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Fall Frolic

08 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, fiction, first person, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, quest

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

animal, animals, autumn, dog, dog blog, Edgar, fall, fiction, FinderDog, frolic, German Shepherd, humor, Humphrey, leaves, Maine, man, mystery, narrative, Nature, outdoors, pet, photo, photography, photos, quote, quotes, Stephen King, stick, visit, woman

In small towns people scent the wind with noses of uncommon keenness.

-Stephen King, courtesy of http://www.brainyquote.com

This past weekend, I traveled up to Maine with Woman and Man to visit Man’s family.  The seasons are much further advanced there, and the leaves on some of the trees have begun to give up their green and embrace, instead, the new and vibrant colors of the fall.

Have I ever told you, reader, of my affinity for leaves?  I love them!  I love to chase them and to snap them up in my teeth.  I twist in the air to catch them as the wind lifts them up and ruffles my fur, both at once.

After spending several minutes playing in the leaves with Man and Woman, I found the perfect stick.  All in all, a good day.

During my northerly sojourn, I also received a message, from Edgar.  He said he’d come to see me soon–as soon as he could.  He left the message with a dog who lives near Man’s parents, who barked it out to me as soon as I saw her.  Soon, I shall see my brother again.  Until then…

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As the World Turns…

30 Sunday Sep 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, Autumn, dog, fiction, first person, Halloween, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, quest

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

advice, animal, animals, autumn, autumn day, beach, car, car ride, costume, coyote, dog, dog blog, fall, fiction, FinderDog, George Eliot, German Shepherd, halloween, humor, Humphrey, Mr. Bailey, mystery, narrative, Nature, ocean, outdoors, pet, photo, photography, photos, quote, quotes, sniff, summer, swans, visit, wig

Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit.

-George Eliot, courtesy of goodreads.com

I have not written for some time, and I am sorry for how uncommunicative I have been.  I have seen little of Edgar and little of the coyotes.  Ukko and Woman’s Brother have moved to the West Coast, and only Mr. Bailey and I remain.  The long, golden and green dog days of summer have drawn to a close and it is autumn once more.  It has been nearly a year since I began this endeavor to chronicle my story.

When last I saw Mr. Bailey, I waxed sentimental, cataloging my desires and complaints: I missed Edgar and Ukko, I longed to solve the puzzle of the coyotes, I wanted an egg in my breakfast everyday, and not only on certain days.  Mr. Bailey, wise soul that he is, reminded me to be patient in this restless season, and see how things would unfold.

“Stop and smell the hydrants,” he advised.  “Look about you.  See what new things there are to learn and be open to the world about you.”

I have been trying to follow his sage advice, especially on my jaunts to the sea’s edge with Woman or Man.  Just a few weeks ago, I smelled the most entrancing things by the harbor.  I watched some sea gulls and met a few charming older dogs who were sporting about in the surf.

The other day, as Woman and I approached the beach, we saw a family of swans floating several feet from the shore.  There were a pair of adults and three gray, adolescent goslings.  We went down to the beach, thinking the swans too far out to be disturbed by our presence, but no sooner did our feet touch the sand, then the largest one began to hiss and swim closer.  We made our exit, not because I was afraid, but because I had no wish to disturb the swan family, and because I did not want Woman to worry.  Would that I could have shown them to you, but Woman did not have her phone with her.

I do so love my trips to the beach.  One day, there was so much moisture in the air and so few dogs or people about, that I felt almost like a ghost dog, alone on the beach but for Woman and surrounded by the strange atmosphere.

I’ve also been taking some road trips, which I usually enjoy, as I am typically going somewhere stupendous.  Mostly, Man and Woman make me ride in the back, but sometimes, I ride in the backseat, and I can stick my nose between the two front seats between Man and Woman.  This, of course, is what I prefer.

