SSSSHHHHH

MomPerson either sleepin or she dun finished da wine real quik.

WHUT DA KID LERNT TDAY

Dis Conley.
I gone try write rite so everbuddy can read it. Llewis helping wif he  dictionary. (See? like dat.) (That.)
We gots this new kid here name of Doc. Hes a Belgian Shipdog. Sheepdog. Mom used to hab another BSD (dat short for Belgian Sheepsdog) but he, Mr. Cooper Sir, done croa----sorry: died.

So anyways he only bin here 3 days. Firss day he tired not do much. I said hello but not so much. Llewis says leeb me the F alone, so the puppy do. Nigel say--it sad--he wanna play. (He can't.) Not so much anyways.

So dis morning da Kid and me we goes outside and he do he stuff and I do my stuff an den I look aroun an whut dat crazy kid doing? He doing a play bow.

I mean, how can youse not laff at dat butt stickin up and dat pointy nose in da dirt?
So I run.
And he run. Only he go flying rite past me ob course he got them long ole legs awreddy. He running like a crazy man around da summerhawse. He not know I played dis game wif Mr. Cooper, Sir and I knows no madder how fass I go I nevbver gonna catch dat liddel ...puppy. Not now. Not later either.

So I stan onna deck an wait. An sure enouff he come charging bek around. An so I chast him, just far an fast enough keep the kid going. All youse really wanna do is keep he going till he can't go no more wiffout making youself too tired.
So here I is, makin sure he keep going:

He might maybe look a liddle scared, but truss me, he ain't.

 

So we done dis for awhile. Finely he slowin down a bit. Not a lot but at least anuff that the camra works.

 

 

You may be noticing there be a lot more pixtures of Doc then ob wonderful old Conley but not to worry. I gettin my fair share of treats an attenshun and pictures too.
So anyways we bin out about a half a hour now an da kid really slowing down. Dis always good news. As dey says, a good puppy is a pooped out down for da count puppy.

So here how we ended this liddel playtime:

an den

Fank you Uncle Conley, you da bestest. (Only he say it in anodder langwitch, Come out sumfine like "merci mon oncle,tu es le meilleur.") He say he lernt dat in Texis but I not thinking so.

Dispatch from Conley ob Conley, Llewis, Nigel an now, Doc.

DOC

The puppy is here. He flew in from Texas (he missed the first flight) and got to OHare about 5:30. Some lovely people from Barrington were there too, to pick up his sister. They traveled separately, but together.
I love my Bassets. Make no mistake about that. They offer me something Belgians do not. On the other hand, what I get from a Belgian I cannot get from a Basset, and it is with great delight that I welcome baby Belgian Doc into our home.

This is he. He of the innocent countenence. He of the "who me?" look. He of the "I would NEVER" look.

This is what a baby Belgian looks like just before they learn how to climb up on the dining room table, walk onto the freezer and open a bag of dog food (not yet-- but I have seen it done.)

This is what they look like before they shred your shoes, your blankets, chew the corner off the tv console, (another Belgian) or dismantle your furnace (yet another.)

This is Doc.

See how sweet he is? How cuddly? (and he is.)
Wanna hear how he screams in the crate in the Van? He screams like a husky: maaawww maaaawww!
Only if the windows are down and we are at a stoplight.

A bird? A fly? A yellow Jacket? Should I snap it? Squirrel? flower?
I know nothing. I am a blank slate. But happy to learn. I think the Bassets will teach me a lot.
Today I met a Veterinarian ( a nice lady) a mailman (a nice man) and two neighbors. (Yup. Nice.) While Mom was sitting at the Vet's with me the local Animal Control came in and recognized her and said oh how cute etc etc. And she thought, oh god, he isn't registered with the village--- nor are any of the bassets.  I don't think I have to be registered until 4 mos when I can get a rabies shot.
The nice Animal control people brought in two tiny pug babies that had been in a yard witha gold retriever and got out and I guess didn't get retrieved. The Vet knew who the momperson is , tho, so they will got home. They look funny.
Mom is writing this for me. I can't write yet. Conley says he will teach me. So maybe you will hear from me.

This is Doc.
AKA
Mika Keokuk Medicine Man of Liswyn.

You may call me Doc.

TODAY

Ok it is P day-- puppy day.
The crate is ready. He has dishes of his own even tho I have 30,000 dishes.
Here is the thing.
I spent a lot of time yesterday alternately angry and in tears. WTF??
And then I figured it out.
Yes, I want this puppy very very much.
But at the same time, it is an affirmation that Cooper is, indeed, dead. That he is not coming back from some long cruise, that he has not been on vacation, that no matter what my brain did to minimize the pain of his passing, that pain was still there and had to be dealt with. So while I was celebrating I was also mourning.

