A German Shepherd Gal without a trusty GSD

Our first German Shepherd Dog, Max came into our lives as a puppy almost 20 years ago. Technically, he was our second German Shepherd Dog. He came at five months old and had some "training on him", part of the puppy package from the breeder/trainers at Assertive K-9 Training. He could do a fabulous long down. (30 minutes - which was easy, because, he'd fall asleep 10 minutes into the down and he'd stay.) "Who's a good boy?"
Max. Max was a good boy. The long story is that we'd had a stray Shep, Ruby for about a week. A friend of a friend has purchased her from a homeless man who had her out all night in the cold with him and this friend of a friend was focused on a better life for doggies. (My kinda gal.) She took Ruby home to live with her and her kiddos. Ruby slept on her daughter's bed. So, when she came to us, she was accustomed to people being like dogs, bad choice. She was on the bed and nipped my daughter in puppy play, but Sarah is a human and at the time, she was a tender and loud human child who was scared to pieces by a big old German Shepherd snout biting her. But she also already LOVED Ruby (the child is part dog). Then, the nip happened a second time in the car, after which a friend of ours, said something like,  "My best friend's mom is a German Shepherd trainer and breeder and she says a Shepherd NEVER belongs on the bed as a puppy because they assume it gives them status as a human." We were intrigued by the psychology and drove the miles out to the German Shepherd training grounds and met with Diana Foster - a highly regarded trainer/breeder. We shared our story and she talked about the Shepherd's intelligence and willingness to challenge for position. We learned about the fabulous long-down where you put the dog on a down-stay and keep them there by returning them to set position every time they get up until you release them. She talked about her approach and the dogs she had available at that time. We were in love quickly with the idea of a well-trained German Shepherd Dog. Her litters sold out quickly and about a year after our initial meeting with her, she called to say she had a few pups available,  two of whom were German imports from a Schutzenhund line. Trained to do what Shutzenhunds do -- Shutzen training. The significance is that dogs with this temperment are bright and quite maleable. So a big dog, scary looking to some people, when well-trained, will do what you ask of them. We were excited and hopped in the car to go meet these doggies. We were introduced to a pack of furballs (from an unavailable litter) and Max and Carla, a brother and sister from Germany - Schutznehund types. I fell in love with short haired Carla and everyone else loved long-haired Max. He sensed my internal struggle and immediately wrapped himself around my feet and stared at me promising undying affection and fun. I was sunk. Both kids, my husband and this adorable pup were on the side I needed to move to. And I did, quickly.

After a couple of weeks of extended training, we brought Max home and he was exactly what we dreamed of, a gorgeous caramel Shepherd with a deep black saddle.
His "coated" status made him very pretty and many people wanted to tell us he wasn't a GSD, but some other breed because of the coat. We laughed to ourselves because, we held the paper on the guy. And those German's don't mess around when it comes to Bloodlines and their Hunds. 

Max was a perfect dog. He practiced his downs, loved to go for walks and healed like it was proof of his excellent breeding. He acted as if staying at my left knee were a badge of honor. It made walks and socializing a treat. He was into it. Max belonged to everyone in the house. It was clear I was his mama, but he was pretty equal in sharing his love. Both kiddos knew the ropes of walks and downs and he gave them his full attention. He also loved going to their school to be "shown off" on sharing days. We never gave a second thought to him being with other kids. He was trained. He was easy.

Max made sure he always knew where everyone was. If I went to the neighbors he watched me leave and then waited by the window for my return. He often slept with me on the bed for a nap or when I went to bed earlier than everyone else - keeping me company as I fell asleep. He was a great pal. As he aged he became more protective of the house and let the mail people know we didn't need whatever they were offering. My husband loves to tell the story of the Fed Ex guy who jumped several feet backward OFF the porch when he answered the door with Max at his side. He was a protector for sure.

