Showtime in the De"fRos(e)t"ing City (Part Two)

(From 01/23/07)

There was no scarcity of interesting people. Several who stopped by our Tahitian Noni Juice booth rescue homeless dogs. Seemingly tireless and with enviable tenacity and commitment, there is no way they cannot be weary.

Midway through the shows, I met Linda Ball whose life seems anything but boring. leads an interesting life. After college, she joined the Peace Corps and subsequently began rescuing dogs from all over the globe-- from practically any location from where she could legally fly a dog back to the states. But for now, she directs Pawsitive Perspectives, an agency that trains and provides assistance dogs. (More about Linda in a future entry.)

Helen Ford, who won a bottle of Tahitian Noni Juice in one of our bi-hourly drawings, stopped by with her Boston Terriers and friends.

Note: Boy, have I dropped the proverbial ball here!
Jill (06/16/07)

Showtime in the "FRose City" (Part One)

(From 01/22/07)

I'm anticipating that it will take as long to organize my thoughts and write about this weekend as it would to unravel and re-ravel The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota. Every inche of its six point million feet of sisal.


Speaking of roadside attractions, the annual Rose City Cluster of All-Breed Dog Shows (including a Thursday of specialties, including the Terrier Association of Oregon's Group Show) at the Portland Exposition Center, is an Interstate-5-side attraction.

However the snow actually stuck and the icy roads remained frozen. I wondered if we'd even make it to the venue. Schools closed for most of the week, national news programs and even The Tonight Show and the "Oddball" segment of Countdown With Keith Olbermann featured slap-stickish scenes from Portland's bumper-carlike road scenes. At home on Monday especially, Geordie played Scratch 'n Sniff in the snow and Maggie cruised the back yard in the powder that did not melt for the entire day. But mostly we stayed warm and hunkered down within four walls. By Tuesday we ventured out for a surprisingly refreshing walk and they made yellow snow .

By Wednesday, although I could navigate the flat and well-sanded roads within a couple of miles of home, I wondered if I'd successfully journey to North Portland without becoming a mere insurance statistic. I practically held my breath, even as my friend Angel arrived from Ashland that evening. Leaving her "pre-existing dogs" at home in her partner's care, she made this pilgrimage to check out Westies at the Terrier Association of America's Specialty Show. Angel hopes one day to establish her own small hobby kennel. She and I planned to carpool on Thursday and and obviously succeeded, since I have lived to write about it.

I have been attending these shows for about fourteen years-- initially with Larry and my sons when we were looking to find our first family dog, which would be Maggie. After they had had enough and had pronounce me "one of those crazy dog people, " I kept going, either alone or with friends. Then I went to see Geordie compete in the conformation ring for his championship, a goal to which I, at first, I had merely acquiesced. A few years later, Maggie would make me proud (and save my ass) in the obedience ring. Subsequently Geordie would humble me while entertaining the ringside crowd and flirting with the female judges and stewards in the same obedience ring. For the last couple of years, I have come to support friends and root for Geordie's descendants (they're also Maggie's nieces and nephews) and browse the vendors.

Usually I leave Maggie at home, as she's not wild about the ambience: the lights are harsh, the cement floor is hard, and the canine potty areas are unbearable. On the other hand, for Geordie, it's probably the biggest, most fragrant, and fantabulous singles' bar this side of the Mississippi River. He and I-- we return to these shows every third week of January just as the swallows return from their winter vacation spot in Goya, Corriente, Argentina to San Juan Capistrano, CA each third week of March.

This year, Geordie (qua "canine spokesmodel") and I joined Paula and Brian at the vendor area at the Tahitian Noni Juice booth. On my agenda was introducing people to Canine Essentials products. Saturday and Sunday, Cairn terrier breeder Vicki Havlik and Rusty Han**** showed up and Cindi Marshall brought her beautiful Zoe on Friday, who stood in for Geordie as "spokesmodel" and did so most adorably.

