Category: Musings

November writing alert!

Normal service may not be possible for the next few weeks!

As many of you know last December I published my first book Learning from Dogs.

That book had been the result of me getting my head down in the Novembers of 2013 and 2014. Why November? Because that is the month of NaNoWriMo, or to use the long-form: National Novel Writing Month.

Having brought book number one the light of the day, it was only natural that my mind started to turn to a sequel. At first, I thought of another book about dogs; perhaps Learning About Dogs? But for a variety of reasons I just couldn’t get started and it all came to a head last Wednesday during one of our regular group cycle rides. As follows:

Jim Goodbrod, he who wrote the foreword to my first book, asked how book number two was coming along.
“Oh Jim,” I replied, “I have left it far too late to contact the many academics that I have come across, to seek permission to quote their works and to find out if they have more scientific information of potential interest.”
“I have this terrible feeling that I’m setting myself up to fail!”

Jim then opened a wonderful window for me; metaphorically speaking. But before describing what Jim went on to say I should explain to you, dear reader, the connection between Jim and Janet, his wife, and Jean and me. Jim and Janet live about half-a-mile from us in Merlin, Southern Oregon, and right from the moment when we moved into our home back in 2012 they have been very good friends indeed. That friendship built upon Jim and Janet sharing very many similar outlooks on life to Jeannie and me. Plus Jim is a professional veterinarian doctor at a vet’s practice in Grants Pass, our local town some 12 miles from home, but has frequently given us advice ‘out of hours’ when one of our pets at home has gone down with something beyond Jean’s extensive experience.
So the four of us have spent much time together socially and I am embarrassed to admit that quite a few of my stories from past years have been told by me.

Back to that conversation during that bike ride. “Paul, Janet and I were only saying the other day that we would really love to see your next book being something autobiographical. You have had so many interesting experiences in so many parts of the world that we truly believe that they would be of interest to many others.”

It felt slightly uncomfortable to hear that. Uncomfortable in the sense that immediately responding by saying what a good idea that was carried too much egotism, was too self-indulgent. But at the same time I knew that Jim and Janet would offer a genuine recommendation and that it would most certainly get me out of my present difficult situation. I thanked Jim profusely. Jim then went on the describe the style that he and Janet would enjoy: “Janet and I have long loved reading books where each chapter was a self-contained story. In other words, a book that one could pick up and dip into and still feel that it was a good read.”

When I returned home and spoke about this to Jeannie she immediately said that it was something that she had been urging me to consider. An hour later I was speaking on the phone to my sister Eleanor and she, too, encouraged me to go down this route.

So that’s how it has come about that book number two is going to be semi-autobiographical, and it already has a name: Four Dogs On My Bed.

Or as the byline reads: On Life; On Love; and On Dogs.

All of which is a rather wordy way of saying that from now until the end of November my first priority is going to be book writing. How that will impact my attention to this blog and all you wonderful readers is uncertain. But if you see a string of re-posts from earlier times, if I don’t provide the most fulsome introduction to a guest author that they deserve, if my replies to comments are not as quick as I normally try to be, then you will know the reason why.

Thank you!

The power of a good massage.

This was a day when a massage would have been perfect treatment!

On Wednesday afternoon Jean and I hooked a big flatbed trailer, borrowed from a neighbour, to our pickup truck and went into town to collect a new sectional settee that we had recently purchased at a furniture sale.

Yesterday, Michael who comes in to help us on a regular basis turned up at 8:30 and we all set to. First up was to dismantle an old sectional in our den that had seen much better days and then carry that out to the front.

Next we moved a settee from our living-room to the den.

Last up was to unpack all three units that comprised the new sectional. Oh, nearly forgot! Then the old sectional from the den was loaded on to the trailer and taken to the tip!

By the end of the day this Brit, who will be 72 in a couple of weeks time, was feeling the odd aching muscle or two!

All of which is my introduction to this:

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Watching animals get massages is the most relaxing thing ever — for people

Humans aren’t the only ones who enjoy a soothing rubdown.

