Tag: Devon

The book! Chapter Twenty-Two.

Learning from Dogs

Chapter Twenty-Two

Philip drove himself, as quietly as he could manage it, back up to Lisa and Don’s house. It was a little after 4am. The night air was cold and as he slipped into his bed the inside of the bodega felt just as cold as outside. The hours of love-making with Molly had been a new experience for him. Of extraordinarily different dimensions from any previous experience. Like every other aspect of their relationship, because now it was most definitely a relationship, the ways that he and Molly were relating to each other, how each was getting to know the other, was a new journey for him. As with all new journeys in life, both the real, external ones and the inner, subjective ones, new journeys came with new experiences, new vistas and new horizons every step of the way.

As he slept on that next morning, Lisa had telephoned Molly and had asked her what the hell was going on. She seemed very upset in a way that Molly couldn’t fully understand. After Lisa had calmed down a little, Molly told her that she and Philip were now lovers.

Five days later, 2007 bid farewell forever and in came the New Year of 2008. Philip and Molly endeavoured to be together as much as possible for his remaining ten days. He was now effectively living at her house. In those ten days any lingering cautions in their minds about either of them being hurt just vaporised. For the very simple, yet gigantic, reason that he wanted to be with her and she with him. There was no doubt whatsoever that he would leave Devon and come to San Carlos with Pharaoh just as soon as it could be arranged. In the interim, Molly would come to Devon in the Spring to meet his family and friends. Then the plan was that in the early Autumn, he and Pharaoh would make the one-way trip to Mexico, routing via California.

Thus it came to pass that early one morning in September, Philip arrived at London Airport with two suitcases and one beloved dog: Pharaoh. They were flying one-way with British Airways, London to Los Angeles. He had been informed that Pharaoh would need to be checked-in at the World Cargo centre. Philip parked outside said cargo centre and walked Pharaoh on his leash to the animal check-in desk. Fifteen minutes later, with his face staring out at Philip through the grill of his travel cage, Pharaoh disappeared from sight without even a bark; without even a whimper. It was as if he sensed the new life that was ahead of him. Philip had asked as to where in the aircraft’s hold Pharaoh’s cage would be situated and had reserved a cabin seat more or less above that spot. He was of no doubt that Pharaoh would know that he was sitting as close to him as possible.

As is the way of long international, non-stop flights, it was over in some sort of time-warped way, before he could really grasp it.

Molly had driven up from San Carlos to meet him and Pharaoh when they flew in to Los Angeles. First she welcomed Philip with the world’s sweetest and dearest hug then they repositioned to another part of the terminal building to await Pharaoh’s arrival. In what seemed like no time at all they were all heading out from the airport complex, Pharaoh sitting on his haunches on the rear seat of Molly’s car unable to take his eyes off the strange world outside yet at the same time eagerly eating a bowl of dog biscuits being held under his chin by Philip.

So, it’s time for this story to take a pause. Well, maybe not a pause, more a drawing back from the intricacy and detail of the previous pages. For in so many ways the story has now been told.

Philip and Molly’s lives together were all, and more, of what they could have ever imagined.

He had been living in Mexico with Molly for about eighteen months when they were clear that they wanted to marry and find a new home in America. Because Molly had US citizenship through her marriage to Ben, it seemed sensible for Philip to apply for a US Fiancée Visa. So it was decided that they would find a home in Arizona and sell the beach-side house in San Carlos. They quickly found a comfortable home in Payson, a city of fifteen-thousand persons located at five-thousand feet, eighty miles North-East of Phoenix, Arizona. The subsequent move from Mexico to Payson went off remarkably well. Especially if one reflects that the move included fourteen dogs, seven cats and all their belongings. Their latest dog being a beautiful, black, half-Rottweiler female dog that was dumped in the street just outside the house barely ten days before they departed Mexico. She was still in milk, frantically tearing back and forth along the dusty street, presumably looking for her puppies, crying out the pain of her loss. Molly enticed her into the house, gave her water, for she was very thirsty, and within minutes the dog was showing her love and gratitude to Molly. They named her Hazel.

Then it was time for Philip to apply for that fiancée visa. There was no delaying that because his entrance to the USA, when they moved up from San Carlos, was on the basis of a ninety-day tourist visa.

Applying for that fiancée visa could only be done at the US Embassy back in his home country; England. In the end, it involved several trips back to the UK and strange, interminable processes convincing the US Embassy in London that he was a fit and proper person to be admitted as a resident to the United States of America.

Nevertheless, on November 4th, 2010, he boarded Virgin Atlantic’s flight VS007 from London Heathrow to Phoenix, the possessor of a United States visa permitting him to marry a US Citizen; in this case a very special one. Sixteen days later, on Saturday, November 20th, he and Molly were married.

This is where the story should have ended. Molly and Philip and their animals living very happily in a comfortable home in Payson, Arizona. But the story has a twist.

It had been a night in the middle of June in 2012; the night of the 20^th June as he recalled. There was nothing about the previous day that could have had any bearing on his mind, as in any trigger for the dream, not that, as dreams go, it was a dream of any meaning; well not outwardly. He dreamt he had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night and turned on the cold-water tap and found no water flowing from it. That was the dream; no more or no less. Bizarre!