Max started slowing down at about about 10 and at that point our youngest had seen a litter of darling terrier mix puppies and fell in love. She talked up the fact that her pal Seth's dogs had three puppies and were looking for good homes for them. I let her know we'd could go look but we weren't getting a puppy. (Who did I think I was convincing?) We went to her friend Seth's house and met Jack and Jessie and their three puppies, two black pups with white markings and Lucy a white pup full of sweetness and a lot of sass. We fell completely in love. Lucy was the girl for us. After convincing my husband that his little girl could handle care for a puppy, we brought Lucy home. In a box. We let Maxy open the box in the backyard and from the first minute he became the mentor she needed. He loved her, and she him.  She slept her first night tucked into the circle of his belly. I don't think either of them move that night. She was so happy to have her new family - and a grandpa dog to boot! She started the next day teasing him and playing puppy games with him. - and he rose to the occasion. In the yard, she'd walk up hehind him and grab his plume of a tail, pull and run. He'd "fake" chase her and toss a bark in her direction. They snarled and played and nipped and rolled. They were a perfect pair. She got a playmate and he got a very happy year of play and mentorship.  One day, Lucy decided to go after the mailman, at the front window the same way Max did. He wasn't allowing this in her and stepped on her head to let her know she had to stop. She stopped. His whole life with us, he had his crate which went from a safe place for us to place him when we had to go out, to becoming his safe place. He retired to the crate when the house was too congested or noisy and he wanted some quiet space. On occasion, Lucy would join him. And, he welcomed her.  

We lost Max to an unfortunate tumor which made him anemic and also a bad candidate for surgery. It was a very sad day for everyone in our home. We all wandered through the house feeling the hole he left. Shortly after declaring we "wouldn't get another dog for a long time," three weeks to be exact, my husband walked into the living room on a cold Saturday morning, ready to go and saying, "come on! there's a gorgeous male Shepherd at Westside German Shepherd Rescue and we're going to go look!" We did and we met a gorgeous boy named Ace. He was strong and joyous - A little bit more dog than I was expecting. We had a lot of discussions about how we'd bring him home and decided to take him to Diana and her team for some training (boarding) before bringing him home to live with us. And that we did. Ace did really well with the training and he and I continued to drive out to Corona on Saturday mornings for group work which he loved. The people at Assertive saw the bond he and I forged and commented when he became the fastest dog to "find" his person during "hide and seek" using dog-blinds. When I put him in the back of my SUV he jumped in, turned around and kissed my face like it had been slathered by a T-Bone. I was convinced he was thanking me for going through the extra training with him. He loved it. I loved it. And, I loved him. As much as I adore Max, Ace became my best pal. Once, early on after he joined us, and would come and go through the back door on leash (as he learned the ins-and-outs of living with us) he "got away" from my husband when he saw me lying on the couch. He made a headlong dive onto me and stayed there until he was returned to his crate. It was an unexpected communication that he'd found his person. And I was that for 10 good years with him. I couldn't leave the house without hearing how tragic my departure was. And I couldn't return without a full GSD reunion party. Around 4 years old, Ace had his first epileptic seizure which is something you don't really want to ever have to see. We worked with our vet, consulted with neurologists and the best vet in Los Angeles and for 6 years, didn't ever really get much more than a month stretch between seizures. Last January he had a seizure that forever changed our situation. We lost him. It was awful and the hole in our home this time is twice as big. (The hole in my spirit is huge without him.) We miss him, but we have a wedding coming up and it isn't time for a new puppy. It will be soon enough. Just not yet. And, in the meantime, our darling Lucy had TPLO surgery for a ruptured CCL (doggy ACL) and a torn meniscus. She's in the long quiet recovery. Definitely the wrong time for a new dog. Healing requires rest and puppies don't rest for long. We're taking good care of Lucy who thinks she's a GSD. (But looks more like a Jack Russell with Greyhound legs.) There's a GSD out there waiting for me. I can feel it. I just hope he's willing to wait as long as we need to. In some ways, I feel like I'm walking around with a part of me missing. I don't know when that part of me became a dog, but it seems that happened. And it may have happened years ago when my dad brought home a Skye Terrier puppy eight weeks after I was born. We were best friends and I was his charge. Fully protected at all times. Kinda like life with Ace. It's a good feeling to share life with a great dog and I've had the opportunity more than a couple of times. Dad used to say "You seem to get one truly great dog in your lifetime." Dad agreed I exceeded my quota. I'm more than happy for this and will tempt the trope with the next great dog I have the pleasure of adding to our family. In the meantime, I remain a GSD kinda gal without her trusty GSD.

