later I returned to find what could only be described as a work of natural art. It amazed me and erased all doubt. She had pulled both a towel and a sheet down from the back of the chair and formed them into a nest for the kittens. If someone had drawn me a diagram I'm not altogether sure I could have done it myself and certainly not in such a short period of time.

That happened Sunday morning. Since then, the size of her belly seems to have doubled. I can see the forms of at least two kittens although they don't seem to be moving. She already has milk in at least two of her teats. She's been asleep in my bed for most of the last forty-eight hours only getting up to eat, use the litter box or sit for a few minutes in her new bedroom. She's also been pacing through the house apparently looking for something (kittens, enemies, hiding places?) I said yesterday that she could deliver sometime in the next forty-eight hours. The fact is I have no idea what I'm talking about. If you go online and look up all the feline signs of impending labor, she's had them all at some point since about Saturday, with the exception of panting or yowling. When either of those things happens, me and Stella are going to make a pot of coffee and stand back.

The road goes on forever..

2011-03-01T10:46:00.001-06:00

and the party never ends. ~Robert Earl Keen

Well, it is officially spring here at Casa de Stella.

Just in case anyone is inclined to debate the issue, I submit the first in a short series of posts that have little to do with raising dogs and everything to do with cats and nature and so-called "animal rescue". Before we move on to the good stuff, I should say that although I've occasionally managed to tease out the negative aspects of various local pet owners on this page, that doesn't always translate to them being bad people. There are most certainly other factors involved, things I don't personally know about in their lives and things that they themselves can't control so I'd like to go on record as saying this isn't about them so much as it is about things moving forward, whether you're ready for them to or not, whether you're qualified to handle it or not and whether you like it or not. One day you're bored out of your mind and the next day it's your turn to get thrown into the swamp; you swim, you get out and you clean up the mess and maybe you're still alive and wiser than you were when you started. Maybe.

With that in mind, somewhere in the neighborhood of last Thursday, a light bulb went off over my head. It blew out immediately because of a little thing called denial. I think my exact words at the time were: "Oh God, no".

Domino, our (catnip junkie) squatter from the neighborhood recently took up what seems to be permanent residence here. My original cat Gigi isn't that crazy about her but she and Stella are sweet on each other so I decided to extend her lease. Her owner still leaves food out on the porch (presumably for the one cat that stayed on) but all of the cats and probably a raccoon or two, stop by regularly for a meal. They eat here at my house too, so life is pretty good. I noticed the other day that both Gigi and Domino had put on a couple of pounds and I threatened to cut them off if they weren't able to regulate their own impulses. Gigi is going on nine years old and according to Domino's (former) owner, she's about three, a "rescue cat" who lived in an apartment prior to their moving here sometime the middle of last summer.

So one morning not long ago, we all get up and Domino stays in bed half a day and I didn't think much of it. Then for a couple of weeks she takes to napping at my feet when I'm sitting at the computer and I don't think anything of that either. Then one day she starts drinking water and she does it probably five times that same day and now I'm worried. My last cat died of kidney disease and excessive water drinking was one of the first symptoms. Domino isn't losing weight though, in fact, quite the opposite. In my mind that rocks the boat back to another wonderful cat I lost to a strange illness that causes cats to retain fluids until they literally drown in them. So I ponder this for a couple of days and while I don't have a lot of experience with dogs I tend to think I'm fully proficient when it comes to felines and therein lies the problem. With those two exceptions, my cats have lived long and carefree lives. No diabetes, no cancer, no seizures, nothing - save a few scrappy tom cat encounters and the occasional hairball.

Last Thursday, Domino threw up in the living room. I picked it up in a napkin and when I walked back into the room I found she was relaxed but lying flat on her stomach with her chin stretched way out in front of her. I hadn't ever seen a cat lie down in this position. She looked like the top of a long, fat exclamation point.

"Domino" I said,"it might be time for you to go to the vet little girl."

And with that I reached down and picked her up. There it was: "Oh God, no!" I set her down immediately, like she'd caught fire or something and studied her with a disbelief that would last two more days. Her girl parts were engaged.

Colorful words followed. All this time I assumed she'd been spayed because she was "a rescue cat." She stayed out all summer and fall and now that she is living with me and her real parents are (oh did I forget to mention?) moving out of state - she's managed to go out and get herself in trouble. Suddenly I remembered a day back in early January when she bitched me out at the back door. At the time, I compared it to a cat in heat but without all the rolling around on the ground. A day later, she was fine. If you all will please excuse me I have to go now and hack up a hairball myself.

That was then
Today is Tuesday.. I'll be very surprised if we make it forty-eight more hours. Meanwhile, she's busy practicing her new mama skill on a pit bull. I'll keep you posted on the state of the white bedspread. (Update: I removed the bedspread for now and replaced it with a giant towel)

Pack Therapy

2011-02-24T18:07:00.001-06:00

We've enlisted a few friends to help Stella retrieve her charming social skills. There were featured here a few months back. In order of appearance, they are Linus, Arthur, Opie (way in the back of the group shot) and Fiona Tina (not pictured; who can barely walk these days at sixteen, but still likes to walk the perimeter of the cemetery looking for rabbits. She also manages somehow to get light on her feet when she sees us coming and never fails to sidle up next to me for a little love) Stella seems to know she's elderly and doesn't give her even the slightest bit of guff. I love to hang out with this bunch because they are their own pack. Stella's a guest and she knows it.

The ever lovable Minnie Pearl was finally adopted this week, a mere six months after I liberated her from madness. I hope her new owner gives her the love and respect she deserves.

Rabbit Patrol

2011-02-19T22:27:00.002-06:00

Stella and I met some friends at City Cemetery this morning. We arrived before they did and managed to experience the only five minutes of blue sky and sunshine that occurred all day. I'm not exactly sure what she's looking at in this photo but I suspect it was a rabbit or a bird or a little flag in the distance. Whatever it was, I was thrilled she didn't go racing off after it.

