We have landed in the canine blog-o-sphere. First entry. This will be short because I'm about to be towed by two sled-terriers along the path to an Oregon pioneer cemetery, one of their favorite destinations. They are Maggie (formally known as Joywood's Maggie Simpson, CDX, CGC and Geordie (Ch. Joywood's Geordie for MagaDog, CD, ME, CGC). They're my "empty nest" children as my human kids have gone and done grown up. So off we go. . .and I will continue this as I return with my panting canids. Here is a formal picture of them taken a few years ago:
I will post some more informal pictures later. Geordie, in particular, is an "attention whore" and has known to get attention, in the words of Malcolm X, by any means necessary. Off to the Canemah Cemetery. . .
Jill, Maggie, and Geordie. . .
Besides, this one was taking a little longer than others. While Maggie was mostly in a hiking and grazing state-- after all, she was a ruminant in a former life--, Geordie was in a predatory hunt-and-dig mode making it hard to get him to move from Point A to B.
I was hoping that he'd find me one of those nice Oregon truffles, but he was probably looking to find himself an adorable woodland creature upon which to unleash his instinct. He excavated a hole about half a foot deep before I could take it no more.
Maybe he was digging a grave for something. After all, it is a cemetery.I got impatient, and as Maggie had had her fill of green groceries-of-the-woods, I tugged Geord away and we headed back to the less vegetative parts. En route, Geordie must have spotted some more scents of cute furry animals, and he stood at point-- one that would rival that of any German Short-haired Pointer. Again, feeling slightly guilty for tearing him away from something about which he was passionate, I "guided" him along the trail back. (Okay, the two of us played tug-o-war with his leash.)
His nose was about the same color as a chocolate truffle rolled in cocoa powder. (More on Maggie and chocolate later. . .)
Then Larry and I had to go to this quasi- formal dinner. Well, formal for me.
And that was what we did on the Summer Solstice.
Jill, Mag, Geord
Do take a gander!
Okay, there are mostly Cairn Terriers, but there are quite a number of Westies, Norfolk Terriers, Sealyham Terriers, and Border Terriers. I'm always looking for more high resolution photos for original designs.
For $5 off orders of $20 or more, key in code: MOTIFWINDOW. Valid till 6/24/06.
For those unfamiliar with Cafe Press, it's a print-on-demand online enterprise that covers the gamut of subject and products. Many dog designs, actually. Not all the Cairns featured on this site are mine (or descendants of mine) but some are.
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Meanwhile, the dogs are lying low. Both the dogs and I have done our yoga. I'm getting more limber, but both Maggie and Geordie both have Adho Mukha Svanasa and Urdhva Muhka Svanasana (Downward and Upward Facing Dog) postures down pat. I'm almost there, but they'll never get the full Lotus position.
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(This dude's got the hang of it!)
Namaste,
Jill, Mag, Geord
(Oh dear. By going back in my browser, I just obliterated three paragraphs of text! Oh well. Obviously the universe didn't deem it important enough to preserve.)
It was a busy hot weekend. Geez, I hope we aren't baked completely into a global warming casserole within ten years. If so, perhaps they could serve it to those who've been swept up by The Rapture. My gosh, GREENLAND is melting. It could turn GREEN maybe and slushy!
I cannot abide the heat. I am spoiled and am grateful for an air-conditioned house. So I think of ways to offset what it's doing to the environment and feel intermittently hypocritical and reprieved.
It was hot for Maggie and Geordie, too; and they're as spoiled as I am. At least my crappy car's not a gas guzzler and I try not to drive very much.
But drive, I did-- at least a bit this weekend. There was a dog show in Canby, which is pretty much "on campus" as far as dog shows are concerned. People make pilgrimages from virtually everywhere, but I figured I'd go to observe, make a delivery, say hi to friends, check out the obedience area and such.
I was also packing some other stuff including a barely-sipped Venti Latte and a number of other things that weighed me down including two bottles of Tahitian Noni Canine Essentials , one for some friends who are willing to try it and another that I would try to sell to support our habit and the dogs'.
Geordie, Cairn terrier qua Iditarod contender, pulled me, pretty much because he knew he could. He also stopped to mark every two meters and pooped at a most inopportune time-- tossing dust at me as I scrambled for a plastic bag and spilled hot coffee all over my jeans.
