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We have put out the signals that we are looking for another dog.

Airedale, preferably, but I am hurting so from being dog-less I would take almost everything. Well, that is not true. But a Welsh Terrier or similar.

We had started out thinking that we would get a smaller dog to replace our beloved Booker. That doesn't seem so important now.

Particularly in the sudden appearance of an older Airedale, Ace! He is in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Is 8 years old and is a big boy. 90 pounds. Same thing.

It is my uninformed opinion that the days of the 45 pound airedale are over. A guy out here tried to breed hundred pounders and the genes got out. Booker was big. All of them seem big now. I did see a female at 40 recently. Already adopted. They go fast.

So, the wheels are in motion. As it happens, our friend Rusty is going to be in Albuquerque next week. Rusty is our trusted rescue dog expert. We got Booker through her.

So the process will unfold.

We could not get a better helper than Rusty.

It is happening. I knew it would. And just two days after John went off to Sicily for three weeks. Maybe we will have another trip for him to make when he gets back.

Labels: Airedale, Booker, dog

What a nice day!

While the power was scheduled to be out we got in the car and went to Idyllwild for lunch.

That means going out east in our valley to Palm Desert, then up CA74 which is a loopy windy road, so fun to drive in the new car, up 5000 feet to Mountain Center where we had lunch at a favorite spot.

Then out and on to the town of Idyllwild where we think we will stop and get out and never do.

What is the problem do you think?

It is a nice tourist place. A lot of people go there.

I think that my particular problem is that it totally reminds me of the Poconos where I grew up. Woodsy. Rural. Poor looking little stores. A village trying to be a town but they didn't plan for it. There is, of all things, Village sprawl.

No "there" to walk to. No "where" to go. No "then" either, as in "then what will we do?".

So we kept going, got out to pee at a roadside stop, in the woods, and then on down the mountain and back to PS.

That took us 4 hours and when we got back the electrical had just come back on and it would appear that the work is done. The power company trucks were all lined up out on the main street biding their time until quitting.

The guys hanging out for a bs session. How do I know that? I have malingered with "the guys" all my life and I can smell it. If I had been walking I would have joined up. Probably not, really. Not my guys and it is too hot. But if I was with the power company, for sure. Right in the middle. I am a lone who does well in a group. Still "alone" in the crowd, but in a good way.

I digress. We are back at the house and the power is back on. From the clocks, which I just set all around, the power was off three hours at least.

The air conditioning is still catching up and the refrigerator was off 8 degrees.

Ingenious. It was a very good idea to take off. John and I had it about the same time. We have been together too long or nicely long enough to have similar inspirations. No nap is long enough to last through this blackout. Although I do have my iPad so I could have done some shit while it was off. Do you believe that I actually took it with me? So sick.

One other thing. The last time we did this trip we had Booker with us. Sitting up in the back of the SUV all eyes and ears. I remember that we were following a horse trailer and he got all excited. He had been around horses at least when he was in the interim before he came to live with us. This is how he reappears to me now. With memories. Nice ones. He is still very much in my heart.

Labels: Booker, car rides, condo, husbands

Ever since we lost Booker, people have been full of advice, all of which boils down to "get another dog".

Usually a puppy.

We have processed all of this advice and come out, more or less, with the idea that we will do nothing right now.

The feelings for him are way strong and we do not want to shortcut the grieving process. We think that this will not only be good for us emotionally but also help us be better dads for a dog later on.

And, it does seem pretty sure, that we will want a dog sooner or later. Probably sooner.

One immediate consideration is also that we are about to be going through a period of instability in our living situation. I will be in London, then San Diego in the near future. John in Italy.

Not a good time to introduce another member of the family.

So the soonest we would act would be late in the summer or early fall.

It is a little hard to pull out of the process in that our Airedale lady does have a six year old Irish Terrier. Right age. But I am not ready. Not today. There are also other available dogs. No airedales at all.

So. It is hard not to just jump back into it but I have to admit that we are rather liking not having another pet right now. At the same time, we miss Booker a great deal. So. Mixed feelings.

Our old adage is "if in doubt do nothing".

That will be the case until we get back from summer trips. Then we will go into the tank again.