Face hugs & the head mare

2011-02-17T17:45:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I took Stella with me to pick up our friend Walter. We went from his house to get some coffee and then on to the downtown library. Stella couldn't go in these places and Walter is somewhat disabled so I left them both in the car a couple of times and Walter (when he wasn't spilling coffee in my floorboard) noted that when I went into a place Stella never took her eyes off the door until I came back through it. I asked him if she cried or whined. He said "No, she just stands with her front feet on the console and looks through the windshield."

Normally, if we don't have any passengers, when I return to the car, she and I have what I call a face hug. I reach under her chin and pull her her head to mine from the outside. Her left cheek pressed against my right one (with her still standing on the console) the two of us thank our lucky stars that I made it back and that she was there when I did. As soon as I let go, I tell her to back up and she returns to the back seat planting herself next to a window. On rare occasions we manage to charm some nice person who happens to witness this little ritual from a nearby car proving yet again that warm fuzzy dog love is in fact, contagious.

Dog park update: I mentioned at the end of January that Stella had a bad day at the dog park, a bad day in that she was a bully to the other dogs for the first time since her puppyhood. We returned a day later and she did great. This past Tuesday we tried again and Stella ran all the big dogs and their owners out of the park with her loud vicious growling and bullying behavior. There was no biting but it was so pushy and mean, you wouldn't know she was trying to play; even the dogs were intimidated. Once the big dogs were gone and she was left with the little ones, she was happy as a clam. My friend Christine calls it wanting to be the "head mare" but according to the literature, one doesn't get to be the head mare via tyranny in fact, quite the opposite, so darling Stella has a ways to go. I tried taking her back yesterday (different park) and the same thing happened only this time the owners were a little more forgiving. I disciplined her by putting her on the leash and making her sit but I'm not sure she got the message until I actually caught her by the scruff of the neck once as she was tearing by me. She promptly fell down on her back and showed me the goods. I probably wouldn't have chosen the alpha roll myself but she was so busy being a menace and since she did it herself, I decided it was better than nothing. I definitely had her attention. So we had a quiet little chat right there in the dirt. All the other dogs (the ones she'd been roughing up) came by and smelled her up as well and once I let her up and brushed her off, she was a more polite version of herself. As of today, we're ramping up our exercise program and looking for big brave dogs to hang out with who will not put up with her nonsense. If anyone has any other suggestions or stories about your own dominant/ trouble-making/ bully dog I'd love to hear them. I'm not sure I'd use the word aggressive yet but she's definitely running the offense (despite the innocent pinup girl pose shown above).

Tom Waits or Bob Dylan?

2011-02-06T08:05:00.001-06:00

Borrowed the pictures from Crawdaddy where, if'n you're a fan of either of these gentlemen, you'll find a wonderful trail of bread crumbs that leads to something that can only be described as audio treasure.

Here's another

We tweeted a few months back about a book of poetry from Mr. Waits and it appears that the time of its release is upon us. Enjoy.

How-deeee!

2011-02-05T10:44:00.006-06:00

Sorry to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming but there is still the matter of Minnie Pearl. Some of you may remember that back in August, I confiscated a young mama cat and her three kittens from a neighbor who, when originally asked about having her cat spayed, looked at me like I was an idiot and said: "There aren't any male cats around here."

Then one day she called me up shocked and said: "Susan, something happened; there are kittens all over my dining room."

"Really [insert name here]?"

"And, I didn't even know she was pregnant!"

"Must have been immaculate conception," I said.

"Go ahead, say I told you so - but I'm going to need you to take them up to the pound." [she's disabled] "When they're big enough," she added.

"Sorry, can't help you there." I said.

"You won't do it?"

"Kill a litter of kittens? No, I won't."

"They wouldn't kill them," she said, "they're kittens!"

Two weeks later, she called back and pretending like we hadn't had this conversation, she told me again how cute the kittens were and asked me to come and take them to Animal Control. I advised her to flush the kittens down the toilet and cut out the middle man. (Note: just in case anyone reading this thinks I'm serious - please think again) I was hoping to enrage her in the same way her stupidity had enraged me. I saw this entire scene play out in my mind the first time she ever showed me her new kitten eight months earlier. She shamed me for suggesting such a thing and said she could never hurt kittens. I assured her that she already had but agreed to come and get them on condition that she give me the mama cat too; the cat she presumably loved.

Ten minutes later, all four of them were living in my basement. That was August.

Roy, Buck, and Lulu were adopted less than two weeks after I got them vetted and placed at PetSmart. Minnie Pearl who grew into a beautiful adult, is still waiting. She has spent a lot of time (thanks to Nashville Cat Rescue) at Hundred Oaks and Cool Springs and a couple of weeks ago, I brought her home for a cage break. Stella and Gigi (my cat) made her feel insecure at first but she's slowly getting the hang of things. She's made friends with Domino, our neighbor cat who spends the night occasionally and they play together running through the house like little banshees. It sends Stella to the moon.

I say all that to say this: If you or anyone you know is looking for a cat with a big personality, a history and some real potential, I can hook you up.
Pass it on.

Busted

2011-02-02T18:53:00.000-06:00

We're there in the kitchen, the two of us. I empty the wax paper tube of the last few Ritz crackers, toss it in the trash can, and open a fresh one. I take a few crackers out, twist the top closed and drop it into a big bowl on the counter. I carry the plate of cheese and crackers into my office and sit down at the computer. Time passes.

You know how when you have children and they get into stuff and suddenly you realize you haven't heard them in a while? That's what happened. When I snapped to attention I heard a licking sound. The sound of paper, wax paper, scooting across old linoleum. I stepped around the corner and there stood Stella in the middle of the kitchen floor, head down, caught in the act. All I thought of was the new pack of crackers. So instead of thinking that she'd lifted the old paper out of the can (which is what happened), in my head - she'd just finished an entire pack of new crackers. The look on my face apparently conveyed this thought rather well. I say that because the second our eyes met - Stella tore out of the room past me, ran into her crate and laid down.

