Kissin' Cousins and Caterpillar Rolls (06/18/06)
A week has almost gone by, reminiscent of that device they used in old movies where each page of a calendar flew off a day at a time, first slowly and then rapidly like an experienced casino shark shuffling a deck of cards.
Much has happened in the last week, nothing tragic-- unless of course you count the ongoing travesties and conflagrations throughout the world-- in the Middle East, in Iraq. They are very much on my mind. (Ah, the luxury of being dogs! None of this is in their scope.)
The weather seems hotter and steamier than I remember when I arrived in Oregon nearly thirty years ago. Now air-conditioning has become practically de rigeur unless your house faces north or has a nice cool basement. People still flock to the rivers that marble the entire state. I remember finding refuge for me and for my sons in wading pools and neighbors' above-ground pools and home-made Slip'n Slides made of Visqueen. Those were the Dogless Days of Summer.
Today Maggie, Geordie, and I headed to our usual haunt (pun intended). Only patches of scorching sun hit us along the trail. The leafy awning provided a partial parasol. I could be outside and comfortable.
Do they get tired of visiting the same place? Each time it appears that it's new to them-- in olfactory ways I will never know. Still, it occurs to me that I need to find more green spaces nearby. We are back to our regular routine. . .
LAST THURSDAY a message flashed on the machine. Most of our phone calls come in when I'm out walking the dogs, and to be honest, I hardly walk the dogs enough. My cousin Laura and her husband William and their two daughters, Aurora (Rory) and Vivecka (Vivi) ages nine and seven respectively, were passing through town en route to Canada and a month-and-a-half holiday (if you include a conference in Montreal Laura will attend toward the end).
Laura, William, Rory, and Vivi live in Sedona, AZ. Laura meekly asked if it would be okay for them to "have a place to put down their sleeping bags for the night." We could certainly offer more than that, if not the Plaza Hotel and a view of Central Park.
It had been three years. At that time both girls were terrified of dogs. Those days are long gone! Back then Rory, the more outgoing of the two and initially the more frightened, had picked Geordie as her teacher. He be became "Geordie, the Troll-Faced Dragon." Vivi, who is a little more restrained, then bonded with "Maggie, the Sad-Faced Angel."
Geordie, Rory, and Vivi (at table) in 2003
NOW
Geordie and Rory, July 2006.
THEN
An ungroomed "sad-faced angel" and a Vivi in 2003.
NOW
Maggie and Vivi in July 2006.
A week has almost gone by, reminiscent of that device they used in old movies where each page of a calendar flew off a day at a time, first slowly and then rapidly like an experienced casino shark shuffling a deck of cards.
Much has happened in the last week, nothing tragic-- unless of course you count the ongoing travesties and conflagrations throughout the world-- in the Middle East, in Iraq. They are very much on my mind. (Ah, the luxury of being dogs! None of this is in their scope.)
The weather seems hotter and steamier than I remember when I arrived in Oregon nearly thirty years ago. Now air-conditioning has become practically de rigeur unless your house faces north or has a nice cool basement. People still flock to the rivers that marble the entire state. I remember finding refuge for me and for my sons in wading pools and neighbors' above-ground pools and home-made Slip'n Slides made of Visqueen. Those were the Dogless Days of Summer.
Today Maggie, Geordie, and I headed to our usual haunt (pun intended). Only patches of scorching sun hit us along the trail. The leafy awning provided a partial parasol. I could be outside and comfortable.
Do they get tired of visiting the same place? Each time it appears that it's new to them-- in olfactory ways I will never know. Still, it occurs to me that I need to find more green spaces nearby. We are back to our regular routine. . .
LAST THURSDAY a message flashed on the machine. Most of our phone calls come in when I'm out walking the dogs, and to be honest, I hardly walk the dogs enough. My cousin Laura and her husband William and their two daughters, Aurora (Rory) and Vivecka (Vivi) ages nine and seven respectively, were passing through town en route to Canada and a month-and-a-half holiday (if you include a conference in Montreal Laura will attend toward the end).