A Walk on the Lagoon

Every now and then I forget I live in a particularly wonderful part of the world. The California coast is beautiful and so varied in local environs you really can have a practically new experience every day. Alas, I seem to leave this truth in the back of my mind for unlimited spans and stay in the unplanned parameters of my comings and goings.

Almost everyday I pass our 388 acre city park. I do it intentionally. I need to be in that park. The trees are breathtaking every single day - old and tall and rich with branches and leaves and trunks that seem to speak words like established and environment and rest. My kids played and practiced soccer in several of the fields of this rambling space and my first German Shepherd, Max would come along with me and sit and watch them play.  I think romantically about the park because that dog-at-my-side is gone now and we had hours communing with nature and each other as the fall sun set through the trees.

Last week with our Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday, I packed my big dog into the car in the early morning and off we went with the 100 foot lead. We explored, watching the birds in their patterns slide across the pond as we rambled in the grass. The air is different in the park, verdant, damp, clinging. Under the tree branches and along the field of green we took what I all too often forget to take -  time. Time for meandering, and looking, and enjoying. My doggy came home muddy and happy and tired. I came home satisfied by a small adventure. I love small adventures.

This morning I heeded the call of another small adventure and ended up walking around our local lagoon. There's a new nature trail of decomposed granite from the back side of the lagoon lined with dormant and perennial greens leading to a bridge where ducks and cormorants entertain - diving for breakfast. It's a unique space with a coop style preschool, where we found a mama gardening, a model boat building shop, playground, picnic area and space to swim. It's a sweet place for a walk with little unexpected vistas every few feet. We made our way around, some 3000 steps and ended up walking past the pretty houses that overlook, watchfully, the nature reserve and golf course.

Our feet are dry. And once again, hearts are satisfied.

AdventWord::Trust

She met him when she was a tiny eight week old and from the first day, curled up in his belly or tail for sleep. He wondered about her. Maybe even worried. But in the not so long run, they found love and trust. Some clear, wordless agreement founded that no matter what, she belonged to him -- he would protect, and he belonged to her -- she would provide fun and love.


Trust

God’s love, like any love, involves real trust. And in relationships, trust requires mutuality. Sometimes it may require a part of myself that I don’t necessarily want others to see. This same vulnerability, intimacy, and mutuality should characterize our love for and trust in God.

– Br. Robert L’Esperance

AdventWord::Befriend

Befriended.

I've learned something with these earnest friends. Love requires presence and the ability to see the (inherent) value of the other. 

Befriending and living in friendship, or relationship, can be so much more simple if we keep it thus. We carry our needs and wants, expectations and demands into relationship. I'm working to enter each encounter with gratitude for who the other is in my life before anything else. It requires being awake to the moment. (A worthwhile task.) And in that, I have a change to encounter the beauty of God's creation within you.

He comes for petting and sometimes, my hands/our hands and minds are too full. Other times, the boy lays on the floor. Available. An undemanding and forgiving friendship ensues.

Surprised but not entirely surprised.

I notice things. It's my nature to try to see, and writing, drawing and playing are all disciplines requiring attention, listening, noticing. Lately I've been noticing what I think I've known for a long time about my husband. (I've known for a long, long time. We'll celebrate a quarter century of marriage this month, and I've known him even longer. Years longer.) Every now and again, but a lot lately, I'm surprised as I notice his well considered and thoughtful ways.

Yesterday I found our voting guide, with a pen on the tub ledge. He's reading the whole thing -- the pros and cons provided for every proposition. I know he thinks before he moves. I know he reads. I know it all matters to him. But seeing the dedication to the process reminded me of his deep desire to give to the democracy as it is.