The key was, I did this when we got Mitchell. Walker had been gone since November. I called Jackie in December to tell her. She said, oh do I have a puppy for YOU! And in Feb she brought him to a show where I went to pick him up, and there he was, the cutest puppy you have EVER seen, and I burst into tears and fled.

Once again, it was proof that Walker was gone. He was not at the Vet hospital getting treatment for lymphoma. At the tender age of two he was all gone forever. I had kept it together during his illness, during the mad dash for the U of Illinois, through the moments they called to say he was totally full of cancer, through the visit and through the phone call the very next day saying he was gone. I was  an absolute pillar during my husband's profound sadness in the next few weeks. i was tough, and upright, and comforting, and all that.

But when I saw that puppy, my heart broke for Walker.
Cooper is a little different.He had a long (relatively speaking) and happy life. I have been told by 2 communicators that he is here and is fine.

But grief and love are tricky things. They are very closely related.
i will welcome this puppy with all my heart,I will love him every bit as much as I loved any dog I have ever had, and I know this. Two seconds after I get him out of the crate at the airport he will become forever MY dog. I am as excited as a little kid at Christmas.

And he will be my perfect dog, because we all know that each new puppy is going to be the perfect dog.
The truth of course, is that EVERY dog is the perfect dog for someone.

TOOOOMORROW TOMMORROW TWOMORRRROW

Belgian Puppy Arrival Day!!!
I wish I had a good photo to post of him but I don't. It is the red puppy which only means he has a piece of red yarn around his neck not that he has a red coat as a friend of mine thought.

When I first saw the pix of the two males I liked red the best. Then came the cute fuzzy picture of Blue and I liked HIM the best. Then the breeder began explaining to me about the two males and their virtues and sins as far as conformation goes (at this age which is 9 weeks) and red sounded better and better.

So today I vacuumed and steamcleaned most of the downstairs, bought food for the puppy, still don't have a good crate pad because I ran out of $$$$$$. Surely someone is cheaper than PetSmuck.

I printed out the instructions from the airline, put the phone number on my cell phone. My dear and good and true friend Susan is going to drive me to OHare. She has done this before. I have gone with her, but don't know the details.

All I would need is to get lost finding the Van in the parking garage with a puppy that has been on an airplane all morning. (Not that long, actually, a couple of hours.)

Doc.His name is Doc. His name is actually "Mika Keokuk Medicine Man of Liswyn." And here is why: it is the K litter so the name has to start with a K. I liked Doc and was looking for something to go with that and got to Medicine Man, which I liked. Then there was still that  damn K.

And then I remembered. John's great aunt Nellie Verne Walker made a huge bronze statue of Chief Keokuk, which stands over-looking the great Mississippi River at Keokuk, Iowa. PERFECTO!! So that was it.

And tomorrow, we will see what the boys think of their new housemate. And they better be really happy to see to him......

 

Chief Keokuk by Nellie Verne Walker

FREUD HAD IT WRONG

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a little boy. Now. According to Freud this means I had "penis envy". Freud was wrong. What I had was EQUALITY ENVY. Even as a child I knew there was a big difference between being a little boy and getting to do exciting things, and being a little girl and told to cross your legs at the ankle when you sat down, pull your skirt down, don't sit like that, walk this way, act interested in what the boys are interested in, (nevermind what I was interested in) and don't eat that you'll get fat vs. eat, keep your strength up.

 

This is me in case you couldn't figure it out. Note that at the tender age of 4 I am wearing a gun. It was only a cap gun but I had been wearing it steadly for a year at that point, rarely took it off. The skirt was my Mother's idea, an attempt to rein in her obstinate daughter. It worked, for awhile.

 

But it wasn't a penis I wanted. It was the ability to do the same things as my brother. The ability to ride my bike as far as he rode his.

To have a key to my room. (That backfired, but I will go into it another time. BWaaaahahahahahahah).

(Ok: he broke the key off in the lock and spent a whole day sitting in the hall with a hacksaw and my Father, sawing through the lock.)

The advantage to being a girl was: I was protected and tears were a potent weapon.

End of advantages, as I saw it.

 

He has looked out for me, I have to admit. Note the tie. I am puzzled by that since Mother loathed dogs. Who got a dog when he wanted one? Not me. When I wanted one, no dice.

So I got a horse. HAhahahahahahha. Revenge is sweet.

