Pile up

I live in a remarkable place. It is so cold here that the water is not very watery a good deal of the time. Today I found a pile of it waiting for the sun to make it flowy again.

Other things can pile up - laundry and deadlines and cats. Some things should never pile up, dog treats for example. That is sure evidence of a Scrooge in the household. Treats should flow like water. Then again even the water doesn't flow around here.

My Person almost piled up today. Note to her: the shiny spots on the paths are not where the park board polished the path. They are ice patches. And they have piled up lately as well.

Dental pain

Ouchie! I am suffering sympathy pains for my Best Friend. He has undergone an Ordeal!

It sounds like one of my Friend's teeth broke! Imagine - he must have bitten a tough squirrel or something. He went to a dentist who pulled the broken tooth right out. I tell you what I would have done in his shoes (and I have to point out that I could fit all four of my little white feet times two into most People's shoes). Well, I would have used the rest of my perfectly fine teeth and I'd have bitten that dentist.

In my world, chompers are pretty important things. Mine are gleaming and strong and quite pointy. But I need them that way so I can eat my crunchy meals and quickly down the tasty bits I find while on my walks. Some of these can be quite tough and chewy, and a dog like me needs to be able to get them in the mouth and down the throat before my Person yells "yuck!" and hauls back on my leash.

Anyway, everyone needs a dental plan and here is mine: eat crunchy food, chew on leather (found in places like shoe racks or closets or received as gifts), chomp on acorns, and bare your teeth at passing cats just to show them off.

But never bite the hand that feeds you!

Dignity

One of the many things we cannot control in life is how we appear to others. And most of us strive for the appearance of dignity. Who knew the weather would rob me of mine?

I can't believe it! I fell down! I have twice as many legs as my Person and she stayed upright and I went kersplat! One minute I was bravely leaping from frozen snow bank to frozen snow bank and the next I landed on what I thought would be bare pavement. But my trusty white feet flew in all directions and I hit the ice chin first. There was a certain amount of unsympathetic giggling from the Parka that is my Person, and then she rethought her response and patted my head. Damage done! See if I pat her head next time she topples on the ice.

We both walked carefully after that. The river was murmuring gently to the ice regrowing along the banks, and the robins were making gentle 'knock-knock" calls from the trees and a red-tailed hawk perched high above the water. I saw my favorite white squirrel scampering in the distance and soon I forgot about my moment of ungainliness. My lesson for today: it doesn't matter if you fall so long as you keep going afterwards.

City dog, country dog

I am by most accounts a city dog these days. My past-times are those of an urban dog: back yard squirrel chases, sidewalk meetings, coffee shop idylls (for some - others of us wait outside) and riverside strolls. Today I tracked deer, sniffed coyote scat, pounced on vole tracks, stuck my head in holes, watched the sky for hunting red tailed hawks, identified the nests of swallows and eagles and field sparrows and followed mobbing crows looking for owls. And where was I? Still in the city! But at a wonderful place. This summer my Person and my Auntie veecee will go there to look at birds. Today we birded without the benefit of many birds being around.

It was good to be out in the promise of what is to comes and to stomp through thawing snow. It was a day to remember to get through the arctic cold snaps are between this little red dog and spring!

Shopping anyone?

Not every day is action packed. Today included. Though I got a hardy walk in and got a little sniffing in with a wheaten who loves me and though I got to frisk in the yard and play with Adric I still spend a good deal of the day waiting.

My Person said she was teaching a class. But I have two years of teaching experience with her and if I know anything she was merely supervising bedlam. Her understanding of the student is limited. And this little red student had to do most of the teaching whenever serious information passed between us.

At last it was time for more fun and off we went to one of my most loved spots - the pet food store. Any place with treats that are bigger than I am is a place to treasure. I cleaned the joint up - ate all the spilled cat food off the floor in the cat food section, and then ate all the spilled dog food off the floor in the dog food section, licked all the treats in the treat section and even cleaned up the spilled bird food in the bird food section. They should pay me what they usually pay their vacuumer - in treats, please!

