Michael steps up

Michael feels things intensely. This makes him very astute regarding literature, human relations, and spiritual things. It also makes him sensitive to pain and joy, spiritual and physical. One of the upshots is his enjoyment -- and also fear -- of our animals. He adores the cats, and has a relationship with them (especially with Jack) like no-one else in the household. But he's still a bit wary of them: once bitten, twice shy, as they say.

All this has engendered a complex beginning to the Michael-Josie relationship. Ever since we were even discussing getting a dog, he was worried about how that would affect the cats: they would be susceptible to danger, and also they would take second place in the animal hierarchy. His misgivings were partially allayed by conversations with the New Skete monks, but in fact the fears were not unfounded. We're still working on getting Josie not to lunge at the cats, and she definitely gets more attention than they do -- she is a puppy, after all. Furthermore Michael's approach to Josie has been very careful and awkward. For weeks, despite my insistence, we watched the following cycle play out: Michael keeps his hand tauntingly above her head so that it wouldn't get nipped, which of course plays into Josie's lunge and nip reflex, which results in more fear, etc.

But things are changing. Several factors -- time, the Cape Cod trip, observing us and Sarah (puppy Kindergarten) working with Josie -- have conspired to instill in Michael considerably more confidence. He's more assertive with her, and here we come full circle, because he's taken a leading role in training her to ignore the cats. When Jack or Cinder are around, he becomes very (appropriately) authoritative with Josie showing her what's right, manipulating her with conviction. And she's listening to him.

Watching the kids interact with her, and learn about life through her, has been a real joy.

Tales and tails: two perspectives

Michael brought the bag of tresse (we still retain the Swiss word for braided, egg bread) to Peter's office this morning, where I was eating breakfast and reading Tuppence to Cross the Mersey. He settled in cross-legged and asked, "At the end of his birthday party, Bilbo starts to talk like Gollum, you know, saying "My precious" about the ring. Does the ring have some kind of power that it gives off? Is the same thing happening to Bilbo that happens to Gollum? I noticed in the sword game that it attracts the ring-wraiths and that also makes me think that it
does." He knows too much.

Peter's back from Oberlin, but arrived home so late that we barely registered his presence. This morning, Michael didn't quite believe that Peter had woken him up to say hello at midnight. The exception was Josie, who wriggled out of her crate in the dead of night to wag her hindquarters wildly and press her ears tightly back against her head for him. Same thing this morning (perhaps she thought she was dreaming last night).

(Now it's Peter talking.) Josie perceived me at my arrival at midnight, in spite of the blanket that covers her crate overnight. I couldn't resist opening the crate and having a love-fest with her. I'm afraid it must have woken up our downstairs renter, because she was utterly beside herself, and when I wrested her to the ground and pet her there, her tail was thumping hard and rhythmically on the floor...

In the car this morning Michael was asking me the same questions about LOTR -- a great pleasure to watch him engage and perceive so much about it. Tolkien teaches more about all that is right and honorable in the world -- as well as the pernicious force of the lust for power -- than anything other than Scripture. Sorry to offend legions of Harry Potter fans -- and it may be comparing apples to oranges -- but LOTR leaves HP in the dust when it comes to redeeming value and artistic genius.

I've only read the trilogy once (and have seen all three films in their extended versions numerous times), while Pat's read it probably about twenty times, literally. So for the more complex questions, about how and by whom the ring was forged, and the nature of its original power, I referred Michael to the expert. Elizabeth too chimed in about her reading, about a cat and other animals that talk to humans.

Josie is growing and adding all kinds of new coloration to her coat. I hope that she retains lots of the black, even as the brown and white patterns continue to incur upon it. Incur, get it?

Deathly Hallows

Yesterday, the day that the fervently-awaited Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out, Michael started reading, not Harry P., but The Fellowship of the Ring. It's lovely to hear him talking about Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday and the fireworks that look like Smaug rushing out of the mountain. Parenting doesn't get much better, especially since he's reading the same copy that I had with me at Girl Scout camp outside of Houston the summer before eighth grade.

