One doesn’t have to be mad to live here, but it sure helps!
Jean and I had been kicking around the idea of having our own eggs. To the point where we had made enquiries at our local feed store, Payson Feed.
Chickens for sale!
Then the idea grew to the point where we started building our own chicken coop, then a couple of weeks ago we bought the heat lamp and feeders leading inevitably to yesterday morning when we picked up 5 little chicks.
Choosing the chicks in the store.
We planned to buy four chicks but, of course, came out with five! The five being four golden ‘cross-breds’ and one Buff Orpington Our plan had been to buy Rhode Island Reds but we were advised that cockerels could sometimes be bought unintentionally as when just a couple of days old, they couldn’t be identified from the hens, whereas the cross-breeds could be properly ‘sexed’.
Welcome to your new home!
So shortly before mid-day yesterday, Jean was gently transferring our latest ‘pets’ into their new home in the guest bedroom, where they will be fed, watered and kept warm for the next 8 weeks or so before being moved to the chicken coop.
Home sweet home!
I have no doubt that before the week is out, Jean will have given them all names!
Very cute, even at two days old!
Why the title to this Post being ‘Then we were ten, plus chicks’?
Only that three weeks ago, I wrote about Casey joining our dogs and bringing the number of dogs to ten. (Oh, not forgetting the six cats and one fish.) No doubt, status reports on our young chicks will creep into Learning from Dogs from time to time!
Don’t worry, this is not going to be some chest-banging Post! I leave those for Monday to Friday. 😉 No, I just wanted to offer a couple of examples of the power of goodness and how making a positive difference is no more than wanting it. As Perfect Stranger commented last Tuesday, “A single candle may light a thousand others and they in turn many thousands more” – Buddha
The first example is about how a group of upstanding citizens rescue a school of dolphins that became stuck on a beach in Brazil.
The second example comes from closer to home. Ginger I. is a Board Member of the Humane Society of Central Arizona and is based at Payson. Jean has been a volunteer at the Society’s Thrift Store for some time and has got to know Ginger well.
Ginger recently emailed me this; it has already done the rounds of the WWW, and quite rightly so. It reminds me of the book Dogs Never Lie About Love, written by Jeffrey Masson, from which comes the following,
This ambiguity, which includes a certain ambivalence as well, has been memorialized in our speech, in our sayings, and in our tributes to and about dogs. Sir John Davies, in his epigram In Cineam (written in 1594), observed:
Thou sayest thou art as weary as a dog,
As angry, sick, and hungry as a dog,
As dull and melancholy as a dog,
As lazy, sleepy, idle as a dog.
But why dost thou compare thee to a dog?
In that for which all men despise a dog,
I will compare thee better to a dog.
Thou art as fair and comely as a dog,
Thou art as true and honest as a dog,
Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog,
Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog.
Ever since Madame Roland said in the eighteenth century “Plus je vois les hommes, plus j’admire les chiens” (The more I see of men, the more I admire dogs), generally what has been written about dogs tends to be positive. Sometimes it is even wonderful, as in William James’s statement “Marvelous as may be the power of my dog to understand my moods, deathless as is his affection and fidelity, his mental state is as unsolved a mystery to me as it was to my remotest ancestor.” Or it may be delicious, like Ambrose Bierce’s definition in his Devil’s Dictionary, “Dog, n. A kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world’s worship.” Samuel Coleridge, in Table-Talk (May 2, 1830), was one of the first to note that “the best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter … may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to him … may become traitors to their faith…. The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.”
Just read that last sentence again from Samual Coleridge as you look at the photograph below, “The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.”
There was a fantastic response to the Interlude Post that came out on the 6th March so I thought I would offer some more of those wonderful pictures. As I said in that earlier Post, ” Cynthia, the wife of Dan Gomez, emailed me a set of wonderful photographs that had come to her from sister-in-law Suzann.” So here are some more. Have a peaceful and relaxed Sunday!
Did you see that!Hey, I heard that comment!Mummy, are we nearly there?We can't go on meeting like this!Well you guys don't taste that different!One more time! I'm in charge around here!
Only so much ‘heavy’ stuff that one can take at a time!
