3rd House Journal

Life in the old dog

[Ingrid on the porch; 7pm, 6/16/09]

K and her boyfriend were out of town for a few days and asked me to dog sit. So I've been going by twice a day to take Ingie out and feed her. Plus today I went up at lunchtime, just to get out of the office and hang out with her up on the old porch. K's back tomorrow evening, so I'll have just the morning to go by, but I may sneak out again at lunchtime, too.

She's getting on in dog years, walking a bit stiffly when she gets up. But this morning she was tearing around the apartment the way she's always done. And she still loves her duck.

Pup

[At Sofra; 2:15pm, 5/30/09]

Life among the ankles.

Yes, it's another gratuitous cute dog photo.

Gratuitous cute dog photo

[At Roca's clothing shop in Newburyport, MA; 5/23/09]

His name is "Handsome." Understandably. He sat perfectly still as I fumbled to get my camera out to take his picture, then he cheerfully allowed himself to be patted and scratched behind the ears.

The puppy cure

[Lola, at the Arnold Arboretum; 3:30pm, 11/9/08]

The dog walkers were out in force when my friend L and I walked around at the Arboretum on Sunday afternoon. It's a popular place for that. But this little one in particular caught my eye because she's adorable and because looks much like my old dog Silke when she was a puppy. Both the owners and Lola were sweet enough to indulge me in a snapshot. Although, being a puppy, she didn't hold still for long.

L brought her dog, Mel, who, being more experienced with these things (and a bit vain, but don't tell her that), dutifully sat still for her portrait once she saw the camera pointed her way.

[Mel with purple beautyberry at the Arnold Arboretum]

In the midst of my crankiness about a number of things, thankfully there are many curatives such as these.

Denizens of the neighborhood

[Porch perch, just down the street from my place; 6pm, 8/24/08]

This little guy seems pretty quiet and friendly for a terrier, who are usually, well, territorial. I walked by the house last week at the same time a lady was walking by with her own little dog and this guy just stood in the doorway wagging his tail. Reminds me a little of my own quiet and good-natured dog, not so much friendly (rather uninterested in anyone but "her own" humans) as brightly curious. On my last walk the other night, I passed an old lady sitting on her curb with a month-old puppy on a leash. Everyone who walked by stopped to pat the puppy, who was overjoyed by each new human coming down the walkway. I'm sure it's also the most attention the old woman had in a long time. Just one of the benefits of having a dog when you're older.

As I've mentioned, I can't have one here and it's just as well since I'm not home enough. And I'm allergic to cats, so my houseplants have to do as household living things for now. I did go over and walk Ingrid for K late the other night when she and J were away. It satisfied.

[Napping in the late day sun; 6:30pm, 8/24/08]

Therapy dogs

On Sunday, I was waiting in line for the restrooms at the Harvard Book Store in Cambridge when a guy came in with the most enormous dog I've ever seen. It was a British mastiff, a bit overweight at some 240 pounds, with a "Therapy Dog" halter on. I didn't ask why he was in the bookstore, but the owner said the dog is great with his clients, including teenage girls with serious anger problems as well as younger autistic kids. The dog seemed gentle, if incredibly strong and solid.

That dog was trained as a therapy dog. My own dogs weren't naturally good at it, though as any pet, they relieved stress just by being their goofy selves. Silke, who may as well have been my flesh and blood for our close bond, was not the cuddling type and wriggled out of any embrace anytime, and just seemed uncomfortable when I was upset. K's dog Ingrid, however, has an unusual knack for inserting herself right in when you're distressed. Mind you, if disturbed when she's resting, she's known to bite any hand or nose that comes too close, and she's drawn blood, too. But, in moments of grief over my mom's passing, curled on the couch or the bed, she has more than once launched herself up and into my face, drawing cuddling, unperturbed by wailing and turning it anyway rapidly to smiles and laughter, diffusing the heaviness in varying degrees. I don't know what motivates her, and I don't ascribe human compassion to it, but wherever it comes from, it's a gift.

Meanwhile, Rolling Dog Ranch was a TypePad Featured blog not long ago, and I've become addicted to it. It's a sanctuary for disabled animals, and they have a blind horses ranch, too. God bless 'em.

Waiting for the dog days

[Pups outside Starbuck's, Lexington Center; 9:30am, 2/23/08]

In New England, even during the dog days of August, we're well aware that those steamy temperatures are fleeting. Winters are long and snowy - or, more often recently, sleety-icy. As Lorianne commented in my last post, at least this storm brought snow instead of that poetic-sounding euphemism "wint'ry mix."