Labels: Booker, dogs

We are walking on a trail that could lead to our getting another dog.

Soon.

Not to replace Booker. He is irreplaceable. But we are guys who need a dog in the house.

We started looking for smaller dogs and were looking at Welsh Terriers which are mini-Airedale looking. Same coat, same black and red color combination. Only 20 pounds instead of 80. Stands 18 inches. Still pattable from a sitting position.

That in turn led to the suggestion from our old Airedale friend Rusty, who got us Booker, that we look at an Irish Terrier. They are the same size as a Welsh only slightly heavier and they are all red.

She has one who is six years old ready to be adopted.

We have also written to a guy in LA that has a two year old Welsh Terrier female who is looking for a home.

We like the Irish Setter setup. Rusty is a trusted entity who would match us as well as she matched us with Booker.

We will see.

The Irish is all red. No black. But looks for all the world like the Airedale body and tail. It can be trimmed the same way. This one is looking right at you. A generic Irish but close to what all Irish Terriers look like.

Labels: Booker, dogs

Booker came home again today.

A nice box with his "cremains" in it. This will match Franklin's box although I think that Book got a little bit more ornate with his. A black gauze bag and some pin things inside. We are not going to open the bag.

We aren't sure what we are going to do with the ashes. There have been a couple of scenarios.

One is to sneak into our old house's grounds at night and bury them side by side in the garden. I don't think we will do that.

Another is to scatter them in a significant place. That is still under discussion.

I hope that they have found each other wherever that is.

There is a lot of hokum about this and we try not to get to poetic about it. It is certainly so that we want them to be together and in some place other than here.

Isn't that where the idea of heaven comes from? The undeniable finality of death. Hard to accept.

In any case they are in our memories and minds and, in that sense, they are together.

It is astounding to me that they can be such different boys. Pure Airedales follow a strict set of characteristics and they were both show dog material (except for Booker's too large size) but personality wise, quite different. Habits not the same at all except a fixation on eating. Eating anything. Except lettuce leaves.

And, of course, they both loved to be petted and spoiled. Ride in the SUV. They were normal dogs.

We miss them and yet have such happy memories that our hearts are full of gratitude for the privilege to share their lives. I know they would have been good buddies in life. It is nice to think so anyway. Grrrrr.

Labels: Booker, Franklin

Today was the second Sunday walk without our friend Booker.

Less emotional than last week but filled with more memories. Mostly funny.

He had a lot of "rules" for walking. You had to go along.

There was a thing about grass. It had to be investigated. And of course, peeing, anything new and a lot of old things. Marking the airedale territory which was a pretty wide one. Today all the way up to the high school and over to Ramon. Still without the pup it was only three quarter of an hour long. With him, an hour. Stop and sniff. Wander "over there" to investigate.

We miss him a lot but the deep pain is gone. We smile. Sadly, but we do smile.

He was a great gift in our lives as was "first dog" Franklin.

We talked a little about what to do with the leashes and the "thunder shirt" (which didn't work all that well as a security blanket, you cannot fool a smart dog). Other stuff. His gear.

So we are letting it sit where it is.

Last time we got rid of stuff and then had to buy new.

We did take his bed to the "used dog" place for someone else to use. It was too heavy a reminder there in the bedroom. And he didn't use it that much anyway. Grudgingly, it seemed. He had led a barebones life until he came with us and he wasn't about to give up on a lot of those habits. Sleeping rough was one of them.

Labels: Booker

It seems that the mourning period for Booker is more or less over.

The wreath on the door is metaphorical. We would be taking it down. It has been a week.

That does not mean that we have forgotten him by any means. There are still all kinds of cues that come up which trigger Booker moves or thoughts.

But they are not so loaded with emotion.

I can talk about him to other people. Everyone in my meeting knows about him and his loss and they do not mind asking about it. It is our way. No stone unturned.

Which is good. Have it out.

I pet other people's dogs too. I am not immune to doggy attraction. I don't get all wallowy over it.

It seems pretty clear, still, that he was the last one for us.

Not so much that I don't want to go through it again. I don't. But I could.