Why?

Many things are mysterious. Things happen in life and we may all ponder why. What some may see as chance, others might understand as purpose or fate or cause and effect spanning lifetimes or beyond. Certainly there are many ways to look at the things that happen in life.

My person thinks that thousands of years of experience acting on one's fore bearers may determine much of what an individual may be. To this brew you can add the influence of the particular experiences of living in a particular culture at a particular time. Is there more? How much control do we have over our lives and what we are like and what happens to us?

And why did I end up being a little red dog that blends in perfectly with last season's phlox?

Winter changes

This is the time of winter when you need to keep in mind how changeable all things are. The light is different every day and so is the nature of the cold. You may want to lie on top of the radiator and sleep until your IQ has become a negative number and you have the gumption of a furred covered bag of melted butter. But that is a cat's strategy. A little red dog must forge ahead and meet the day on its terms.

A few days ago I was walking along the river and heard deep burrrrr noises, like a giant owl reassuring a colossal nest of owlets. My Person and I stopped and looked for the source of this strange noise. Then an awful CRACK rang out and we both almost toppled in fright. A fissure appeared in the river ice, shooting straight out from the shore. I barked myself silly. Today the river is silent but the icy surface is like an old gray plate, scarred and crazed with use, ready to be cast aside as the river opens up to the sky once again. As we walked along we saw a flock of robins puffed against the cold into bright colored fluff balls. They are undaunted by winter and so am I.

Perhaps they know that the bumps on the frozen branches hold the beginnings of flowers.

A sense of purpose

As usual, and like a good little red dog should, I am doing my duty: playing with my cousin to keep him out of trouble. The poor squirrel toy is getting the worst of it but life exacts a certain amount of wear and tear from all of us.























I have been thinking about sense of purpose. I have my own reasons for taking up space - to sniff up as many good smells as I can, to rid the world of squirrels, to keep Adric the cat in line and to monitor all comings and goings on my street. But I have larger obligations as well. I have to make sure my Person doesn't freeze to death at night by making sure I sleep on her side of the bed along with her. I have to make sure my cat brothers do not sink into unbroken sloth by pouncing on them occasionally. It sharpens up their reflexes and keeps them alert to danger. I play with my toys to give my Person a reason to work hard so she can buy me more.

Sometimes those obligations to others seem to be a burden, but more often they make me very happy. They let me know I am part of a larger web of family and friends and they give me a greater sense of purpose. And most of all they keep that little white tail tip in motion!

Too cold for dogs

It has been so cold out that even the toughest of little red dogs has cried "uncle." I usually scoff at cold and certainly bark loudest at other dogs who appear in public in clothing. There is nothing so undignified as a dog in Person's clothing.

But today I nearly froze to the pavement when I stopped for a couple of long sniffs and my tail stopped curling up in a smile toward the sky and started wrapping protectively down around my cold, cold rump. I built myself a nice nest when I got home. Revived with a few crumbs of gingersnaps tossed to me by my human cousins and some resting in the sun I was able to make a comeback.

But, I am not volunteering for squirrel patrol until we have a January thaw.

A parable

Once upon a time I went for a walk in the snow. All around me was whiteness and grayness. A few of dulled leaves left over from last year had finally fallen to the ground and frozen in place. The sky was dark gray and the river was darker gray. Then I saw something bright.

I found a lime green ball, all by itself in the middle of a snowy field. There was no one else near it. Had it been left for me?

I pounced on it and threw it in the air. I kicked it along the ground and ran to catch up with it. I bit it and carried it and I played until I was warm from my little black nose to my little white tail tip.

Then I left the lime green alone and bright in the middle of the snowy field. I don't know if it is still there or if another dog out for a walk got to play with it. I wasn't looking for it when I found it and I didn't know what would happen to it when I let it go again. But I am glad I had the chance to play with it for awhile.