The other night when we were walking up the stairs and out of the theatre, I walked ahead a little, climbing the shallow steps out of the Ahmanson and I lost him. He wasn't right behind me. Then I heard these words coming over my shoulder, "Well, take my arm, I have no where to be. We'll climb together." He was helping the woman with the cane who was struggling. Of course he was. And this night, he touched my heart with that love he so easily offered to a gal having a tough time going up.

I find him often with one of the dogs. Either on the floor or on the bed. Belly rubbing, talking softly, loving, just sharing time and giving and taking a moment of community. Both pups know he's the pop and love that closeness to him.

I think I forget that I really am in the presence of one of the most deeply caring people on earth. I love his heart. I benefit all the time from his compassionate and giving ways. I need to think about this. And, about how I can join him rather than getting ahead of him. I have things to learn here. I'm enthused to get going.

But not entirely surprised.

Surprised but not entirely surprised.

I notice things. It's my nature to try to see and writing, drawing and playing are all disciplines requiring attention, listening, noticing. Lately I've been noticing, rather frequently, what I think I've known for a long time about my husband -- who I've known my husband for a long, long time. We'll celebrate a quarter century of marriage this month, and I've known him even longer. Years longer. And every now and again, but a lot lately, I'm surprised as I notice his well considered and thoughtful ways.

Yesterday I found our voting guide, with a pen on the tub ledge. He's reading the whole thing -- the pros and cons provided for every proposition. I know he thinks before he moves. I know he reads. I know it all matters to him. But seeing the dedication to the process reminded me of his deep desire to give to the democracy as it is.

The other night when we were walking up the stairs and out of the theatre, I walked ahead a little, climbing the shallow steps out of the Ahmanson and I lost him. He wasn't right behind me. Then I heard these words coming over my shoulder, "Well, take my arm, I have no where to be. We'll climb together." He was helping the woman with the cane who was struggling. Of course he was. And this night, he touched my heart with that love he so easily offered to a gal having a tough time going up.

I find him often with one of the dogs. Either on the floor or on the bed. Belly rubbing, talking softly, loving, just sharing time and giving and taking a moment of community. Both pups know he's the pop and love that closeness to him.

I think I forget that I really am in the presence of one of the most deeply caring people on earth. I love his heart. I benefit all the time from his compassionate and giving ways. I need to think about this. And, about how I can join him rather than getting ahead of him. I have things to learn here. I'm enthused to get going.

But not entirely surprised.

Old dog. New tricks.

There's a fair amount to be said about this new-to-my-life doggy. First, the details: his name is Ace, he's about two years old, and we found him, (you know, the mutual finding) at a GSD Rescue not so far from us.  He's not the old dog, by the way. I'm the old dog. He's the one teaching me about relationships.

To back up, we lost our sweet Max, an 11 year old German-born GSD. He left us in January because a tumor, much more than he could handle, made him acutely anemic, and as quickly as we learned about it, we had to let him go. It took a day of saying goodbye, right after Christmas.

It was a hard goodbye to one of the best friends we've all ever had. Then, because God is good and He knows us, we went home to the love of Lucy, our mix-of-some-kind puppy we brought home two summers ago. Lucy added joy to Max's life and was trained well by him. Lucy made the landing softer for all of us. All 20 pounds of her buoyed our sad spirits for a good while.

Knowing there would be a next German Shepherd Dog, just not yet, I contacted a breeder or two of German-style GSDs and thought maybe by summer we'd be ready to think about a new dog. Then one end-of-January morning, my husband walked out of the bedroom dressed to go and suggested we all get ready to visit Westside GSD rescue -- just to look. Pause. If you're a dog lover, you know what just looking means.

So the meeting was funny. He didn't give me the time of day, but leaned on my daughter. My husband thought he was beautiful and well-mannered. We had to go back twice to let him meet Lucy. (They still haven't figured their friendship out and that's a long story). Needless to say, he was ours the day we met him. He went directly to about seven weeks of in-board training with Robert and his team at Assertive K-9 Training. Diana (Foster) Vorhees and her son Robert own this facility. Diana is a highly credentialed trainer who has an uncanny understanding of dog (and human) behavior. Robert is the most direct, almost magical, trainer we've ever met. In our opinion, Assertive K-9 Training is the best place to have a dog trained by professionals who know how to train the mighty GSD. More on them later.