Yet when he awoke in the morning, the dream was vividly present in his mind. He said to Molly that he had had the most strangest of dreams and recounted the experience. As it happened, they had a neighbour call by later that morning and the conversation lead Philip to mention his dream. To which the neighbour had simply remarked that if he was worried about water then they should go to Oregon.

While their property was sufficiently far out from Payson to require their own well and, as wells go, it was a deep one of nearly three-hundred feet, the water level had stayed pretty constant around sixty-feet down. On the other hand, this part of Arizona had been receiving below-average rains for the last twenty years.

Then, almost as though it had been pre-ordained, a short while thereafter Molly met a woman who said that she would be delighted to house sit and look after all the pets if Molly and Philip ever wanted to go on a vacation. Molly had mentioned that they were thinking of visiting Oregon. All of which came together and saw Molly and Philip setting off on July 11th on the start of a three-day, twelve-hundred mile drive to Southern Oregon.

On their arrival in Grants Pass, Oregon, yet another set of coincidences found them being introduced to an independent real-estate agent, Donna. Donna said she was happy to show them some properties for sale in this part of Southern Oregon. The second property that Donna showed them was a few miles North of the small community of Merlin, itself some nine miles North-West of Grants Pass.

Donna stopped at the entrance to the driveway, turned round and looked back at them.

“I have to be honest and tell you that I know very little about this property. There are not even listing particulars. It was for sale a few years back, rumours had it at well over a million dollars; possibly even million and a third. Then it was lost to the bank and, for whatever reason, nobody has gone for it. It’s been empty for at least two years.”

Donna drove in. The driveway was surrounded either side by tall forest trees; oaks, pines and firs. It initially sloped down from the roadway and then went across a bridge over a sparkling creek of crystal-clear water flowing from right-to-left. Donna paused the car as Philip asked a question.

“Any details about the creek, Donna?”

“It’s called Bummer Creek and it flows all-year. Not sure, will need to check on it, but I thought I had heard there were formal water extraction rights for the owners of the property.”

The driveway then made a gently climb along the right-hand edge of a large, multi-acre, grass paddock. In what must have been nearly a quarter-of-a-mile later, they drove up to a large, wooden-clad, single-story home surrounded by more wonderful tall pines and firs. It was stupendous. A four-bedroomed property in thirteen acres of fenced land with stables, a garage and other outbuildings, and what did turn out to be water extraction rights from Bummer Creek.

It took Molly and Philip less than an hour to make up their minds that at the right price this could be their home of a lifetime for them and all their animals.

Donna came up to them as they stood outside the front of the property.

“What do you think, guys?”

Philip answered, “It’s an incredible property and I don’t doubt that at some point it would have been an expensive property to purchase. Do you know the asking price?’

Donna answered, “I’ve just been calling to find out more details. The bank that originally foreclosed on the property then sold it a while back to a company called Gorilla Capital. Gorilla are just trying to flip the place for cash but, as with the bank, have had trouble finding a buyer. The company have told me they are looking for three-hundred-and-eighty-thousand dollars. I have to say that’s quite a low price for all that’s here even in these depressed times. My guess is that many people would find it a bit too much to take on in terms of the acres. Otherwise, I can’t see why it hasn’t sold a long time ago. Especially for the money being asked.”

Philip and Molly took another walk around the house. They ended up standing together on the wooden deck overlooking some eight or nine acres of grassland, dense forest sweeping up the flanks of the slopes in the near distance, and the mighty Mount Sexton visible four or five miles off to the North-East.

“What do you think, Molly?” he asked, putting his arm around her waist.

“It’s gorgeous, I just can’t believe what an incredible home it is. How about you? What do you think, sweetheart?”

His reply was unequivocal. “I think we should put in a silly offer.”

“Such as?” Molly wondered aloud.

“Come with me.”

He took her hand and lead her around to the front of the house, to where Donna was waiting.

“Donna, we want to make an offer. Tell Gorilla that we can’t go anywhere near their asking price just now. But if they want a deal today, we will offer two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars. Cash on the nail as we say in my old country.”

Donna walked away to be out of earshot and rang Gorilla. She was back in a couple of minutes.

“They say that’s too low. Say there really looking for something a bit higher.”

Fifteen minutes later, Gorilla and Philip and Molly had settled on the figure of two-hundred-and-seventy-one-thousand dollars.

As they walked towards Donna’s car she said to them, “You do know, don’t you, that even in today’s depressed housing market, that’s one hell of a deal.”

So it came to pass that on the following day, Sunday, 15th July, over at Donna’s office, Philip and Molly signed the purchase contract.

They left to return to Payson the following day.

Upon their return to Payson, without exception, all the people they shared their news with were astounded at what they had purchased for such a modest sum of money. Now came the challenge of getting their Payson house ready for sale, packing up their things and transporting what was by now eleven dogs and five cats, the twelve-hundred miles to Oregon.

Nevertheless, as is the way of things, piece by piece, little by little, it all came together resulting in the day of the ‘big move’ arriving: Tuesday, October 23rd to be exact. Philip’s Jeep was towing a large covered U-Haul trailer and Molly was driving a U-Haul rental van towing another trailer carrying her Dodge van packed to the roof. They were off to Oregon.

