NOtes etc.

Recently I was given an opportunity to sift through every single item in my house (another story). This of course will take weeks to get through but I thought I should share with you some notes I found from the first two weeks of life here at Casa de Stella. It seems she wasn't always the good dog she is (mostly) now. It seems time erased some of the bitter cursing of those early days and now suddenly again I'm reminded that she was once living on a carnival lot eating leftover, lamp-singed chicken-on-a-stick. It's hard to believe we made it all this way.

 9/24/08 - spent an hour in the crate. Barking.
                  ride in the car
                  Barney's house, he petted her- fine, Dale petted her-
                  electrician walked in - no barking yay.

*Stella has been trying all day to rip out the underside of the chair in my office. Slept in the bathroom while Michele and I walked. 
COMPLETELY CRAZY. wouldn't listen, wanted to run and jump and bite me, barked incessantly at neighbor John. generally obnoxious. exhausted (me)

9/25/08 - awake 6:30 (outside pee break) - back to bed.
               8:30 - crazy, tearing up the side of the bed/my pants
                          constantly testing the limits. gnawing things
                outside to pee. back in - peed in front of the crate. Drove to   B's house in Kentucky. Stella slept. B got in the car with us, no problem. Smiley growling at her all day pretty much. Long walk, checked out cows, cemetery, tobacco field. Ran around until we left. Came in the house. Peed. Slept. Woke up, peed before I could get to the door. help.

9/26/08 - awake 6:00 (went outside - thank you God) still wrecking underside of office chair. Pulled her out four times - she peed in the living room while I ripped off the chair liner and threw it out. then barking at cat. I am an idiot. cleaned up pee six(?) times today.  * buy more Nature's Miracle now

 I can't imagine the dog Stella would be if she'd stayed on the carnival all this time. The odds weren't in her favor but dogs are a lot heartier than we think. Apparently people and office chairs are too.

Why?

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.

Cracks of dawn

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.   

Water Racer

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

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.

Suburban Oddities

 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."

Payaso

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.

Back to school

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.

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

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

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

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

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)

Lefty and Domino

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

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.

Tastes like chicken

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?

You talkin' to me?

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.

Cherry Blossom Festival

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.

Pack Therapy

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.

Face hugs & the head mare

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).