Solar energy

This is a true midwestern household. There is one topic that is always being mulled over. Politics, literature, ethics? Blown away completely by the weather! If you lived in a place where you could freeze solid filling the bird feeders you'd think about the weather a lot also.

I have grown all the extra fur I can manage for this season and as long as I am in motion I do pretty well outside. My Person isn't so lucky. She wears something called layers and the more layers she takes on the slower she walks when she gets outside. And the slower she is the colder she gets. I think she could cut down on some layers and I bet she'd do better in the speed department.

Until is is time for the cold slow walk or the fast warm walk I am going to nap in the sun and store up some solar heat. If the winter sun can't warm your feet it can at least warm your spirit.

Care of your Person

The job of a dog, and I am one, is to set an example to People of how to live a good life.

Perhaps the hardest part it to keep them enaged so that they pay attention and learn from you. As all dogs know, life's secrets are simple. The point is to explore as much as possible, to have adventures as much as possible, to relish small things like crumbs and smells and to engage in larger things like guiding and helping and alerting and protecting.

So to pass on this knowledge you have to get your Person's attention. Try looking at your person with soft eyes. Try knocking over a plant. Try pressing your nose into their leg. Lead them outside and make sure they slow down for the good stuff. Show them your endless enthusiasm for activity, your love of relaxation, the keen way your mind attends to stimuli. Bounce as much as possible, make them giggle, keep them too busy to grow broody. Act a little helpless because it is very good for them to think of others. When they look a little sour, smile at them. Or burp.

The better off they are, the better off you will be!

Me and my?

Notice anything unusual? Not just a little red dog strolling about. Something more unusual. Other than the snow being about done being snow and pretty much on the way to being road waste. I will give you a hint: it was made by the sun.

My shadow was out today! My shadow has been nowhere in sight for months it seems, but today it was out. So my Person and I took our both shadows out for a walk. We trotted to the Birchwood and bought a loaf of bread and took its shadow for a bit of a walk as well.

Then all of our shadows disappeared and the cheery quality of the afternoon faded and the sky deepened to match the gray snow. We all flagged a bit, and so we headed home. If we were ground hogs there might have been some deeper meaning for us, but we aren't. And so there wasn't.

Remains of the meal

I often have to be a very self-sufficient little red dog around here. Today I am trying to get by with my own meal preparation. Pickings are slim. The chocolate supply is locked up and the cookies and other goodies are all gone. My pal Adric is asleep so I can't expect any bounty to plunge my way from the counter top.

And so I gnaw an old bone I found under the couch. Remains of more plentiful days.

The problem is my Person is going out to eat at a Char House. I am very confused by this. I thought she went out to restaurants that served things she didn't make at home. But she is an ace char-er. She chars toast, and she chars toasted sandwiches. She chars oatmeal and she chars spaghetti sauce. She chars rice and chicken and homemade dog food and almost anything that is not eaten raw or in a frozen state. She has an absolute gift for charring, so why is she going out to eat at a Char House?

For once I won't be interested in what is in the doggie bag. And I hope she feeds me supper before she goes because I hate to think what cooking tips she'll be picking up tonight at the restaurant.

Toyland

This is my largess. My wonderful toys: my first present ever - a holiday ball, my somewhat chewed and now soundless meadowlark, my undauntedly noisy but very chewed loon, my new and wonderful squirrelly Squirrel given to me by my Best Friend, my holiday flying saucer and my Person's glove. (Don't tell her about that last one - she thinks she left it in a restaurant.)

You'd think with such lovely toys I would be the most popular little red dog on the block if not the entire world. But I have had to make my own fun today, ignored at every turn, even when I sat at my Person' knee, Squirrel dangling enticingly from but one tooth, ready to be snatched from me and the chase begun. No go.