Within less than forty-eight hours of arriving at their new home in Merlin, as Molly and Philip saw how the dogs reacted to their acres of land, the trees, the hollows and the borders, they knew that all of them, in the fullest sense of the phrase, had come home.

The book! Chapter Seventeen

Learning from Dogs

Chapter Seventeen

Adjusting back to Devon life upon his return from California could have been so much worse if Philip didn’t have that first meeting with Jonathan to look forward to.

The flight back to London had been uneventful and as soon as he had taken a taxi from Totnes Station across to Diana and John’s place, to pick up his car, he was off to Sandra’s to collect his beloved Pharaoh.

While that night flight home from Los Angeles was always a bit rough on the body, the morning arrival did allow most of a full day back in England. The thought of waiting another day to see Pharaoh was unbearable.

As he pulled into Sandra’s parking area and opened the car door, the sound of the many dogs staying at Sandra’s kennels greeted his ears. He hadn’t even had time to close his door when Pharaoh came bounding across to him, tail wagging furiously. If ever a dog could put a smile on its face, and Philip had no doubt that dogs could smile, Pharaoh was wearing the biggest dog smile ever.

Philip sat on the ground and received a rapid succession of face licks. As soon as he stood up and opened both the car’s tail-gate and the door to the travel cage, Pharaoh gave one giant leap into the open cage, turned around and was indicating in very clear dog speak, ‘Dad, take me home, now!’.

He told Pharaoh to wait while he went across to settle up with Sandra.

“Did you have a good time in California?”

“Thanks Sandra, yes a great time. Feel almost ready for what’s facing me these next few months.”

He paused before asking, “Tell me, Sandra, how’s Pharaoh been?”

“He was fine. Same as he always is. It’s almost as though he knows that he isn’t here for ever and that you will come back for him. In fact, it must have been over half-an-hour ago that Pharaoh was telling me, in the way some dogs do, that you were on your way to collect him.”

“Wow! Sounds as though that was around the time I picked up the car from my sister’s place and starting heading your way.”

He continued. “Sandra, the reason I asked about how Pharaoh is with you is that I have been invited to spend next Christmas with good friends at their house in Northern Mexico.”

Sandra’s face showed that she was uncertain where Northern Mexico was.

“It’s a place called San Carlos, about a couple of hundred miles south of the border with Arizona but there’s a good airport quite close by. What I have been thinking, Sandra, is that being away from Devon over the holiday period might stop me getting all caught up in the memories of last Christmas. But if I was to go, it would be for the thick end of a month and there’s no question of me going if Pharaoh wasn’t going to be happy and settled here with you.”

Sandra’s reply was immediate. “Philip, I’m usually very quiet over the Christmas period with most dog owners wanting their dogs with them at home, for obvious reasons. So not only would I be able to give Pharaoh extra attention but during the day I could take him for a walk around our local woods and have him in the house as well.” Sandra hesitated before continuing, “Of course, I wouldn’t have him sleep in the house overnight, might start to confuse him as to whether or not this place was becoming his new home. So, what I’m saying is that it wouldn’t be a problem for me or Pharaoh in the slightest.”

“Thanks Sandra, you are good to him, and to me. Thank you so much.”

Philip was soon over at Upper Holsome Farm and as he parked up, about to let Pharaoh out and take his travel bags over to the flat, Liz came up to him.

“Thought it was you. How was it? Did you have a good time?”

“Thanks, Liz. Yes, it was a great time. Gave me a real break from the stuff of the last few weeks and months.

“So pleased to hear that. I took the liberty of putting some fresh milk and bread in your refrigerator. Thought you wouldn’t want the hassle of newly moving in and not having any food in the place.”

“Oh Liz, that was kind of you. Yes, apart from going to collect his nibs”, Philip lifted the tail-gate of the car and opened Pharaoh’s cage. “I had no other thought than to get back here and rest up after what feels like two days of solid travelling.”

Pharaoh had a quick sniff of Liz’s outstretched hand and went off to check out all the new smells and scents around the place.

“Liz, while it’s in my mind, I’ve been invited to go and spend Christmas with good friends in Northern Mexico. I’ve checked with Sandra over at the kennels and she is confident that Pharaoh will be happy with her. Because, I’m thinking of being away about a month.” He immediately added, “Of course, I’m not asking for any rent relief for the month and I’m happy to have you use the flat if you are expecting guests over the Christmas period.”

“Philip, come on now! I’m not putting anyone else in the flat while you are paying me rent and having your things there. When you have firm dates for your Christmas trip let me know; I’m sure you would have done so in any case.”

“Thanks Liz.”

With that, he took his belongings across to the flat, still familiar to him back from the time when he was living here before he and Maggie moved in to the Harberton barn. For Pharaoh, however, it was another new place to check out. He left him sniffing around the flat and went out to lock the car. When he returned to the flat, less than two minutes later, and went into the bedroom, there was Pharaoh curled up in the bottom half of his open suitcase. As if to say that the next time Philip left Devon he’d better take his dog with him. What a dog. What a relationship.