 

I think he ran into a tree but I cannot remember. The Indian artifacts behind him were his. He got to go to Tama,Iowa and watch the Indians (Native Americans, whatever) dance and he made friends with some of them and had an awesome collection. Breech clothes, tobacco pouches and bowls...

I had china horses.

 

He's a good guy.He is not responsible for his sex anymore than I am responsible for mine. I am now resigned to being female and glad of it in many ways, but every now and then I think...what if...

 

And it's not a penis I want, it's equal pay.

LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE

We are trying to remember what happened to summer. I think it was too hot to really DO anything. It's a little cooler but not much, however this month is chock full'o things I have to do. And at the end of the month MAYBE there will be a new puppy waiting, or maybe not. I won't know for awhile and meantime, just eat Valium.

(No that's not true. Valium makes me really stupid. As in, worse than normal. It turns me into a zombie. I know people who take it before they go into the show ring but I tried it once and nearly fell asleep waiting for the Judge to examine my dog.)

Anyway the GABR Bash&Waddle is the weekend after the Park Forest Art Fair which is the 15 & 16, if anyone feels inclined to drive a thousand miles to see a dying institution. Am I bitter? Moi??? This year there are 62 vendors. SIXTY TWO!!! Do you know how tiny that is? This is a show that used to draw people from all over the country, no kidding. One of the biggest, best art fairs of the year.

This is the town that used to have the Scenic 10 Run. It drew runners from all over the world. It was considered one of the big prep races of the year. We don't have it anymore.

I am convinced the Village powers have decided the art fair is too much trouble and are trying to kill it. They're almost there. It would not surprise me if this were the last year.

I do not have a booth at the art fair. I have my jewelry in a Gallery right there on the main street, and I go and sit in the weatherproof gallery with the door open and when it is hot or rainy we offer A/C or a roof. I have done quite well this way and am hoping this will be a good year, but with 62 vendors....


The weekend after that is the GABR Waddle and I am working with Wendie Prince and the Sr.Hounds Abound booth. That is in Dwight, Il and is still one of the big waddles. They raffle off a Corvette every yr. They have their own property and they walk in the Harvest Day parade. I might bring Conley, I don't know.

 

The idea of bringing Mr. I Am Cool and trying to sell stuff at the same time has limited appeal. I also need to have him groomed first and he howls the entire time he is there, making him not popular. There is no known way short of anesthesia to shut him up.

 

I will say here as an addendum that my good friend McBeth lost her heart and soul dog, Frankie, earlier this week. He was a yellow lab mix and was supposed to be a guide dog, but he flunked. He had bonded with McBeth when she raised him as a puppy and refused to submit. He tried to drag a trainer into a lake after a goose. She had him forever after, until his death from cancer this week. He was a wonderful, fun, friendly, obedient dog whose entire life revolved around McBeth.

He was an agility dog, a therapy dog, a reading dog, a dock diver and he excelled at all of those activities. Whatever McBeth wanted him to do, he did to the very utmost of his ability.

Frankie was a great dog.

We will all miss him.

 

***

MORE WILDLIFE

Now this is just bizarre.
We have had possums, skunks, rabbits, deer,raccoons and foxes either in the yard or the immediate neighborhood and possums, skunks, coyotes and bunnies in the yard. But this.... I mean, come on, guys. This is too much.

So there we are, on a nice quiet afternoon, hot enough that we have the a/c on. John has gone someplace. Probably it was Friday. All at once the dog alarm goes off and I see Roger, my wonderful neighbor, dancing around in front trying to get my attention.

I go to the door and he tells me-- this is a sober man who knows animals-- that he has just
chased
a
BEAVER
out of his swimming pool
under the fence
into my yard.            !!!!!
A what? Yes he says it had a blig flat tail and claws that he thought were going to shred the  lining of the pool when it clambered out, stared and Roger, jumped back in the water and did a final lap before lumbering off under the fence into my yard.

(Google images)

I don't know much about Beavers. They live in water. The day this happened it was in the mid 90's and bright and sunny. About three blocks east is a drainage ditch that angles into Central Park and eventually, maybe 6 - 8 blocks away, is a "wetlands". While we have had rain recently, I would expect the wetlands might not be that wet but it certainly is a more friendly environment than the backyards along this street.
Of course, maybe someone has a little Koi pond they treasure.......

Beavers chew wood but what do they eat? Bothersome Bassets?

They have big ole chompers, too. I would imagine they can really
nip.
I kept the boys in for a long time. It was too hot to be out anyway.
I searched the yard and found nothing except some mosquitos.

I am worried about the Beaver. I hope he found his way to wherever he had in mind to go, and that it was as nice as he envisioned.