Starre Vartan

October 15, 2016

dog-massage-bulldog-jpg-653x0_q80_crop-smart — Most animals can benefit from massage, but whether it’s theraputic or not, they sure enjoy it, just like we do. (Photo: Serjey Saraschenko/Shutterstock)

I get massages whenever I’m able, and it’s my answer to the fun party question: “What would you do with a million dollars?” Well, first I’d pay off my grad school loans, but second on the list would definitely be weekly massage. Every time I get one, I end up walking on air; for me it’s like doing a yoga class without the effort.

But watching massage can be relaxing too — not watching people (that’s icky), but animals. I’m not the only one: My Facebook feed is littered with people posting and reposting cute furry animals both wild and domesticated getting backs kneaded and shoulders rubbed. My favorites are below, so if you need a moment of chill, check out a couple of these and relax.

This corgi’s face massage is a joy to watch, and it’s funny too — check out his reclining position which is more guy-napping-on-a-pool-float than canine.

This sweet gray kitten getting an ever-so-gentle facial massage in the sunshine starts out asleep and seems to get more relaxed as you watch. Is that even possible?

Guinea pigs are known for being snuggly creatures, but also nervous ones. Watching this one slowly relax does the same thing for me.

If you get sucked into this video like I did, you’ll be rewarded with a soft-as-marshmallow white bunny, which follows the gray bunny. Spoiler alert: Both get lots of love.

The relaxation and happiness of this pregnant cow getting a solid rubdown is crystal clear even though the video quality is low.

Aside from dogs, horses are probably the domesticated animal that gets the most serious massage attention, since many of them are performers and athletes, either in the dressage ring or on a racecourse. So there are lots of instructional videos about horse massage, but I think Jess, a trained horse massage therapist, shows it best.

There are a lot of animals that give themselves massages, especially otters. This one is clearly an expert — after a solid minute of scalp massage, she has a nap!

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Well I have to say that receiving a massage directly would have been a tad better than watching these animals get their massages, but it was way, way better than nothing!

A stopgap!

Rain may stop play!

It is 11:35 Sunday, as in yesterday!

Since the start of the rain on Thursday morning we have received over 9in of rain (23 cms). Since midnight this day, over 2 ins (5 cms) have fallen.

The internet connection is terrible and I have low confidence that it will stay up all day.

So please forgive me for leaving you with just this for now.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible!

Footnote!

By 3pm yesterday over 3 in (7.5 cms) of rain had fallen and Jean and I decided to go and rent a couple of movies to watch for the evening.

On the way of our driveway, that is a 1/4 mile long from the house to Hugo Road, it crosses over Bummer Creek. I took the following two pictures of the creek from the bridge.

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Farewell the hazy, lazy, dry days of Summer!

Second footnote

The rain paused a little after 5pm and I managed to snap the following rather evocative (well to me, anyway) scenes of a misty outlook.

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(Oh, and by 6pm the rain gauge was reading 3.6 in/9.14 cms)

One is never alone with a dog!

Breaking the spell of loneliness!

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.

Those words above are attributed to Mother Teresa and I have no reason to doubt that.

I selected them because they seemed to capture the mood that flowed out at me from a recent essay by George Monbiot.

Many will know George for he is a British writer very well-known for his environmental and political activism. He writes a weekly column for The Guardian, and is the author of a number of books.

Way back in the early days of this blog I was moved to republish some of GM’s essays and sought his permission to do just that. He responded promptly giving me blanket permission to republish any of his essays.

Now it’s a long time since I have availed myself of that permission for the simple reason that so very often George writes about matters that are tough to read and I choose not to share with you because there’s no shortage of tough commentaries about today’s world. That’s no criticism, actual or implied, into George Monbiot’s integrity as a reporter and writer.

But his essay that was published on the 4th October is one that does need to be shared with you.

Read it!

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Social Harmony

4th October 2016

Is music an answer to the epidemic of loneliness?

By George Monbiot, published in the Guardian 3^rd October 2016

Two years ago, I wrote a column for the Guardian in which I argued that what distinguishes our age from those preceding it is an epidemic of loneliness. Throughout human history, we have been hyper-social animals, dependent on each other for both physical and psychic survival. Thomas Hobbes’s claim – that our natural state is a war of “every man against every man” – is a myth proposed by someone whose understanding of human evolution was confined to the book of Genesis. But the myth is now being realised through the religion of our time: a celebration of extreme individualism and universal competition. The resulting loneliness, I argued, is a deadly condition, which kills as many people as smoking or obesity.

