Surprise!

Yesterday, Penni met me at the Albuquerque airport. As she stepped out of her car, this is what she handed me.....Watson! I wasn't expecting to see him until I got to Penni's house. Naturally, because I'm a sentimental idiot, with the stress on "mental," I burst into tears. He's prefect. There have been moments this weekend when I've sworn I'm looking at Axel.

Penni and I are having too much fun. I went tracking with Chase, who, btw, just happens to be the COOLEST dog, ever. What a character. I'm so proud to say that I have one of his puppies. And, tracking is FUN. We used my bra as an "article" which we placed in a church parking lot, along with a cookie cutter, washcloth, and a glove. Chase found them all with very little difficulty. Good boy, Chase

We spent a few hours shopping in Old Town, and yes, Carolyn, I bought some really cool kaleidoscopes. Tonight we off to watch the sunset and drink margaritas. I know, it's been a rough weekend.

Oh! And if Penni isn't careful, she might notice Inca's missing. What a lovely, dear dog she is.

Off to take more puppy pictures!

My Mother and What's His Name.

This morning, my mother asked me, "So, when do you leave to pick up Wicker?" My mother has trouble with names. To date, she has called Watson: Wicker, Wicket, Winston, and Datsun. It took mom nearly a year to remember Fig's name; she called him "Sig."She may not remember names, but she remembered what it's like to have a new puppy. I'd forgotten that she remembered.

My doorbell rang late this afternoon. My mother's gardner/handyman stood at my door. He had been sent by my mother to "inspect" my backyard. Mom was worried that it might not be puppy-proof, and she sent help. Together, Jose and I found a small hole in the fence line (thank you, Fig) that a puppy could wedge his head, and under the deck, we found most of Fig's discarded, disgusting, de-stuffed puppy toys.

I now have the most puppy-friendly backyard in Napa.

Thank you, mom.

Ian and Fig

I woke up at 1:30 am because I noticed the lights were still on in Ian's room. I went in to turn them off, and there was no Ian. The quilt was off his bed, but there was no boy in the bed. This is what I found when I went into the living room. I'll admit, it brought a tear to my eye.

Food for Thought...?

Fig is home from the vet's, and as expected, is very groggy. He had baked chicken and rice for dinner, and this is as far as he got when he was done eating. Poor puppy dog.

For the Woman with Everything

Authentic, honest-to-God Neutical earrings. Why anyone would want to wear prosthetic dog balls from their ears is beyond me. Here is the description from http://www.neuticles.com/ :

Elegance and fashion are combined with our new handcrafted earrings available for a limited time only. Sterling silver caps hold an actual pair of Neuticles .63" in style. Ideal for any formal or informal occasion! Each Limited Edition pair are individually numbered up to 1000 - with certificate of authenticity. Price includes first class postage, handling and all related charges. $109/pair.

And, while on the subject of testicles, real or fake, Fig's vet phoned, he's fine, and can come home at 6 pm.

Good-bye, Testicles

After much thought, and with Carolyn and Mandy's permission, I have decided to neuter Fig. I don't foresee a show career for him, and my son Ian wants to learn to track with him while I learn to track with Watson. The family that tracks together....

During Fig's pre-op appointment, my vet asked me if I wanted to have "neuticals" implanted in Fig. WTF? Neuticals? Yup, there are silicone prosthetic testicles that can inserted after the real ones are removed. Dear lord! Really? Why? Because, "they help your dog retain his self-esteem."

I must have looked absolutely incredulous, but my vet told me that he's implanted hundreds of neuticals over the past few years. I think there are some dog owners with self-esteem issues, and way too much money. The cost of ensuring your dog retains his dignity, and self-worth is a mere $950.00. For better or worse, Fig will come home tomorrow sans testicles, and neuticals.

Only in California......

The Best Dog in the World.

This was sent to me by Penni Adrian. I think it is beautiful. And, as Fig is Ian's "Best Dog, " and Duncan is Teddy's, I think there's a little brindled mismark waiting to be my new "Best Dog in the World."

Best Dog in the World
By T'Mara Goodsell

One's first love is always perfect until one meets one's second love.
~Elizabeth Aston

Years ago, I owned the very best dog in the world.

I was a child when we got her. She was a graceful brown hound, a foundling who taught me that our pets are not purchased, but ordained.

She romped when I did and knew how to smile in that funny way that only some dogs have. She grew up with me, always there when I needed her. My grown hand still remembers the sleek bump on the top of her head and that gentle divot just past her nose that fit my index finger just perfectly.

She passed away during one of my college vacations. My heart broke then, and I knew that there would never be another dog like her, and there hasn't been. I was sure that I could never love another dog as much as I'd loved her.

Fortunately, I was wrong about that part.

My next dog came into my life when I was married. My husband traveled for a living, and I was often lonely. This dog grew into a lumbering Wolfhound and Sheepdog mix who taught me patience. He was a large, grizzled sentry, that dog. He rarely left my side until the children were born, and then he became their guardian, too. I can still feel that swirl of fur along his back and the weight of his chin when it rested in my lap.

When he passed away, my heart broke. As much as I had loved that childhood dog, I had been wrong. This was the very best dog in the world. There would never be another dog like him, and there hasn't been. I was sure I would never love another dog as much as I'd loved him.

I was wrong again.

We got the next one, a loping black Lab-and-Terrier mix, when the children were little. He taught me the importance of adapting. He was everyone's dog from the beginning, and that was just as it should be. When he played tug of war with the children, he dragged them across the kitchen floor as they shrieked with laughter. He always seemed to sleep in the room of the child who needed his company the most.

These days his face is expressively gray, and he spends more time with me since the almost-grown children aren't around so much. The other day my oldest, home from college, played tug of war. We all laughed--just a little--as the dog was gently pulled across the kitchen floor.
He is, of course, the very best dog in the world. I will never forget that exquisitely soft tuft of fur behind his ears or the tickly feel when he nuzzles. There won't be another dog like him.

And that's okay, because we will never be at this point in our lives again.

Sometimes I've wondered why two species that get along so well should have such different life spans. It just doesn't seem right. And then I wonder if that's part of the lesson: To teach us that love itself has a spirit that returns again and again and never really dies.

It's amazing, in a way, how they bring to our ever-changing lives exactly what it is that we need at the moment. They make room for one another, this family of dogs who has never even met. And they fit--into our families, into our lives, into our memories, and into our hearts--because they always have been and always will be the best dogs in the world.