Finally, I have been getting ready for Halloween.  This year, I think I may more fully take part in this human festival.  Man might let me borrow part of his costume from last year:

The Next Generation

22 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, fiction, first person, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, quest

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Adam Bede, animal, animals, coyote, coyotes, dog, dog blog, Edgar, family, fiction, FinderDog, George Eliot, German Shepherd, Golden Retriever, Golden Retriever puppy, humor, Humphrey, man, Mr. Bailey, narrative, Nature, orange boy, outdoors, pet, photo, photography, photos, playing, puppy, quest, quote, quotes, teething, Ukko, visit, woman

Such young unfurrowed souls roll to meet each other like two velvet peaches that touch softly and are at rest; they mingle as easily as two brooklets that ask for nothing but to entwine themselves and ripple with ever-interlacing curves in the leafiest hiding-places.

-George Eliot, Adam Bede, courtesy of litquotes.com

Exciting news!  Woman’s brother recently brought home an addition to my extended family.  This little bundle of furry joy has been called Ukko, after Woman’s father’s Finnish roots.

Mr. Bailey and I have taken upon ourselves a great deal of the responsibility of raising Ukko during this formative time.  We have taught him where to relieve himself, how to play nicely, and that he is at the lowest (though still cherished) member of our family pack.

Ukko and I played together for quite some time.  Ukko would work up his courage and approach me to try and steal a toy, and I would pretend not to see him.  If I looked toward him, he’d spring back and lie down in the grass.  He puts me in mind of myself and Edgar at his age.

As is perfectly natural, Ukko is teething, and Woman’s brother and his family must constantly tell him “no bite” and give him toys to chew.  I don’t believe I was ever this way, though Man and Woman assure me that I was.

As I look at Ukko, I understand all the more why Edgar and I must right wrongs and protect dog and humankind from coyotes and others who would do harm.

I shall also report upon my progress with the frisbee.  Though I can more often pick   up the frisbee, I still struggle at times…

Let it not be said, however, that I am a dog who shuns challenges.  I will never stop trying to play with the frisbee, and I will never stop fighting the coyotes.

My Apprenticeship to a Master of Car Restoration

26 Tuesday Jun 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, car restoration, dog, dog blog, fiction, first person, German Shepherd, lesson, Man, mystery, narrative, pet, photography, vintage cars

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

animal, animals, apprentice, apprenticeship, arthur conan doyle, car, car repair, car restoration, cars, dog, dog blog, fiction, FinderDog, German Shepherd, humor, Humphrey, Jaguar, learning, lesson, man, MG, MGB, narrative, pet, photo, photography, photos, quote, quotes, restoration, Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four, vehicle, vintage car, welding

‘My mind,’ he said, ‘rebels at stagnation.  Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere.  I can dispense then with artificial stimulants.  But I abhor the dull routine of existence.  I crave for mental exaltation.’

-Sherlock Holmes in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign of Four

I have not told you, dear reader, about one of my hobbies.  I have engaged in a lengthy apprenticeship with Man, who loves working on cars.  Since he was a boy, he has worked on old cars, most notably a Jaguar XJ6L and the MGB you see before you.

I have felt very grown up and responsible, now that Man has allowed me to assist him in his technical labors.  I oversee all his work, and sometimes provide moral support or distraction, which are important parts of the process.

I have learned a lot about how these metal beasts function, and would pit my knowledge against that of any other canine.  I am invigorated by the scent of the oils and the heat of the welding.  I love the mental exercise of problem-solving with Man to create the ultimate vehicle, which might even run faster than I can on my own mortal legs.

My only complaint is that the MGB is a little small for a dog of my–majesty.  I can’t sit comfortably on the floor or the seat.  As a passenger, I prefer the family SUV, though as a connoisseur and mechanic-in-training, I share Man’s passion for vintage cars.  Best of all, I love the Man-dog time we spend together, which has deepened our relationship.

My Favorite (Edible) Things

20 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, first person, food, humor, pet, photography, poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

animal, animals, broccoli, carrots, dog, dog blog, dog ice cream, favorite things, FinderDog, food, Frosty Paws, frosty paws ice cream, frostypaws, German Shepherd, haiku, humor, Humphrey, my favorite things, peanut butter, photo, photography, photos, poem, poet, poetry, quote, quotes, Robert Frost, yoghund

I had some fun with my last poem, so I thought I would give another one a try!  After all,

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

-Robert Frost, courtesy of quotegarden.com

 
My Favorite Things
 
Carrots, broccoli,
peanut butter!  Could there be
anything better?
 