To my astonishment, the article exploded, and the ripples can still be felt today. A documentary it inspired, called the Age of Loneliness, aired recently on BBC1. Several publishers asked me to write books on the topic, but I could think of nothing more depressing than spending three years sitting on my backside, documenting social isolation. There was plenty I wanted to say on the topic. But how?

A few weeks later, I dashed out to buy some screws from a hardware shop. Ahead of me in the queue was an elderly woman. She lent on the counter, dithering about what she wanted and trying to engage the sales assistants in a riveting conversation about her state of health. Stuck behind her, I quietly fumed: it seemed as if she would never leave.

But as I cycled home, and my frustration ebbed away, I saw what should have been obvious: here was a person who seemed desperately lonely. “Where’s your empathy?”, I asked myself. “Isn’t that what you were writing about?”. What if that conversation was the only one she would have all day? I felt guilty about my feelings in the shop.

When I returned to my desk, I began dashing out a rough poem about a woman living with little to keep her company but memories, who goes to the shops in the hope that she might talk to someone, but discovers that the tills have been replaced with automatic checkouts. As I wrote, it seemed to me that it was trying to become something else: a ballad. Suddenly I knew what I wanted to do with the topic: I wanted to write an album.

There were just a couple of minor hitches. I can’t read music, I don’t play an instrument and my singing is banned under international law. But I knew who to ask.

I first heard Ewan McLennan while listening to Late Junction on Radio 3, in 2011. I was transfixed by his voice, his playing and what seemed to be an almost supernatural ability to find the heart of a song. He was just 25. I bought his first album, Rags and Robes, and listened to it over and again. Three years later, I heard him interviewed by Mary Ann Kennedy, whose programmes I’ve followed since she began broadcasting on Radio Scotland. He spoke with the same ease of expression I had heard in his music. He was relaxed and funny, politically engaged and plainly fascinated by the roots and text of songs and poems. He came across as a cracking bloke.

I did something I have seldom done: I sent him a fan letter. I invited him to a talk I was giving in his home city, Bristol. He came, and over dinner afterwards we clicked. So, a few months later, with some trepidation, it was to him that I sent my idea of collaborating on a themed album.

To my delight, he agreed. I would start by thinking up a story and writing a rough sketch, which might incorporate some potential hooks, rhymes and choruses. I would send it to him on the understanding that he could do whatever he liked with it. I did not try to write to his style, as I knew he would take from each sketch what he wanted and make the song his own.

I wasn’t wrong. A couple of weeks after I emailed the first sketch to him, I found an audio file in my inbox, and opened it with the excitement of a child at Christmas. It was wonderful – he had turned my base metal into gold. The songs he sent back to me were riveting and heart-wrenching, capturing sensations I have long struggled to express.

The album is a mixture of dark shades and light: sad ballads and stirring anthems. We want to use it as a means of not only talking about loneliness, but, in a small way, addressing it. With advice from charities working on the issue, we are designing our gigs to try to bring people together. I will talk about the themes and Ewan will perform the songs. We will encourage people in the audience to talk to each other; then it will end up with a party in the nearest willing pub. Music naturally makes connections; we want to take it a step further.

In one respect, the album is already succeeding, as the collaboration has relieved the usual solitude in which we both work, making our lives less lonely. I hope it has the same effect on other people.

Breaking the Spell of Loneliness, by Ewan McLennan and George Monbiot, is released on October 14 by Fellside Records.

Here’s a short video about the project, featuring some of the music:

The autumn tour dates are listed at http://www.monbiot.com/music/

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Ewan McLennan has his own website and, unsurprisingly, there are the details of the Autumn tour.

Autumn Tour

12 October Durham Book Festival
18 October St Georges, Bristol
20 October Liverpool Philharmonic
21 October Live At All Hallows, Leeds
22 October Sheffield Firth Hall
23 October Ludlow Assembly Rooms
4 November Bridport Arts Centre
5 November Berry Theatre, Southampton
3 December Kings Place, London

This remarkable collaboration between author George Monbiot and musician Ewan McLennan seeks to address the curse of our age: a crowded planet stricken by loneliness. Using music and the written word, it seeks to make connections in a splintered world.