Later that evening, as the two of them were resting after both a human dinner and a dog supper, his mind came back to the relationship that he had with Pharaoh. Of course, it was well known that dogs loved unconditionally. But the phrase love unconditionally was too trite, too obvious. What was the deeper meaning behind those words? He went on to ponder that it must be so much more than that. The closeness of the companionship, the easy way that Pharaoh signalled his feelings to Philip, the purity of those feelings. What was the word Jonathan had used about feelings? Transparency. Of course! Yes, the transparency of Pharaoh’s feelings; that was it. He continued reflecting on the incredibly ancient relationship that had existed between dogs and man. At least thirty-thousand years and, quite probably, as far back to Neanderthal times fifty-thousand years ago.

If only us humans could live so simply and straightforwardly as dogs. For example, take how dogs live in the present for the vast majority of their lives. Think what that would mean for humans if we stopped deliberating about the future in the way that most us do. Not so much deliberating about the future, more like worrying about the future. The fear that this must engender because the future is so often an uncertain one.

Philip was sure that if humans could live as fully engaged in the present, making the the best of each moment, as dogs so clearly do, then we would live a much more uncluttered life. Uncluttered in the sense of being unburdened by the many complex fears and feelings that we humans so often seem to have. Let’s face it most of the time our fears never actually turn into reality. Millions of people loving millions of dogs in the world, untold numbers of close relationships between people and dogs, and we are all missing the most profound lesson of all to be learnt from these wonderful animals. That if we stopped obsessing about the future, turned down the noise of the outside world, we would have a chance of some silence and mental space. For it is only from that silence within us that we can become aware of ourselves. How that self-awareness allows us to better cope with the uncertainty around us, and more to the point, offers us greater happiness. Now that would have profound implications for society.

Picture parade nineteen.

Entire set courtesy of Dan Gomez.

Oh, and don’t forget to read the final item!

It’s the first day of December!

oooo

oooOOOooo

What a delightful set of photographs.

Coincidentally, rather timely with what is most definitely not a delightful weather warning for next week. As in the latest Special Weather Statement from the National Weather Service (NWS). Note we are living in Josephine County, just a few miles from Grants Pass:

Special Weather Statement

SPECIAL WEATHER STATEMENT…CORRECTED
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE MEDFORD OR
404 PM PST SAT NOV 30 2013

ORZ023>026-020015-

CENTRAL DOUGLAS COUNTY-EASTERN CURRY COUNTY AND JOSEPHINE COUNTY-
EASTERN DOUGLAS COUNTY FOOTHILLS-JACKSON COUNTY-
INCLUDING THE CITIES OF…DRAIN…ELKTON…ROSEBURG…SUTHERLIN…
GREEN…MYRTLE CREEK…CANYONVILLE…GLENDALE…GRANTS PASS…
CAVE JUNCTION…STEAMBOAT…TOKETEE FALLS…MEDFORD…ASHLAND
404 PM PST SAT NOV 30 2013

…VERY COLD WEATHER THIS WEEK WITH LIGHT SNOW POSSIBLE IN THE VALLEYS…

A STRONG COLD FRONT WILL MOVE THROUGH THE REGION ON MONDAY.
PRECIPITATION IS EXPECTED TO BE RAIN IN THE VALLEYS THROUGH MONDAY
AFTERNOON, HOWEVER BY MONDAY NIGHT AND TUESDAY IT WILL BE COLD
ENOUGH THAT SNOW MAY FALL ALL THE WAY TO THE VALLEY FLOORS.

THE AIRMASS WILL THEN DRY OUT AND BECOME VERY COLD TUESDAY NIGHT
THROUGH THE REST OF THE WEEK. LOW TEMPERATURES WILL BE WELL DOWN
INTO THE 20S OVER SOUTHWEST OREGON VALLEYS WITH HIGHS IN THE LOW
TO MID 30S. THURSDAY MORNING IS EXPECTED TO THE BE THE COLDEST
TIME WHEN LOWS IN THE MID TO UPPER TEENS ARE POSSIBLE.

IT IS CERTAIN THAT VERY COLD WEATHER IS COMING TO SOUTHWEST
OREGON THIS WEEK. CONFIDENCE IN SNOWFALL IS LOWER, BUT RESIDENTS
AND TRAVELERS SHOULD ALSO BE PREPARED FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF
LIGHT SNOW EARLY TUESDAY WHICH COULD IMPACT TRAVEL.

STAY TUNED TO THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE FOR UPDATED FORECASTS
AS THIS STORM SYSTEM APPROACHES.

Our local Grants Pass Weather website is predicting a low around 20 for Wednesday Night. (-5 deg C.) B’rrrr!

Sights and sounds.

Just a collection of items that I hope you will enjoy.

So enough of the book this week for you dear readers.

It’s the week-end and time to offer you some odds and ends that have come my way in recent days.

First up is some really glorious singing.

Some years ago, I was working with a colleague and subsequently got to know that his wife was a brilliant singer/songwriter enjoying a good singing career. Her name is Rebecca Bains and there is a website here although still under construction according to the home page.

So to Rebecca’s singing.

Now for something completely different.

It’s an advertisement for Volvo Trucks. Sent to me by friend, Neil, from my Devon days. The short video has been seen over 45 million times! If you haven’t seen it, prepared to be wowed!

Now back to Rebecca’s singing. But with this introduction from me. Many know that here in Oregon we have nine dogs. Four of those are dogs that were rescued by Jean from earlier days in Mexico and two from the shelter in Payson, Arizona where we were living before coming to Oregon. There are many, many others who adopt rescue dogs or care for homeless dogs in countless ways.