Fifteen minutes later, I said "Alright Stella, you've suffered enough," and she stood up and walked out.

What does your dog do when it knows it's done something bad?

Reminder: One last chance to win the final calendar; leave us a comment in that post that's linked on in the sidebar there. The drawing is tomorrow night!

Bully

2011-01-30T10:40:00.001-06:00

"Just so I understand Stella, you can eat horse manure -
but you're grossed out by the thought of stepping in your own pee?"

I hate to say this but Miss Sweetness and Light, was a real bully the day before yesterday at the dog park. I'm not sure why unless it was the abundance of big dogs or maybe that she hasn't had the same level of exercise since the weather's been so bad lately. There were probably fifteen or twenty dogs there and one puppy. All of them were big romping stomping dogs too. I say she was a bully but really the thing is, she's taken to growling when she plays with other dogs. Not every dog responds well to it and their people certainly don't. Most of the dogs just went the other direction and didn't pay her much mind but a couple of them held their ground. Fortunately, she did find one dog Layla, I think her name was, who agreed to wrestle with her full out until both of them were exhausted. Then of course Stella went off to challenge all the others, to steal their toys, pee on their frisbees before they could retrieve them, square off with their children and generally cause an uproar. I finally just put the leash on her and we left. She came home and collapsed in her chair for a couple of hours and (just to drive home a point) I got her up and made her walk about two miles at the ball park. After that, she was a little more laid back.

Mo' free stuff

2011-01-26T10:13:00.005-06:00

Calendar giveaway #2

First off thanks to those of you who joined us on the Carny Dog Facebook page. I really appreciate it. I hadn't planned on making such a page until recently when I realized that it would be a great way for some of the show people who drop by to painlessly add photos of their own midway dogs. I'm not sure if anyone will do it but we'll give it a go. Congratulations again to Tonya for winning the first giveaway. We put all the fan names in a hat, drew them out and numbered each one, then used a random number generator to choose the number. We'll do the same this time only now we'll draw from the comments below. Leave as many as you like. Contest ends at 7:30 pm, February 3, 2011.

While we're on the subject of giveaways, since you people are all animal lovers and I assume art lovers as well, Janet Nelson (who inspired this giveaway and the rules) is having a giveaway too. If you all will go over and leave a comment (be specific re: which painting you're interested in) on this post you may end up winning an original painting which I can testify is well worth your effort. Check out her other stuff too while you're over there. It's major-league creative, and as fun as Friday night.

United road dogs of America

2011-01-20T09:30:00.017-06:00

This one is an old shot of Lucky and James taken in 2005. Lucky isn't with us anymore but James is (last I heard anyway).

One of my very own New Year's resolutions (this time around) is to locate and photograph as many carny dogs as possible over the next year. In years past I haven't made the dogs a priority, focusing instead on the owners and their lifestyles but it's always fun to change it up a little and the fact is, for a lot of carnival workers/showmen, just like the rest of us, their dog is family. In many cases, maybe more so because on a carnival lot, you can't just let your dog out in the back yard and forget about it. You have to be engaged and thinking of the dog's welfare twenty-four hours a day or things can go downhill fast. I've known a few guys that backed over their own dogs with a truck or left them tied up too close to one of those oh-so-delectable power lines. Talk about having your day ruined..

Many of you already know, there are all variety of dogs that travel with the carnival. Owners too. Some are spoiled rotten and some fend for themselves. They can be overfed, underfed, silly, angry, bored, and happy; happy to be bored, neurotic, athletic, entertainers. There are thoroughbreds and mutts and everything in between. As I've said before though, they're generally the most social dogs you'll ever meet. They have friends galore.

Having said that, I'm off to make them their very own Facebook Page. Please go over for a visit and "Like" it (them) and pass the link along to anyone you think might also like to see some magnificent road dogs from time to time. If you are one of those special people who actually owns a carny dog, we'd love to have you post a photo on the page as well and tell us in the caption a little bit about your dog. You never know, Stella and I might very well show up and photograph your best friend for next year's Carny Dog calendar!

Note: The calendars arrived last night and they are brilliant. My arm is cramping from patting myself on the back over it. In case anyone wonders, they start with February and go through next January. That way when you forget to get a new one next year, you'll still have an extra month of knowing what day it is ;-) Giveaway rules are forthcoming.

Catnip Junkie

2011-01-18T12:51:00.002-06:00

Stella has a friend, a cat I call Domino. Domino has been squatting at our house for the last few weeks. Her owner apparently decided she was going to be an "outside" cat from now on and Domino had a different idea. The only problem with this arrangement and it really isn't that much of a problem, is that Domino is a catnip junkie. She's laid claim to a sock filled with catnip and she carries it around the house with her and stays high most of the time. She places it lovingly on the floor and then proceeds to roll around on it like cats do, presumably coating her fur with it's magnificent, opiate perfume. The funny thing is, she's got Stella doing it too. Now, obviously it doesn't have the same effect on Stella and I'd venture a guess that Stella wonders if she isn't missing something. Occasionally I'll walk into a room and Stella will have carried off the sock herself and is now lying with it between her feet studying it. She'll look at it for a long time and then bite it. just once, and study it some more. So far, nothing. Good thing too. I'd hate to have to send them both to rehab.

*Note: Anyone who managed to make it through that last post deserves a calendar ;-)

Bomb dog serenade

2011-01-17T15:10:00.001-06:00

I hadn't planned on going to the inauguration of Tennessee's new Governor. I had wanted to shoot it but having not been asked, I figured I needed to get Stella out for a long walk after the snowy week we had. I knew there was a parade planned downtown after the inauguration so we headed down to the Bicentennial Mall for the walk and later, once the inauguration was underway, we headed up the hill to the Capitol. Although several roads were blocked off things were strangely quiet. I don't know why but I expected hordes of people all around town on the order of say- a hockey game. I told myself that it was because they were all listening attentively, as our new Governor was being sworn in, a couple of blocks away.