Noni Spokesmodel Zoe enjoying Canine Essential Rewards
The good part about these shows is that you get to see old friends, such as the judge, a very nice breeder from Herndon, VA, who gave Geordie his first major win almost exactly nine years ago. And sometimes you can get your friends to be really good sports and groom your ragamuffin dog that has started to resemble a miniature yak.

(Thanks, Vicki)

And if you're fortunate, you may get to see your dog's granddaughter, CH. KinLoch's Marywood, RN ME, win a Best of Breed over a whole lot of other really fine dogs.

I will continue with Part Two, which I will at least begin tomorrow.
Meanwhile, visit Holy Terrier Dog Designs to fill some of your apparel and household needs in grand terrier style.

Cheerio from--
Jill, Magnet, Geordgan

Snowboundish

(From 01/16/07)

The snow that started to fall in hunks early this morning has not melted. I am fairly snowbound. Driving my pathetic, if serviceable, 1997 Geo Metro is risky at best and I've already cancelled some one appointment and expect to have to forgo a "working dinner" meeting in Portland.

Maggie accompanied Larry who bravely trudged to the mailbox, raised its flag, and removed The Oregonian from its yellow cubby hole. Geordie exited the dog door and examined the rare white stuff, gingerly using a paw to play "scratch 'n sniff" with the fallen snow. Powdery stuff. Shortly after that, he darted outside to confront an errant Labrador that confronted at the fence-- playfully yet asserting exactly whose yard this was.

Yesterday, was Martin Luther King's birthday and a day off for Larry, so we-- two humans, two canids-- headed down to the cemetery trailwhich is really the only suitable green space for our walks. Ice crackled beneath or feet and snow decorated the ground, spottily, sort of like the frosting on a Starbucks ginger scone. Took a few pictures with cell phones, which I don't recommend if you're after art-quality photography.
So it appears that we're stuck here, snowbound, Western Oregon-style, which is not the same a being walled in by three feet of Minnesotan snow or even the kind that makes it necessary to shovel your driveway. But it shows no sign of melting.

I will sit down with Maggie and Geordie, all hunkered down with a mug of Chai tea and a novel. Maggie will reread one of her Jane Austens.

Stay warm,
Jill, Mag, Geord

Holy Terrier Dog Designs

Cairn Terrier Tartan

Courageous, loyal, watchful, amusing, independent, spirited, and intelligent, the Cairn Terrier truly is "the best little pal."

Milking the Dog and Other Delights

(From 01/09/07)

What am I supposed to do with a zillion pictures that Cindi took of Vicki milking the dog?

(Stay tuned! Betcha can't wait!)

Meanwhile, here are four more of Geordie's grandkids:

Snuggly Cairn Terrier Pups
"Fruit-of-the-Vine" Cairn terrier pups bred by Lorin Leith & Otis Holt of Calypso Cairn Terriers in Northern Cal. Proud parents are CH.KinLoch's Capscot Isobel and AmCanCH. KinLoch's Royal Troon, ME.

Visit Holy Terrier Dog Designs and other Cafe Press Shops

Geordie and the Stockholm Syndrome

(A Classic from "around" New Year's Day 2007)

It most definitely is not January 1, 2007. All kinds of time has passed. We're already more than a week into 2007 and it's been a good month since we've posted here. We're also going to pretend it's really New Year's Day even though it's already January 8th. That is one of the great things about this dog blog. You can pretend it's another time.

Rainfall in Oregon for 2007 has been plentiful so far. Cairn terriers are well suited to the climate-- at least until it changes again. It's unpredictable as hurricanes. The Pacific Northwest has been blown silly by windstorms-- even in the so-called "banana belt rain shadows" such as Lopez Island, birthplace of 17 of Geordie's puppies and home and birthplace to his grandpups (and Maggie's nieces and nephews). Our extended dog family, which includes Bette Shuh and Rudy and Carol Onstad have had some challenges keeping their yards from blowing away.

Power outages occurred all over-- on Whidbey Island where our friends Barb and John Schuster have, for now, homesteaded. They're rethinking their relocation from "balmy" Truckee, CA. Fewer snow caves there and milder weather. Creepy weather up north. Go figure.