Carrots: moist, crunchy…
Brocolli: textured,
fun to chew to bits.
 
Peanut butter: sticks
on my tongue as I lick it—
salty, sweet, perfect.
 
Let’s not forget the
cold Yoghund and Frosty Paws!
Ice cream: perfection. 
 
 
*image of yoghund from http://www.yoghund.com/products/index.php
*image of FrostyPaws from https://www.facebook.com/FrostyPaws

Mother’s Day and Our Troubled Puppyhood

12 Saturday May 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, fiction, first person, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, quest

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Tags

animal, bond, brother, dog, dog blog, Edgar, family, fiction, FinderDog, Freud, German Shepherd, home, humor, Humphrey, love, Maggie, man, mother, Mother's Day, Mr. Bailey, mystery, narrative, orange boy, pet, photo, photography, photos, puppy, quest, quote, quotes, Sigmund Freud, sleep, woman

We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love.

-Sigmund Freud, courtesy of litquotes.com

Edgar has arrived, dear reader.  He has come to spend Mother’s Day with me.  I was glad to have him, as Mother’s Day always makes me thoughtful.  For so long, I was convinced that our mother was guilty of Edgar’s death, back when I thought of him as Orange Boy.  (See “The Sun Sets on Orange Boy” and earlier posts)

My mother.  She was beautiful, wasn’t she?  She was powerful, fast, and agile.  She was fierce, but she was loving, too.  I remember her warmth and her rough affection.  She wanted us to be tough, too.  For a long time, I did not understand her.  For a short time, after Edgar disappeared but before I was adopted by Man and Woman, I was a little bit afraid of her, despite the love I had for her and my dependence upon her.

She did attack Edgar, and Edgar was small and fuzzy and defenseless, as I was.  I know now, and I try to understand–she was only doing what her instincts told her, which was that Edgar was the weakest–that he had been chosen, not by her, but by nature as one who would not survive.  Thus, she would have ended his suffering and would have carried out a sentence which was not her own, but which was imposed upon them both.

Pastoral Infancy

Edgar arrived at my home after Woman and Man had gone to bed, and the two of us lay down together in the living room, cuddling as we had when we were young.

“Do you hate her?” I asked Edgar.

“No.  For awhile I did.  I could not understand what she had done, and I was on my own, just past infancy and without many survival skills.  I believe, though, if she could see me now, she would think that I am much stronger than she thought I was then.”

“You’ve become stronger than any of us,” I said.  “I don’t know where our brothers and sisters are, but I know that you are stronger than I am.  She did not know what she did.”

Edgar whined and snuggled closer.

“Edgar, where have you been?  I’ve been worried,” I told him.

“Let’s speak of it tomorrow, Humphrey.  Is that all right?”

In answer, I snuggled closer to my brother and we slept as we had long ago when we were much smaller and our voices were much squeakier and the world was tinier and seemed perfectly safe.

Though neither of us had seen our biological mother in years, I had found another mother in Woman, as I had found a father in Man, though the relationships now were a bit more complicated.  When I was young, they cared for me and taught me as parents should, but of course, now, I am their protector, and I know secrets that they do not dream of.

I thought of the special bond I shared with Man and Woman and how they even let me sleep with them on their bed sometimes.  It was at those times that I particularly felt that warm, den feeling that I’d felt as a tiny puppy, surrounded by siblings and watched over by our mother.  I felt sorry for Edgar, who had no permanent home and no Man or Woman, but could only visit those he loved, like me and perhaps Mr. Bailey and perhaps…Maggie.  I understood, I thought, why he wanted to sleep one night in our home, curled up in family warmth that was only a memory to him on the eve a day meant to honor the bond between mothers and their puppies.