Now, dear reader, you would be disappointed if I didn’t close today’s post without reference to the value of a dog or two in one’s life, and I have no intention of delivering such disappointment!

From the dozens of pictures that have been presented here over the years I chose this one.

Because I have this notion that one can never be truly alone if there is a dog in one’s life.

Thank you Channel 15!

Delighted to share this with you all.

Back in July we were contacted by John Letz asking if he could come and film a news item for KDRV of Jean and me and our dogs.

Of course we said ‘yes’ and the following is the result.

Learning from Dogs for CH 15 news from John Letz on Vimeo.

Trust you will forgive this small waving of the Handover banner!

(Plus, if you want to buy the book please drop into Amazon and choose which format you would like.)

The utterly incomprehensible

A journey of the mind and the soul.

NB: Regular readers will find that today’s post is rather different to my usual run of things. But I do hope that you end up sharing my feelings of mystery; sharing what seems to me utterly incomprehensible. I am speaking of The Infinite.

Let me start with this quotation:

The infinite has always stirred the emotions of mankind more deeply than any other question.

The infinite has stimulated and fertilised reason as few other ideas have. But also the infinite, more than another other notion, is in need of clarification.

Let me now take you back many years, back to the Autumn of 1969 when I left Gibraltar bound for The Azores on my yacht Songbird of Kent. I was sailing solo.

My home for five years – Songbird of Kent; a Tradewind 33.

Despite me being very familiar with my boat, and with sailing in general, there was nonetheless a deep sense of trepidation as I headed out into a vast unfamiliar ocean.

On the third or fourth night, I forget which, when some four hundred miles into the Atlantic and therefore far from the light pollution from the land, I came on deck and was emotionally moved in a way that has never ever been surpassed.

For way up in the heavens above me was the Andromeda galaxy, clearly visible with the naked eye.

andromeda-galaxy-josh-blash-7-23-2014-e1473897834535 — Josh Blash captured this image of the Andromeda galaxy.

That photograph above and the following are from the EarthSky site.

Although a couple of dozen minor galaxies lie closer to our Milky Way, the Andromeda galaxy is the closest major galaxy to ours. Excluding the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds, which can’t be seen from northerly latitudes, the Andromeda galaxy – also known as M31 – is the brightest galaxy in all the heavens. It’s the most distant thing you can see with your unaided eye, at 2.3 million light-years. To the eye, it appears as a smudge of light larger than a full moon.

Not only could I not take my mind off seeing the Andromeda galaxy, I couldn’t easily comprehend seeing the stars come all the way down to the horizon; all 360 degrees about me. Right down to the edge of my ocean horizon; a swirling blackness out to where it kissed that glorious night sky.

That image of that dome of stars would be forever burnt into my memory. An image that both made no sense, yet made every sense

Fast forward forty-seven years to now!

Recently we have had some beautiful clear nights here in Southern Oregon. Just the other night, before the moon had risen, there up in the night sky just a short distance from the constellation Cassiopeia was Andromeda. Immediately, my memory of that dark night sky out in the Atlantic came rushing back at me

The Andromeda galaxy is 2.3 million light-years away. But how can one possibly comprehend the distance? The fact that light travels at 186,000 miles per second or 671 million miles per hour (the exact value is 299,792,458 metres per second (approximately 3.00×10⁸ m/s) has no meaning whatsoever. Think about it! Light is traveling at the equivalent speed of going around our planet 7.46 times every second!

But if you can’t fathom the distance to the Andromeda galaxy try this!

Back in March, 2016 a new galaxy that has been named GN-z11 was spotted by the Hubble space telescope 13.4 billion light years away. That’s approximately 5,830 times more distant than the Andromeda galaxy!

Now it is starting to become very difficult to comprehend.

Over the last couple of weeks BBC Radio 4 has been airing 10 talks given by Professor Adrian Moore under the heading of A History of the Infinite. They are freely available to be listened to and I so strongly recommend them.