Geordie, in the last month has amassed nineteen more grandchildren (to bounce upon his stifle). Four appeared in Sonoma, CA. Then one at the Barclay Hills Animal Clinic in Oregon City. Ten more emerged at the same place by Cesarean, although sadly, two of those did not survive. Nine of the puppies (who are actually current residents of Portland) endured a power outage at the most inopportune time imaginable. Five more grandchildren, after the brouhaha surrounding the last ones had passed, entered the world in Beavercreek, OR. Like the uneventful whelping in Sonoma, these puppies arrived without undue fanfare or drama and within hours and were well on their way to resembling Goodyear blimps. But more on all these puppies later-- especially the eight boys and two girls of the Portland group.

Geordie also sprained his knee, which I doctored, as per Dr. Doug Ferro, DMV with baby aspirin, mandatory crate rest, a cold pack, and some arnica gel applied through layers of plush, ungroomed topcoat and undercoat.

"Ten days of rest," advised Dr. Ferr0, an esteemed member of Maggie and Geordie's medical team. This proved nearly impossible and after about a week of it, I threw in the proverbial towel. Geordie was irrepressible and almost as difficult to entrap as a ferral cat.

I set out to write about Geordie and Maggie and New Year's Eve, so I will.
So December 31 arrived nearly at the end of Geordie's prescribed "bed rest."

Alan and Noah were in town, although their plans did not include us. Alan reunited with some old Oregon friends while Noah and Reiko attended a concert and booked a hotel to avoid the inebriated drivers (or perhaps to prevent themselves from driving inebriatedly). They would converge in front of the TV to watch the debacle that was the Rose Bowl. (Poor Wolverines!) Then Noah and Reiko would have to drive back to Eugene for most of another week of work. Alan would not depart until around 4:50 a.m. for visits to
Washington DC and Philly to visit more people before hunkering down with a half-ton of law books for the final semester of Year Number Two at UMich Law.

Larry, Maggie, Geordie, and I would celebrate-- as much as we ever celebrate-- the advent of 2007 at Paula and Brian's with them, their dogs and cats-- and with Brian's sister Penny and her two Chihuahuas, Amber and "the fair Isabelle," as Geordie would come to regard her.

It was not until we arrived that it occurred to me that these two Chihuahua muchachas were not spayed because Geordie took an immediate shine to Isabelle. Izzy was not in season exactly, but Geordie tends to act as a Geiger Counter when a bitch is within a month of coming into heat. And it appeared that Izzy would soon "be receptive. " Although an unamused Amber warned him off her sister with a snarl or two, Geordie remained undeterred. In fact, he became more determined.

Usually, he swaggers around with this strange lascivious leer on his face. His eyes practically scream, "Would you care to see my etchings?" However given enough time-- usually a good hour, he ceases playing the game. After all, she was not in standing heat and his wishing that she were would not make it so. And it was getting a little old.

We had more or less unanimously decided that New Years Eve 2006 wasn't going to be all about a randy little Cairn terrier with a rather unsettling grin on his face, so in the name of sanity and because a generous amount of crate rest was what the doctor had ordered, I placed Geordie inside his crate where he lay quietly for about three hours. While a fire roared in the fireplace we watched the delightful black comedy, Little Miss Sunshine and even time-delayed less delightful Dick Clark. (Let him retire already and recover in private please. I wish him well, but time marches on. . .) Then there was the game of Scattergories. Everyone except for Paula and I cut bait on that one. Brian might have liked the game better had it not involved using a pen and paper. The bounty of toothsome treats beckoned: Penny's fudge, macadamia nuts that Reiko brought back from Hawaii, Ghirardelli chocolate squares-- including such improbable flavors as Eggnog. (No thanks.)

"Shall I let the little lech out of his crate?" I asked.
"Sure," answered Paula.

I opened the door to Geordie's intermediate-sized Kennel Cab, but he just lay there and stared adoringly into my eyes. He moved not a single muscle to escape. He was all sweetness and cooperation. Was this a defense mechanism? Was his incarceration one of tremendous emotional distress? He clearly loves his captor-- me. Was Geordie suffering from a telescoped form of Stockholm Syndrome?

