Audience of One

I let out a sigh as I allow Henry to climb between the front seats of the car to be next to me. He will stick his nose under my arm and flip it up in an effort to get me to pat him. He puts his two front paws on my seat so he can get a better view out the window. He continues to flip my arm and let out an occasional whine despite the attention I am paying to him. In short, he is a pain in the ass.

I got my little mutt 3 years ago knowing that he had some issues. His separation anxiety was the biggie. After owning him a little while I recognized that he would take off on me if he smelled anything good- despite a disorder which makes him stick to my side. How do you reconcile the fact that a dog has separation anxiety AND will run away given the opportunity?

I finally reached the conclusion that Henry is my karmic come-uppance. My dog is me. I like the security of knowing there is someone there to catch me if I fall.... and fill my water bowl. If I catch the scent of something delicious I want to follow my nose. I want to hang my head out the car window because it feels good, but I want to glance over to see that someone is still there. And when I am feeling insecure I want to be able to curl up on a lap and be petted till everything is right again.

I keep this in mind as Henry demands my attention while I am trying to drive my car. For whatever reason he needs its- and I give it to him because I love him. And I treasure the feeling of his warm, fuzzy belly as I remember those times he would gladly run away.

What Kind Of Dog Are You?

I am currently reading a book called Let's Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. It is the tale of two women who bond over dogs and become best friends.

Like many friends they develop shorthand phrases and little inside jokes. One of their shared jokes is to try to figure out what dog breed people would be. This is an exercise they perform on both friends and strangers.

I am sure this gets easier with time to pair a human with their canine counterpart. I found my mind turning to figure out what breed I might be. I immediately thought of an Afghan Hound. I am lanky and athletic. I suspect I am a bit high strung but also aloof. I am definitely lacking the long tresses, but if I had a tail it would be held curled and at attention.

No doubt there are many people who think I am some sort of terrier.....

The First Dog

You know what I think? I think the rest of the country should stay out of the first family's decision on what kind of dog to get.

That is way too personal a thing to get a committee involved in- especially a committee of over 200 million. The Obama family has to live with this decision long after they leave office. They should decide. It is a long term commitment and one that should be done out of love rather than obligation.

Whether they chose a mutt, a purebred, a golden doodle or a fish I will be watching to make sure they treat the animal with dignity. Beyond that- it is their choice. Period.

Henry and his elephant having a private moment.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy

Periodically even the great and powerful Sarah needs an attitude adjustment... what with all the financial turmoil and the fact that she deals in an expendable commodity. A commodity an awful lot like dancing, or live theater, or puppetry, but with less motion.

So Sarah tries to concentrate on those things that make her life fabulous and worthwhile.

The accompanying image looks a little bleak- no? Actually it is quite lovely. It is to help you visualize her nightly walk with her dog after dinner. The vernal Equinox has passed making evening walks a little dark. Normally this might be depressing but our optimistic hero & heroine make the best of it. It is an opportunity to rely on all senses. As we near the river a cool breeze rolls around us. We can hear the rustle of the birch trees towards the far side of the yard. And the earthy smell of turned soil tells us we have neared the most recent gardening project. And the most favored of experiences- We can see the slender stalks of Karl Foerster Grass, despite the dark, swaying slowly letting us know to take a sharp right around the end of the garden.

Things feel uncertain, but there are still pleasures in life. And as Henry would say- still plenty of things to piss on.

I Love My Dog

This is nothing more than a little post of adoration- on both of our parts. This is my ridiculous dog with his long ears flapping in the wind. He loves to hang his head out the window of my car, but will periodically look back to make sure I am still there.

He makes me feel very loved.

The Fourth of July in Bradford, NH

This the 4th of July parade in Bradford, NH on our Main Street. It actually takes place on the 5th of July to accommodate other area celebrations. The parade is dominated by fire and rescue equipment, as you can see here, which makes quite a racket and keeps the kids happy. There were contingents of trucks from Lempster, Goshen, Washington, Newbury & Bradford.The volunteer fire department seems to be a bunch of boys playing with toys, but the sight of them is impressive and fills you with a bit of small town pride. I am also thrilled that anyone donates their time and expertise to make my home safe.

