A Long Time Since Christmas

It's cold out tonight. I'm hoping for snow. I love snow. Even though my moms put booties on my feet.

Each day I get up and go to school with one mom. I trot all the way, no matter which way we head. Sometimes we take the direct route. Other times we head south for a few miles and then north toward school. No matter, each day I end up in a classroom where a classroom full of students greet me, pet me, and toss the ball for me.

I enjoy it, but I also enjoy a good snow day.

Snow days start in this house with the watching of TV. The news, to be exact. And every once in awhile a cheer goes up as my moms are reminded that they don't have to go to work. I cheer too. When they stay home there's more walks, there's more fetch, there's more chance to play in the white stuff.

But tonight, even though it's cold, it isn't that cold. We'll go to school tomorrow. For now, I'll rest in a curled ball on the floor of someone's feet. I'll huff a woof every now and then when I hear the house creak or see a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I'll twitch out an itch and sigh deeply.

I'll be warm and nestled in my bed, dreaming of snow and snow days.

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.