If only dogs were not afraid to speak!

Happy New Year.
Oh, and of course Maggie was a perfect angel!
Auld Lang Syne and stuff,
Jill, Mag, and Geordie ("Jail is cool.")

Decemberry Days and A Full Moon

(From 12/09/06)

It appears that all will settle down, much as the leaves the trees have surrendered. This was the week I could have done without.

After a rollicking stroll in the woods very off the beaten path, Maggie, Geordie and I settled into the usual routine. Dinner was chicken and veggies for the two, wolfed down with élan. The day progressed as though on autopilot-- but not without its bits of exhilaration.

I left the house at about six-thirty, after TiVoing my way through Countdown With Keith Olbermann, one of my weekday staples (along with Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert) for a meeting of the Columbia River Cairn Terrier Club in Clackamas, where I couldn't eat because I had to fast for the yearly physical I was dreading that was to occur at ten o'clock the next morning. The meeting ran its course, despite the lack of quorum, and after chatting with Rachel (a young woman with big plans!), I returned home and started my yoga routine with my DVD best friend, Yolanda, from Victoria-- Melbourne I assume-- Australia.

Maggie was a bit listless, panting as she jumped onto the couch. Geordie was uncharacteristically deferential. Odd but easy to ignore.

Larry arrived home at ten-thirty. Geordie greeted him, but Maggie was nowhere to be seen. I called her, semi-panicked, although I knew there was no way she was outside at large.

She was in hiding, something only a stoical Cairn terrier in major discomfort would do. After some deliberation, we took her to the emergency clinic. . . it was to be a night with no end

(to be continued later)

UPDATE: It's three weeks later (New Years Day) and $2600 later, too. Turns out that Maggie had an acute hepatic infection-- and has some gallstones. Her temperature rose to a horrifying 106. Long story, but now she is home and back to normal after spending a couple of days as a canine voodoo doll due to so much poking and prodding and biopsies (ruling out the absolute worst). She is on the mend, thank goodness.

Tomorrow we follow up at the Hawthorne Veterinary Clinic with a consultation with Dr. J(udkins) and a little acupuncture and some healing herbs. She's eating normally and back on herCanine Essentials Senior. She is doing well and I have had the pleasure of accompanying her on some solo walks. I will have to explain why Geordie has had to sit out for the last week. (He is not a happy camper but I will explain how he has accepted his fate of R and R. . .)

We are waiting for Maggie's coat to grow back fully on her flanks. She is otherwise yak-like. Barbara Schuster came to the rescue with some fabulous fleece coats for her to model throughout the 'hood.


Jill, Geord, and Mag-on-the-mend

"The Abominable Snow Cairn"

(From 12/07/06)

It is not as it appears, but it is perhaps the reason why Cairn terriers aren't as popular as some breeds. You might not believe this, but Greg Perry, one of Hattie's humans tells me that this dog is not attacking her kennelmate: she is playing! Having lived with two of these myself, I believe him absolutely.

"The Abominable Snow Cairn"

Clanmarr's Steele Princess, aka Hattie, lives with Greg and Val Perry and rules with iron paw and formidable teeth over all she surveys.

But isn't it fun to fake people out with graphics and text? So around this most classic pose, I have built a new Cafe Press Boutique. Three designs. Click on links for examples of each.

• The above. Hattie the Yeti-Cairn in all her toothy splendor. Check out this cuddly throw pillow!
  
• One I call Cairn Terrier Snowjob, which the image sans text. The picture really is worth at least a thousand words
• The Hell-Fury Bitch line contains greeting cards and two-sided apparel and suchthat quotes William Cosgrove: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Check out this and the other new concoctions at Holy Terrier Dog Designs.

Also be sure to visit Crofters' Dream, which features the dogs of Greg and Val Perry. Besides Kula, RN, Hattie lives with one of Geordie's -- he's a few scrolls down on the "Related Cairn Terriers page"-- grandsons, CH. Cairngorm Coffee Tea or Me, JE aka "Kona."

Jill, Mag, Geord (shaking in their boots)