Now, to the point -- the reason for this post.

The truth is I just now figured it all out. This boy, who was in a high kill shelter, then a rescue, then training, is now home. He's been home for about eight weeks. In this training method the first four weeks home are tough for people like me who want to roll on the floor with their dog. You don't get to do it. You maintain a loving, respectful and distant relationship as they settle in to learn the family routine. There's not a lot of talking and greeting. There is feeding and moving from in to out and back, and lots of walking and training. He heeled and sat and downed and stayed a lot these four weeks. He also played ball and frisbee and hide and seek. And as time goes on and he adjusted, the commands have become a language between us. We ask for a behavior and this working dog is happy to offer. He's finding his way. And so are we. While he's been studying my ways (and the ways of the family) I've been learning about him. When I think we're practicing obedience training, we're actually relating. He looks for my knee to stay with me and then my eyes and I tell him how great he is to check. We walk into the yard and I ask him for the big finish, a half hour down-stay. He was really good at this before he left training but when he got home here, it became a bit of a struggle. He pushed. I pushed. And sometimes had to reset him in his spot fifteen or so times before he stayed. (Insert all the things we think and say when things don't go the way they're supposed to, when we're pushed to our limits. I sweat like crazy and lose most of my dignity.) Then I remember, he wants to know if I'm serious. I want him to know I'm the leader. And it just seems to work out.

Every Saturday we get up early and hop into my old Land Cruiser and drive way out to the training facility. We heal and sit with a bunch of other GSDs and a Catahoula Hound-Mastiff mix named Lucy who we love.  Most of them younger than Ace. Some more stubborn. All trying to learn how to do what their people are asking. This past week we turned a corner. He was the star of the day. Sitting and downing and staying like a champion. They pulled out agility equipment at the end and we really got to play. Up and over barrels, through tunnels, over hurdles and then home. It was then that it all came together. Its a relationship.
And for this guy, who spent the first two years of his life who-knows-where, it's one requiring agreements. Shelter, food and water for sure. But presence and love and play all the more. As I was helping him into the truck as we were going home, he licked my face like I was made of steak. Kisses. A profusion of kisses. I think he was thanking me for the day at what must feel like Doggy Disneyland. And for being his family. And for training and loving him.
We are beginning a relationship. He's no longer a foreign dog in my home. He's my dog. I'm quite ready to learn all he has to teach me.

Old dog. New tricks.

There's a fair amount to be said about this new-to-my-life doggy. First, the details: his name is Ace, he's about two years old, and we found him, (you know, the mutual finding) at a GSD Rescue not so far from us.  He's not the old dog, by the way. I'm the old dog. He's the one teaching me about relationships.

To back up, we lost our sweet Max, an 11 year old German-born GSD. He left us in January because a tumor, much more than he could handle, made him acutely anemic, and as quickly as we learned about it, we had to let him go. It took a day of saying goodbye, right after Christmas.

It was a hard goodbye to one of the best friends we've all ever had. Then, because God is good and He knows us, we went home to the love of Lucy, our mix-of-some-kind puppy we brought home two summers ago. Lucy added joy to Max's life and was trained well by him. Lucy made the landing softer for all of us. All 20 pounds of her buoyed our sad spirits for a good while.

Knowing there would be a next German Shepherd Dog, just not yet, I contacted a breeder or two of German-style GSDs and thought maybe by summer we'd be ready to think about a new dog. Then one end-of-January morning, my husband walked out of the bedroom dressed to go and suggested we all get ready to visit Westside GSD rescue -- just to look. Pause. If you're a dog lover, you know what just looking means.