Yesterday, I wrote a piece about my dear friend Dan’s skeptic view of man-cause climate change. Last Friday, I published a guest post from Patrice Ayme under the title of The collapse of the biosphere. In the last 24 hours I also wrote a long comment to Martin Lack’s latest post, No cause for alarm? – You cannot be serious! So, don’t know about you, dear reader, but it felt appropriate for today’s Post to be full of fluffy stuff.
First an update on our latest member of our family, Kaysee (although we prefer the spelling Casey!). Can’t believe that it was only a week ago since we got Casey from the local Humane Society but that’s what it was, Casey joined us on the 28th February. Here are two photographs of Casey taken last Saturday, four days ago!
H'mm, let me try his lap!No, this is definately the better one!
So I think one can say that Casey has settled in very well!
Next, Cynthia, the wife of Dan Gomez, emailed me a set of wonderful photographs that had come to her from sister-in-law Suzann. Here’s a small selection for you to drool over.
Hallo! You're cute!Love it when the phone is left on 'vibrate'!Hey Mum, can I have fur as soft as this?Sorry guys, I can't open the door for you!Ah, that's perfect! Maybe a tad lower!
Kaycee joins the fold taking us back up to ten dogs.
Many of you read and commented on the loss of Phoebe that I wrote about on the 17th February.
Phoebe used to be one of a group of three dogs that lived in our large basement room, the other two being Loopy and Ruby. Well, it wasn’t long after Phoebe’s death that we noticed Loopy was, how can I say it, just a bit off. She had previously suffered from Valley Fever that had affected her when we were living in Mexico, (useful website on Valley Fever is here) and Jean thought that the fever had returned. In order to keep a closer eye on Loopy, she came up from the basement and joined the three dogs that made up the ‘kitchen’ group. Those three dogs being Lilly, Paloma and Chester. It made sense any way as Phoebe was a great play friend for Ruby and it was clear that Ruby was both missing Phoebe and not finding Loopy as an effective substitute play friend.
Lilly, from the 'kitchen' group, checking Loopy out!
So on Tuesday, Jean and I, together with Ruby and little Sweeny, who also came from the local Humane Society, went back to the Society to find a companion for Ruby.
Jean had had her eye on a male dog, Kaycee, that had appeared in the list of available dogs that is featured each week in the local Payson Roundup newspaper. Indeed, here is the list of dogs for February that has Kaycee’s details, from which I reproduce below,
Kaycee
My name is Kaysee and I’m a 5-year-old Heeler/Pit mix. I have been with HSCAZ since 23rd March, 2011. I’m a flirty boy, who loves to have his butt scratched. I’m super smart too and I know all sorts of basic commands. Did I mention I like to play ball? My song choice is Brian Adams’ “Everything I Do,” because I will do it for you.
Anyway, Ruby and Kaycee took to each other without any issues and he came home with us later on the morning of the 28th. Now over 24 hours later, as I write this, it’s clear that he is a bright, loving dog with no obvious personality challenges and already Ruby is relishing his company; they slept curled up together last night. So that’s wonderful for all concerned.
What follows are some photographs of Kaycee’s arrival. To be honest, when Jean and I walked around the dogs at the Humane Society, it was very hard to fight back the tears – I wanted to take them all!
Ruby, partially hidden, and Kaycee outside the humane shelter.Checking out the new garden!Kaycee seconds away from freedom in his new home, Ruby and Sweeny looking on.Pharaoh and Hazel saying 'Hi' through the fence to Kaycee.
About a week ago, via the blogsite Paleo Works, a couple of comments brought me into contact with Amy. Of course being an Englishman any woman with the name of Amy Johnson is going to cause a double-take on the name. This Amy shared the same name as the English pioneering aviator Amy Johnson, albeit from an earlier era, the aviator that is!
An exchange of emails between Amy and myself revealed an experience that Amy had when she was very young, and I asked Amy if she would like to write a guest post. This, then, is Amy’s story about overcoming a fear of dogs.
Amy J.
I have a cousin who is about the same age as me. My cousin’s mom, my aunt, used to babysit me and the dog in question, a big female, reddish golden retriever was always around and like any retriever was a loving, and lovable, happy-go-lucky dog.
The event goes back to when both my cousin and I were about four-years-old, maybe just five. For some inexplicable reason the dog attacked my cousin. I grew up believing the dog may have been frightened, startled, but I don’t think it was provoked. Certainly, the dog didn’t have any history of biting.