Laura, William, Rory, and Vivi live in Sedona, AZ. Laura meekly asked if it would be okay for them to "have a place to put down their sleeping bags for the night." We could certainly offer more than that, if not the Plaza Hotel and a view of Central Park.
It had been three years. At that time both girls were terrified of dogs. Those days are long gone! Back then Rory, the more outgoing of the two and initially the more frightened, had picked Geordie as her teacher. He be became "Geordie, the Troll-Faced Dragon." Vivi, who is a little more restrained, then bonded with "Maggie, the Sad-Faced Angel."
THEN
Geordie, Rory, and Vivi (at table) in 2003
NOW
Geordie and Rory, July 2006.
THEN
An ungroomed "sad-faced angel" and a Vivi in 2003.
NOW
Maggie and Vivi in July 2006.
(Reflecting on these pictures and the three years that have ellapsed, we're amazed at the fact that Maggie now looks, feels, and acts healthier and happier than she did three years ago. I have no doubt that this is empirical proof of the efficacy of the Tahitian Noni Canine Essentials Senior Formula that she and Geordie have been taking for the last half year.)
It's getting late, it's getting long, and we haven't even gotten close to the caterpillars, so I will have to continue this tomorrow. . .
Yawn,
Jill, Maglite, and Geode (That is what the spell-checker likes to call him.)
P.S. In the meantime, meet MORAG!
It's getting late, it's getting long, and we haven't even gotten close to the caterpillars, so I will have to continue this tomorrow. . .
Yawn,
Jill, Maglite, and Geode (That is what the spell-checker likes to call him.)
P.S. In the meantime, meet MORAG!
Cairn Casting Call?
Morag, a wheaten Cairn terrier loved and owned by Vicki Breslaw in
Delray Beach, Florida, waits on hold while her agent gets back to her about upcoming auditions.
Morag, a wheaten Cairn terrier loved and owned by Vicki Breslaw in
Delray Beach, Florida, waits on hold while her agent gets back to her about upcoming auditions.
Now About The Caterpillars. . .
A week has almost gone by, reminiscent of that device they used in old movies where each page of a calendar flew off a day at a time, first slowly and then rapidly like an experienced casino shark shuffling a deck of cards.
Much has happened in the last week, nothing tragic-- unless of course you count the ongoing travesties and conflagrations throughout the world-- in the Middle East, in Iraq. They are very much on my mind. (Ah, the luxury of being dogs! None of this is in their scope.)
The weather seems hotter and steamier than I remember when I arrived in Oregon nearly thirty years ago. Now air-conditioning has become practically de rigeur unless your house faces north or has a nice cool basement. People still flock to the rivers that marble the entire state. I remember finding refuge for me and for my sons in wading pools and neighbors' above-ground pools and home-made Slip'n Slides made of Visqueen. Those were the Dogless Days of Summer.
Today Maggie, Geordie, and I headed to our usual haunt (pun intended). Only patches of scorching sun hit us along the trail. The leafy awning provided a partial parasol. I could be outside and comfortable.
Do they get tired of visiting the same place? Each time it appears that it's new to them-- in olfactory ways I will never know. Still, it occurs to me that I need to find more green spaces nearby. We are back to our regular routine. . .
LAST THURSDAY a message flashed on the machine. Most of our phone calls come in when I'm out walking the dogs, and to be honest, I hardly walk the dogs enough. My cousin Laura and her husband William and their two daughters, Aurora (Rory) and Vivecka (Vivi) ages nine and seven respectively, were passing through town en route to Canada and a month-and-a-half holiday (if you include a conference in Montreal Laura will attend toward the end).
Laura, William, Rory, and Vivi live in Sedona, AZ. Laura meekly asked if it would be okay for them to "have a place to put down their sleeping bags for the night." We could certainly offer more than that, if not the Plaza Hotel and a view of Central Park.