So the meeting was funny. He didn't give me the time of day, but leaned on my daughter. My husband thought he was beautiful and well-mannered. We had to go back twice to let him meet Lucy. (They still haven't figured their friendship out and that's a long story). Needless to say, he was ours the day we met him. He went directly to about seven weeks of in-board training with Robert and his team at Assertive K-9 Training. Diana (Foster) Vorhees and her son Robert own this facility. Diana is a highly credentialed trainer who has an uncanny understanding of dog (and human) behavior. Robert is the most direct, almost magical, trainer we've ever met. In our opinion, Assertive K-9 Training is the best place to have a dog trained by professionals who know how to train the mighty GSD. More on them later.

Now, to the point -- the reason for this post.

The truth is I just now figured it all out. This boy, who was in a high kill shelter, then a rescue, then training, is now home. He's been home for about eight weeks. In this training method the first four weeks home are tough for people like me who want to roll on the floor with their dog. You don't get to do it. You maintain a loving, respectful and distant relationship as they settle in to learn the family routine. There's not a lot of talking and greeting. There is feeding and moving from in to out and back, and lots of walking and training. He heeled and sat and downed and stayed a lot these four weeks. He also played ball and frisbee and hide and seek. And as time goes on and he adjusted, the commands have become a language between us. We ask for a behavior and this working dog is happy to offer. He's finding his way. And so are we. While he's been studying my ways (and the ways of the family) I've been learning about him. When I think we're practicing obedience training, we're actually relating. He looks for my knee to stay with me and then my eyes and I tell him how great he is to check. We walk into the yard and I ask him for the big finish, a half hour down-stay. He was really good at this before he left training but when he got home here, it became a bit of a struggle. He pushed. I pushed. And sometimes had to reset him in his spot fifteen or so times before he stayed. (Insert all the things we think and say when things don't go the way they're supposed to, when we're pushed to our limits. I sweat like crazy and lose most of my dignity.) Then I remember, he wants to know if I'm serious. I want him to know I'm the leader. And it just seems to work out.

Every Saturday we get up early and hop into my old Land Cruiser and drive way out to the training facility. We heal and sit with a bunch of other GSDs and a Catahoula Hound-Mastiff mix named Lucy who we love.  Most of them younger than Ace. Some more stubborn. All trying to learn how to do what their people are asking. This past week we turned a corner. He was the star of the day. Sitting and downing and staying like a champion. They pulled out agility equipment at the end and we really got to play. Up and over barrels, through tunnels, over hurdles and then home. It was then that it all came together. Its a relationship.
And for this guy, who spent the first two years of his life who-knows-where, it's one requiring agreements. Shelter, food and water for sure. But presence and love and play all the more. As I was helping him into the truck as we were going home, he licked my face like I was made of steak. Kisses. A profusion of kisses. I think he was thanking me for the day at what must feel like Doggy Disneyland. And for being his family. And for training and loving him.
We are beginning a relationship. He's no longer a foreign dog in my home. He's my dog. I'm quite ready to learn all he has to teach me.

A perfect day.

I wait for this day every year. It doesn't always get here. This is a downside to living in beautiful Southern California. Rainy days? Not so many.

But today is just lovely. It's not too cold. The rain is constant and just a drizzle. Things are in a beautifully chaotic state with Christmas being packed away for another year.

The Narcissus is blooming.

And my big dog? Well, he can't decide if he wants to be in or out, so we pass in the kitchen, often.

The pup and I were up very early to pick up papers from the vet so she could go to obedience school. Then school. Coffee in the rain with my friend and her doggy. I just said coffee in the rain. Ya really can't say that very often here in our town. But we sat outside at the Starbuck's with our poochies until the drizzle turned to drops and got a bit soaked walking the dogs back to our cars.




The first part of the day had Lucy and me just a bit exhausted. I made a fire out of our wonderful cedar firewood. Crack! Pop! Good night right there on the living room floor. I snoozed a bit and was joined by both Lucy and my girlie. At this point, I'm heading back to Christmas while the two of them nap.  I'm in and out with boxes (and my big old German Shepherd) and just enjoying every minute.

Crackling fire. Raindrops. Naps. Reorganizing.

This is my idea of a perfect day.

A nice cup of tea is in order, don't you think?

A good morning indeed!

I've been too busy. 

Honestly. 