So as we approach Christmas, the Season of Good Will, please do everything you can to help man’s best friend and companion for, literally, thousands upon thousands of years. If you are thinking of adopting a dog, or a cat, please visit your local shelter or the Pet Finder website.

OK, now to a short video with the singing from Rebecca Bains.

Trust me, this will rightly grab your heartstrings.

Well done, Rebecca.

Picture parade seventeen

Still they keep on coming.

A week ago, the last set of the gorgeous pictures from John Hurlburt was published. They had been highly enjoyed by you.

To be honest, I had been wondering how on earth I was going to follow them.

Then Chris Snuggs partially came to my aid in sending me the following two pictures. (Chris has his own blogsite here.)

Now that’s what I call the correct priorities in life!

oooo

Then John H. sent me another great set of pictures. Here’s the first five.

oooo

Thank you Chris, thank you John.

More coming in a week’s time.

You all take care out there.

The book! Chapter Four

A bit of a slog just now!

My sub-heading is further forward in time, as it were, than Chapter Four represents.

Because at the time of preparing this post for today. i.e. yesterday afternoon, while I am releasing Chapter Four to you very forgiving readers, in terms of my current position, I have just started Chapter Eight. So on the NaNoWriMo website, my word count is, or will be within the next hour, around the 16,500 mark, as opposed to the word count at the end of Chapter Four which was 10,100 words.

On one hand that feels like some achievement but the reality is that it is very close to where I have to be today, to achieve the 50,000 words by the end of November and, guess what, another 1,660 words has to be created tomorrow, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and ….. I’m sure you get the message.

Anyway, enough of this waffling, I have words to write! 😉

Here’s Chapter Four that continued from Chapter three here.

oooOOOooo

Learning from Dogs.

Chapter Four

Upon his return to Harberton, Philip’s change of mood was unmistakable from that when he and Pharaoh had left the house a little over three hours ago. He opened the front door, allowing Pharaoh to push past him, as he always did, and stepped into the house.

Maggie was downstairs in their bedroom sorting through laundry. Philip, led by Pharaoh, went in to the room. He sat on the edge of the made-up bed.

“Guess what, Maggie!” he exclaimed. “We had the most amazing stroke of luck.”

“Come on,” Maggie replied, “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll make us some coffee and you can tell me all about it.”

As they sat drinking their coffees, Philip explaining the chance meeting with Angela and next Wednesday’s appointment, the grey cloud was breaking up and letting a fitful November’s Winter sun through the pair of full length windows that looked Southwards out over the tiny cul-de-sac where their house was situated. Maggie and Philip had lived here for some eight years, coming together to live here about a year after they had first met. Luckily, at that time Philip had been in rented accommodation in a farmhouse just a couple of miles away. So when Philip suggested that he and Maggie buy a house together, it was an uncomplicated move.

They had struck lucky in finding the property soon after this house had come on to the market. It was actually a converted stone cow-shed that had originally been built over two hundred years ago. The stone barn, to give it a more accurate description, was the typical Devon stone barn in that the cattle were accommodated, stable fashion, at ground level and the hay was stored on the level above. At that time, the barn would have been on the edge, and connected to, the open grassland to their West. But when the barn was taken out of agricultural use and sold, it had only a fraction of that pre-existing grassland attached.

The local guy who had done the conversion some twenty years ago had done it as an ‘upside-down’ house with the living rooms above the two bedrooms and family bathroom on the ground level. But despite it being a smallish house, it was full of character and Philip had been lucky to find out about it. In fact, from a casual remark over a pint of Devon ale in the Church House Inn, the local village pub. Philip had idly asked David, the publican, if he knew of any houses for sale in the village. David had put a hand up to halt Philip in mid-sentence and called across the bar, “Barry, someone wants to buy your barn!” And that had been that.

Before Philip knew it, Wednesday morning had arrived. Monday and Tuesday had been busy days for him. Since he had returned in 1993 from a few years living overseas, he had found himself being asked to provide mentoring support to a number of other entrepreneurs. Philip had been fortunate to start his own business back in 1978 after leaving IBM in the UK, and even more fortunate to have someone contact him in 1986 enquiring if Philip might be interested in selling out. Ever the salesman, Philip was delighted to close the deal and take a few years off bumming around the Mediterranean.

This part of South-West England had many who either wanted to start their own business or needed support in developing an already established operation. It wasn’t a great money-spinner for Philip but the connections and the variety of different businesses out there, plus so many fascinating entrepreneurs, made it very enjoyable. Plus he, himself, was constantly learning new ideas.

Of course, any reminiscences of the past had Philip lingering in the memories of those years from 1978 through to 1986, the years that he ran his own business. Way back to the early days of business computing. Back to a chance meeting with the sales manager of Commodore Computers UK at their Chiswick headquarters to the west of London. How he had become the sixth Commodore Computer dealer in the UK based in Colchester in early 1979 and been offered the opportunity of distributing a word-processing program for the Commodore ‘PET’. While he hadn’t a clue about computers, Philip had left IBM as an experienced word processing salesman. In a dramatic turn of fortune, Philip went from having trouble spelling the word computer to being able to offer the Commodore Computer with word-processing software for businesses for around a tenth of the cost of then ‘stand-alone’ word-processing machines. It really was a licence to print money.