Head of the Class, Josie!

Okay, so Sarah didn't say that, but throughout the class on Wednesday evening, she'd tell us what to do with our pups, then survey the students to see all the other canines leaping around on their leashes, while Josie was doing as ordered: sitting calmly behind us, or heeling, or ignoring racing children. When Sarah had us scolding rope or a sneaker (to discourage a dog from going near it), Josie avoided it without fail. I don't think I could have mastered all that when I was 5 months old!

But Josie has an advantage, too, besides being generally poised and whip-smart: All the other human students in the class are mothers with very young children, or working women. Peter has a lot of time at home this summer, so Josie has four of us to work with her. I take her for longish walks in the neighborhood (yesterday she heeled flawlessly for about ten minutes of the half-hour), Elizabeth is constantly working with her on hand gestures or handling issues, Michael is taking charge in his own way, and Peter takes on alpha issues. We've also seized every opportunity to train her not even to look at cats (as Sarah advised), and Cinder, at least, is getting the message. I don't know how cats can be so attuned to these power matters, but she almost immediately learned that she was now safe from Josie. (Jack has yet to venture from upstairs if Josie is abroad.)

My back seized up on me today, so instead of taking Josie for a brisk neighborhood stroll, I drove her to the church grounds, to pick up Michael and Elizabeth. We clipped the puppy to the longline and let her race around. All her pent-up frustration of the morning poured itself into galloping full-tilt alongside the brook. She was finally winded by the time Kate brought fellow-New Skete shepherd Nezhma out. Josie wanted so badly to play, but Nezh turned her back and snapped at her when she came too near! Ah well, she's eight and not willing to bounce around puppy-style.

Peter's been in Ohio since Thursday. I know it is for an ecumenical gathering and that it is celebrating the 20th or 25th or 50th anniversary of some organization. (It was good to hear that Kate also has trouble keeping track of what her husband is traveling for.) He's been meeting again with many friends from the international ecumenical movement, many of whom he hasn't seen in several years. But I'll let him fill you in on that.

Puppy Kindergarten, Take 3

Thought I should also report on last week's class. It was raining so hard that only three pups made it to Sarah's place: ours, Stella, and Duke. And Whoopsie made four. We learned how to use treats to train them to sit, stand, come, get down, follow a pointing finger. Elizabeth has done a lot of work with Josie on this since, to great effect. One method is to teach her to lie down by sitting on the floor with your legs bent in an inverted V and getting her to crawl through the V on her belly. Very fun. She's also teaching her to wipe her paws by following the treat around in a tight circle.

We also learned that we need two walking commands--one, Let's Go, to tell her to come along, but not right beside us; the other, Heel, to keep her in tight formation with us. She's learning, and learning fast.

At home the other night we were outside, a lovely balmy evening, sitting on the hammock with Peter. The kids were catching lightning bugs, Michael numbering them George 72, George 73, George 74. Suddenly Josie hurt herself, impossible in the dusk to see how. She yelped and yelped, then raced for the hammock with her tail tucked and curled up on the canvas beside Peter, whom she clearly expected to protect her. It was very sweet: he nearly melted.

Cape Dog

During this past week I've been trying to think over how to write about our week on Cape Cod. My standard line has been, It was lovely to be somewhere that the hardest decision to make was which beach to go to (or more pressing, what kind of ice cream to consume). South Beach, where the sands are soft and deep, the seals congregate at arms' length from swimmers, and the waves cross each other along spits reaching out into the water, became a favorite. We usually go there once per stay, because it involves a bit of a trek from car to beach, but we all loved it enough this time that we went every day the weather was good.

Don't get me wrong, now. That water was COLD. The sun was too anemic to pierce the clouds most days, and the wind whipped along great for kites, but not for warming up swimmers. Michael, Elizabeth, and Frederic joined the seals every day we went. Until the last day, Peter, Alice, and I only stuck our toes in, and then reluctantly.