A little work, time with my kiddos, my husband and my lovely, lovely Sketchbookery class. (The class starts again in December. Take it. Really. It's wonderful.) My doggie has needed attention and received it, but not the garden so much. So this morning I did what I used to do every morning. I took a little garden walk. 

See what I found? It's about the size of two baseballs. It was hiding beneath the strawberry leaves. And, there's another one too. 

After the garden stroll, I came in and looked back out the door to find my lovely companion and bestest pal, Max.

A good morning indeed.

Poochie affections

My pooch is celebrating his birthday. So, he's on my mind a lot these days. He's nine and this past year we've experienced a couple of narrow misses with a hematoma thought to be something more drastic and then a lump on his tail, also dismissed and benign.

I'm more aware than ever that the downside of love is loss, but what's the option? There is none. We love. And in the process we learn to be awake and aware of how much we enjoy the other each day.

I love this noble and gentlemanly dog more and more. I love that his nights includes about a half an hour at the foot of our bed, leaning against my leg (if I get there first). There's deep gratitude in our shared pursuits; rough housing, walks, car rides, gardening, dinner.

Yesterday, a kind older man at church saw me praying with a friend and asked if I could pray for him. I listened to his story of coming out of homelessness recently. His prayer request, though, was for Max, his three year old cat. Even with his heavy beard, I could see his chin quiver as his eyes welled. And of course, we prayed. We prayed that Max would heal and be ok and that they'd be reunited when he got a permanent home. As he and his friend Mary Margaret walked away, he turned around to exact a promise that I'd keep praying.

Of course, I will. Because I understand that often love has furry feet.

Giving Thanks - November 13:: a best friend

I often say thank you to our friend and dog walker, Mary Ellen. (That's her dog, Scout, on the left and my guy on the right.) One day, while walking with Max, Mary Ellen wondered if he might be up for meeting her Scout. (We carefully joke that he's a miniature short-haired St. Bernard. More likely a pit and boxer mix, well-mixed with grace and calm.) She carefully worked out the idea of them meeting, the where, the when and executed her plan. An immediate friendship began and now, they qualify as best friends.

Max has the occasional overnight stay at Scout's when we travel. They walk a few days a week and when they've been separated for a weekend the initial returning greeting is loud and sweet. There are kisses and whines and bounding joy. Especially from the big dog. Scout is a bit more stoic in his nature.

When the walk is through, Mary Ellen always gives the dogs one of Max's treats. This is fine by Max, especially because Scout doesn't quite care for our treats. He takes his anyway and finds a place to leave it for Max -- near his bed or under our dining room table (Max's condo).

Scout had a rough patch a while back and needed surgery and recovery time. Max still walked, but his days were clearly missing something. You have to wonder if a dog's longing of the heart isn't much like ours. That insatiable yearning just to have the other near. There was a distinct quietness in our homecoming receptions each day during this time.

Then Scout returned. Max bobbed and danced with joy "telling" us about the reunion. My daughter thought he would have made a banner, if he had the thumbs. All of life fell happily back into place.

And this is where I'm reminded to be oh-so-grateful, for the friendship. The one between dog and man and also dog and dog. It reminds me of how we were created, for community, communion, and oneness with the other. Be it God, man or a poochy.

February 23 - I Love:: My pooch

I love this dog. In these early morning hours, when I'm at the dining room table, fingers flying, bad hair, he's got my toes covered and makes those contented doggie sounds. 

He's such a good friend. 

I love all 80+ pounds of him.

Here's an early post about his lovely self.