But it was episode eight that made me lose my mind. Just like that night so many years ago on Songbird of Kent.

For that episode was called The Cosmos. You can listen to it here. Please, please do so! This is how that episode is presented:

Does space go on for ever? Are there infinitely many stars? These are some of the questions Adrian Moore explores in the eighth episode in his series about philosophical thought concerning the infinite.

With the help of the theories of the Ancient Greeks through to those of modern cosmologists, Adrian examines the central question of whether our universe is finite or infinite.

For most of us, looking up at the stars gives us a sense of infinity but, as Adrian discovers, there is a strong body of opinion which suggests that space is finite, albeit unbounded. This is a difficult idea to grasp, but by inviting us to think of ourselves as ants, astrophysics professor Jo Dunkley attempts to explain it.

Adrian also tackles the idea of the expanding universe and the logic that leads cosmologists to argue that it all started with a big bang, and may all end with a big crunch.

Finally, we discover from cosmologist John Barrow how the appearance of an infinity in scientists’ calculations sends them straight back to the drawing board. The infinite, which the Ancient Greeks found so troubling, has lost none of its power to disturb.

A Juniper production for BBC Radio 4.

If you find that episode compelling beyond belief then all the episodes are available on the BBC iPlayer and may be found here.

I started with a quotation that is the opening of the final episode. It is a quotation from the German mathematician David Hilbert. As Wikipedia explains, in part:

David Hilbert (German: [ˈdaːvɪt ˈhɪlbɐt]; 23 January 1862 – 14 February 1943) was a German mathematician. He is recognized as one of the most influential and universal mathematicians of the 19th and early 20th centuries.

I will return to that first sentence in Hilbert’s quotation:

The infinite has always stirred the emotions of mankind more deeply than any other question.

For me that sight of the Andromeda galaxy and the stars back in 1969 was in every meaning of the word a sight of the infinite and it has forever stirred my emotions very deeply indeed!

Caring for the family: Correction Truth.

Nature so often guides us in how to behave.

Yes, nature can be cruel but in ways that we understand. Animals, to the best of my knowledge, do not hunt for sport. Animals do not lie. They don’t seek political power (sorry; couldn’t resist that!).

All of which is my short introduction to an item that Dan sent me yesterday.

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A wolf pack: the first 3 are the old or sick, they give the pace to the entire pack.
If it was the other way round, they would be left behind, losing contact with the pack. In case of an ambush they would be sacrificed.

Then come 5 strong ones, the front line. In the center are the rest of the pack members, then the 5 strongest following. Last is alone, the alpha. He controls everything from the rear.

In that position he can see everything, decide the direction. He sees all of the pack. The pack moves according to the elders pace and help each other, watch each other.

For once I am speechless, I knew that wolves are different, but didn’t realize how much we could learn from them…

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Compelling, eh! But factually correct?

No!

In this case Nature is not guiding us. It is man misguiding us.

Or in the words of the Truth or Fiction website:

That makes for a compelling and inspirational story about teamwork — but it’s not true.

David Attenborough took the photo in question for the BBC’s “Frozen Planet” Series in 2011. It shows 25 timber wolves hunting bison in Wood Buffalo National Park in Canada. The female alpha wolf led the pack, and the others followed in a single file line to save energy as they made their way through deep snow, according to the environmental website Benvironment.

Wolf packs are typically about half the size of the pack pictured in the photo from 2011. Most packs don’t hunt prey the size of bison (which is 10 times the size of a wolf), but the larger pack is able to. And the wolves walking in a single file line through deep snow is a classic example of how they’re able to use weather conditions to their advantage while hunting prey that’s much larger than them.

Also, the idea that wolves have to be on the lookout for “ambushes” or attacks isn’t true, either. Wolves are at the top of the food chain and have no natural predators. Aside from turf battles with other wolves (which wouldn’t start in an ambush) bears are the only threat to wolves in Canada. Even so, experts say that bears are only able to prey on wolf pups because grown wolves are too fast, swift and clever to get caught by them.

I will close with this quotation from Andre Gide:

Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it.

The love for dogs.

A very beautiful, insightful guest post.