Michael and Elizabeth go to Cape Cod with certain goals in mind: 1) Visit Ben Franklin, a five-and-dime, as often as possible. 2) Swim in Schoolhouse Pond at least once a day. 3) Catch frogs in the bog and stroke their bellies until they are in a trance. This year they added a new goal: Lure Josie into the water as often as possible. After her first surprise full-body dunking, she was markedly reluctant to plunge entirely into the bog, though she did enjoy delving for nasty, black, slimy bog plants from the bottom of the waterways. They managed to accomplish all of the above, except persuading Josie to swim again...

Elizabeth gained another goal: Engage in body art. To wit, dye hair with bright colors (blue, pink, yellow for her; blue and green for Frederic) and tattoo as many people as possible with her henna kit. Only Michael resisted the desire to be decorated. All the rest of us, Fred, Alice, Peter, Elizabeth, and I all found ourselves inscribed with pseudo-ancient designs on our arms or ankles. They're still there... The evening she did it was one of the highlights of the trip: everyone sitting in the den area reading or working quietly at computers, while Elizabeth or I piped henna scrolls on scrubbed and oiled patches of skin. Very peaceful and redolent of eucalyptus oil.

Now I confess I also go to Cape Cod with a number of goals in mind. 1) Disengage brain. 2) Be with Peter and the kids (Alice and Frederic were a bonus). 3) Visit my favorite consignment store. 4) Have one good fish meal. 5) Get a necklace and earrings set at Yankee Ingenuity. This year I had two new goals: First, Go to physical therapy. I've had tendonitis leading to a nearly frozen shoulder. Between Alice, who is a physiatrist and performed lots of painful but fabulously effective muscle energy techniques on it, and Lisa, who is local PT and shoved my shoulder blade out of its near-freeze, the whole joint is much further down the road to operating fully. Second, I wanted to get some folktale work done. I thought I'd spend an hour or so a day translating, but instead produced a useful table of all the published and unpublished Pontic tales I know of, to help cross-reference them (comparison is primary in folktale studies), and to show me what I've already done and what I need to do next. All goals completed!

I don't know Peter's goals. My guess is that they were to make sure everyone else is happy. But Peter, you'll have to weigh in yourself on that one.

N.B.: Alice was wonderful to have on site not just because she is my sister and a great doc, but also because, as a fellow-Southerner and -fan of ocean swimming, she also understands why normal people do not wade into freezing cold waves to disport among the seals. She also understands the deep-seated needs of Southerners to have iced tea ever on hand, along with tall tea glasses, and that it is worth a little extra trouble to ensure that every meal, however simple, tastes great.

Along those lines, it became apparent to me that I have had at least a little influence in my husband's life. He insisted on producing a home-cooked meal to greet his mother, sister, and niece the night they arrived. So we feasted on grilled cod and other delicacies. Although on our first date he did impress me by cooking me dinner instead of taking me out to a pub (we met in England), he long valued restaurant meals as a way to celebrate and for equally long didn't really see why birthday cakes HAVE to be homemade. Go, Peter!

Alice Weighs In

I left Little Rock on the last day of June – after replacing a couple of kitty doors in my house - to fly to Providence, RI on my way to Cape Cod. Catham, MA to be precise. Where I have had a lovely time dog jogging in the bog looking for frogs, not in the fog or leaping in logs, but wearing my togs. Whew. And of course having a lovely time being in the presence of my sis, brother-in-law, nephew, niece and friend. Been walking on the beach – amazed at the cold (always expecting beach water to be at least 80 degrees) and in awe of the kids swimming in it with little hesitation. Went seal watching (alas no whale watching this time), consignment shopping, and star gazing. Almost forgot the Catham Fourth of July parade – I don’t think I have ever been to a Fourth of July parade – rememberances and prayers for all our veterans and soldiers for our freedoms. Just an overall lovely peaceful vacation. Many blessings found and appreciated.