When Stella and I came around the back side of the Capitol, there were two Highway Patrolmen standing on the corner. One of them said, "Nice dog." I smiled and thanked him. I could see something that looked like a big partition there in front of the building with people sitting on risers, facing the public library and I asked him if the new Governor was being inaugurated. He said "Yes," and pointing toward the red, white and blue wall, added that he had just walked up onto the stage moments ago. The fact that there were risers positioned there with people on them completely threw me as far as how the crowd (which I still couldn't see) was oriented. The street was empty except for security people and I then asked the State Trooper if it was alright for me to pass through. Looking back on it, I don't know what possessed him to say yes. All I can say is that he must have been blinded by the dog that was now standing there batting her eyelashes at him.

I've worked (photographing) hundreds of such events and am pretty clear on exactly how little stimulus it sometimes takes to divert the attention of an entire crowd. We moved forward with caution. Just about fifteen yards in I noticed the motorcade and realized that though the crowd itself couldn't see me, I was now officially backstage at the Governor's Inauguration; with a pit bull in my left hand and a bag of dog poop in my right. My feet kind of started sticking to the pavement then. Stella and I were suddenly being eyeballed by all manner of armed state and Homeland Security personnel (naturally, on red alert) when someone walked up to the microphone and started to pray. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I told Stella to sit.

I did not pray for all of America or for the state of Tennessee. I did not pray for democracy or bipartisan politics or low taxes. I did not (sadly) pray for the troops or for people who are needy or grief-stricken, sick or homeless. I rather selfishly prayed for a job; a very specific job that I applied for in November, interviewed for six weeks ago and have done my best to procure ever since.

This my friends, is where things began to get weird.

When I opened my eyes and looked up, the actual person who interviewed me for the job - was standing ten feet away. Our eyes locked for one bone-crushing second and he was gone. I felt like I'd been catapulted into outer space on a bungee cord and now the Earth, in all of its glory was racing back at me like a bullet train. Convinced that this man might never hire me now, might never know that I was there purely by accident, might think that I had intentionally orchestrated our meeting at this very crucial moment, I somehow managed to suppress the scream from Psycho long enough to collect myself and find a trash can. I held onto the side of it with one hand and considered throwing up. "Stella", I said quietly, "Watch this. It's a perfect metaphor for your mama's career." We both watched as the bag dropped down into the bottom of the empty can. "Now" I said, "we're going to walk through here, this time without stopping and I don't want to see any big tears rolling down those cheeks of yours, you understand me?"

My thin hope was that despite the camera around my neck, this man whom I had come to admire and respect, hadn't actually recognized me. I was after all, wearing sunglasses and hiking boots. And really bad hair. I wasn't sure things could get any worse but determined to make the best of it, we moved on. We made it all the way across the back side of the stage this time and thankfully, our soon-to-be Governor was still waiting to be introduced. We came to the opposite corner where I could finally see the crowd that painted Legislative Plaza. It was a good sized crowd, though maybe not as large as I'd expected. We were directly behind the Army Band as they struck the first notes of some beautiful tune, probably the Tennessee Waltz, and just the moment, the very moment, I started to relax - the bomb dog spotted Stella and launched a serenade of his own. Neither of us looked back at them or at the crowd who could now see us from the front rows, but those who were already lined up on Sixth Ave. for the parade, were thoroughly entertained by the moment. I covered my eyes. Two people clapped.

I wish I could tell you that I did not sacrifice our future that day. The fact is it's too soon to tell. As for our new Governor and the people of Tennessee, it was a pretty spectacular day for an inauguration. The temperature was mild compared to a week ago when there was four inches of snow on the ground. We ended up sitting on the front lawn of the capitol to watch what turned out to be one of the best parades I've seen in a long time. Stella isn't that keen on marching bands or cannon fire but I have to give her credit. When it really counts, when the big guns are aimed in her direction, she always appears graceful and dignified whether her best friend does or not.

Ramblin' man

2011-01-15T19:45:00.002-06:00

Well my father was a pitbull down in Tampa
He wound up on the wrong end of a gun
And I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus
Rollin' down highway 41 The Allman Brothers Band (kinda')

I had occasion to sift through a ton of carnival pictures the other day and happily ran across a picture of Stella's daddy (above) along with her little brother (below, left). When these pictures were taken you understand, I didn't realize that I'd leave there with a dog or I might've made some effort to snag some family photos before we headed out. You know, posterity and all. I don't know his name or anything but I'm reasonably sure that it's him seeing as he was described to me by his owner Julian (the gentleman in the green shirt), also seen below holding the puppy that looks like a mini-version of the dog above.

I was moved to dig into the carnival pictures after (somewhat impulsively) deciding to make a Carny Dog calendar. It was loads of fun to make and it's filled with shots of some of the coolest dogs on America's midways. It should arrive sometime this week and I ordered an extra one to give away to some one of our regular readers which will no doubt be more fun than actually making the thing :) Stay tuned.

Snow Day

2011-01-10T16:07:00.000-06:00

Overcoat

2011-01-09T18:16:00.001-06:00

Here's a link to the coat(s) for those of you who may be interested. They're simple to order, fit beautifully and arrive within minutes (it seems).

Dog story of the day involves the Chuckit! ball launcher wherein we're on the baseball field (featured a couple of posts back) and Stella is fetching her brains out. She comes tearing back to me drops the ball, snatches the BAll LAUNCHER out of my hand and takes off. By the time she got back around to me I was laughing so hard she started high-stepping with it like some canine majorette. I didn't get a picture this time but they have a monthly photo contest over there. Not positive but I think we can win it.