Like many other authors of blogs when someone decides to follow these scribblings and they are also the author of a blog I go across to their place and leave a thank you note. Frequently, I also say that if they would like to write a guest post for Learning from Dogs that I would welcome that.

Regular readers of this blog will know how often it is my pleasure to publish a guest post from another blogger.

So it is today.

Not very long ago there was a new follower who is the author of the blog: The Well Rounded Individual. I went across there and liked very much what I saw, especially a recent post about dogs.

I am honoured to have permission to share it with you all.

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Throw the Ball Already and Other Things I Can’t Live Without

Posted on September 24, 2016 by thewellroundedindividual

I’m just going to put it out there. I love dogs. I have almost always lived with at least one member of the canine variety and I plan on doing so until I am no longer able to care for a furry friend. My early years were spent with a Cockapoo named Maxie. She was a miniature in size only. My parents adopted her before I was born and saved her from an abusive environment. Because of that she was a bit skittish around unfamiliar people. We usually had to keep her in a bedroom when company was over to avoid any incident. She was a loving dog and loyal to the family until canine parvovirus finally claimed her at about sixteen. After a few years of a pet-less house, my father surprised the family with an amazing ball of fur and fury that would grow into a 200 plus pound St. Bernard, Bernie. She was too smart for her own good and would use her size and strength to escape the back yard sending me sprinting through the neighborhood after her. She was the family’s center of attention for about three years. Then came rescued sisters. A Smooth Collie already named Lassie and a Shepherd, Malamute mix aptly named Rusty, would grace our home and create a circus for many years to come.

I mentioned they were sisters. Yes, they were litter mates. Two completely different dogs from the same mother. Ah, biology. I will let you do the research.

These three amazing animals kept the family company, entertained, protected and comforted for the next decade, even as I left for college and then moved out to start my adult life. No visit was complete without at least a few moments of play with each one of the three. They were each unique with their own personalities. They went through rawhide treats like Double-Mint gum. They patrolled the house for intruders. Most were birds, squirrels or just traffic going by the house. There was never a burglar, but we made them all feel like they had kept out Danny Ocean and his crew. The only real crime that ever took place was the untimely death of a new vacuum every year. Cause of death, dog hair.

As I transitioned into my adulthood, I began with a few rescued cats. I loved each of them dearly. They were affectionate and great companions. But, there was something missing. My cats never poked me with a cold, wet nose to get up and play ball. They never greeted me at the door with manic joy, even if it was just a short time since I had seen them. I missed that. Then, after a while something magnificent happened. I met my wife. She is without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to me. By this time, I was again pet-less. So with my new girlfriend, came a wonderful Black Labrador Retriever mix by the name of Melanie. I rediscovered what I was missing. Shortly after I fell in love with both of them came some news that hit close to home. This ball loving, bed hogging, cool floor seeking companion was diagnosed with diabetes. Just like me. My soon to be wife was devastated and began to talk to me about how hard it would be to put her down.

I have never been one to put my condition out in the open. People know, I will talk about it, but it does not define me. But now, I had to stop and open up. I drew parallels between the two of us. And she began to see that this could be manageable for her too. It would require a little extra attention, but she could live a rich normal life. And she would. She stayed with us for another six years, making it beyond her twelfth birthday. As time passed and we moved to Phoenix, after four years, our girl developed cataracts. We checked into getting them removed, but were told they would only grow back. Instead of giving up, we took a different route.

After looking at a number of dogs, we had decided on a Siberian Husky. We wanted to be sure he was the one, so we looked at a few more. I was satisfied but my wife wanted to look at one more that caught her eye. It was all over. This dog chose us and I don’t think there was any way we were going home with anyone but her. We got the living breathing Ajax tornado. She was a bundle of puppy energy wrapped inside the fur of an American Bulldog. We named her Abby. For those of you who are familiar with this breed, she was of the Classic variety. She took to Mel immediately. She would lead her around the yard and through the house. At night they were always together. Abby would go off on her own to burn what seemed to be an endless amount of energy. She always came back to check on her big sister.