Taking on New Challenges: The Science of Excellence

12 Saturday May 2012

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, fiction, first person, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, quest

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

accomplish, animal, brother, challenge, dog, dog blog, dream, Edgar, excellence, family, fiction, FinderDog, frisbee, German Shepherd, habit, Herman Melville, humor, Humphrey, jump rope, love, Maggie, man, Melville, Moby Dick, Mr. Bailey, mystery, narrative, pet, photo, photography, photos, quest, quote, quotes, science, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, sniff, The White Company, train, woman

Yet habit–strange thing! what cannot habit accomplish?

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick, courtesy of litquotes.com

I have been taking on new challenges lately, including learning to jump rope, which I understand is not only a young girl’s excellent and demanding sport, but also a favorite training tool in many intense and respected manly stories.  The universality of this challenging activity drew me to it, and Man and Woman are assisting me in my desire to learn.  This artful canine has already mastered the art; he is my role model in this endeavor–see this video clip: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/12/double-dutch-dog_n_1421952.html

I shall share pictures once I progress further.

Not to be a one-trick-doggy, I have also been working on my frisbee skills.  A human may not realize it, but frisbees present several unique difficulties to those of us without opposable thumbs.  One must get just the right angle in order to pick up  the frisbee with one’s teeth.

Additionally, the frisbee, when thrown, is often unpredictable.  Whereas one can predict, by means of studying its parabolic passage, the landing place of a ball or such like toy, and thus leap and catch it effortlessly in one’s fearsome jaws, the frisbee can take sudden turns when caught by the breeze, or when thrown at a slightly altered angle.  Even when one manages to leap forward in the right location to catch the frisbee, the flat shape of the object makes getting a good tooth-grip especially trying.

I will admit, reader, that at times, in both these ventures, I have been severely tempted to give up altogether, and to walk away.

However, when I feel this temptation, I remember my previous triumphs and remember, too, those who depend upon me.  Where would Woman and Man be without my prodigious strength, my incredible bravery and my impressive dexterity?    I shudder to imagine.  What would Edgar do without my help?  Or Mr. Bailey?  I am but a mere point in a complex world of interconnections, a part of a web in which many souls are a part.  I recognize my responsibility, and ultimately, I will always embrace it.

I shall continue to practice and I shall get to know the frisbee and the jump rope intimately as objects and as parts of our mobile world, bound as we all are by laws of physics and the other sciences.  I will learn their secrets and they shall become my tools.

I confess that I grow concerned after not hearing from Edgar in some time.  I hope that he shall soon make contact again and reassure me that he is well and re-enlist me in the fight for justice and to protect those we love.

I also miss Maggie…and in my heart, I wonder…does she miss me?

Then must you strive to be worthy of her love.  Be brave and pure, fearless to the strong and humble to the weak; and so, whether this love prosper or no, you will have fitted yourself to be honored by a maiden’s love, which is, in sooth, the highest guerdon which a true knight can hope for.

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The White Company, courtesy of litquotes.com

Orange Boy Comes to Call

18 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by Emily Livingstone in animal, autobiography, dog, fiction, first person, German Shepherd, humor, mystery, narrative, pet, photography, quest, Things are not what they seem

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

animal, bed, body, brother, Chanukah, Charles Dickens, Christmas, danger, dog, dog blog, dreidel, Edgar, family, fiction, friend, furnace, George Eliot, German Shepherd, Hanukkah, holiday, home, Humphrey, man, mother, mystery, narrative, orange boy, pet, photography, photos, quest, quote, quotes, secret society, spy, squirrel, squirrel head, things are not what they seem, visit, woman

Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains

-George Eliot’s Adam Bede

Of late, Woman and Man have repented of their decision never to let me lie on their bed.  For years, I have dreamed of lying there.  It is so soft and thick–I knew it would be heaven to lie there.  When Man and Woman let me into their bedroom, they would pet me, and I would lay my head on the blanket and look up at them with my most becoming and pleading expression, but to no avail.

Then, the furnace broke.  The moment I had been waiting for arrived–Woman patted the bed in that symbolic, “come hither” gesture, and I leaped onto the bed and burrowed in the blankets between Woman and Man.  Even after the furnace was replaced, I was allowed to maintain my privilege.  I am not allowed to repose there during the night (I think Man still harbors some ill feeling about the night I spent protecting his ship), but I am permitted to lie there in the evening sometimes, and on weekend mornings when Woman and Man are slow to relinquish the comforts of that wonderful bed.

