My First Christmas

It took about three takes to get this shot. I wouldn't behave, but eventually Grandma snapped the shot we were all happy with. I just wanted to play with my cousin, Ringo.

This is one of my quieter moments with Ringo. In dog body language, this pose means we love and accept each other. The mirrored pose and the lack of eye contact signal that Ringo, the alpha dog, actually loves me.

I love him.

The humans ate a lot. I mean a whole a lot a lot. I was confined to a leash and made to rest by my mom's side. I didn't like it, but I gave in. Ringo can't be seen in this photo, but he's under my mom's chair NOT on a leash pestering me to play with him.

And here I am in front of the tree with all the presents. Apparently this was a sparse year. The presents, they tell me, were triple in the past. It's hard to believe. But there were presents under that very fat tree for me and that made me happy.

I shared my presents with Ringo.

I miss him.

My First Snow!!!!!

The Walk to the Park...

I'm chasing Monty, Cocoa's chasing me!
Cocoa is a big, big dog!

Those are snowballs on my feet! Mom says she's going to enter me into a dog show as a Poodle with pom poms!


They kept trying to get me to look at the camera, but everyone else was romping in the snow. I couldn't focus on anything but my friends playing. And yes, my legs are all snow from the knee down!

I was asleep after a long walk with my friend Salal. Momma G got up from her computer work and I followed her into the kitchen and barked! What was that stuff falling from the sky? I'd never seen anything like it. She let me outside and gingerly I made my way onto the deck, then the back yard. It was cold on my feet, but it smelled like fun and so I frolicked on the back deck and tried to catch the stuff in my snapping mouth. No luck.

Then Momma G called Monty and we headed to the park, tromping through what I now knew to be snow. I love this stuff! First we went to the small park and played. We met Cocoa, the Newfoundland and then Cody, the black lab. Next we walked to the big field where kids were rolling snow into huge, huge balls. We played with Sydney there and then Buffy and Misty (Monty's good friends) came to join us.

It snowed and it snowed and it snowed and soon there was 2 inches of the stuff on the ground. And I got iceballs on my legs, but still I ran and ran and ran with all the dogs chasing me.

Then we walked home and Momma G put me in the bath tub and melted the snowballs off my legs and feet.

Now I'm drifting off to sleep again.

What a great dog day!

Dear Grand-paw

This is how I spent my day:

I woke at 7 this morning. That's good for me and I'm glad no one woke me up earlier like they do during the middle of the week. I was tired last night. I'd played with my dog friend Becky, walked with both my moms once in the morning and once in the evening, and then played with Akina and Sakura, the girls who have more energy than me.

So sleeping in was exactly what I needed. Ten hours on my bed, flat on my back, legs stretched limply over my head. Then mom got up and made coffee, which requires my astute supervision. Then a long walk and I mean a long, long walk. Two hours of walk, through the tunnel, over the hill, down the hill, past the lake, then back up the hill and back down it again. And in between it all, a mangled tennis ball hiding in the bushes that required chasing while mom threw it in the wet, grassy field where Toby and Riley came to play (new dog friends).

I got tired, but then we had to go to Lowe's for fence caps for our new fence and big, fat boards to border the fence where the gravel will go.

Then a nap, or an attempt at one, but the neighbors drove by and parked their loud, thumpy car at the end of the block and no one could sleep so we got up and worked in the yard. Actually, we worked in the neighbor's yard. Now that she's moved out, her son offered us his rhubarb plants, the plants my mom has coveted for years.

I didn't get to go, though, which made me whine at the sliding glass door. Then we went for another walk because frankly, it was so beautiful today the trees ached with orange and the squirrels needed chasing. We went back up the hill to Salal's house (yet another dog-friend) whose mom is out of town. We leashed up Salal and walked along the ridgetop and looked at the lake and Bellevue and the Cascades to the east and the Olympics to the west, which made me think of you.

We're coming to visit you know, in another couple of weeks.

I'll try to get some rest before then because right now I'm bushed and can hardly wait until we go to bed.

Can I sit in your lap again? I'm a bit bigger these days, but I think we can swing it if you sit on the couch and I'm allowed to sort of rest on you while also resting on the couch. Probably not acceptable in my puppy training, but still, you're my grandpaw and spoiling me is exactly what you're supposed to do (don't tell my moms that I wrote that last sentence!).