It had been three years. At that time both girls were terrified of dogs. Those days are long gone! Back then Rory, the more outgoing of the two and initially the more frightened, had picked Geordie as her teacher. He be became "Geordie, the Troll-Faced Dragon." Vivi, who is a little more restrained, then bonded with "Maggie, the Sad-Faced Angel."
Geordie, Rory, and Vivi (at table) in 2003
NOW
Geordie and Rory, July 2006.
THEN
An ungroomed "sad-faced angel" and a Vivi in 2003.
NOW
Maggie and Vivi in July 2006.
Much has happened in the last week, nothing tragic-- unless of course you count the ongoing travesties and conflagrations throughout the world-- in the Middle East, in Iraq. They are very much on my mind. (Ah, the luxury of being dogs! None of this is in their scope.)
The weather seems hotter and steamier than I remember when I arrived in Oregon nearly thirty years ago. Now air-conditioning has become practically de rigeur unless your house faces north or has a nice cool basement. People still flock to the rivers that marble the entire state. I remember finding refuge for me and for my sons in wading pools and neighbors' above-ground pools and home-made Slip'n Slides made of Visqueen. Those were the Dogless Days of Summer.
Today Maggie, Geordie, and I headed to our usual haunt (pun intended). Only patches of scorching sun hit us along the trail. The leafy awning provided a partial parasol. I could be outside and comfortable.
Do they get tired of visiting the same place? Each time it appears that it's new to them-- in olfactory ways I will never know. Still, it occurs to me that I need to find more green spaces nearby. We are back to our regular routine. . .
LAST THURSDAY a message flashed on the machine. Most of our phone calls come in when I'm out walking the dogs, and to be honest, I hardly walk the dogs enough. My cousin Laura and her husband William and their two daughters, Aurora (Rory) and Vivecka (Vivi) ages nine and seven respectively, were passing through town en route to Canada and a month-and-a-half holiday (if you include a conference in Montreal Laura will attend toward the end).
Laura, William, Rory, and Vivi live in Sedona, AZ. Laura meekly asked if it would be okay for them to "have a place to put down their sleeping bags for the night." We could certainly offer more than that, if not the Plaza Hotel and a view of Central Park.
It had been three years. At that time both girls were terrified of dogs. Those days are long gone! Back then Rory, the more outgoing of the two and initially the more frightened, had picked Geordie as her teacher. He be became "Geordie, the Troll-Faced Dragon." Vivi, who is a little more restrained, then bonded with "Maggie, the Sad-Faced Angel."
THEN
Geordie, Rory, and Vivi (at table) in 2003
NOW
Geordie and Rory, July 2006.
THEN
An ungroomed "sad-faced angel" and a Vivi in 2003.
NOW
Maggie and Vivi in July 2006.
(Reflecting on these pictures and the three years that have ellapsed, we're amazed at the fact that Maggie now looks, feels, and acts healthier and happier than she did three years ago. I have no doubt that this is empirical proof of the efficacy of the Tahitian Noni Canine Essentials Senior Formula that she and Geordie have been taking for the last half year.)
It's getting late, it's getting long, and we haven't even gotten close to the caterpillars, so I will have to continue this tomorrow. . .
Yawn,
Jill, Maglite, and Geode (That is what the spell-checker likes to call him.)
P.S. In the meantime, meet MORAG!
It's getting late, it's getting long, and we haven't even gotten close to the caterpillars, so I will have to continue this tomorrow. . .
Yawn,
Jill, Maglite, and Geode (That is what the spell-checker likes to call him.)
P.S. In the meantime, meet MORAG!
Cairn Casting Call?
Morag, a wheaten Cairn terrier loved and owned by Vicki Breslaw in
Delray Beach, Florida, waits on hold while her agent gets back to her about upcoming auditions.
Morag, a wheaten Cairn terrier loved and owned by Vicki Breslaw in
Delray Beach, Florida, waits on hold while her agent gets back to her about upcoming auditions.