He must have become lost in thought to the point where Pharaoh had to remind him with a nudge from a warm snout that they were going out and to, please, open that front door! A very excited Pharaoh bounced down the steps, he sensed something very different about this day.

Again, South Devon was offering typical November weather with low grey clouds and the promise of rain. Philip had Pharaoh’s regular leash plus he had grabbed the body harness that was such a gentle alternative to tugging on a dog’s collar.

As he drove across to Staverton to walk some of Pharaoh’s excitement away, before going on to Angela, his mind drifted back to those days of running his own business, reflecting on how quickly demand for his software had him setting up country distributors right across the world. In America, he had set up a distributor for the eastern part of the USA in Philadelphia in New Jersey, and in Southern California had likewise appointed a distributor, Danny Mitchell, for the western half of the US.

Dear old Danny Mitchell, what a character he had been. No, that’s wrong, it should be what a character he still is! Danny and Philip had formed a fantastic relationship that was still going strong today after more than twenty-four years.

It was a little after nine-thirty when he parked nose-in to James’ field gate. He let Pharaoh out of the car, locked the car doors and opened the gate to the upper field. Just for a change and just as much for the experiment, once the gate was closed behind them, he commanded Pharaoh to sit.

“Pharaoh, stay!” Philip quietly unclipped the leash. “Pharaoh heel!” Philip slapped his left thigh with his left hand, and set off down the grassy path. As he hoped, Pharaoh trotted beautifully to heel, even up to within a few yards of the edge of the woods.

“Pharaoh, sit!” Philip rubbed Pharaoh’s forehead, just where the blackness of his snout filtered into the black-brown hair across his wide, brown eyes. “There’s a good boy. Go on then, off you go.”

Pharaoh was away into the trees.

Philip found one of the stumps he used for such mornings, swept the back of his coat underneath his backside and sat down on the old oak stump.

The hour passed as gently as one could ever wish for and, as if on cue, Pharaoh trotted up to where Philip was still sitting just about when it was time to be off to Angela’s place.

Soon they were back in the car and Philip reversed out into the lane and repeated the car journey of just last Sunday. He couldn’t square the circle of the events since that Deborah Longland had marched them off, figuratively speaking, from her class just last Saturday afternoon. It seemed like a lifetime ago. That old chestnut came to mind; one of many that he was apt to use. The one about never underestimating the power of unintended consequences!

As they nosed again into Angela’s yard area, about ten minutes before eleven, she was there expecting them. This time the muddy overalls and red plastic boots had been cast aside for a pair of freshly laundered blue jeans, fitting snugly around her hips, over a pair of soft, walking shoes, topped with a cotton blue-and-white blouse showing from under a woollen pullover. Angela’s face declared more make-up than last Sunday.

“Morning Philip,” Angela called out in a bright and breezy manner as Philip closed his driver’s door behind him.

“Good morning to you, Angela. What’s the plan then?”

“It’s quite simple, Philip. Just walk him on his leash over towards that fenced off pasture, just where I’m pointing. Stop before reaching the gate when you are five or ten feet away.”

Philip opened the tail-gate quietly surprised that Pharaoh was in a very contented mood. Despite the lure of so many new sights and smells, Pharaoh sat on his haunches as Philip clipped on his leash.

“Down Pharaoh. Pharaoh sit. Pharaoh heel.” Bless him, Philip thought, he’s behaving immaculately.

As they came to a halt, Angela standing a little before the gate, Philip noticed that in the far left-hand corner of the pasture were two dogs. Philip was totally thrown by Angela’s next instruction.

“Philip, I’m going to open the gate a little and stand back. Just slip inside the field, let Pharaoh off his leash and then leave him to do just what he wants to do.”

“But Angela, I can’t guarantee that he won’t go across and be aggressive to those dogs over there.”

“Don’t worry, Philip. This is not as random and unplanned as you may think.”

Angela then unlatched the gate and opened it towards her by quite an amount. She then stood back.

Pharaoh looked at the open gate and the two dogs a good hundred yards from him in that corner of the field. Philip released the leash and stepped out. Pharaoh walked confidently in beyond the open gate and further on for about twenty-five yards. Pharaoh hesitated.

Then came the call from Angela that would be destined to be in Philip’s consciousness for the rest of his days.

“There’s nothing wrong with Pharaoh!”

Philip practically choked on getting his next words out. “Sorry? Not sure I heard you correctly? Did you say there’s nothing wrong? But don’t understand. How on earth can you tell so quickly when Pharaoh’s hardly even entered the field?”

“Philip, it’s very easy. Because my two dogs haven’t taken any notice of him. He’ll be fine. Let’s just lean on the fence and watch the three of them and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

Philip came up and lent his arms over the top horizontal rail of the fence, its height comfortably allowing the rail to run across his chest and under each armpit. Angela, being a little shorter than Philip, stood next to him with her hands on the rail.

“Those two dogs of mine in the field are Sam and Meda. They are both teaching dogs. Sam is a teaching dog, a male, that we would describe as a Nannie and Meda is a female teaching dog more closely described as a Mentor. Don’t worry just now, I’ll explain all later. Let’s just watch Pharaoh’s interaction with them for a while.”