Anyway, that attack on my cousin caused a ton of stitches, 15 or 17, and scarred us both. Physical scars for my cousin and emotional scars for me. As an aside, I don’t remember the dog ever being around again so am fairly confident the dog was put to sleep.
Thus ever since that event, I’ve moved through life with this crippling fear of dogs. Throughout the remainder of my childhood and into my teen years I masked my fear pretending not to be afraid of dogs. It seemed like the whole world loved dogs, and my fear made me feel oddly isolated.
Of course, dogs always sensed my fear and they would usually bark like crazy around me – or jump. I ended up equating dog barking as screaming or yelling, and it was quite disturbing. I would tense up frozen in fear.
Dogs, like humans, come with all kinds of personalities, from one extreme where they are so calm and laid back you wonder whether they even have a pulse to the another extreme of being so ferocious sounding with snarly barky faces and totally tensed bodies.
When a dog was approaching me on the sidewalk, just minding his own business and ignoring me, I would walk far away into the street or grass to be at a safe distance. I avoided dogs at all costs, because like any human, I tried my best to avoid negative emotions; anxiety, fear, worry.
Thus I avoided dogs my whole life, that is, until my niece Emma came into the world. Emma loves dogs, all dogs. Barky dogs, jumpy dogs, big dogs, little dogs, scrappy dogs, arrogant dogs. If you had a dog, Emma would literally stalk you until you allowed her to pet and offer love to your dog.
Barking and jumping dogs never ever deterred Emma; she lights up with love and openness to all dogs. And via her openness and pure love, compassion and joy for dogs Emma has helped me understand that most dogs are a-ok. They aren’t barking screaming, they are barking excitement! They aren’t jumping to chomp my cheek, they are jumping to lick my lips – eewww, but oh what a light bulb that was turned on in me! I feel immense gratitude for Emma helping me move beyond this debilitating fear and for me being open to accepting her help.
It is so true that we can learn from dogs, indeed we can learn from everyone and everything, if we are open to learning and absorbing new information, open to reflection and inner stillness, open to course-corrections along our way.
Thank you Amy, I have no doubt that will reach out to many readers.
Back on the 18th January we had a scare in that we lost Hazel for a few hours; I wrote about that here. The reason that comes to mind so clearly is that on the 19th we took our dog, Phoebe, down to see a specialist vet in Phoenix.
Phoebe in healthier times
Phoebe had been showing signs of blood in her stools but otherwise was a fit and happy dog and still eating well. Our local vet thought that a colonoscopy might throw some better light on the problem. In fact, the specialist in Phoenix rapidly identified swollen lymph glands, gave Phoebe a scan and diagnosed lymphoma. It was a bombshell, more so as the specialist didn’t give Phoebe’s chances at much more than 7 to 10 days.
A loving Phoebe right to the end.
One of the recommendations from the specialist was to put Phoebe immediately on a grain-free diet and we have subsequently learnt the dangers of many grain-based dog foods. We declined chemotherapy as her liver had already been compromised.
The change of diet plus boundless love and attention extended Phoebe’s life until yesterday morning when, around 3.15 am she had a seizure and entered a coma. By 7.30 am Phoebe was very weak and not registering the world around her. But she wasn’t in pain, and to the best of our knowledge, had not experienced pain during her last journey.
Last hugs before the last sleep.
Sometime around 9am Phoebe slipped away and Jean and I buried her a little later. She lies in peace, under the shade of a tall Ponderosa pine.
Lilly, Phoebe and Paloma - Phoebe will live on in their memories.
Phoebe was such a sweet, loving dog. Jean found her back in the Summer of 2004 when Jean was living, with her late husband Ben, in the coastal Mexican town of San Carlos. Jean had been running a dog rescue operation for years just out of her love for dogs.
Jean came across this young, female dog, about 4 months old, running through the village of Santa Clara about 12 miles from San Carlos. The dog was really thin and didn’t seem to belong to anyone so Jean brought her back to San Carlos and placed her in the lot where she looked after her rescue dogs while they were waiting for adoption by caring humans. Jean found that this little black dog was totally friendly and loving to all. But within a few weeks some of the bigger dogs in the lot started to pick on her and, Phoebe, as she was now known was taken back to Jean’s house and that was that.
And a final footnote.