I have to mention a couple of good blogs here that I've been (unsuccessfully) trying to comment on for weeks now. I've contacted a number of people but there are two that I haven't been able to reach and I'm hoping they'll check-in via the e-mail address in my profile. One is Janet at My Semi-Charmed Life and the other is Carey at One Laguna Life. I'm not typically a very prolific commenter but cut me off and I'll come up with all sorts of things to say. One of these women is looking for some new inspirational blogs to check out. My number one pick would have to be Switched at Birth. For more, I'd just set about pilfering her link list if it were me, not that I've ever done that...enjoy.

New Years Revelation

2011-01-08T10:00:00.003-06:00

We see you resolutionaries out walking/biking/running in celebration of the new year. We admire your pluck and sincerely hope you are successful this time, whether your priority is losing weight, toning up or lapping us on the turn. It is with that thought in mind that I am moved to offer the tiniest slivers of wisdom to a select few of you who are so clearly annoyed by the presence of someone walking a dog; a dog by the way, who would totally love to tag you on the heel as you trot by us but who chooses not to.
Here goes:

1. We were here first and we will be here long after you have given up.

2. We regularly collect your empty water bottles & your power bar wrappers and place them in the trash bins much like your mother must have done for you far into your twenties.

3. When you slam past us at top speed on your new $2000. bicycle, it scares the crap out of both of us. The first time, it's fine, I understand, perhaps you didn't know. The third time you do it - you should understand that I'm fantasizing about beating you senseless with your own bicycle pump. I'm not sure what Stella has in mind but I assume it's some action of equal or greater value.

4. My dog is not on Valium. When your child charges us on a Big Wheel you should expect a reaction that doesn't include fairy dust or butterflies.

5. Finally, I understand that you are on a mission. Your aim is to reduce stress, not create it. Therefore, I respectfully submit that you not spend your time making open fun of Stella's winter coat lest I remind you that your new walking/biking/running ensemble makes you an athlete in much the same way my cowboy boots make me a cowboy.

To the rest of you: It's great to have a little company in these long winter months. Hang in there, we wish you all the best!

Running Bases

2010-12-29T18:48:00.000-06:00

She usually stays out of the infield but every once in a while, she loses control I guess, her brain goes haywire and she passes the frisbee on the ground and just heads for the bases. She got a Chuck-it ball launcher (well I guess we both got it) for Christmas. It's a huge hit.

She's also managed to overcome her fear of skateboards over the last month or so. I actually haven't tested her with other skateboards (maybe it's rogue teenage boys she's afraid of) but she's no longer afraid of the one we're currently using as a rickshaw. There's a video in the works, we'll keep you posted.

Santa Paws

2010-12-28T12:00:00.001-06:00

There was a time I would've rolled my eyes at the thought of someone spiffing up Fido and hauling him off to the pet supermarket to have his picture taken with Santa. I know now that it was stupid and short-sighted on my part. In my own defense - I never realized people did it for charity (not to mention fun) or I might have looked on the whole thing differently.

Fortunately, I remember exactly the moment when it all changed. It was a Sunday afternoon and I'd been hired by a local magazine to photograph a dog wedding. You read it right. A dog wedding. The wedding of a dog. To another dog. It was long before I had a dog myself. I had maintained the company of cats throughout my adulthood; in fact, there was no thought of ever having a dog and this particular assignment, I believed, would seal the deal from this point forward.

This is going to sound like I'm making it up but the bride, a Dachshund named Lucy, arrived in a horse drawn carriage. She was dressed as most brides are and her handsome beau Reno, also a Dachshund, stood with a small band of onlookers, sniffing the air as his dearly beloved arrived. Just beyond my own nose, the shutter methodically carved off frame after frame and I found myself not only looking for the perfect angle but cultivating the numerous ways by which I could effectively commit suicide.

After the ceremony, the guests enjoyed wedding cake, their canine companions - their little doggy party favors, the mother of the bride (and groom) approached me in the stable. She found me alone and chatting up her favorite horse. She thanked me for coming and asked if I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. I remember a loud humming noise in my head. I wished for some distraction, a stampede maybe, or a short-lived barn fire, but my wish wasn't granted and ever the diplomat, I drew in a deep breath and lied my ass off. The funny thing though was that when the words left my lips, it didn't feel like a lie at all.

"No, of course not," I said. "People love their animals like children. I totally understand.And, it's actually been fun."

I averted my head then and waited for the lightening bolt that would no doubt solve my suicide dilemma. I would miss my cat Louie, I thought. Louie had spent the last seven months on a death spiral of his own. Diagnosed with kidney disease, the vet had given me ample warning. She said I should enjoy my time with him and be prepared to say goodbye before the end of the year. I had said goodbye to him a number of times already, tearful and heartsick, wishing painfully for the miracle that would reverse his fortune, I told him everyday that if I could give him a kidney, I would. I meant it too. He was the animal love of my life and it was already October.

When the lightening came it wasn't exactly in the form I thought it would be. The mother of the bride spoke again. She said, "That dog [Reno] and that horse there behind you - have been with me through the darkest moments of my life. Nothing makes me happier than spending time with them. I'd do anything for them. Anything."

I got it. It all made sense. The spectacle, the funny costumes, toys, the best pet food, unbridled love and affection, even dogs themselves became symbolic of something bigger something more mature, that prior to this moment seemed quite the opposite. I was ashamed of myself but better for having realized it.

I wrote this nice woman a note after I got Stella. I thanked her and told her that she was part of the reason I decided to get a dog after all these many years. I asked if her dogs were still happily married. She assured me that they were and now each time I see her I'm reminded of that dark time in my own life, the loss of a magnificent cat on New Year's Eve, the marriage of two wiener dogs and the gift of a corn dog. My, how things have changed. Who could've predicted that just two and a half years later, I'd be shooting Santa pictures at PetSmart without thinking even once about driving off a bridge?

(Half of the proceeds went to the Nashville Cat Rescue, my own dog was terrified of Santa, we (the elves and I ) were nearly thrown out of Pet Smart for surrounding Santa with squeak beer bottles while he pretended to be passed out on the pedestal. I've saved that photo for your imagination... Happy New Year!)