Anyway, I'll try to be on my best puppy behavior that weekend, though my moms say I'm barking too much these days. I am, but there's just so much happening outside the door and I am always on the alert for squirrels and intruders, but mostly I'm on alert for the neighbor's cats who NEVER go home. They like to hide under our car or sit on the new fence and stare at me. Torture, I tell you, simply torture.

I have no impulse control. That's what the dog trainer says. But I'm only 7 and a half months old! Who in their right mind has impulse control at such a young age?

Anyway, when I sit with you on the couch, you'll have to look at the pads on my paws. They're really adult-like. Big dog kind of paws. I even impress myself, so I imagine you'll be really impressed.

Oh, and can you make sure you have a cookie in your pocket? That's my favorite thing about coming to your house...next to sitting in your lap.

I'll make sure I have a bath before I come and a comb out so you can see how soft my coat is even though it's changing and some of that curly hair is now straight, stiff red hair.

So, I'll sleep well tonight, don't you think? My moms moved the bedroom around though so I'm a bit worried I'll get up in the morning and not really know where I am. Hope they don't step on me on their way to the bathroom.

And why do they pee in the house anyway? Disgusting!

Okay, I must go to bed because frankly, this has been a busy, busy day.

Love you,
Rubin

The Beach

Rubin is a Labradoodle, which means that he is part Lab (about a 1/3) and part Poodle (about 2/3). Both breeds like the water and it seems as if the combination of lab and poodle have had an exponential effect on his love of water.

This weekend we went to a friend's 40th birthday party in Port Townsend. They live on the beach or near it and so we wandered down and let the dogs play. They have one dog now, but when I first met them, they shared their home with three dogs -- two cockers and a big, burly dog with the kindness eyes known to dogkind.

But now there is just Buster, pictured above attempting to tolerant Rubin's need to get wild whenever he is near the water.

Visiting, though, was another dog, a yellow lab, named Dali and Rubin did whatever he could to engage either adult dog in any kind of play.

Ari, one of Buster's moms, took the photos and when she sent them to us she wrote: Notice how many of the pictures have Rubin half in the frame or just leaving it.

Yes, the boy has energy to spare, but that energy seems even more pronounced at the beach.

This is my favorite picture from the series. Buster has finally claimed Rubin's rubber ball and if you look closely, you can see Buster is snarling at Rubin. Meanwhile, Rubin is not paying attention to the warning signals and shortly after this picture was snapped, was chased down the beach by a growling, grunting Buster who felt extremely threatened by Rubin's dance of excitment illustrated so perfectly in this picture.

Eventually, though, Rubin settled down and Buster felt safe enough to approach. Here is the result...

It was a wild weekend. By the time we got into the car and headed home, Rubin fell asleep like a wet rag in the back of the car -- flat on his back, his legs stretched out.

It's not such a bad dog's life...

Life Saving

Can a dog save your life? I suppose he or she can. In fact, a dog has saved my life more than once.

Abbie was the first dog who literally kept me from driving off a bridge when I was the most depressed. She was in the back of my truck and her presence kept me driving home versus ending it all right there. In my darkest hours, she still loved me and it was that love that eventually taught me how to love myself.

This is a picture of Abbie at 13 years of age. She died on her 14th birthday and even in her death she taught me about love.

Next came Chester who opened his home and his heart to let me in. He was Ann's dog, but in no time, he let me call him my dog and my only regret was that I never knew him for his entire 14 years of life.

This is a picture of Chester on his 11th birthday halfway through an eleven-mile hike. He, too died at 14 and his death, while painful because of his seizures and brain tumor, was another reminder of the gift that animals are in our lives.

And now there is Rubin...

...and this picture tipifies his goofy and necessary presence in my life.

Can dogs save your life? Yes, but even more than saving it, they make it worth living.

Woof!

The Last Hoorah

On Friday, Ann and I took Rubin and his best buddy, Monty on a hike to Rattlesnake Ledge. It's a short hike, only 5 miles roundtrip, but it was just the right length for Rubin who is fast approaching 7 months old. It's a great hike. It winds through beautiful forests and then ends up here, on a ledge (as advertised) overlooking the Cedar River Watershed, the source of our drinking water. (Off in the distance, just beyond my head, is Chester Morse lake. Actually, if you took off my head, you'd see the lake!)