It is more about age. A puppy now would live until we are ninety or more. A bit of a stretch. I don't want to leave anyone behind other than my husband.

And, we need to clear the deck for awhile.

We have been nicely dogged for ten years. And we are the kind of people that don't want to leave the dog while we go gallivanting. I am the worse with that. So much so that I don't know how John is or was about it.

So we will go out for dinner tomorrow night. More date nights. We will also go on trips together. Right now, the schedules are pretty much set but the next time to Vegas or wherever it will happen. Next year both of us will go to Spain. Ole'.

Labels: Booker, mourning

This is the first regular day without our friend Booker.

I have gotten to talk about his death to a lot of people. I have even pet more than a few dogs I have met on the way.

There is no avoiding the feelings of loss. We have not tried to do that. There is a rising feeling of gratitude for having known and loved this wonderful creature.

That is what we called him actually. To us, he was more than a dog. He was a wonderful creature who was an integral part of our lives for five years.

That he is gone brings us together somehow as strongly as sharing our lives with him.

There is mourning but that is passing and what we now have is the missing. The quiet house, the empty spot, the missing presence at different junctures of the day's passage.

Of course, the walks, the pets, the kissing of hands and faces. He was a kisser.

A lot of people say we should get a new dog right away. They miss the point.

It is Booker who we miss.

We will miss him and miss him. Whether another dog joins us or not.

We think that we will not get another dog. We have some plans to do some things which would kind of interfere with being what we consider good Dads.

I don't think we gave up anything for Booker that was not repaid in great gobs of good times.

But I think we are willing to let things rest with that.

First Franklin, then Booker, each for about 6 years. We all "done good".

Time for a new chapter.

Labels: Booker, life

We did the Sunday walk this morning.

The one we all three did together until Booker's death last week.

Booker's death. I had been using the euphemisms and have stopped. He died. He is dead.

My god how I miss him.

But it is better today as it was yesterday.

Today we are remembering funny stories, things he did that amused us or things we did that amused him.

He was a daddy's boy and, in his case, a daddy's boy twice. Two Dads.

He had a set of responses that fit each of us.

On the walk it was understood that he would lead and John would hold the leash. I pretty much let them do their work and tagged along. It was my job to carry and use the poop bags.

Mostly, we saw his ass as it walked purposely where the nose led it.

He had a purpose and sometimes would reveal it, other times not.

Then there were the unaccounted for stops. A quick halt or a fast reverse to examine some spot that had changed or some area another dog had been and perhaps (better) peed in. There were also the standard stops. A certain patch of grass that would provide a quick snack. The huge water fountain and pool at an apartment complex down the road. And the pooping places. Almost always the same chosen from about five optional locations.

We were to wait.

Eventually he would move on for the walk. His Dads following dutifully.

He had several routes but in the last months the directions pretty much followed what we call "the dead babies walk".

It is so named because it passes an RC church that has, in its lawn, a small monument to all the aborted babies who died, I guess, ever. Yup.

We would almost always pass when the first Mass was assembling so we kept the remarks and ripostes down to a dull roar. I am happy to report that Booker never, ever, peed on that little monument. Not that we tried to restrain him in any way. But he never did it. I figure it was out of a sensitivity, more sensitivity than I have, to the assembled church goers.

Today, our walk was nice and not morbid in any way. We did a little reminiscing. And then we came home. Enough.

I don't know if we will do this again.

We did the after dinner walk together last night and it was too hot to do again. Booker and I could do it at a slow amble pace but it is not walking weather now after about noon. Soon, earlier.

It can be done and if you are a confirmed desert rat even be enjoyable. But not for two at a fast pace.

I miss him and think of him often. Not all the time now. It is hardest at those times we would ritualistically meet. At the morning pee. I have gone out each morning for a little weep and goodbye to the stars.

He would always be there when there was food. Not so much because he loved me, which he did, but because I loved him and would spoil him with tastes and bites. Likewise when it is his meal time a little mental bell rings and I want to answer by getting out the kibble. But that job is over.