My appointment with Maddy was slightly delayed this morning, so I had time to dig my car out from under 10 inches of snow and still get to Lexington with time left over to walk around the corner and up to Peet's to get a coffee (about two doors up from Starbuck's, and around the corner from Dunkin Donuts - this town is well fueled). Most people were still digging out as I passed all the beautiful colonial houses covered in snow in the six miles between my apartment and the salon. Aside from the hearty few in the coffee shops, and their dogs, it was still pretty quiet and open.

It was nice to get outside today, after being cooped up all yesterday working on a nitpicky little project in my drafty home office space during the snowstorm. Yes, the snow is pretty, all the more so as I'm not shivering and cranky. Spring is officially less than a month away, though it'll be more than twice that before we really see any signs of it here. The past few years I've traveled in early spring, twice to Mexico in March and then in late April-early May to Paris last year, and it was lovely. But there's something about suffering here through the entire long winter that makes spring's arrival utterly, intoxicatingly joyful. So I'm waiting like a dog outside a shop, alternately patient and impatient, for the warm weather to arrive.

Graphic

[Ingrid wants to star in her own graphic novel; 11:45am, 2/17/08]

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I joined up with a local film-going group to see Persepolis yesterday afternoon. Wonderful film, animated in the style of the graphic novel by Marjane Sartrapi about growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. It's a very personal story about her coming of age both in Iran and in Vienna, where her family sends her as an outspoken teenager at a time when bravado could easily get one killed. It's also full of universal themes of growing up, leaving family, learning to come to terms with who one really is, and exile -- being out of place both the new world and back home. The characters, despite the flatness of the animation, were wonderfully brought to life by a script that captures much with a few perfectly pitched strokes -- history and memoir, both somber and humorous -- and by the voices of actors Chiarra Mastroianni as Marjane and Catherine Deneuve, Mastroianni's mother, who plays Marjane's mother. Marjane's inimitable grandma (played by Danielle Darrieux), nearly steals the show as the kind of grandma everyone wishes they had.

It was the first time I'd met up with the group and it was fun. We went out for a bite to eat and talked about the movie afterwards. Interesting people, multicultural, and obviously all interested in film. I was going to dropkick my NetFlix account (currently on hold), but from the list of "but wait, you have to see..." movies I picked up from one meeting, I may need to reinstate it. Still, it's most fun to go out to see films on the big screen, and especially with others who enjoy unusual and interesting films.

Ingrid redux

[Ingrid and the duck, redux; 7:45am, 11/15/07]

Besides the scrap of cloth that was a stuffed toy duck, Ingrid's other favorite toy is a stuffed frog that emits a mechanized rib-bit rib-bit when squeezed. She figured out how to bite the thing in the right place to make it ribbit, which she does nearly every morning, and it never fails to crack us up. Which only encourages her to do it more.

K gave her a few unattended minutes this week without the cone and she promptly pulled out more staples, opening up the incision. (As a vet, K, of course, should know better - it's called "owner noncompliance.") So she's consigned to the cone, except for eating and walks, until the incision heals. She's pretty handy with the cone on, though. It takes a little more maneuvering, but she can still pick up the duck.

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BTW, I really liked yesterday's poem at Verse Daily, Why Dogs Tell Stories.

Weathering

[Ingrid and me on the front stoop; Sunday 3:20pm, 10/21/07]

Yesterday's high was 83ºF, today's around 70º - about 15º or so above average for this time of year. Still the sun sets early, 5:50pm today, and now it's already dark. The sun doesn't rise until after 7:00 in the morning, confusing me about exactly how early I've woken up before the alarm. This morning I thought it must still be the middle of the night, but no, it was after 6:00. I got up around 6:30 and even Ingrid wasn't interested in getting out of bed yet as I fixed breakfast.

[Staghorn sumac, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 12:20pm, 10/21/07]

Rain threatened, but I felt like walking at lunchtime today so I went out, in short sleeves and sandals, halfway up to Habitat. I'd whittled away half my lunch break online, so I took a shorter walk, turning off the private road onto a detached portion of woods that also belongs to the Mass. Audubon Society. The path, infrequently used, was completely obscured by brown-spotted yellow leaves covering the entire ground, with more falling from above like snow. I made turns by memory and by the relative space between trees that indicated the path. Sometimes you just have to put one foot in front of the other and feel your way as a matter of faith. Maybe I was taking my god for a walk, or maybe just visiting where s/he lives.

By the way, on the path near the pond I saw something I've never seen before - a black squirrel. Apparently they're your basic Eastern Gray Squirrel with a black variant coat. It was so... Halloween!