Thankful

2010-12-16T15:08:00.000-06:00

Yes, I am aware. Thanksgiving came and went. I've deprived you my friends, of countless wandering ethnographic tales (tails?) of clever canine adventure long enough. I won't bore you with the details of why we went on our hiatus (unless of course the effort proves fruitful in which case I probably won't shut up about it for months to come) however I do want to pick up where we left off with the general frolic that occurred on Thanksgiving Day and go from there.

We made a return visit to the cemetery with Christine and Professor K.'s dog pack. We parked a short distance away and when we walked through the gate Stella snapped to attention as her nose and eyes went into overdrive. She scanned the area, presumably hoping for movement, a sound, a tail flashing in the distance or a familiar bark. A few minutes later she got her wish and as the six of them (four dogs, two humans) filed through the gate she bucked like a little pony a couple of times before I could get her leash unclipped. There was no foolishness, no vandalism, all good, clean fun (and wild abandon) for the dogs, the humans and some of Nashville's oldest residents. We were thankful and remain so.

Some of you may remember that last time I neglected to include a photo of Linus. Some years back I got a call from Christine when a stray pit mix showed up in their neighborhood. She asked me to stop by and take a photo of him for Petfinders. They had no intention of keeping the dog. When I arrived she had already begun calling him Linus...

The double-dog dare

2010-11-17T13:29:00.000-06:00

There's a three-toed cat next door who answers to the name of Millie. She came with the new neighbors who moved in not too long ago. Her siblings include two look-a-like cats, one junkyard dog on a chain (a pit boxer mix I think), a little boy - barely walking and a baby on the way. Prior to their moving in next door to us, the cats lived in an apartment and now they live outside 24 hours a day. Their owners leave food out for them, as far as I can tell but they've quickly learned (Millie in particular) to get their loving from other sources. She and the other two cats have developed a thing for Stella. Whenever we go outside, they parade over to our yard and start rubbing up against her until she begins to vibrate. Occasionally, she's overwhelmed by it but mostly she just enjoys the attention and goes about her business with them in tow. Here's a sneak peek.

A couple of nights ago, I headed out the door with Stella and as we exited the house, Millie ran in the door. She wasn't around when we returned and I actually forgot she was in the house for awhile. Later on, when I went looking for her, I found her, sound asleep - in Stella's bed. Stella walked into the room, sat down in front of the bed and put on her dejected face. I half-heartedly told her get in bed with the cat. She wasn't enthusiastic about such a request despite my double-dog dare and a short lecture about the potential of added warmth and companionship. She finally did get in it but chose to sit instead of lie down. I could see the whites of her eyes the entire time so it wasn't very long before I let her off the hook. She sprang out of the bed like one of those Calaveras County frogs and barked at the three-toed cat.

Thoughts on the origin of the "double-dog dare" from Michael Quinion.

Raising awareness

2010-10-27T12:35:00.002-05:00

Last Saturday was National Pit Bull Awareness Day and as I mentioned earlier in the week, Stella and I followed our noses across town to the festivities. I admit that I kind of dropped the ball on some of it photographically, but we were busy celebrating & making new friends. We missed some good shots, I'm sure of it.

We started the morning off with a long walk and a trip to the dog park. I've mentioned before that Pit bulls (or any dogs that resemble a Pit bulls) are banned from the city's dog parks in Nashville. There's a sign on the gate with the rules of the dog park and that's the very first rule. People from other, more civilized cities are pretty much horrified by it but we've always been surrounded by xenophobes in this part of the world so it comes as no real surprise that one (non-fatal) incident would set the stage for everyone else. It'll take a younger, smarter generation of council members to kill it though, so we wait. The up side however, is that the people who passed the ordinance generally aren't the same people that go to the dog park so for the most part, people overlook it. Yes, we've made a couple of people nervous but more often (in my limited experience anyway) they're charmed by the Pit bulls who do show up. Sometimes, as in our case, they aren't even sure they're Pit bulls until someone asks. Bunch of outlaws.

The problem with making such rules is that the dogs they're trying to keep out, the aggressive, unruly, apt to eat a Pomeranian-type dogs aren't on their way to the dog park any time soon. The dogs they're trying to keep out are unfortunately chained to a tree somewhere. They're sitting on a wet cardboard box wishing they were at the dog park or anywhere else for that matter. They're busy shredding a plastic two-liter bottle their owner just lobbed in their direction for six seconds of personal entertainment; right before they go back in the house for that next PS2 round of Grand Theft Auto. Don't get me wrong, there are some drawbacks to the dog park culture and occasionally, those dogs do show up, they generally don't last very long - but just like people, they come in all shapes and sizes. But I digress.

The event on Saturday was fun despite the fact that we missed the parade. Again, I got distracted for six seconds and everyone left without us which was too bad since that's the photo I was really hoping for. There was some great art to look at and a ton of wonderful dogs (only one clueless owner it seemed, in the whole bunch). We'll probably go back next year. Maybe they'll have it right outside the dog park :)

This beautiful creature (below) was in fact, spotted at the dog park. He's a Basset Hound-Dalmatian mix. There was also a Pit bull - Dalmatian, a great match for Stella, but I didn't get a good shot of him.

And here are a few from the Pit bull Awareness Day celebration.

Finally, here's a video (it wasn't from the Nashville event although there were some folks with video cameras there - I'll keep looking)

Almost Scary

2010-10-22T17:11:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to let everyone know that all of the kittens have been adopted! Roy and Buck were adopted together and now there is only Minnie Pearl (the mama cat) left at PetSmart. I still have my fingers crossed for her. A couple of people have asked why anyone is adopting out black cats this time of year and the only answer I can come up with is that the fee for adoption is a hundred dollars. I'm thinking few people would be foolish enough to pay that kind of money and then mistreat the animal.