Back to Phoebe’s seizure around 3am on Thursday morning. Something woke me around 3.10am and I rolled out of the bed to make tracks for the bathroom. Pharaoh sleeps on his blanket just inside the door to the bedroom and is always dead to the world until 7am, give or take.
But not yesterday morning. He was sitting on his haunches, facing the closed door and totally alert. He knew something was wrong in the room where Phoebe was, despite there being no sound at all. Jean and I like to think that the last message that Phoebe sent out to her world was heard by Pharaoh.
Miracle of miracles, the granite gently emitted the warmth absorbed from the day’s sun. He slowly settled himself to the ground, eased his back against the rock-face and pulled his knees up to his chest. He felt so much less vulnerable than he had laying on the forest floor. Paul let out a long sigh, then burst into tears, huge heart-rending sobs coming from somewhere deep within him.
Gradually the tears washed away his fear, restored a calmer part of his brain. That calmer brain brought the realisation that he hadn’t considered, well not up until now, what Jeannie must be going through. At least he knew he was alive. Jeannie, not knowing, would be in despair. He bet she would remember that time when out walking here in the Dells they had lost little Poppy, an adorable 10 lb poodle mix, never to be found again despite ages spent combing the area, calling out her name. A year later and Jeannie still said from time to time, “I so miss Poppy!”. First Poppy and now him! No question, he had to get through this in one piece, mentally as much as physically.
Presumably, Jeannie would have called 911 and been connected to the local search and rescue unit. Would they search for him in the dark? He thought unlikely.
Thinking about her further eased his state of mind and his shivering stopped. Thank goodness for that! Paul fought to retain this new perspective. He would make it through, even treasure this night under the sky, this wonderful, awesome, night sky. Even the many pine tree crowns that soared way up above him couldn’t mask a sky that just glittered with starlight. Payson, at 5,000 feet, had
A heavenly clock.
beautifully clear skies and tonight offered a magical example.
Often during his life the night skies had spoken to him, presented a reminder of the continuum of the universe. On this night, however, he felt more humbled by the hundred, million stars surrounding him than ever before.
Time slipped by, his watch in darkness. However, above his head that vast stellar clock. He scanned the heavens, seeking out familiar pinpoints of light, companions over so much of his lifetime. Ah, there! The Big Dipper, Ursa Major, and, yes, there the North Pole star, Polaris. Great! Now the rotation of the planet became his watch, The Big Dipper sliding around Polaris, fifteen degrees for each hour.
What a situation he had got himself into. As with other challenging times in his life, lost in the Australian bush, at sea hunkering down through a severe storm, never a choice other than to work it out. Paul felt a gush of emotion from the release this changed perspective gave him.
Far away, a group of coyotes started up a howl. What a timeless sound, how long had coyotes been on the planet? He sank into those inner places of his mind noting how the intense darkness raised deep thoughts. What if this night heralded the end of his life, the last few hours of the life of Paul Handover? What parting message would he give to those that he loved?
Jeannie would know beyond any doubt how much he had adored her, how her love had created an emotional paradise for him beyond measure. But his son and daughter, dear Alex and Maija? Oh, the complexities he had created in their lives by leaving their mother so many years ago. He knew that they still harboured raw edges, and quite reasonably so. He still possessed raw edges from his father’s death, way back in 1956. That sudden death, 5 days before Christmas, so soon after he had turned 12, that had fed a life-long feeling of emotional rejection. That feeling that lasted for 51 years until, coincidentally also 5 days before Christmas, he had met Jean in 2007.
His thoughts returned to Alex and Maija. Did they know, without a scintilla of doubt, that he loved them. Maybe his thoughts would find them. Romantic nonsense? Who knows? Dogs had the ability to read the minds of humans, often from far out of visual range. He knew Pharaoh, his devoted German Shepherd, skilfully read his mind.
Paul struggled to remember that saying from James Thurber. What was it now? Something about men striving to understand themselves before they die. Would that be his parting message for Alex and Maija? Blast, he wished he could remember stuff more clearly these days and let go of worrying about the quote. Perhaps his subconscious might carry the memory back to him.
He looked back up into the heavens. The Big Dipper indicated at least an hour had slipped by. Gracious, what a sky in which to lose one’s mind. Lost in that great cathedral of stars. Then, as if through some passing of consciousness, the Thurber saying did come back to him: All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, and to, and why. As last words they would most certainly do for Alex and Maija!