Rubin loved the hike, as did Monty, though when we got to the top, the shear drop off freaked Rubin out a bit. As you can see in the picture, he's literally clutching me while he rests in my lap. During lunch, he clutched the side of the rocks refusing to get up unless one of us stood by his side and kept him from "falling" off the edge. The more time we spent at the top, the more relaxed and confident he became, but for that half hour, he was tense with the notion that the sky was so close to the earth.

Traditionally, Ann and I go on a quick adventure before the craziness of work begins. While I've been at it for two weeks now, Ann went back to work last Tuesday though neither of us have any students in our classrooms. Instead, it's been meetings and plannings, organizing and reorganizing. Next week the kids come and the real work begins.

For both of us it's been hard to get motivated. Ann has been working with a financial planner, investing and reinvesting her recent inheritance after her father's unexpected death so she can "retire" in three years. Retire is perhaps the wrong word. It's more like transitioning out of teaching and into something else. For Ann, the something else is still an unknown, though I envision her working outdoors with plants somehow.

For me, the personal plan to move into dog training is slowly taking shape. I've convinced our current dog trainers to take me on as a "apprentice" though the apprentiship won't begin until next year. For now, I'll train the dogs of friends through Dave and Becky (the dog trainers) and learn more by watching, helping, and repeated classes with a variety of dogs. Then, if all goes as planned, I'll take a year's leave of absence and focus every day on learning as much as I can about training dogs.

In a way, it's still teaching only my students have changed as will the parents and my relationship with them.

It's hard to carry a vision for change and not actually make the change. Ann is much more pragmatic in her mid-life crisis. She's not willing to make a change until all of her affairs are in perfect order. I, on the other hand, am ready to jump, which makes it difficult to put my head to the grindstone of another year of teaching.

But it's what I must do.

The hike on Friday was a reminder that reaching one's goals isn't easy. I sweated up to the ledge and on the way down, my knees burned with old age and years of competitive sports. It also reminded me of my lifelong goal -- to stay in the moment. Rubin is a good teacher in this regard. He relishes each moment and hops from one silly adventure to the next. What's best about this hike is that when we're done, there's Rattlesnake Lake -- an inviting mountain lake sitting at the base of the ledge. Rubin was tired when we got done with the hike, but when we showed him the lake, he revived and ran circles around Monty who lunged out into the shallow water every time we threw the ball.

It was only in the car as we were heading home that Rubin flopped out like a wet rag. That's when I realized that living in the moment for me has been more of the Rubin-at-the-top-of-the-mountain variety -- I'm tense and nervous, uncertain of the solidity of my surroundings. The goal for this year then, will be to live in the moment a little more relaxed, a little more carefree -- like Rubin bounding through the lake even after his 5 mile hike.

I learned from Rubin that there is always time for sleep. I learned from Rubin that if there's a lake at the end of an exhausting adventure, jump in and nap later. I learned from Rubin that each moment offers something extraordinary and if you relax (and trust) you won't miss a thing. Instead, the world will offer up amazing views, extraordinary challenges, and refreshing lakes when you least expect them.

Who? Me?

Oh, did you need this box of Kleenex?

A Life of Firsts

I met my first human cousin this past week. Her name is Olivia and I love her. We bonded instantly the moment she walked into my house. We spent every waking moment together and I even slept in her room at night. On car rides, I laid my head in her lap and she stroked me gently while I slept and dreamt of nothing but her. She's gone now and I have only a few pictures to remind me of how wonderful puppy love can be. Here I am lounging with Olivia on the Wenatchee River with Nemo watching over us.

We went river rafting, which required that I don my PFD. Olivia took this picture and then we floated down the river watching for osprey and mergansers. I even got to swim alongside the boat with Olivia holding me by the handle on my PFD. I made her smile.

And then we went on a hike. It was my first. Five miles round-trip we trudged up a gentle slope in 90 degree heat and my little puppy body was thrilled to see a lake a the end of the trail. I jumped in. I laid down. And then, as I'm often wont to do, I rolled in the dirt turning my beautiful apricot coat into a brown mess of sap and pine needles. Glorious, absolutely glorious.

It's been a summer of firsts. I can't wait to see what fall and winter bring. I've heard mention of snow. I wonder what that's like?

Big Boy Adventures

In the first picture, I was 9 weeks old. Just below, I'm 5 1/2 months old. My bed, as you can see, is getting too small...so my moms bought me another. I gave my old bed to my friend Lucy, a Boston Terrier.