As Melanie began to age, Abby needed a new playmate. We were looking like we had before and this time I connected with a Boxer. It took a little convincing but she came home with us. This would be Sophie. She fell right in with what we could now call a pack. Unfortunately, it was only for a short time. Our beloved Melanie, welcomed her newest sister with open paws, but was only able to stay with us for three more weeks. We all felt the pain. But we had a new addition to the family. Sophie would not let us stay down. As a puppy, she was a true clown. In trying her best to keep up with her sister, she grew into a gorgeous, stout Boxer. She was my constant companion.

We had a few new challenges with our changing family. Abby was diagnosed with severe hip dysplasia. This meant, we had more frequent vet visits, new, special food and supplements to keep her healthy. They worked. As Abby grew, she became stronger and would only occasionally show outward signs. Sophie had her own heart murmur. As we learned, this is fairly common for Boxers. These challenges only brought us closer with our girls. So, with Abby at four and Sophie at two, we decided it was time to expand the pack.

Again we looked at many dogs and were undecided. On the third or fourth trip to visit, I had decided I wanted to take a close look at one dog in particular. On our prior visits, there was one dog who was not the one at the front of the kennel begging for attention. She was quiet and still but our eyes had met. I decided (on my own) if that dog was there she was coming home. If she was not, we were going to put the search on hold. I guess I don’t have to say, she was there. The cutest little Boston Terrier was cowering in the back. I asked to see her. When she was brought out to us, she was handed to my wife. We named her Maggie.

Maggie started life with a severe case of giardia. We did not care. We took her to the vet almost weekly at first. We could not cure her. We got to the point that the vet told us she needed a series of injections that would either cure her or kill her. We took the chance and Maggie is still with us.

As Maggie grew, she wanted to be the alpha. Abby was having none of it and Sophie just did not seem to care. Abby ruled the house, Sophie was the nursemaid and my close confidant. Maggie became my wife’s BFF. We had a happy mostly healthy pack for another five years.

About three years ago, my heart was ripped out when Sophie was diagnosed with pancreatitis and lymphoma. I still have a tremendous amount of guilt that I did not see symptoms in time to help her. We put her on medication that gave her a brief remission and made her feel like her old self for a few more months. We gave her one more Christmas, but it was not to be. Our Sophie lost her fight a little over a month later. Abby was nine by this time and her hips were beginning to bother her again and then she blew out a disk in her back. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, a year and a half later, Abby left us also. My soul was crushed, and so was my wife’s, but we still have Maggie.

Here we are, the two of us with our daughter. That is what all of our girls are, our daughters. Maggie is eight and in good health. We have a long list of breeds we want to look at for the next member of the pack. Our next son or daughter could be a pure breed. It could be a cross breed, or even a mutt. It won’t really matter because I know when that next dog connects with us, our list goes out the window and we will have our new child. I look forward to spending time with a new one, seeing the bonds that they will build. I also look forward to seeing Maggie with a new brother or sister. I want to watch her bond with a new furry person, like her older sisters.

I know with every new addition to the family, there is the inevitable pain that will one day come. Would I trade my time with any of my kids to take the pain away? Do not even suggest it. Like any human member of the family, the pain, after time, is easily outmatched by the pure joy they bring. I can’t wait to see who is next!

I would love to hear about your family and I encourage you to donate to the ASPCA or your animal friendly charity. Look into adoption. You will never regret it.

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I loved this essay and know many of you will have felt the same way. Fingers crossed there will be more!

Picture Parade One Hundred and Sixty-Four

Thought today’s picture parade should carry an Autumnal theme!

All these photographs of the deer, wild turkeys and the Harvest Moon were taken at home last Thursday. (NB: The turkeys were born on our property this last Spring.)

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I sincerely hope that wherever you are in the world, assuming the Northern Hemisphere, you are having an evocative and peaceful Autumn, or Fall in American speak! (Barb – or Spring in ‘Down Under’ speak!)

And Another Saturday Smile

Enjoy your weekend, and don’t miss the Harvest Moon!

Another fabulous reposting of an article that first was seen on the Care2 site.