I was lounging languidly on the bed this morning when I heard soft scratching noises at the front door.  Man and Woman had gone out, so I was alone in the apartment.  When the door opened, there was Orange Boy.

My elation at the sight and scent of my brother cannot be described.  We sniffed one another and wagged our tails.  Our mutual excitement was such that we could, at first, do nothing but frolic.  More sober communications would have to wait.  We jumped and ran and chased each other’s tails.  We sprang up and crouched down and played with my toys.  I felt almost a few weeks old again, learning how to play for the first time with my favorite brother, the dear friend of my infancy.

At last, we were exhausted.  We lay down together on the rug and regarded one another.  I waited for him to speak.

Finally, Orange Boy broke his silence.

“Humphrey, I can’t stay for long, but I had to see you.  There is so much to explain, and I fear that I cannot give you the full explanation that you deserve today.  Yet I cannot leave my story fully untold.  Our mother did attack me; I was the weakest–there were no signs that I would become what I am today.  She bit me and scratched me, and she destroyed my eye.  I cowered in fear and tried to flee at first, but all the while I looked at her with my good eye.  She did not kill me.  There was a moment when she hesitated.  She stopped her onslaught and was completely still and stared at me, and her expression changed, as if she saw something in me that surprised her.

“When she froze, I did not–I ran away and hid in one of the closets, holding in my whines and trying to understand what had happened.  I did not dare to emerge until night had fallen and mother was in the enclosure with you and the others.  Then, I went back, and I whined to you–called to you–scratching at the enclosure. I heard your reply, and it strengthened me.  I did what I felt I must.  I left home.

“What happened to me in the intervening weeks, months, and years, I will not fully disclose to you now.  I don’t want to discuss all of that.  You should know, though, dear brother, that I have found a purpose for my life, but my work has also put me in danger, and now, perhaps, you as well.  You and I look quite similar, but for this eye patch, and you have stumbled upon me and I am worried that my enemies may discover you.

“Do you remember the squirrel you found?  That was a warning for you, though you did not know it.  There is a secret society whose dark deeds would make the fur on your spine stand up–and they do not like anyone to know their secrets or to stand in their way.  One of the society’s members lives quite close to you, and I believe she watches your movements.  I had to be extremely cautious in timing my visit today.

“Do nothing which would reveal that you know me.  Do not look for me.  Do not let anyone know we have spoken.  I will visit you again when I can and will tell you more.  It is painful to me to relate all of this to you, and I would prefer to simply enjoy your company for the remainder of our time together today.”

For some minutes we lay close by one another on the rug, and it was easy for me to imagine that we might always lie so, and that we might be permanently reunited as brothers and companions.  After a time, however, he rose, and wagging his tail a few times, departed, though not before revealing one final piece of personal intelligence:

“Humphrey,” he said, “you should know that I have acquired a name of my own, as you have.  Call me Edgar.”

Saying so, he was gone.

I fell into a melancholy humor for the remainder of the afternoon and pondered all that Orange Boy–Edgar–had told me.  A secret society?  One of its members was watching me?  Who was it?  What might she do?  How could I help my brother, and what was this “work” he referred to?

I was distracted from my doleful musings when Woman and Man returned home.  Hanukkah and Christmas are fast approaching, and they were busy with preparations in the apartment.  Man shared with me a wind-up dreidel, which quite bewitched me.  I do so love Woman and Man and am grateful for the comfort they provide.  As the dreidel paced toward me on its unsteady plastic legs, my spirits lifted and I was absorbed with thoughts of biting at the dreidel and not with the mystery of my strange brother.  I shall endeavor to be patient, and to help Edgar whenever I can, and in the interim, I will enjoy Woman and Man, the holidays, and all of life’s little pleasures.

When I speak of home, I speak of the place where…those I love are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy’s tent, or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding.

-Charles Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby

These quotes via litquotes.com.

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