People want to know when or if we are getting a new puppy. The new convertible is the clearest answer we can give. It is not dog-able. And we are not goddam getting another new car for a long time. It is embarrassing enough that we did this one so soon. But the car pre-empts. I think we will need this. At two or three weeks we might get an itch which would send us to the Airedale Rescue people to get a new guy. And that is not going to happen. Sad but true.

Labels: Booker, family, routine

Memory is a strong force.

As we would expect, the memories of Booker are strong indeed. It has only been 36 hours since he left.

Dinner prep was fraught with memory last night. My sous chef partner was not there to taste the various foods on offer or to make his comment about them. Actually, everything was good except lettuce leaves and even those, if they were a little hefty, would be OK'd.

Last night I went on our regular walk to see our friend Donna who is Mom to his very best pals here, Buddy and Eddy.

While some people here know, the closest houses, word does not spread as rapidly as I would expect. But I didn't want that to be the way for some find out about our aire-boy's death.

So I went on the walk. The one we took every night after supper.

Along the way two New York guys who come here for winters called out to ask where Booker was so I stopped and talked to them at the pool and gave the condensed version with a Q and A. It was good prep for seeing Donna.

Who was outside! And no pups with her so we could talk and also not have all that memory inducing energy bounding around our feet.

She was shocked. It is shocking. So we went through it all and it was very nice. A purge. He loved her so and he would never, could never walk past their house and walkway without stopping and waiting to see if they were out back or somehow, as occasionally happened, get out the door and run wildly to see him.

We remembered how the would all be. Wild welcome followed with a little ass sniffing and then seeming indifference. But they didn't leave each others side.

It is hard to break up a two dog team and Booker never tried. He had no favorites. He loved him both.

On the way back I stopped to see if the two guys on the corner were in. No. They lost their dog Rusty some months ago and Booker still looked for Rusty when we went by.

This morning I realized that I depended on Booker to go see the morning, the dark morning at 3AM to see the stars and take in the air. Look at the dim mountain outline. See the beginning traces of dawn. Yes. This early. It is flat flat flat until the far off mountains and so we get to see the light before we ever could in a less dark place.

They were still there. The stars. The mountain. Booker's spirit. I laughed. He had to make his rounds every day. This is not a big space really but he had to check it all out for night time intruders I suppose. Sometimes there were some. Rabbits, other things. Coyotes? Probably not but he had to make sure. Sniff sniff pee pee. I learned patience from this. There was no hurrying him and meanwhile I could see the sights. Smell my smells. Look into my corners. The mental ones.

I looked up and as corny as it is I thought he was up there. He is not. I know that. But he is part of all of it now and I am glad that he left so peacefully and gently. Just as he arrived in our lives.

Labels: Booker, desert

Last week, Booker was having trouble breathing and he was not eating well.

We went to see Dr. Cutler and she did tests and took X-rays. The report was a bad one. There were growths in his lungs and also in his spleen. There was a dim chance that this could be a fungus in the lungs which is not good news but treatable. The spleen growth said otherwise. Fungus does not spread. He clearly began to not feel well.

He was not evidently in pain but was not able to do much and the last few days he did not want to go for a walk. He could sit and look at the sky and trees and enjoy the air but no walking. This happened when Franklin began his ending. We have his famous picture in the front yard looking into the sky. It is the one we kept and look at.

So, reluctantly, we decided that it was best to say goodbye to our friend Booker.

Dr. Cutler came to the house and we gathered round so we could all have a last snuggle.

We are OK. There is the rational part of it which is some comfort. He was 13. We shared our lives together for just one week shy of five years. He was/is a great guy. Full of heart and love. A hugger. If a dog can hug he would be a champion.

Sadness comes and goes but the reality is that we have no right to expect more than nature is willing to provide.

Taking the sad with the glad is more than a philosophical principle. It is a practice.

So we are practicing away.

Thank you for your good thoughts.