BrushValleyBoro Dog Day Afternoon
I'm really losing ground! I am writing about the same day I wrote about yesterday. However, I have created an imaginary scored line between the two parts of Saturday, July 15th. That's a whopping week ago. Between now and then, a hunk of one of Antarctica's shelves broke off.
Above the ------- (cut here)------- dashed line, we were bidding farewell to my cousins, whom we see way too infrequently now well into the second week of their Canadian adventure. Below the ------- dotted line---- of July 15th, I headed south circa 40 miles toward the dog show in Salem.
I hope that it's cooler in Canada. Today (July 22, really) was forebodingly overcast and oppressively steamy, as though a languishing dragon were taking its last breath, fire extinguished just past smoldering, residual heat mingling with "moat water." Ick! Even moat water would have been refreshing, crocodiles and all. Besides, who's to say that the croc wouldn't have been sophisticated Manhattanite Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, a truly exceptional reptile, appealing as a dolphin?
Buckling myself into my crumpled little car, sans dogs, I slipped a Steeleye Span CD into the player and stopped at Starbuck's for some expensive bottled libations-- green tea and bottled Ethos water, a brainchild product of a socially conscious entrepreneurial alumnus of my elder son's alma mater CMC. Its mission-- to help children around the world acquire clean drinking water-- buying it made me feel quasi-virtuous.
My-Little-Air-Conditioner-That-Barely-Could held its own as I hydrated myself and began to fantasize about the rest stops that would not materialize until I pulled into the parking lot at the Fairgrounds in Salem ready to explode. The ultimate catharsis would require waddling many more yards than it would have in a perfect world. (A world without urinary tracts?)
Had I been Geordie, manners would have hardly mattered:
I stopped for Cinnabones (obviously named to sell to people) for M and G and a bag of yummy freeze-dried green tripe, Ambrosia of the Dogs! Was I feeling a little guilty for leaving Maggie and Geordie home? No. I had marinated green beans to deliver and people to see. Besides, they luxurated in our climate-control "pod."
Otis and Lorin had literally flew into town (in their Cessna!) with their Isobel and some wine from their vineyard in Sebastapol, first a fruity-dry Merlot with a bit of Cabernet, then the bottle of Cabernet with the bit of Merlot, its "shadow wine." Both wowwed me who likes the BEST wine.-- or no wine at all.
Here Otis holds Marshall and Isobel. . .Or is it Cindi Marshall's Zoe, who's Marshall's Grammie? It is a coincidence that Marshall's given name is Cindi's surname. (Photo by Cindi Marshall.) Bill and Cindi Marshall are not named after a Southern California golf course, as is KinLoch's Marshall Canyon. Marshall, a handsome young dude who happens to be one of Geordie's great grandsons, is owned and adored by the delightful Beth Laufer, who-- with her daughters, Claire and Emma-- also care for the most beloved Kendall, princess-spawn of Geordie. She's Maggie's favorite niece:
Best of Breed that day was CH. KinLoch's Deja-Vu, JE or "Brodie". . another piece of fruit of Geordie's loins,
Above the ------- (cut here)------- dashed line, we were bidding farewell to my cousins, whom we see way too infrequently now well into the second week of their Canadian adventure. Below the ------- dotted line---- of July 15th, I headed south circa 40 miles toward the dog show in Salem.
TEMPORARY FAST FORWARD
I hope that it's cooler in Canada. Today (July 22, really) was forebodingly overcast and oppressively steamy, as though a languishing dragon were taking its last breath, fire extinguished just past smoldering, residual heat mingling with "moat water." Ick! Even moat water would have been refreshing, crocodiles and all. Besides, who's to say that the croc wouldn't have been sophisticated Manhattanite Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, a truly exceptional reptile, appealing as a dolphin?