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This Man May Wear a Hard Hat, But He Sure Has a Soft Spot for Dogs

By: Laura S. September 11, 2016

About Laura

Max Kahrimanovic lives in his hard hat. It’s covered in the dust of three continents where he programs wind turbines, often at a dangerous height. But some may say Max’s greatest accomplishments unfold in the far less intricate scenarios down on the ground where he feeds hungry, and often very thirsty, stray dogs. This is the story of how Max won the trust of one of those dogs and the remarkable new life she is now beginning.

my-work1 — So close he could kiss the clouds, Max programs wind turbines internationally.

“I saw her the very first day I came to the construction site,” Max said of the shy sweetheart he encountered during his latest assignment in Turkey. “She was scared and wouldn’t approach no matter what. I would leave food and would have to walk away. Then, from the far, I would see her eating and drinking what I left for her. Slowly she started to trust me and one day she finally let me pet her on the head.”

From that day forward Karis (as Max named her) decided that she had adopted Max. She would keep watch outside his office door and she would be waiting for him when he arrived at work each morning.

Although she was once so afraid of human touch, Karis soon learned that Max was different than the others she’d encountered.

“She can be naughty at times,” Max laughs, thinking of the occasions Karis dumped over the trash cans. “She wasn’t hungry, I know that much. I was feeding her three times a day. But I guess the leftovers smelled delicious to her and she had to check it out.”

And one day, when Max arrived, Karis had a surprise for him. Overnight, she had delivered seven puppies.

“My first thought was devastation,” Max said candidly. “I know, you’ll think how can I be devastated seeing so much cuteness. But in all these years of traveling through Europe, Morocco, New Zealand, etc. I’ve seen so much misery involving these animals, that I couldn’t feel anything else at that moment.”

At this point, Max had already found a home for Karis in the U.S. and was making arrangements to transport her there. But with seven more lives to worry about, now what?

“How are we gonna manage 7 pups too?” Max wondered. “Knowing what will happen to them after I leave was devastating. I knew they will either die under car wheels, die of starvation, diseases or they will get killed by other bigger dogs that wander around there.”

So, despite the enormity of the costs and challenging logistics, Max and his wife Neli – back in Sweden – began making arrangements to transport the entire family of dogs to the U.S. for adoption. They turned to the Harmony Fund international animal rescue charity for help with the costs of the rescue.

The whole family will be coming to the U.S. soon, and Karis already has a permanent home with one of Max’s friends who has adopted internationally before. Max has no doubt that Karis will be very good to her pups during the transition as she has always been such an excellent mother.

Karis and her pups were moved to a safe location where they await travel to the U.S.

“When she had the puppies, I admired how she never went to eat their food that I gave them,” Max said. “She waited for me to get hers ready. One time I left 6 hard boiled eggs on the table for her lunch. I just stepped out to wash my hands and when I got back eggs were gone. She ate them like that, not peeled or anything.”

Max isn’t always admired for his devotion however. He said he’s known by management as “the guy who feeds strays” and that he has received warnings not to do so. But he simply can’t go against his own moral compass.

Max always makes time to offer food and water to strays like this one in Turkey.

“This is much stronger than me,” Max explains. “I can’t eat my lunch knowing there is a being, not far from me, starving and hasn’t had a piece of bread for days…. We usually work in small villages far from civilization or any bigger cities. If it is possible to buy it, then I always have one or two huge bags of dry food and some cans in the trunk of my car. And on my way from the site to my hotel, I stop and feed strays that I see. If it isn’t possible to buy dog food, then I improvise with our food by either taking extra breakfast from the hotel or just by buying extra food when I go shopping for myself. I know I can’t save them all. But for that day or that time when I meet that dog I can feed him at least and give him some water.”

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I am so pleased to promote what Max Kahrimanovic is doing and to thank Laura for writing this up in the first place.

Max’s admission in that last paragraph uses words that I have heard Jean using when I first met her back in December, 2006 when she was living in Mexico and rescuing so many street dogs and finding loving homes for them in the USA.

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Watching animals get massages is the most relaxing thing ever — for people

Humans aren’t the only ones who enjoy a soothing rubdown.

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Social Harmony

Autumn Tour

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Throw the Ball Already and Other Things I Can’t Live Without

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This Man May Wear a Hard Hat, But He Sure Has a Soft Spot for Dogs

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