Labels: Booker

I interviewed an MIT applicant today in the middle of Palm Springs motorcycle weekend. I forget to check the events calendar before I have an interview so, each year, I will hit an event which pours a lot of traffic and activity right where I meet up. The place of the meeting is all pre-arranged although I can call at the last minute and get things squared away. Today it was the bikes and the bikers. It all worked out. Please, excuse me, but do bikers know that they are a walking talking stereotype? The look. Men and women. It is a little embarrassing. The kid today was from La Quinta, a ritzier city down valley. Some welcome to Palm Springs. Cheesy. But we met up and had a good talk and I liked him and was able to write a good review of an unconventional kid who has a lot to offer and has had experiences that many of us are unlikely to ever be involved in. He was a troubled teen and got packed off to a boot camp style "academy" when he was in 8th grade. In the middle of the night. Two "transporters". From there it is a story of finding one's self and growing up. The system seems to have worked for him. He has stayed there four years and mentors other kids. I really liked him.

The bikers disappeared but my god they are a mess.

The interview threw my day off and my new regime of walking Booker in the afternoon went by the wayside. He doesn't seem to mind.

Labels: Booker, MIT

Today was a bit of a lost day. We had the cleaners here and they called to come early. I said OK. There were four of them which made it quicker than normal but there was no chance that my plan, which was to watch a movie while they were here, would work out. So I read and kibitzed a little and sat outside. And read. They did a great job. Thorough. Detailed. They clean out the refrigerator for heaven's sake. I have never done that except on a spot basis. They have also caught us up on the outside, furniture, concrete, stuff. We had some problems. Things would not end up where they found them but I have worked that out with them pretty well. I know it should not make a difference but there is always a mixed gender group. Today, two men, two women. But it makes a difference. The men do the heavy duty stuff which includes hosing and brushing the outside floors down, climbing to clean the clerestory windows and so on. Last week they cleaned the filthy garage. I am still enough of a sexist to like having a man around the house. Admitted. Today the guy in charge asked if I would like him to bring his big carpet cleaning machine next time. He would only charge for the chemicals it uses. Of course, I said yes. It is not as good as one of those come to the house in a truck service but it beats any other form of cleaning so, yes. Yes.

I have finished two books this week. Peter Orner's new volume of short stories: Last Car Over the Sagamore Bridge . That car left as a hurricane approached. These stories are great. Orner writes in short bursts. Some of the stories only half a page long. Others a page. The rest maybe several pages but none longer then four or five. Succinct. And very dramatic. Hard hitting. I really liked them and I do not, as a rule, enjoy short stories at all. I was told that he was the short story writer for people who do not like short stories and that is correct. At least for me. I also finished reading but did some fast forward for Enon: by Paul Harding. Enon is the town where Hardings wonderful first book took place and here we have more, exhaustively, of its small town history and life experience of a father who has lost his 13 year old daughter to an auto accident. The book drips with nostalgia and some wonderful writing about his time as a kid and then as a father. Also a husband in a tenuous marriage which buckles at the tragic event. The novel drips with grief. Grief unabated. Self centered grief. Grief for the human loss but the loss of innocence in a town in which innocence does not really exist except in the romantic impulses of people like the stricken father. I was on board until the drug addiction got so deep and the self absorption so single minded that I just couldn't take anymore. I loved the stories of his boyhood, his wonderful grandfather, the sweet relationship with his daughter. But enough became enough. I had to leave or skip to the end which has him recovering more or less but we do not see that part. What happened? I know that it is usually a spiritual experience that leads to putting the juice down but we do not see his. It just happens. I felt cheated. It is like hearing a recovered alcoholic and/or addict tell there story and never getting to the getting sober part. Maybe I identified too much but I don't think so. I have heard some pretty sad and grisly stuff live and in gruesome detail over the years. It is more that Harding seemed to engage in the same self indulgence with the writing about the sadness. Trying too hard to get it down, deeply. The first book, (they all say "please don't compare my first with my second book") was sunny and tough at the same time. Here, the past is sunny. The present is gruesomely dark and the future looks no better. Until it suddenly is. Huh?

We are back on the afternoon dog walk schedule. We had to do it because we were getting home in the dark after supper but it is not going to be "right" until daylight savings ends and we have some less sun before dinner. I am doing the prep for the cooking and so far that has worked OK. We get home at about 5PM or earlier and that allows plenty of time for a quick sit-down and then a run to the kitchen for the final production. We didn't stay out on the walk too long. It was warm and Booker was tired. He did not like the massive intrusion this morning with the cleaners. He groused the whole time and was very not friendly. Too much for him. I kept him apart with me and we sat outside a lot but that didn't make him feel much better. I can tell when he is not interested in the night time walk. It takes about five minutes or less to poop and then he turns around. Done. A utilitarian walk not a perambulation, a sniffing expedition or a visit to the larger territory. His territory. All the way up to the ball field and down, this morning, to the convention center. That probably affected it too. A very long walk this morning.