Brisk and random

Today, I'm considering several thoughts, in no particular order:

• I found a lovely blog, lovely experience of a blog, wherein the writer suggests that comments might just detract from the freedom of just being at the blog site and enjoying. As much as I love the connection in comments, I believe I love this idea for myself.
• It's heading toward 10 in the morning, we're all home for Easter break, and waiting for the washing machine repair man. No one has moved out of jammies. We often spend this time of year in San Francisco. So I guess this is vacation. There will be some mad scramble when the doorbell rings.
• I love having the backdoor open to the high 50's cool. It creates a little draft that reminds me that spring looks delicate with all the floral blooming. But spring is not tame.
• My German Shepherd discovered a yellow hand squeezer-thing which made its way into our house. It is the focus of his existence and we just watched him sit, staring up at the mantle where it sat waiting for it to do something for 10 minutes. I love focus.
• I watched Mario Batalli make a salad of raw shredded asparagus (he used a tomato or potato peeler) in olive oil, lemon, and parmesan reggiano. I was not able to tell, from Matt Lauer's face or comments, if it was tasty and now I want to try it. I may hold some baby romaine on the side just in case it falls flat with my staff here. He made a super yummy looking pasta dish too.

There you go. Brisk and random.
That's what's on my mind.

I Love:: Two - that doggie on my toes.

I have been in love with dogs my whole life. But this one, the hunk of Long Haired German Shepherd, who started our journey by sitting on my feet to prove his merit, just delights me more and more. This winter, he's taken to lying across my feet anytime I sit down, look like I'm standing in the same place for more than a couple of minutes or snuggle into bed for the night. It's winter and we're cozy. He's the constant attendant and pal who loves with his whole furry self. Love.
On 4 Feb 10 a post script: Tonight he gave us the doggy doesn't want to eat dinner story. So I, in my most dignified manner, knelt on the floor enticing him into eating. It worked. He ate as I knelt there, and suddenly I realized that no dog I've know has ever let me mess with dinner or sit so close while they ate. I also realized that he is 84 lbs. and a German Shepherd. Good thing he likes me.

The dog in our lives.

I was born on a Monday and my first dog was born on the Sunday before me. He was my friend and because of his breed and bloodline, my protector. The Skye Terrier is not a terribly popular breed largely due to their somewhat aggressive nature -- they aren't easy. They have the terrier pluckiness and interest in life, but they tend to be one-man-dogs and have fearfully powerful jaws. This particular dog was bigger than many in his breed. He was as smart and as loyal as a dog can be, but that loyalty was to one person, my dad. He spent an entire day once when my great grandmother was visiting, lying on the bed draped over Dad's jacket, growling each time the dear woman neared the room. He was guarding property. His loyalty to me, though mixed with great affection, was based on his job. I was his charge. My mom, to whom he was not loyal in the least, learned about his commitment when she went to spank her rather impetuous and certainly defiant, child. As she was attempting to land a swat, the dog caught the sleeve of her sweater and produced a hole there that clarified his position on spanking. There was to be none. And there was none in his presence. He chose to sleep at my dad's feet and occasionally mine. He was attentive and communicative and lovely and his absence, when I turned eight, left a great hole in the sleeve of my heart.
When I bought my very own first pup (after many, many family dogs) it was a terrier, a Cairn. He was a fabulous specimen. Hearty and joyous and funny and truly, truly a girl's best friend. He was a traveler, a follower, a greeter and one of the most interested personalities I've ever known. He lived a lovely life and just two weeks shy of his 17th birthday, passed on to the green, green rolling hills that any good Scotsman longs for.
My life is now inhabited by a beautiful, noble, handsome, German Shepherd Dog who will never leave a footprint on my heart because he's taken it and stashed it in his doggy pocket. He lives right in the middle of our lives and each of us has our own relationship with him. He delights in lying next to my youngest for a cuddle. He walks the blocks with our eldest. Goes to the park in the car with his master and for long walks with me. We might each think he loves us the most. But the focus is on me, my comings and goings. He has studied my ways from the morning's alarm to the turning of the covers at night. He reads my pants and knows every shoe choice. There is a leap when they communicate, "go." I certainly haven't earned this loyal following. But the minutes, when his eyes grasp mine to figure out the next step, are filled with collusion and excitement. We have secrets between us. We've been somewhere together without the others. It is a magical bond. And at the end of the day I revel in all the dogs I've known when he's welcomed up on the bed for those sweet minutes at the close of the day. He circles in that doggy circle and lies down, making sure his back rests against my leg. In this space of peace and connection, I drift off to sleep, connected to the many and the singular, this marvelous creature: the dog in my life.