FLASHBACK
The afternoon of July 15th that began with my drive down to Salem for the Columbia River Cairn Terrier Fun Match, raffle, and flea market ( coordinated by Susan McAlpin) and ably "womened" by Betsy Peets, Vicky Montgomery, and Pat Hassey-- "Flea market" hardly a propitious-sounding name for a canine-related event-- especially as fleas do tend to crash parties held on dogs, was anything but that. Clothing, cards, calendars, figurines, grooming tools, etc. were such deals!Buckling myself into my crumpled little car, sans dogs, I slipped a Steeleye Span CD into the player and stopped at Starbuck's for some expensive bottled libations-- green tea and bottled Ethos water, a brainchild product of a socially conscious entrepreneurial alumnus of my elder son's alma mater CMC. Its mission-- to help children around the world acquire clean drinking water-- buying it made me feel quasi-virtuous.
My-Little-Air-Conditioner-That-Barely-Could held its own as I hydrated myself and began to fantasize about the rest stops that would not materialize until I pulled into the parking lot at the Fairgrounds in Salem ready to explode. The ultimate catharsis would require waddling many more yards than it would have in a perfect world. (A world without urinary tracts?)
Had I been Geordie, manners would have hardly mattered:
I stopped for Cinnabones (obviously named to sell to people) for M and G and a bag of yummy freeze-dried green tripe, Ambrosia of the Dogs! Was I feeling a little guilty for leaving Maggie and Geordie home? No. I had marinated green beans to deliver and people to see. Besides, they luxurated in our climate-control "pod."
Otis and Lorin had literally flew into town (in their Cessna!) with their Isobel and some wine from their vineyard in Sebastapol, first a fruity-dry Merlot with a bit of Cabernet, then the bottle of Cabernet with the bit of Merlot, its "shadow wine." Both wowwed me who likes the BEST wine.-- or no wine at all.
Here Otis holds Marshall and Isobel. . .Or is it Cindi Marshall's Zoe, who's Marshall's Grammie? It is a coincidence that Marshall's given name is Cindi's surname. (Photo by Cindi Marshall.) Bill and Cindi Marshall are not named after a Southern California golf course, as is KinLoch's Marshall Canyon. Marshall, a handsome young dude who happens to be one of Geordie's great grandsons, is owned and adored by the delightful Beth Laufer, who-- with her daughters, Claire and Emma-- also care for the most beloved Kendall, princess-spawn of Geordie. She's Maggie's favorite niece:
Best of Breed that day was CH. KinLoch's Deja-Vu, JE or "Brodie". . another piece of fruit of Geordie's loins,
bred, groomed 
and exhibited 
by Vicki Havlik. . .
and exhibited by Vicki Havlik. . .
Having missed the actual dog conformation classes in the morning, I heard only partial results. Winners Dog was an upstart eight-month-old named Bryan, owned and bred by Jane Stump.
The fun match followed a sumptuous pot luck, which featured this piece de resistance symbolic of the Club's moniker Columbia River Cairn Terrier Club:
The evening's planned activities ended with a fun match. And "uber-veteran" CH. Topnote Theophilus, who turns seventeen in a week, would not be denied a moment in the limelight.
He sure loves his Noni juice!
Geordie and Maggie awaited my return at the window. Geordie's homecoming greeting included a complete single-full-rotation Salchow and Maggie's some gleeful cavorting and tail wagging.
Jill, Jorge, Margarita
(Off to raft today, which is really NOW July 23.)
New Designs at Holy Terrier Dog. More on those later.
The fun match followed a sumptuous pot luck, which featured this piece de resistance symbolic of the Club's moniker Columbia River Cairn Terrier Club:
The evening's planned activities ended with a fun match. And "uber-veteran" CH. Topnote Theophilus, who turns seventeen in a week, would not be denied a moment in the limelight.
He sure loves his Noni juice!Geordie and Maggie awaited my return at the window. Geordie's homecoming greeting included a complete single-full-rotation Salchow and Maggie's some gleeful cavorting and tail wagging.
Jill, Jorge, Margarita
(Off to raft today, which is really NOW July 23.)
New Designs at Holy Terrier Dog. More on those later.
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