Noni has actually done wonders for Maggie especially, who's particularly frisky and game, and despite the arthritis that *I* caused her about six years ago by encouraging her to leap--only it was on the hard deck instead of the soft grass--after the water hose causing a disc rupture. I treated it allopathically until I discovered Chinese Herbs and acupuncture, which helped but was getting rather pricey. Since the Noni, I've seen marked improvement and she's actually been gaiting very normally lately, and it's been half a year since she's needed an acupuncture treatment.
We've been drinking the Tahitian Noni Juice for about five months now and I have more energy and possibly a bit more mental stamina. Since starting on the stuff, neither my husband nor I have gotten sick. . .
CLICK ON Tahitian Noni Links in this BLOG.
I left Maggie to sleep in with Larry and rushed off to the show to root on the friends and Maggie and Geordie's relatives. This includes Geordie's post-spawn (as in grandkids and great grandkids).
Geordie hadn't been to a dog show for a while, but he has always enjoyed the ambience. Absence having made his heart fonder for that reason, on this particular day, he liked it just a little too much. Acting like a brat, he flung dirt at ringside and filled the role as "bad will ambassador" for Cairn terriers. He's really quite sweet and adores people of all ages, but he has this bravado thing going on and comes off like a major asshole at times.
But in the words of Martha Stewart, "That's a good thing." Heaven help the breed that becomes super popular! Geordie certainly does his part to make sure that doesn't happen to his tribe. He vocalizes, trash talks to other dogs, and elicits rather frank comments from people with Golden Retrievers and even from other Cairn people. Geordie can be pretty brash.
In their youth, Geordie and his litter brother sometimes appeared in the conformation ring at the same time. Geordie and Haggis never did sort out which of the two was alpha. Apparently both thought they were, but neither I nor our friends Brad and Peggy of Robinsend Cairn Terriers were willing to let them have a go at it. We wanted our dogs to retain their ears and other body parts.
However, "Cain and Abel" would grumble at each other in the ring when competing for their championships. I once even overheard a couple exclaim, "I don't want one of those dogs. They're really nasty." Mission accomplished.
We prayed they'd not be drawn as bracemates when they competed in the Master Earthdog class at AKC Earthdog Tests.
Most well-bred Cairn terriers-- including Haggis and Geordie-- are actually total marshmallows around people even if they are capable of acting more like anacondas around some other intact males and that can increase exponentially when you add a bitch in heat to the mix.
We went home and chilled out until we set out to visit our friends Brian and Paula and their three dogs, Louie, a Cairn terrier
I couldn't get a good shot of Louie
, but I will never give up!Pixie, a very adorable mix over which you can speculate for hours. Does she have Yorkie and Chihuahua and Papillon?
Pixilated?
She does sort of have a hard terrierish coat, and her ears, though they do not appear so in the picture, look sort of like those of one of the larger-eared bats. . .
(You get the gist. . . Ears are larger than they appear.)
(CAMERA SHY)
Oh what fun we had. Maggie did a bit of yoga:
(Emerging from Adho Mukha Svanasana or
Downward-Facing Dog)
Geordie did a little poolside Narcissus impression:
Well, sort of. . .The damned camera missed him admiring his own image. . .
We swam. We ate. We chilled. We listened to Laura Nyro and to Brian's beloved
"Humpy" (You might want to turn your speakers down if you're at work) and dined on Brian's culinary miracles which included:
Tossed Green Salad
Asparagus with White Truffle Oil
Mediterranean Organic Tomatoes and Basil
Fresh Rustic Bread
Spinach and Mushroom Gatteau (served with a fabulous Mornay sauce)
Dessert was homemade French Vanilla Ice Cream (packed with vanilla beans served with Fresh Raspberries on the side)
"A Moveable Feast?"
"The food was heavenly. Please, sir, may I have some more?"
(It is already the next day. I will have to finish this tomorrow. Which is NOW now.)
A good time was had by all. This is the place where English teachers all grimace in unison over my use of this "irresponsibly passive" cliche.
The five dogs (and cat) got on fantastically. Pixie, Louie, and Geordie went bonkers over the "entertainment."
(And doglings you can share it all with me)
Up on the POWERLINES!
We had a blast as the sun went down. Brian lit the tiki lamps, but I knew we had to get home if Paula and I were going to catch Day Two of the dog show-- which was today. . . or now yesterday. It will still be yesterday when I resume this tomorrow.
To be continued. . .
Jill, Magnet and BoyGeordz
Hot Summer Weekened and Weak-Day and Non-Canine Kids (06/26/06)
I'm a heat wimp. It's easily 100 degrees Fahrenheit here. I was dumb enough to walk barefoot to the mailbox and burnt my feet, barely worth it considering the pile of bills and other undesirable stuff. Maggie and Geordie are ensconced in artificial coolness. I went to swim laps at the municipal pool. Our walk-- that is, if we have one-- will have to wait until the sun sets. They can always escape through the dog door to take a leak or check out intruders.