It is also a time for the antique fire equipment to be pulled out and shown off.






I liked that this souped up Fire Chief's car was driven by a teenage girl.









Our trusty trustees from Brown Memorial Library.

As if fire equipment wasn't enough, the highway department had to get in on the action. Here are Bradford's snowplows ... although I am not sure how happy people were to see them so soon. July is the season to forget about snow.















I volunteered at the Red Cross-mobile signing in blood donors. Henry came along to do his patriotic part. He amused small children while their parents gave blood. We all gotta do our part!

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

It is 6:30 AM and Henry was released from his crate to crash on the rug. Last night was a little rough for both of us with all the fireworks going off at surrounding homes.

Le boyfriend & I crashed early after a long day and soon we heard the click, click, click of doggy nails making there way to the verboten upstairs, amidst the whistle of bottle rockets and booms of larger incendiaries. I swept Henry into the second bedroom thinking I could comfort him and try to get a little sleep on a bed. Not to be... he wouldn't calm down and spent his time trying to push open the doors to get to the big bedroom.

I finally gave up, grabbed my pillow and my dog and went downstairs to sleep on the couch. Henry went into his crate but at least he wasn't running and whimpering through the house. We both slept fitfully. Tonight are the big fireworks in the center of town. I don't know if I can handle two nights of this.

Michelle and Sarah's Yard Sale

Well it looks like a little slice of white trash heaven here at Casino Gardens- time for Sarah & Michelle's annual yard sale. While we had some mighty fine offerings, the hoards opted to stay inside on a 100% humidity day. It never quite rained (until later) but it seemed that the air was thick with mist.


It was just as well that I was distracted from the garden. You can only do harm when things have been wet for so long- spreading disease & pestilence and compacting your soil. Everything is the color of Ireland and choking with weeds.... can't wait for sunshine again. A day off from the garden allowed me to spend some quality time with my hound, who clearly doesn't get cuddled enough.

Life is, Indeed, Rich

HERE'S LOOKING AT YOU KID....

Despite the fiasco of the 2008 invasion of Rose Chafer Beetles, I needed to go out and take a look after dinner. My garden was still there and from a distance the peonies are still lovely. I have a large double white which is stunning.. and right as I had decided that my garden didn't have enough white, there it was.

But I took the long inspection route around, so I could postpone the up-close look at the devastation. Henry followed along snurfling at the plants. I approached my Scarlett O'Hara and lingered to look at my new "Blue Carpet" sedum. Henry snurfled at the passing irises. He was very intent- snurfling the leaves, then vacuuming the ground. Hey! He is eating something!

It took a second to sink in but my dog was vacuuming the Rose Chafer Beetles off the plants and eating them. So I tried picking a few off and dropping them on the ground for him.... gone! Then I bowed down the heads of a few daisies loaded with beetles, and ppphhhttt.... gone! I could practically hear Mick Jagger in the distance ... "you can't always get what you want."

Ahhh.... sweet revenge. While I don't think Henry will really check these beetles, it is somehow very satisfying that he likes to eat them. I know I have a true partner in the garden.

And, perhaps somewhere out there, God does exist...

They Grow Up So Fast...

I am downstairs in the main gallery today trying to photograph 3 boxes full of enamels. My little dog has stretched to the limit on his leash and fallen asleep on the stairs where he can keep an eye on me and prevent people from walking through the gallery without waking him up to do an inspection. You can see one of his meaty little paws under his belly. I sometimes like to kiss them until I think too hard about where they have been.

Last night I had to go out with my partner and our new hire for her 1 year review..... which requires drinks and nachos. What to do with my little boy for the one hour this meeting lasts? I decided to take the plunge and leave him in the gallery while we crossed the street to imbibe. I moved any precious art out of his reach and hoped for the best.