Labels: Booker, books, condo, life

John got back home from Italy last night.

Booker and I went to pick him up.

We had a nice reunion. I think maybe Booker figured that he would have to deal with only one dad for the rest of his life. He was quite relieved to find this was not true.

I was relieved too.

I had done pretty well until last Friday when I got "aimless". A euphemism, I think, for lonely. Or missing my love. In any case, I just let the feelings roll and sat and read and read and sat and then somehow that phase got over and I was into anticipation and excitement.

The flights were faultless and we picked him up just as expected.

In the new car which he had never seen.

It passed muster. He has it out there now.

We had a short tutorial this morning but there is not that much that is new or unusual and what there is, as in all properly designed devices, is easy to figure out by simple trial and error and intuitive action.

I can't say things are back to normal yet. I made meat loaf today so that it could age into tomorrow and also be enough for six times.

Tonight, without thinking, I set up for American Chop Suey. Pasta. What was I thinking?

Not that he had any of that while he was away.

He seems happy about it.

It is different.

American, after all.

Labels: Booker, food, home, travel, Volvo

Booker and I were due for a change of pace so we took the Volvo for its first lengthy spin this morning.

Down to Palm Desert and up the mountainside on 74 to Idyllwild which is tucked into the nearby mountains. Our sky high neighbor. 6000 feet. Higher during the ride.

Part of this is to take the new Volvo through its paces up the serpentine and around the curves going into the rural piney woods.

We went through the town and kept going to a rest stop beyond, then on down the other side of the mountain, Ca 243 to Banning where we joined the 10 and had a chance to open the Volvo up on the high speed road.

The other reason to go, was to see something different and to give Booker the exciting thrill he gets from being up there.

We think maybe he grew up in this kind of place. Pines, mountains. He was born and lived near Reno NV for awhile.

In any case, he gets quite animated and, where possible, I open up the windows so he can hang out and take it all in.

When we got out he would have gladly struck out down the steep hill and into the woods.

We satisfied ourselves with a pee and a walk around at the end of the leash.

Then back into the car and on home.

The locale is great for me too. It so different and so nearby. But this is California where there is some of everything. The mountain views on this road can be breathtaking and the woods are close in and so green! My eye is a desert eye and so the immediate change is fun to take in. I am never quite ready for it even though I have been in woods all my life.

We left at 6 AM just to see the sun rise as we went up the mountain and returned home just before 9AM. It is about a hundred miles all told.

The car is great. It is beefier than the one we had before. Even if it is the same model, it has a more powerful engine and handles very nicely especially on the tight turns at higher speed.

I need to be careful with Booker in the car as too tight and too fast spills him over. Not nice.He does pretty well with a crouch which lets him have the window and lowers his center of gravity. Smart dog. Adaptive.

I am aware of the improved gas milage of the 2104. We didn't move the needle all that much. Well, no needle. The dash controls are all digital now. Nice. A little harder to read because everything is in a different place than before.

Labels: Booker, driving, Volvo

Booker found a ball on our morning walk today.

Not too unusual that but we were in the dark and staying local, just walking around the big big block.

We were not near the tennis club across the street where he gets most of them.

But there are some tennis courts in the development and I suppose that someone hit the ball out. It had made it all the way up to the lawn/curb.

I was surprised when he found it because it is not a usual occurrence here. Tennis club yes yes. Local courts no. I suppose that people here pick the balls up. They are only just near home. Or something.

So, we were walking with the ball. I was, at first, a little suspicious in that I had not seen the pickup and sometimes there is a bone opportunity along the curb where the trash cans go.

No. It was a ball. Tennis I think. But I was not going to get a view of it. Booker holds the found balls and even the ones at home very close.