And I thought yesterday was hot!
After Paula and I attended the dog show yesterday morning, the dogs and I cocooned here for the rest of the day. I procrastinated, and Maggie and I, after a most satisfying and active experience at Sunday's pool party, had some quiet time. Well, I was relatively quiet for a change. They barked.
OFF-TOPIC but still. . . I was typing away at today-last night's entry into the wee hours when the phone rang. It was Katie, who's my older son, Alan's most delightful girlfriend. Apparently, Alan was feeling much less than delightful, having become violently ill after attending a party. Katie actually put me at ease so that I did not panic as I might have. This was no easy feat, to which anyone who knows me well will attest.
She explained that she was calling a cab and that they'd go to either GW or Georgetown U's emergency room. As fate would have it, the cab was a no-show, and Katie called back @ two hours later to tell me that Alan had improved. The time of the initial call was about 4:30am Eastern Daylight Time, and the subsequent one was two hours later. AND KATIE HAD TO GO TO WORK! Alan knows what a treasure she is, and she really seems to understand him and cherish him as well. They take such good care of each other, reminding me that now my job as a mother has become a "supporting role." (It's about time I got that message.) Alan told me through his pain how much he loved this very special and strong woman. She really brings out the sweetness in him and it reflects back and forth between them.
Their lives and formidable ambitions have taken them to Washington DC-- Alan for the summer before returning for "Round Two" at University of Michigan Law. Katie will work for a while before she applying to law school herself. She just graduated from Claremont McKenna College this May, where they met and from where Alan graduated in 2004. He is a wonderful son who has inspired me with his discipline and accomplishments. But best of all, he has promised me that when I go into a nursing home, my room will have WINDOWS 
My younger son is Noah. He lives and works in Eugene after receiving a B.S. in Sociology from the University of Oregon in August of last year. He currently works (in his field of social work) for the Department of Human Services in Springfield and plans to go to graduate school to get his MSW in a year or so. Noah has given me such joy and is wise beyond his years. He has taught me so much about being a parent and is one of my role models. From him I learn that observing often trumps talking all the time in terms of value.
Below is a recent picture of Noah his girlfriend Reiko, who is a very kind, generous, and thoughtful soul with great taste in literature 
and a beautiful smile.
I am the luckiest mother in the world! Furthermore, the reason we got dogs to begin with was because of Noah, who at age ten declared, "I want a dog to tell my problems to." Hell, Maggie was way cheaper than a shrink! (Well, maybe not. But she's way more portable.)
I have two very creative and intelligent stepsons, Willie and Greg, too. Greg's in Portland and Willie currently lives in Kauai. Perhaps I'll elaborate more later. Maggie and Geordie adore them both.
Maggie and Geordie have had their dinner-- plus they split a head (bless its pointed little head) of Romaine lettuce. Geordie actually ripped it out of my hand while airborne.
All's relatively quiet. It's cooling down. Eighty-five degrees is not what I'd call refreshing, but it's doable-- especially as the sun begins to set. Larry just suggested we go for a walk-- a short one around the 'hood.
Shalom,
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Jill. SugarMagnolia, GeordzClooney
Maggie's Love Slave (06/27/06)
It's another torrid day in Oregon, but I manage to get my butt and Maggie and Geordie to the shaded path to the Canemah Cemetery. Only rarely do they open the actual graveyard to the public. Apparently some people think vandalizing headstones is a load of laughs.
Maggie and Geordie's "swamp coolers" are efficient, their bubblegum-colored tongues draping absurdly long over their lower front teeth. The cup of icy water from which they drank before starting down the path is now lukewarm but provides a sufficient recharge for their ventilation systems.
It's a brief drive home. We get out, I find the key, and Maggie pushes the unlatched front door open. Geordie pees on a bush and follows her inside. I hope to make some progress on one of my unfinished projects while Maggie and Geordie occupy themselves with organic raw bones.
So that the house doesn't assume the appearance of a crime scene, I lure them into their crates. After the bones are well masticated and white as-- well-- white as bones, I liberate them.
When Geordie grabs Maggie's bone, she discretely pads into a different room with his former one. She has managed to stave off Geordie's usual hoarding of both.