Philip was silent, utterly overcome with emotion. He loved that dog of his so much and had been so worried these past few days that to have Angela’s endorsement of him in this manner was joy beyond joy.

He watched as Pharaoh came up to Angela’s two dogs, head slightly lowered, tail down, seemingly offering himself to Sam and Meda as a submissive youngster ready to learn.

Sam took no notice at all of Pharaoh as Meda partially encircled Pharaoh, sniffed his bum and then, miracle of miracles, softly touched wet nose to wet nose. Pharaoh noticeably perked up and as Sam came across to greet this new companion, Pharaoh’s tail gently wagged a return greeting. Sam then hung back as Meda appeared to take Pharaoh on a bit of tour around the field, sharing this smell and that smell.

“Do you know what, Philip,” Angela remarked, “I’m pretty sure that Pharaoh is another Mentor.”

She continued, “I can see no difference in their hierarchies. In other words Pharaoh is not dominating Meda, neither Meda dominating Pharaoh. I think you have a wonderful German Shepherd. Wouldn’t be at all surprised if I can’t use him teaching some of the poor dogs that come this way.”

Angela added, “Let’s call them in and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and open your eyes to the magical world of dogs.”

With that Angela called out to her dogs and over they came, Pharaoh happily in tow. Philip was able to call him over to the car and Pharaoh jumped up just as happy as a dog could be.

Sam and Meda had parked themselves somewhere else and Angela pointed Philip towards a static caravan that seemed to be the customer’s lounge. Inside, there was a small gas burner and within minutes the kettle was singing out in the unique way that full kettles sound when they are warming up.

“Sit yourself down in the corner, Philip. Won’t be long. How do you take your tea? White with sugar, or …”

“Just white with no sugar, please Angela. Must say that I could murder a fresh cup of tea.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you go and bring Pharaoh to be with us in the caravan. This story about dogs could take a while!” Angela winked at him.

Moments later, Pharaoh was curled up contentedly on the opposite corner cushion. Shepherds, like most other breeds of dogs, but ten times more so, loved being in the company of humans chatting comfortably together.

Five minutes later, fingers around the warm, white china mug, steam rising from the freshly brewed tea, Philip was all ears to learn more about dogs in general and teaching dogs in particular.

Philip knew that he was on the verge of embracing dogs, in every single meaning of the word. It was a magical morning.

The book! Chapter One.

So far, so good!

Yesterday, I offered you, dear reader, my foreword, as it were. It was a fictional account of the coming together of man and grey wolf that over many thousands of years led to the domesticated dog that so many millions of us know and love.

Yes, it’s fiction but it’s not entirely improbable. I say that because on the 20th May this year, I wrote about a meeting with a Grey Wolf that had been born in captivity yet not born a tame creature, far from it. The post was called Musings on Love and included this picture of that Grey Wolf, Tundra. The picture was taken by me just a few moments before I received a gentle lick on the face.

oooo

Moving on. This is Chapter One set some 30,000 years, give or take, after Omo reached out to those injured wolf cubs. Bet she had no idea what she started! 😉

Once again, all feedback welcomed. Your support, as conveyed yesterday, is incredible. Thank you so much.

oooOOOooo

Learning from Dogs

Chapter One

Philip stood very still as Sandra approached with the golden-brown puppy in her arms. The puppy was an exquisite, miniature version of the fully-grown German Shepherd dogs that were on view elsewhere about Sandra’s kennels.

It was unusually warm this September day and Philip had unbuttoned the cuffs of his blue-white checked cotton shirt and folded his shirt sleeves back above both elbows. Sandra offered the young, male puppy to Philip and he took it tenderly into his arms and cradled the gorgeous creature against his chest. The pup’s warm body seemed to glow through its gleaming fur and the moment of contact was pure magic. As Philip’s bare forearms touched the soft, sensuous flanks of this quiet, little creature something registered in Philip’s consciousness in ways that couldn’t be articulated but, nonetheless, something as real as, perhaps, a rainbow across the hills.

This first contact was a strong experience for both man and dog. For even at the tender age of twelve weeks or so, the tiny dog appeared to sense that the human person holding him so longingly was deep in thought; far away in some remote place, almost trying to bridge a divide of many years.

Philip sat very carefully down on the wooden-slatted bench behind him so he could rest the beautiful animal in his lap. The puppy was adorable. Large, over-sized ears flopped across the top of a golden-brown furry head. That golden-brown fur with countless black hairs intermingled within the tan flowed across the shoulders morphing into the predominantly cream colour of the pup’s soft, gangling front legs. That creamy fur continuing along the little creature’s underbelly. The puppy Shepherd dog almost purred with contentment, his deep brown eyes gazing so intently into Philip’s deep blue eyes. Puppy eyes starting to soften, maybe just a hint of eye-lids starting to close.

Philip had never before felt so close to an animal. In a life time of more than fifty-nine years including cats at home when he was a young boy growing up in North-West London, and a pet cat when his own son and daughter were youngsters, Philip had never, ever sensed the stirrings of such a loving bond as he was sensing now. As the young puppy seemed to be sensing in return. This was going to be Philip’s dog, without a doubt.

“So, Sandra, tell me again what I need to know about raising a German Shepherd?”