I have tried to get the cats to play but they simply cannot understand the concept of tug-o-war. They think toys are to be pounced on, batted and then ignored. They think play is a prelude to killing something! It is a wonder I can sleep at night with those slinky would-be murderers looking for entertainment.

The thing about little red dogs is they never give up. Tomorrow I will try again to engage my Person is some much needed fun. That is, if I make it through the night!

The song of Ollie

The dog is out walking a long walk. A thaw has opened up the river and ducks bob in the light chop of the black water. A bald eagle circles the open water and then moves up river. The dog trots along the pedestrian path of the river bridge, his ears lifting in the wind, his nose down. His tail is raised slightly and bounces as he walk, the white tip a small flash of brightness.

Back at home the quiet has settled like a fog. The cats relax their guard. Pico, the philosopher king, stretches out on the absent dog's bed and dozes. Adric, the soldier, stares out the window at birds and then he too settles into a nap, no dog to outsmart for the while.

And up from the basement creeps Ollie. Ollie is the mystic, the dreamer of mad dreams, the bearer of strange memories. He waits until the house is filled with calm, until the gray afternoon light flows through the windows and he can hear time itself tick by. Then he settles himself. For a while there is no dog to chase him and he is free. He can sit quietly in the corner and stare inward with enormous eyes. He can prepare for his nightly ritual, an endlessly long and warbled howl, like an opera in an unknown tongue and an unfamiliar scale. It may be the story of his youth, it may be the telling of his hopes and dreams. Most likely it is just the glory of sound itself that fills his body and then the entire house. The rest may pause and wonder what does it might mean. But it doesn't have to mean anything. It is just the song of Ollie.

Basket of invisibility

My friend Adric is sharp in some ways: his claws, and his teeth and his ears are exceedingly pointed. His reflexes are pretty sharp too. But in other ways he is downright dull. Why do I think this? Because Adric's new favorite place to sit is in a basket. When he is in the basket he doesn't flinch when I give him a good stare or a mad rush. He thinks he is invisible.

Cats are always sitting in things - cubbyholes and linen cabinets, grocery bags and shoe boxes. There are many places to sit in my Person's house. Some are more advantageous for viewing birds outside, some are better situated for a sunny nap, some are soft and quiet, some are firm and businesslike. None of these places is in a cupboard or a box. Or a basket.

I have my own favorite places to sit: on my Person's pillow and on her lap and on her couch and on her chair. I know I am not invisible when I sit in any of these places because my person always pats me on the head when she walks nearby. She never looks right at me and asks of no one in particular, "Where is the little red dog? I can't see him anywhere."

I could tell Adric that he's all wrong about the basket of invisibility. Maybe I'll hide in the basket to show him that he can see me. But you know what cats do when they are caught out - they just pretend they were doing something else all along.

A happy holiday

Too busy to write is what I have been. Even though my everyday life can be pretty exciting, it is hard to beat the wild wonder of pretending you are a wolf. Or the exhilaration of learning to snowshoe in deep powder (hint: this is most easily done by simply standing on the back of the snowshoe of the Person walking in front of you). I also worked in some good deeds in the past few days, like spending a night on my own with my human grandparents and giving them some company.

My Best Friend was visiting me and we had some mighty beautiful walks and I never flinched at the arctic cold though my Friend sure did. (I proved northerners are a superiorly tough breed). Best of all I went on a bit of a chocolate binge. In the last couple of weeks I have eaten 1/2 pound of cocoa, over 3 dozen chocolate cookies and an entire box of handmade chocolate candies.

My harness is a little tight lately but I think that is the result of the new muscles I grew porpoising through deep snow in the far northern woods, yodeling for deer. (I am amazed none of them came out to see me but rather ran far and fast in the opposite direction.) I have heard I will be having less chocolate in the future. My Person says she is banning it from the household because of the tight harness thing. But I am undaunted. I saw where she stowed that triple stack of boxes of dark chocolate. All I need is a ladder and a little help from my friend Adric.