This "tradition" started more than ten years ago. As a puppy, Geordie discovered that if he emitted the most irritating and cacophonous shrieks imaginable, Maggie would reliquish just about anything just to make it stop.
Geordie got the spoils while Maggie got the sympathy. This brings me to the intended subject for this post:
Larry walks in this evening-- a little earlier than usual-- and greets me. He greets both dogs but is especially lavish with his adulation for "the best Cairn." He is referring to Maggie. This leaves Geordie to wonder, "What am I? Chopped liver?"
"At least you're my bitch." I can read his mind.
Only once do I remember Larry losing his temper with Maggie, and that was years ago and pre-Geordie. We had gone to Hawaii and obviously couldn't take her with us, so we boarded her at her breeder's, where she would be just one dog in a rather large pack whose members had more status than she.
Back in Portland, we drove straight from the airport to retrieve Maggie, who was acting rather bizarre and a little miffed. No, we thought. We're just imagining it. A couple of days passed. Larry was changing the sheets on our bed. Up she jumped and while staring him down with defiant eyes, she squatted and peed copiously all over the fresh sheets!
Larry's reaction was one of sheer outrage. I'd never seen him act that way toward this assertive little bitch before and haven't since. Grabbing her off the bed, out of the bedroom, into the family room, he practically flung her out the dog door.
"My humans went to Hawaii and all
I got was this lousy faux lei."
She re-entered the house a different dog. The snottiness disappeared and her former sweetness returned. Clearly pissed off because we had left her for so long, and finally having expressed it--literally as well as figuratively-- she lost her 'tude.
The dogs share our bed. Geordie likes to alternate between sleeping at the foot of the bed and sleeping under the bed. Maggie prefers the head of the bed. She curls up for a while before relaxing and shoving her back legs hard against Larry's back thereby limiting his choice of sleeping positions.
"She loves me," he sighs.
"She does. But she is also dominating you."
Nevertheless, I'll admit I'm a skosh jealous. I'm the one who has to do all the stuff the dogs dread, such as grinding nails and stripping coat.
It's true that I have fewer obstacles to slumber than Larry, but it is Geordie-- despite his frequent changes of location-- who sleeps best of all.
Jill, Magna, RipGeordWinkle
I just have to mention a little Pembroke Welsh Corgi whose picture I've seen but whom I haven't yet had the pleasure to meet. (She played hookey from Bring Your Dog to Work Day, but she probably had other things to do.) This cutie is Sunny Hill's Little Nell, a ten year-old sable Corgi girl, owned and loved by Mary Evjen and Michael Smith, who live right across the Columbia River from Portland in Vancouver, WA.
This is most of Nelle's gorgeous face:
She has her own line of products at
Mary is Larry's friend and colleague at All-Classical KBPS-FM a non-profit, listener-supported-- you guessed it-- classical music radio station.
Pembroke Corgis are friendly dogs that shed non-stop. If you sit around all day with your Corgi on your lap combing out all the dead hair, you will make the birds very happy. What snuggly nests they'll build!
Corgi hair ranks high on the A-list of those who spin dog hair to make Afghans (the blankets, not the hounds), sweater, and other knitted and crocheted items. The other Welsh Corgi, the Cardigan, is probably less suitable for pullovers than the Pembroke.
Corgi hair is certainly a renewable resource.
No doubt much of the substance circulates throughout Windsor Castle every day. Does it clog up the royal bathtub drains?
A sweater made with yarn spun of Cairn terrier gleanings would probably function similarly to the so-called "hair shirt." Those of us with terriers aren't necessarily those who'd make their lives easier for themselves, but I suspect that people with Pembroke Welsh Corgis might. After all, these dogs are obedient!
By the way, the word for dog yarn is chiengorra!
Jill, Magnolia, Louis Geord-an
"Now Give Me Back That Chocolate!" (6/30/06)
AT PRESENT: I await my son Noah's arrival from Eugene. Knowing that he will pull in momentarily, I scramble to perform some culinary hocus pocus due to my not having planned any meal at all. After all, I had no ETA until he called me from the road, and Eugene is about 90 miles from here.
Lately, my creative cooking options have been limited because I have all but given up shopping due to the emergence of Larry's new favorite hobby: impulse buying at the grocery store. So I sit back and wait until we run out of the essentials before sallying forth to hunt and gather ingredients from which to conjure up gourmet meals. Otherwise, it's a Boca Burger night.
I blame Maggie and Geordie's hasty and rather sucky walk through the neighborhood today on my own lack of motivation. I just couldn't venture any farther today-- too many distractions, both genuine and "synthesized."