For any other dog this would not be considered mistreatment-left inside an air conditioned room with a bowl of water. But they are not Henry. He is so use to going everywhere with me that he takes it for granted that I will not leave him alone. As we exited the rear door of the restaurant I could see his furry head asleep on the top step in the gallery. I walked about ten feet and I saw his head pop up and his tail start wagging. I unlocked the door of the gallery and came in to a howling dog. Of course it took 5 minutes of cuddling and reassurance before we could head to the car and on to home & dinner. Nevertheless I am so proud of him for not howling the whole time I was gone.

Sometimes I can't find someone to watch him for an hour or two. Sometimes the weather doesn't permit me to leave him in the car when I run errands. His new found maturity will give me a lot more flexibility as far as what I can do with him. He has come a long way since I got him last July.

I love my dog.

And Just Because He Is So Adorable

Studio Portrait of Henry

This was taken on Mother's Day this past weekend, by my mother, of all things. Henry isn't usually photogenic. He always seems to look as if he has done something wrong when you snap a picture of him. This image is a classic good portrait. The subject is unaware that the photo is being taken and is completely natural, even thinking of something other than having his portrait done. I might even venture to say he is thinking how tasty that three day old dead frog laying in the road up yonder might be rolling around in his mouth. It shows his winsome good looks and soulful eyes that had me from the get go.

BTW- who knew how controversial Husker Red Penstemon would be? I'd like to be on the record as saying that their flowers are definitely disappointing..... other than the way they are held aloft those long, black stems like the daintiest of butterflies on a string. I use to think that Starlings were the ugliest bird imaginable until someone described their backs as containing as many stars as the night sky. How could you hate anything that conjures up that sort of imagery?

Summer Whiffle Cut

Before













After

He is a Lover Not a Fighter

Here is Henry playing with his elephant at work. He still isn't as vibrant as usual. I think the antibiotics and painkillers are making him dopey. He definitely perks up when he sees a dog though.

He has another appointment this morning to make sure everything is healing up properly. I am suppose to keep the Elizabethan collar on him, but he hates it so much. If I can be around him and tell him to stop licking I leave it off. If he gets obsessive, I put it on.

His wounds gave me pause to reflect. Clearly the poor dear is a lover not a fighter. They are located at his farthest end....the end that would present to another pair of teeth if it was running away. I love my little boy, but I see that, despite his swagger, he will never offer me much protection.

Anatomy of an Accident

This is my sad boy Henry after a very sad event which has left everyone wondering what to do and whom to blame.

The facts: My mother was suppose to care for Henry over the weekend while I was away in DC. She forgot she needed to leave on a trip on Sunday through Wednesday. She asked Amanda to care for Henry at Michelle's house where Amanda was caring for Michelle's two Australian Shepherds- one of whom has some Henry specific aggressions. Somehow Ty was able to slip in to Michele's backyard where Henry was playing with Coco and bite him several times in the nether regions. This necessitated a trip to the emergency vets and an overnight stay to be sure that he didn't require abdominal surgery and that his urethra hadn't been severed.

Now the embellishing: Some of the words a"mother" does not want to hear- soft tissue trauma, surgery, severed, it's okay he is sedated now, multiple puncture wounds.

He came out Monday morning and was fine, or as fine as a dog with multiple puncture wounds could be. I was much relieved and was able to somewhat enjoy the rest of my vacation. But that is where the deep thinking came in. I had already received tearful calls from Amanda & Michelle thinking it was all their faults. I am still waiting for the arrival of my mother on Wednesday who might also think it was her fault. Of course, I realize it is all my fault simply because I was born. This terrible blaming and guilt weighs heavy on me. Especially as Michelle's husband is also sure it is Michelle's fault and that "something needs to be done." I am afraid of what that "something" might be.