Here's a photo of my leaf carpet. Looking at it from this angle it's easy to understand why my neighbors might be a little intimidated. A good wind could really stir things up :)

Lazy Day

2010-10-19T15:29:00.001-05:00

The leaves are raining from the trees here though still no real rain to speak of - in the last three months. It's hard to believe anything is still green. Stella and I have been dodging what seems like a constant hailstorm of acorns and black walnuts on our walks. The squirrels are out in force (always a good time) and people are just beginning to decorate their yards for Halloween. I'm thinking that got put off until now because just a week ago it was still ninety-seven degrees.

In just a few days my entire front yard became blanketed with yellow maple leaves which is always gorgeous until I have to rake them; thirty four-bags if I remember correctly. My dream is that sixteen boy scouts will show up and it'll all be done in about two hours. The chances of that happening are remote. I'd leave it but they blow into all the surrounding yards and the neighbors begin having less than happy thoughts when they see me.

This Saturday Stella and I are going to celebrate Pitbull Awareness Day over on the east side of town. We haven't gone before so I'm looking forward to it and you know how Stella loves a parade.

Whoever is responsible for this yard art (below) unfortunately missed the initial response of the young impressionable canine pictured above. Again - it was a video moment - lost.

Visiting With Edgar

2010-10-15T23:32:00.000-05:00

Poe's house and his grave are about half a mile apart. He's buried in an ancient church yard. It's not just any old church yard either. It's Westminster Burial Ground and Poe isn't the only notable resident. There are others.
The last unfinished manuscript of Edgar Allan Poe was ironically (in our case) about a lighthouse keeper. I'm still not sure how you can call four pages a manuscript but then I'm not a literary scholar.

Here's something fun and strangely appropriate (I thought) - John Cusack to play Poe

The history of Poe's grave

I'm not sure dogs are actually allowed in here. We didn't ask permission but Stella was on her best behavior.

The Exception

2010-10-13T20:46:00.000-05:00

The rule in our house is dogs don't sleep in the bed. It works out great because Stella knows that occasionally I'll invite her to lie on my bed during the day or under certain circumstances but when night falls, her bed is hers.

When we went to Baltimore and Atlantic City last month I didn't even take her bed along with us so all bets were off and we shared the bed. One day we hiked (not very far, I think it was a mile and a half) up to the home of Edgar Allen Poe. It was hot as Hell and included buses, construction, big noise and hordes of people going to and from work, not to mention at some point, all the accoutrements of ghetto sidewalks (broken glass, syringes, beer cans, used condoms and the like). I doubt Stella even noticed any of this but without so much as a band-aid on me, I certainly did. It was a tough three miles brightened only by the fact that we made it back without injury or dognapping. I don't know how many of you (goofy-ass white women) have strolled through the ghetto lately with your pit bull but the locals, though extremely friendly, had a look of disbelief on their faces usually reserved for things like mirages - or ghosts. Had it not been for the dog, I would've spent a lot more time up there and made pictures of them all but it was clear early on that we were in dog fighting country. I felt at the time, it was best to keep moving so we pressed on. Unfortunately, the Poe House was closed when we finally got there but I did take a photo of it. I'll put it in the next post.

When we returned to the hotel I left Stella for a bit to go and get something to eat. I made a point of getting back as soon as possible thinking she'd be pacing the floor and feeling abandoned in this new strange place.

Uh - negative. When I returned this (above) is how I found her. She didn't even notice I was gone.

On the morning of our departure we took a vote and decided that the beds in Heaven couldn't possibly be any better than the ones at Hotel Monaco.

Fingers Crossed

2010-10-06T22:01:00.002-05:00

Two spays, two neuters, four combo tests,
Seven FVRCP shots, hook worms, eight doses of dewormer,
One dose of antibiotic, three vacuum cleaner bags,
Fifty-four POUNDS of cat litter.
Carried to a trashcan - in one pound bags.

Five trips to the vet.
Eleven pounds of cat food. One very nice cat-sitter.
Fifty-thousand fleas. Sure, I'll repeat it:
Fifty. Thousand. Fleas.
That's an estimate; I stopped counting and started
going off my nut at twenty thousand.
Four doses of flea medication. Five, if you count my own cat;
who by the way, didn't have a flea all summer long.

I officially hate my neighbor now, but I'm trying to work through it.

Praise Jesus and knock on wood, as of tomorrow, Roy, Buck, and Lulu
are about be out of my basement; for a little while anyway.
Mama isn't far behind.
Run, don't walk over to PetSmart at Hundred Oaks and get yourself one.
They couldn't be any healthier than they are right this minute.
They're really sweet too.
And well-behaved.
They haven't turned over or climbed a single thing.
Swear.

Close encounters

2010-10-03T12:16:00.000-05:00

These were leftover from last weeks Pooch Plunge. Aren't the two of them wonderful? With all due respect, I think they should enter a dog/owner look a like contest. The best part is they didn't do it for my benefit. I took that first shot before anyone knew I was there. Apparently that's a pretty nice dog too.

Last night I found out that some friends of mine have a dog that does Fly Ball competitively. It even has a pretty high ranking and they're going to Indiana next week to compete. They were supposed to go to the event last week too so of course, I confessed again about that rogue dog that crashed their demonstration :)

Okay, moving on. Stella and I were charged the other day by a dog we'd never seen before. This time it wasn't a purse dog though. It was a Pit Bull that first barked at us from behind a fence. It sounded pretty vicious but I didn't give it much thought since Stella sounds exactly the same way on occasion. I have to say though that it was early in the morning and when that dog came charging (across a busy street) at us I was more than a little freaked out. In the background I head a little boy scream "Spiiiike!!!" I stepped in front of Stella and did my best halt command; big man voice added to the traffic cop hand, and the dog (I'm happy to report) stopped in its tracks.

The dog's owner laughed at me and announced: "Don't worry he's friendly."

All I could think of to say "I guess you're lucky mine is too."