Paul reflected on those who, incarcerated in solitary confinement, had their minds play many tricks, especially when it came to gauging time. What a bizarre oddment of information; where had that come from? Possibly because he hadn’t a clue about his present time. It felt later than 11pm and earlier than 4am, but any closer guess seemed impossible. Nevertheless, from out of those terrible, heart-wrenching hours of being alone he had found calm, had found something within him. He slept.
Suddenly, a sound slammed him awake. Something out there in the dark had made a sound, caused his whole body to become totally alert, every nerve straining to recognise what it might be. It sounded like animal feet moving through the autumn fall of dead leaves. He prayed it wasn’t a mountain lion. Surely such a wild cat preparing to attack him would be silent. Now the unknown creature had definitely paused, no sound, just him knowing that out there something waited. Now what, the creature had started sniffing. He hoped not a wild pig. Javelinas, those pig-like creatures that always moved in groups, could make trouble – they had no qualms at attacking a decent-sized dog.
Poised to run, he considered rising but chose to stay still and closed his right-hand around a small rock. The sniffing stopped. Nothing now, save the sound of Paul’s rapid, beating heart. He sensed, sensed strongly, the creature looking at him. It seemed very close, 10 or 20 feet away. The adrenalin hammered through his veins.
He tried to focus on the spot where he sensed the animal waited; waited for what? He pushed that idea out of his head. His ears then picked up a weird, bizarre sound. Surely not! Had he lost his senses? It sounded like a dog wagging its tail; flap, flap, flapping against a tree-trunk.
A dog? If a dog, it had to be Dhalia!
Then came that small, shy bark! A bark he knew so well. My God, it is Dhalia. He softly called, “Dhalia, Dhalia, come here, there’s a good girl.”
With a quick rustle of feet Dhalia leapt upon him, tail wagging furiously, her head quickly burrowing into Paul’s body warmth. He hugged her and, once more, tears ran down his face. Despite the darkness, he could see her perfectly in his mind. Her tight, short-haired coat of light-brown hair, her aquiline face, her bright inquisitive eyes and those wonderful head-dominating ears. Lovely large ears that seemed to listen to the world. A shy, loving dog when Jean had rescued her in 2005 and these years later still a shy, loving dog.
Dhalia licked his tears, her gentle tongue soft and sweet on his skin. He shuffled more onto his back which allowed her to curl up on his chest, still enveloped by his arms. His mind drifted away to an era long time ago, back to an earlier ancient man, likewise wrapped around his dog under a dome of stars, bonded in a thousand mysterious ways.
The morning sun arrived as imperceptibly as an angel’s sigh. Dhalia sensed the dawn before Paul, brought him out of his dreams by the slight stirring of her warm, gentle body.
Yes, there it came, the end of this night. The ancient sun galloping towards them across ancient lands, another beat of the planet’s heart. Dhalia slid off his chest, stretched herself from nose to tail, yawned and looked at him, as much to say time to go home! He could just make out the face of his watch; 4.55am. He, too, raised himself, slapped his arms around his body to get some circulation going. The cold air stung his face, yet it couldn’t even scratch the inner warmth of his body, the gift from the loving bond he and Dhalia had shared.
They set off and quickly crested the first ridge. Ahead, about a mile away, they saw the forest road busy with arriving search and rescue trucks. Paul noticed Jean’s Dodge parked ahead of the trucks and instinctively knew she and Pharaoh had already disappeared into the forest, Pharaoh leading the way to them.
Pharaoh and Jean heading up the search.
They set off down the slope, Dhalia’s tail wagging with unbounded excitement, Paul ready to start shouting for attention from the next ridge. They were about to wade through a small stream when, across from them, Pharaoh raced out of the trees. He tore through the water, barking at the top of his voice in clear dog speak, ‘I’ve found them, they’re here, they’re safe’. Paul crouched down to receive his second huge face lick in less than 6 hours.
Later, safely home, it came to Paul. When they had set off in that early morning light, Dhalia had stayed pinned to him. So unusual for her not to run off. Let’s face it, that’s what got them into the mess in the first place. Dhalia had stayed with him as if she had known that during that long, dark night, it had been he who had been the lost soul.
The message from the night, as clear as the rays of this new day’s sun, the message to pass to all those he loved. If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.
Learning from Dogs 