The truth is that choices were made all along the way, no one ever suspecting that their small part in the decision making was going to add up to a tragic accident. No one made those choices with the intent of causing a tragic accident. People just made the best possible choices at the time. I am just relieved that my little, big man after a painful healing process is probably going to be the same old goofy mutt he has always been. I was likewise gladdened when he wagged his tail going into the vet's office this afternoon in anticipation of a chance interlude with some terrifically smelly and happy dog in the waiting area. He whined with anticipation. I love my dog.

I also have an inkling why families fall apart after the death of a child. Guilt is a terrible thing.

My Ferocious Lion Saves Me Again

My friend Michelle came in to my workplace today, accompanied by her saber tooth Australian Shepherd, Ti-Ti. Fortunately my wildly vicious dog, Henry,-pictured to the left in his most macho and intimidating stance-was there to save me.

After Ti's final lunge at Henry, complete with foaming lips and doggy innuendo, Henry pulled out his cape and saved me from a possible mauling. I was crouched low, ostensibly to hold him back, but he could see that I had put myself at grave risk by coming closer to the wild Ti-Ti. Henry charged at me. I thought he was trying to make a getaway between my bent legs, but soon his plan became clear. I was knocked right on my butt, safely away from Ti, but this STILL wasn't enough for my brave lion. He climbed into my lap in case she made another lunge at my jugular vein. Then to spare me the anxiety of considering his having witnessed this spectacular contretemps- he buried his face in my chest, completely covering his eyes. I am pretty sure he had his paws around my neck in case any blows rained in from the sides.

This is the devilish fiend- terrible Ti-Ti the man eating tiger- that Henry saved me from. I am so lucky that he is in my life.


The End.

He Thinks I'm a Princess

This is Henry at the bottom of the stairs. He makes me feel so special. He just stares and sometimes make little noises- like I am a princess descending a staircase into a ball. Every woman should have someone to make her feel like that. Of course, my preference would be to not have to scoop poop for my prince.

The Story of Lady and Henry

I saw an old Golden Retriever this afternoon while walking my dog and suddenly felt very cheated. My Golden, Lady, died a year ago from a cancerous tumor in her nasal passage. She had just turned 7. She had been my constant companion since my husband and I bought her in April of 2000. She came to work with me almost every day since she was 8 weeks old. She could walk long distances with me and loved to accompany me on cross country ski-trips. I am pretty sure that my husband bought her for me because he knew he was dying and thought I would need a buddy (that is another long and involved story for another day.) This is Lady and me in my inner city garden- my other love.

This is Lady on a walking trail near my new home which is very far from the city. We moved here with my boyfriend in 2006. As you can see, she was every inch a Lady. She was 75 pounds of noble creature, even temperament and loyalty- prematurely gray like most Goldens. She had already started slowing down a little and was usually content to snooze under a bush while I puttered in the garden. I had reconciled myself to the two of us getting a little pudgy as she got older and was less interested in long walks.


This..... is a Henry. Four months after Lady died I couldn't stand the loneliness of my walks. Really- what's the point of walking without someone to yak with? I had decided that a rescue mixed breed was the politically correct thing to do and might help avoid some of a purebred's genetic problems. I needed a non-threatening, child friendly, people dog. This is the package those ingredients came in. He was described as a Wheaten Terrier mix and needed to be re-homed because of his separation anxieties. They neglected to mention that his other half was beagle- meaning that despite his separation anxieties any chance he got he would be down the road chasing some scent. He was truly a hell-dog till we worked out some ground rules.

Here is Henry at work with one of his many toys. He is 32 pounds of cuddly love that always needs to be on leash. Always. I have learned that he even needs to be buckled up in my car so he can 't dive out the window in search of food, females or fun. He doesn't chew up my shoes anymore or steal food off the counters (much). In exchange I take him on 5 mile walks almost daily, introduce him to as many tolerant dogs as I can find and kiss him hourly.
Isn't he a doll? My Mr. Fluffy Muffins!