Sandra Chambers, her grey hair turned up in a bun behind her head, brushed the dog hairs and the biscuit crumbs off her navy-blue overalls and sat down alongside Philip on the bench. Sandra had seen hundreds of prospective owners over the more than forty years that she had been breeding German Shepherds up here on Devon’s Southern Dartmoor flanks. But Philip was not typical of those hundreds of others. First, he came on his own despite admitting that he was married. Uncommon for a married couple not to chose a dog together. Then Philip, a good-looking, well-dressed, thoughtful man, that Sandra had guessed was in his late 50’s, had mentioned never previously owning a dog yet there was no question in his mind that this, his first dog, had to be a German Shepherd. Sandra had counselled Philip that Shepherd dogs were wonderful, loyal companions but at the same time were incredibly strong animals; both physically and wilfully. The commitment to properly and fully training a Shepherd dog was not to be underestimated. A powerful, male Shepherd dog had the potential to kill a cat or a smaller dog in an instant, even to attack a stranger. Training a dog such as this German Shepherd was without question. Even more so in the case of the pup that Philip so fondly held as both the pup’s parents were from the very finest German bloodlines.

But despite Philip being such an unusual first owner, Sandra couldn’t miss the remarkable way that both Philip and the puppy had connected.

Sandra explained, “Well we’ve discussed his feeding needs, so that’s a big step. At first just care and love him so he quickly registers that your home is his home. Shepherds are very bright, very instinctive animals. Just look at the way that he is watching your face just now!”

“Once you have him home, Philip, start into a routine in terms of potty training. Let him out into your garden in his puppy harness so that he can sniff around. As soon as he takes a pee or a dump reward him with kind words, a rub between his ears, even a small biscuit. He will very quickly learn to potty outside.”

“You know I’m only a phone call away if you have any queries.”

Thus it was on a warm, sunny day in the first week of September, 2003 Philip drove the twenty miles from Sandra’s kennels in Bovey Tracey to his Harberton home just a few miles West of Totnes. The little pup quiet as a mouse curled up on a blanket inside the puppy carrier placed on the passenger front seat; the passenger seat-belt around the front of the carrier; just in case!

Philip and his wife, Maggie, had anticipated that them getting a dog was more or less inevitable and the garden fencing around their village home had been double-checked. Philip closed the wooden, five-bar gate behind him and drove the short distance up their gravel drive and parked the car. He opened the passenger door and lifted the puppy carrier out and set it down on the warm grass.

A soft, wet nose lead the rest of a puppy’s body out of the carrier, cautiously sniffing and smelling the blades of grass. He padded across to a small tree, squatted and pee’d his first pee in his new home.

The front door opened and Maggie came down the front steps, slipping a beige jacket over her shoulders, brushing her long, blond hair back across the jacket as she did so and walked up to them. “So you got him, then!”

She crouched down to be at the puppy’s level. The dog, his eyes glistening with curiosity, came over to Maggie and sniffed her outstretched fingers.

“Oh, he is rather cute. Did you have difficulty choosing him?”

“No, not at all. Sandra only had three puppies that were available just now and this little lad seemed to bond with me, and me with him, in a way that just wasn’t echoed with the other two puppies.”

“Plus, you know I always wanted a male Shepherd and the other pups were both females.”

Maggie stroked the young dog along his furry back. “What are we going to call him?”

Philip responded without hesitation. “Pharaoh.”

Clock watching!

Literally, as a long-case clock is tickled back to life.

We are experiencing a period of foggy mornings giving way to brilliantly clear and sunny afternoons.

Yesterday was no exception.

Looking out to the North-East with Mt. Sexton behind the mists.

oooo

Having walked some of the dogs around 9am it seemed a good idea to find a task indoors for the morning. How about sorting out the ‘grandfather’ clock, or long-case clock in proper speak!

Every since we came up from Arizona to settle here in Southern Oregon, now almost a year ago, that clock had not been running well. It’s nothing special in terms of its lineage but over many years of collecting and repairing clocks in my earlier days in Devon, UK, I’ve always had a soft spot for the long-case clock.

oooo

This particular clock, as seen in the above picture, is a real hotch-potch. The original face is nothing special and somewhere along the line a previous owner came across a more ‘antiquey’ face and screwed it over the original.

oooo

oooo

Anyway, the first task was to even up the movement, again a real mess.

A long way from how this clock was originally built!

oooo

All this a long-winded way of saying that by the time the clock seemed to be running in a settled fashion it was coming up to 4pm and my creative juices for blog writing, such as they are, had evaporated.

Hence the clock story!

And in answer to those who might wonder why so much time and effort went into such a dreadful jumble of a clock, the one thing I adore about mechanical clocks is the sound of the ‘tick’ and the chimes.

There is no better sound than the steady tick of a long-case clock and those haunting chimes on the half-hour and on the hour.

The video below is a wonderful example of a real vintage clock!

Antique Longcase Clock Striking – J. Woolfenden – Royton (ca. 1785)

This is a client’s beautiful longcase clock that I serviced not long ago. The clock is by J. Woolfenden – Royton and it dates to roughly 1785 (based on some research that was done on it).

In this video, you hear the clock striking 11 o’ clock on a nice original bell. The clock was running during testing, but it was not in beat (I had to fix the leveling later).