Meanwhile, they say that the summer is easy -- fish are jumpin and all that, but around here, summer is busy, busy, busy and there's been no time to write. So instead, photos of my recent adventure to Wenatchee where I went kayaking...

Stood on the shore of a windy lake in my new haircut...

Went river rafting, though no one took the time to take a picture of me sleeping in the bottom of the raft or swimming along side it in my Personal Floatation Device (PFD)...

This is me in my PFD waiting patiently for SOMEONE to throw a ball into the water so I can GET IT!

And finally...


...lounging on the dock in the sun chewing on a bully stick...ahhh...the living is easy!

Willipa Pup

Swimming is my new avocation. Perhaps my lineage -- poodle and lab -- has ingrained in me the need to leap into great bodies of water, though it's not so much as a need as an overwhelming desire.

Recently, we traveled to Willipa Bay along the Southwest Coast of Washington. There we met up with my best friend Lulu who taught me how to romp on the beach, through the tidepools, and headlong into the waves. She is more timid than I and hence did not get as wet, but we played so long and so hard that all we could do was sleep at the end of each day -- like heavy stones in deep water.

I am growing bigger. I see it in the black pads of my feet. There is a ways to go before I am fully adult, but when I stand on the beach -- a canine stud, if I do say so myself -- I look like a big dog ready to conquer the whole world (well, at least the parts where there's water!).

Water

Having the genes of both a Labrador and a Poodle, it's no wonder this boy likes to swim.

We bought him a plastic pool and on these hot, hot days of July, he can spend hours in it digging around for a sunken stick or chasing his blue raquetball across the surface.

When his legs are wet and the rest of him dry, he looks very much like a lamb waiting for his first shearing. When he's completely wet, he looks scrawny as if he's shrunk to half his size.

We go to the lake often and he dives in without hesitation. The other day I threw a stick that sunk fast. I didn't think Rubin had seen it, but the next thing I knew, he dove head first under the water and pulled it out.

Now that's a swimming dog!

Getting bigger, getting older

It seemed only awhile ago that Rubin was the size of Lulu's head. Now, he's almost her full length. Not as solid yet, not as hefty and substantial, but lengthening in his legs and body.


Lulu is staying with us while Cecilia heads to California to watch her daughter graduate from college. Rubin loves Lulu. He wants to be whereever she is. When Lulu lays down, Rubin comes close, curling up by her belly or her head and then letting out a big sigh. Lulu is patient. Lulu is more than patient acutally. He'll gnaw on her leg or neck, his still sharp puppy teeth pulling and tugging, and Lulu will just mouth him gently or push him with a tender paw. Eventually, Rubin falls asleep. Lulu, too, and I quietly tip-toe around them with my camera trying to capture the moment.


But the moments come when I am least prepared -- the camera's in the other room or the sound of it turning on rouses the dogs or I can't get the flash to work and the exact moment is gone.

Or maybe it's that the camera just can't capture the bond these two seemed to have formed.

Today, Ann took Rubin to meet some of her students with whom she was having breakfast. While they were away, Lulu and I went for a long walk, longer than Rubin could have handled and when we came home, Ann and Rubin were still away. Lulu entered through the front door, her tail wagging, her nose in the air and she searched each room not to find Ann, but to find Rubin. When he was no where to be found, she came back to me and cocked her head as if to say, "He'll be home soon, won't he?"

And when he did come home, she greeted him with a paw slap and a smile and they raced to the backyard and rolled among the weeds.

Later in the afternoon, I attended a "pool party" my students had at a family's house. I took Rubin because I knew how much they'd like to see him and he, them. All the girls were in the pool, their ten year old bodies comfortable in their swimsuits, their mothers huddled together talking about how difficult it's been to get their daughters to wear bras, the fathers huddled around the grill talking about a new car one of them had purchased. The girls screamed when Rubin greeted them at the edge of the pool and for the next hour, they tried to do everything they could to get him into the water. He was content to play with the big English Setter, Montana, and race around the pool with his playful smile.

When we got home, Lulu again greeted him with the same affection and they both immediately fell asleep at the back door cradled into each other.

He's gonna miss her when she goes back home and she, I think, will miss him. Good thing they only live 3 blocks away from each other.

Yes, Rubin is getting bigger and he's getting older. Soon he'll be a full-grown dog and no longer a puppy, but he'll always be a muppet character, I think, and he'll always be Lulu's best friend.