It definitely sounded a little bitchy but I couldn't help myself. There's nothing like having all the plaque in your arteries loosened at seven-thirty in the morning.

Pooch Plunge 2

2010-09-30T17:25:00.000-05:00

Since we're on the subject of water (and way behind), this last Sunday we went to the Pooch Plunge at Nashville Shores. It was a benefit for Nashville Public Television (NpT). Some of you may remember we tried to go last year and the weather didn't cooperate for them and it was eventually canceled. This year though, was another story altogether. There were tons of dogs. Stella had a lot of fun although for the first hour it was like chasing a delinquent kid around.

As usual, before we went I took her for a long walk to (presumably) expend some of her energy but this time, under such stimulating conditions, the long walk just didn't take. Once we got into the gate and I let her off the leash, she went tearing off around the outer perimeter of the event like a freight train. It was basically harmless but managed to score her lots of attention. By far, it exceeded the efforts of any and all herding type dogs in attendance. When she finally burned off the top layer (believe me there were six or seven left to go) she discovered that the sponsor tables had treats on them and that if she ran up to the table and gave them the look, they would give her a treat. Now, you might ask yourself what happened when they finally cut her off? Well, she either stood up on the table and demanded one or waited until they looked away and rammed her whole head off into the bucket and helped herself (ahem!) Very unladylike. Very unStella. Bad. Dog.

Once I was finally able to get her to understand that there were consequences to this sort of foolishness, she gave up on the food and crashed the Flyball demonstration. I looked away for two seconds and heard someone yell "Wait! Where did that dog come from?" When I followed their gaze she was chasing the Flyball dog and I had the urge to just say: Jeez, I don't know but somebody needs to get control of that thing. Again, harmless but totally disruptive. She did the same to some pups taking the Canine Good Citizen test. It was a good chance for her to experience the fact that not all dog interaction involves playing. Understand - her version of playing goes two ways-- Chase and Smackdown Wrestling. She's as happy to be chased as she is to be the chaser and she'll adjust her speed if it's a little dog that she could easily overcome; those are the ones I love to watch.

She got into the water a time or two and was very curious about the dogs that were busy retrieving things but never actually made an effort to swim (basically killing my theory that if she saw dogs swimming, she'd copy them.)

Then she found two playmates one after the other who thanks to their owners, gave her the work out she was really after. The first was a young Great Dane named Bella. She was pretty gentle but not intimidated (as some dogs are) by her rough and tumble approach. The second dog was Sampson and for the record, if Sampson was our neighbor I have no doubt he'd be Stella's new boyfriend. The two of them wore each other out. He was a young (competitive) dock-diving German Shepherd. After several rounds of full-throttle playing which I might add, scared the crap out of some patrons, and the life guards, he was the only dog there able to lure Stella into the water. She still didn't swim - but just like all the girls with a bad boy crush, she followed him right in there against her better judgment.

Needless to say, this all culminated in one big satisfied snooze complete with snoring all the way home. We had a great time (minus the initial craziness and if any of you Flyballers should happen by here - we apologize again) and hope the folks at NpT made a big wad of dog-friendly cash. Thanks for the swim.

Stella with Old Barney

2010-09-29T21:29:00.001-05:00

We caught up with a different incarnation of "Old Barney" in Long Beach Island, New Jersey. Someone sent (our) Barney a postcard once with a picture of this lighthouse on it and since Stella and I were looking for a beach it seemed like the thing to do. Stella discovered horseshoe crabs on the beach there. She tried to get it to move and when nothing happened she uh.. relieved herself on it.

Atlantic City: gamble vs. gambol

2010-09-24T20:20:00.002-05:00

When all else fails, ask you waitress. There isn't a thing online about any dog beach in or near Atlantic City. Stella and I took our chances and looked for local dog lovers. It was tricky to find it but once we got there, I just wanted to pitch a tent. We went three times and three times Stella forgot all about her Bulldog side and tapped into the Terrier for a change. She'd eyeball the ground suspiciously and launch herself into the sand, digging as hard and as fast she could go. She would then freeze and snap her teeth a couple of times (possessed) and have another go at it. It was better than any casino.

Bear, the smaller of the two dogs above was a big dog trapped in the body of a small dog. He gave Stella the wrestle of her life and it was wonderful to watch. He had the best moves. His owner and I just stood there laughing the whole time. The other dog, Seamus had a pretty good time too. He was the only dog that manged to lure Stella into the water deeper than she would've normally gone. She still never got the hang of swimming out there but she was totally curious about the dogs that were able to.

Canine tourism

2010-09-23T18:00:00.016-05:00

I still have a few posts from Baltimore (and beyond). Locals won't be too impressed by the tourist type pictures but it was such a treat to be able to walk a few blocks to the harbor from where we stayed that I did it repeatedly. It was actually pretty sweet, as tourist districts go. They seemed to have all the right ingredients: music, food, water, boat rides, a fountain for the kids to play in, dragon boats to pedal (I wanted to take Stella out on one of them (what a photo op that would've been) but the line was too long and I doubt she would've been allowed anyway. It's funny but of everything in and around the harbor, those were what fascinated her most.

On the far side, just below Federal Hill there was a carousel with dogs and other animals on it as well. I took a photo of it and realized that for the first time in nineteen years, the fair was setting up back home in Nashville and I wasn't there. Good thing we were in Baltimore or I might have been missing it a lot more.

Federal Hill overlooks the harbor and it's a great view too. We hung out up there while we waited for the tour boat to arrive. Again, Watermark Cruises was the only tour I could find that would let Stella ride along. It was a forty-five minute cruise for fifteen bucks. For a dog that can be kind of skiddish on a slick surface, she did an amazing job of climbing the steps between decks. I wasn't the only one stunned by her willingness to descend the nearly vertical steps. We never made it to Little Italy and I'm really sorry about that. Well okay, we did do a drive-by - but it'll have to wait until the next visit if there ever is one.