Josie’s and my first solo Bog Jog
Took Josie out on my own to the cranberry bog- about twice her size as when I saw her in May (see photos below). At first she did not know what to do with just me and neither Peter nor Pat nor Michael nor Elizabeth. She kept looking back at the house, expecting someone else to join us. Then she perked up, figuring out I was a pretty good substitute. She ran and sniffed. We ended up at one of the “ponds” where she leapt to the edge, fearlessly retrieving pieces of pond goo and running delightedly back up to the path, head and tail held high. The day before she had learned about bodies of water – having walked in over her head – oops. Then, as we headed back to the house, she ran up the path ahead of me, stopping 2-3 times to wait for me, looking back to see what was taking me so long. What a fun time. Had one more bog walk this morning – our last one together, sniff – as I head back to Little Rock tomorrow……..

Editor's note: here's two shots of Alice picking up Josie -- one in the beginning of May, and one in the beginning of July. I'd say she's grown! (er, the pup, that is...)

I Love a Parade

Well it’s the fourth of July and Chatham has an annual parade which attracts not only the tourists but especially the local folks from several of the nearby towns. We began the morning way too early at 7:00, parking, and walking to look for the Kiwanis Club-sponsored pancake breakfast. It took work to find it, but it was worth it. We took turns waiting outside with Josie, attracting many admirers as usual, and finally snuck her into the cafeteria as we munched. We thought we were completely unnoticed, with her lying peacefully under the table, until we saw several small children crouching and looking at her in amazement.

She did great in town, again, despite all the commotion, movement, and sometimes loud sounds. And once again she drew countless visitors of all ages, and drew out many stories about dog ownership, most happy, and one that ended up with the dog (a Hungarian Couvage) being given away by its family, flown to a ranch in Texas where she’d be more free to growl and threaten the livestock instead of small children.

When we got back, after an hour-long car ride that usually takes 10 minutes, she parked herself in front of the fridge and crashed out, totally.

Bog and Salmon

The last few days, Josie’s experience of life on earth has been ratcheted up about a hundred notches. Start with a six-hour car ride, beginning at 4:30 AM. She acquitted herself well. When she barked – that out-of-nowhere, high-pitched bark that makes everyone jump, it was usually for a good reason, like needing to relieve herself or eat or drink. Once we figured out which it was, she was great.

Here we are on Cape Cod, and she’s living life among us in a totally new setting. She enjoys some time in her familiar large-sized crate (which she will grow out of before long), but less and less. That’s because she’s started living so much more. I’d reckon yesterday was the most active and full day she’s had since her first days out of the womb.

We are six here – with the addition of Pat’s sister Alice, and a twelve-year-old friend Frederic. All took Josie out on a long walk around the cranberry bog that our house overlooks. We now have this great 50-foot line that attaches to her collar, which allows her to romp around in near-total freedom. We practically never needed to pull it – she was happy to be with her pack, taking periodic forays to eat dirt, nuzzle around, sniff, leap back in surprise at the grasshoppers, check in with us. I’m not sure she knew what she was getting into when she jumped into the swampy waters – to our initial shock (and hers too) she disappeared entirely, the water over her head – scrambled and loped out, instinctively going straight to the classic dog shake-off. When we got back to the house we hosed her off and dried her, and she slunked under a bench on the deck and crashed out for a good long while.

Later in the day we took her to the beach – great to see her play with the waves, running in and back – pretty much exactly like little kids do.

Two days ago we took her into town. While the kids were in the five-and-dime, I sat outside with her on a chair, and boy is she ever a conversation-starter. A real nice way to get to know people, so many of whom wanted to come up and pet her, ask her age, and say “awwww.” She did great.

No doubt about it, her life has just gotten about 200% more full – and she seems to like it a lot. She’s a DOG!

Oh, the day ended with Frederic and Elizabeth making a fine salmon dish. Hence the irresistible title of this entry.