It's sultry out, even at 7:30 in the evening. Tonight, it seems that almost everyone has let their dogs run free, making it a minefield for Maggie, Geordie, and me. I constantly yank M and G away from verboten lawns and from disobedient at-large dogs with lackadaisical owners who "ask" their dogs to come.
One large dog, who'd once attacked Maggie unprovoked heads our way. In a state of panic, I yell at the woman whose dog is fixing to make mine dessert, "Will you please get your dog?!" She reacts phlegmatically, but my screams keep the dog at bay until she lumbers forth to get the would-be assailant.
Gawd, I hate doing that but some people can be such irresponsible cretins!
TIP OF THE DAY:
Always keep a fresh unopened bottle of hydrogen peroxide in your medicine cabinet.
Last week Larry, while doing his recreational shopping, picked up a treat for himself-- a bulk bag of semisweet chocolate covered raisins.
"Not a lot," he insisted, although it looked like at least a pound and a half to me.
The bag fed Larry and me (I probably ate about twenty of them) one DVD before he stored them in a kitchen drawer, one that Geordie, the Jean Valjean of terriers, could not reach and open.)
The next day, he took them out again. We were watching The Colbert Report when last they were seen. I paid no attention to Larry's habitual after-dinner snacking and had no desire for any at the time.
Suddenly, a few minutes after turning off the TV. Larry noticed that the bag with the remaining candy was missing.
"I wonder if someone (i.e. one of the dogs) got them," said Larry.
"I sure hope not-- dark chocolate, in particular-- not to mention raisins can be lethal to dogs."
"Oh, but there were only a few left," he assured me.
"How many?" I was annoyed and impatient just the same.
"Really just a few."
"How many ounces? Two? Three?" (Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr)
"Honestly, there were hardly any left!" He sounded adamant. "Where's Maggie?"
(For a change, Geordie didn't have them. In fact, opportunist that he is, he missed his chance, a very rare thing indeed.
"Where is she?" I began to freak out and started calling for her. No response. Certain that she was nowhere in the house, I found her in the backyard, an empty plastic bag within a foot of her, more visible in the dark than she was.
"Oh no!" I picked her up, grabbed the bag, and opened her mouth. Sure enough, her breath smelled chocolate-y with fruity undertones.
"CRAP! She ate them." I was miffed. "These things can kill them. How much was left? Come on. You have some idea, don't you."
"Just a few," Larry insisted.
"How am I supposed to believe that? You've got this totally skewed idea of quantities and measurements."
EXAMPLE: With Larry, a little ice cream is most of a half gallon with just enough remaining to store in the freezer, maybe about five tablespoons. The container is usually light enough to FLY OUT if anyone shuffles around just one other item.
"It's almost all air," he explains, maybe even believing it.
Back to the situation at hand: I'm not buying the "just a few" thing and head toward the kitchen cabinet apothecary to grab a new bottle of hydrogen peroxide. It hisses-- a reassuring sound-- as I twist off the cap.
"She doesn't need that! Don't."
Defiant, I ignore his plea, grab Maggie, and pour about an eight of a cup straight into her mouth, making sure she swallows it. I carry her outside so she can "surrender" the contents of her stomach.
Thank goodness it doesn't take long. Within three minutes, a sizable pile of chocolate raisins appear on the deck.
"Oh, thank GOD! That's a few? It looks like about three ounces at least!"
"I'm glad you did it," Larry admits.
"Me, too." We rush to wipe it up and Larry turns on the hose to rinse the deck.
Crisis averted! Or so we believed.
Apparently, the fat lady had not yet sung because ten minutes after we thought we had possibly saved her life-- or at least prevented a major gastric upset-- the HP continued to do its job. On the bedroom carpet, no less. And this pile was bigger than the first.
Well, just by eyeballing the mess, I estimate that Maggie ingested about six ounces of the stuff, if you were to measure it on this planet. I am grateful that she suffered no further consequences and am truly surprised that Geordie didn't beat her to the cache, as he has so many times.
Again we clean up the mess-- quickly because Maggie and Geordie seem determined to respectively re-eat or eat the pureed mess.
I have less faith than ever in Larry's ability to estimate measurements but am thankful to let it go-- except for publicly humiliating him in this entry 
. But I know that he can take it because his "best Cairn girl" is all right.
So ends this "cautionary tale."
If you have dogs who like to munch, always keep a fresh bottle of HP on hand.
Semisweet Dreams,
Jill, Maglicious, Geode (Hey, that's what the spell checker likes to call him!)
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