Action!

Lulu comes for a visit almost every day. Each morning, I walk to the front of the house and sit by the gate watching for Lulu on her morning walk with Cecilia. When she arrives, Lulu races to the gate and stands over me allowing me to jump and lick and greet her in my own special way.

Until recently, Lulu has not wanted to really play with me, afraid I think, that she'll hurt me. But last week, after her evening walk, she stopped by and we played. It takes a lot of action on my part to get her to respond.

My favorite trick, after I've roused Lulu's play genes is to hide behind the river rocks and wait to pounce when she turns her back. These rocks, I've been told, are extra special as they were the rocks chosen from Chester's favorite river spot in memory of his great service as the family dog. I can feel their power and I hope one day to be remembered so fondly.

But not now for there is much to do and much to play...

Imperative #1

When you are 20 pounds lighter than your opponent, imperative #1 is to find a suitable place to hide. This chaise (when not extended) offers me the perfect retreat from snarling teenagers.

There are other imperatives. Roll on your back. Bark back. Run fast. Dodge. Somersault and then switch directions. Hide behind mom's legs. Hide behind anyone's legs. Go to sleep.

But #1 is and always will be HIDE, HIDE, HIDE where the suckers can't get you.

Bath Time

A busy weekend. Saturday was school where I learned not to bite the hand that feeds me. Sunday was a playdate at a big ranch with about 17 rambunctious puppies. I was calm and found legs behind which to hide when the tanks (known as black labs) barrelled past me.

I got dirty.

Therefore, I got bathed Sunday night.

I squirmed until I learned that the water in the kitchen sink tastes pretty good and after the wetness, a warm towel and blow dryer. Then I romped.

And then I slept.

This puppy life is hard.

Big Is Good, Too!

My moms tell me no all the time. "No bite." "No bark." "No jump." But I got schooled by my big friend Monty. When I jumped on him, he laid his big paw on me and squashed me flat to the floor. Then he growled the scariest growl I've ever heard.

I avoided him for the rest of the day.

Well, not really "avoid', but I kept my distance, only smelling the air as he passed by me.

Later, though, he laid done on the kitchen floor and shook a little from the cold. He'd just been to the groomer and didn't have enough fur to keep off the chill, so my moms threw this dog blanket over him and well, it looked so inviting, I decided to walk over quietly and lay on it myself...right next to the big fella.

Then I fell asleep.

Monty did, too, but he slept sitting up.

He didn't growl at me anymore.

Does that mean he likes me?

Small Is Good

Lucy and Rubin

Best Friends

And Playmates

You've Got to Have Friends

Dogs are considered Man's Best Friend, but dogs need friends too. I know, it sounds like a Hallmark Card, but if you live your life alone -- man or beast (or woman, as my moms would say) -- the world can be a cold, bitter, and lonely place.

This is Monty. He's a standard poodle. We share distant ancestory. It's hard to tell in this photo as we look nothing alike in size, shape, or color. Monty is what's affectionately known in the dog breeding business as a party color, but don't let the name fool ya. He's a jovial guy, but very laid back. If you look closely at this photo, you can see how his head is slightly turned away from my sleeping body. Even my more assertive advances were received with a gentle sniff and then a turned shoulder.

Monty's head is about the size of my whole body. For now, anyway. And his legs are so long that I can walk underneath him standing on my own hind legs if I wanted to. His tail, though docked, is larger than my own leg. Astonishing.

It's hard to see his eyes in any of these pictures, but they are warm and considerate eyes -- slightly crossed -- but contemplative all the same. I hope one day to have eyes as nice as Monty's.

Even though we are still getting to know each other his aloofness does not mean we won't be fast friends when I grow a bit more. I can tell that he likes me and yes, I like him as well. But he is big. Very big and that can be rather intimidating to a little fuzzy guy like myself.


I have other friends, too. Lulu came to visit tonight and the other day I travelled to her house for a romp in her yard. She's patient and kind, but tonight I got her to race around the backyard and she let me chase her. She chased me, too, but that's what friends do -- share.

Perhaps my biggest adventure today was visit from Lucy, a Boston Terrier about my size, but thrice my age. We were shy at first, but then we played and growled and chased and jumped and yipped for hours. I was so tired, I forgot to eat my lunch. Even now, as my little paws tap out the last words of this message, my eyelids are heavy with exhaustion -- a friendly exhaustion I might add.