We walked and got close to the turn to our house when he demurred and kept on walking. I tried to get him to head home but no soap. We do not argue with this kind of airedale logic. And stubbornness. It would only add two minutes to walk to the real street end.

But he turned. He went to a flower bed against the wall and started digging!

Something new here. Was he burying the ball?

I said "no". My default response to anything new, doggie or otherwise. He backed off and we went on our way to the house.

But about half way down, he headed for another flower bed.

Booker went in and dug a small hole in the leaves and even in the dirt. I let it go.

He pawed it up pretty good. I couldn't see the details but I know there was some dirt and debris flying.

He put the ball into his hole and covered it.

I was stunned.

He has never, in our life with him, done this before.

Somewhere inside, the genes were talking to him.

He buried it totally.

I let it go.

No flowers were hurt during the burying of this ball, I think.

Now. Will he remember? Will he go back and find it? We will have to wait his doggie nature to reassert itself.

Airedales are naturally diggers, terriers. They like digging just for the digging. We have never encouraged it and, frankly, that has been easy because the desert floor does not make it a cinch for a pup to get a hole going. Hard packed, pebbles.

Flower beds are another matter and he knows he is not to even go in them although he has demonstrated, on occasion, that he can walk through one and not touch or trample a single bud or branch.

I have never seen a burying ever before with Booker or with first dog Franklin. Neither have been compulsive diggers anyway.

The occasional dig to make a dirt bed, notwithstanding.

So we can domesticate all we want.

When the chips are down and you feel the urge to bury your trophy, nature will out.

You can fight it but the primitive dog will still make a strong bid for its will.

To say nothing of the Airedales self adopted will.

Nature and nurture working together. If he had not been persistent I would not have seen this happen.

A good lesson, particularly with an airedale. Stick around, let it happen. You might get an entertaining surprise.

Labels: Booker

We are enduring the fourth or fifth straight day of afternoon thunderstorms.

By "us" I mean, first and most important, the Airedale Booker who is totally not into thunder.

We've gotten pretty good at prediction and listening and heading off some of the reactions, similar to those with fireworks.

Classical music played rather loudly is one solution. It seems to cancel the boom and low frequencies which, sometimes, even we can not hear until it is too late.

Today, for example, it got very dark and so I just went and turned up WUSC. This is not a reliable method however. Yesterday, they went down on their local antennas and static will not do the job. And we can't listen to that.

The other big solution is the "thunder shirt".

This is a garment you put on the dog and wrap it tightly. It has velcro so that you can get to snuggle pressure.

It had all the earmarks of a scam when we first saw it at PetSmart but we got it anyway. And it does promise a lot.

It is actually for anxiety of almost any kind. I guess it is comforting.

The only close example I have seen is a thing made out of boards that they use to calm some cows who get freaked out. It fits the stall and when the cow gets frighted they pull the level and clamp her in there.

I have to admit that, if we get it on early enough, it is virtually foolproof with Booker.

The problem is the "early on" part. If he gets going panting and pacing then it takes quite a while for the shirt to work and by that time the storm has passed.

Yesterday what with the static on the radio and a very fast approach storm, he took awhile to settle.

Today, no static, early on with the shirt. And I have finally accepted that the "impossibility" of afternoon thunder every day for two weeks, we are just simply ready for it.

The shirt is a puzzle. John knows how to put it on fairly quickly. I am still at a loss. It is totally counterintuitive. And when it is taken off you basically "destroy" the fixedness of it. I think I am getting it but "snug" is a tough thing with a wiggly Airedale and a swearing Dad.

Labels: Booker

DOGGED

No movie today.

We went for Booker's 6 month checkup at the vet's.

He is, as usual, 92 pounds big and you should feel his ribs but we don't and the vet isn't happy about it but the three of us are. You can carry ideals only so far in reality.

He has an exemplary health profile except for his right elbow which is tight and, probably, arthritic.

He limps.

For now we are trying another anti inflammatory and adding fish oil tabs to his daily intake. Easy things to do.

Maybe there is an x-ray down the line and there is a regimen of glucosamine something shots that can be done. Later.

For us, it is one step at a time. No rushing ahead.

Try one thing, see if it works. Then if not move to another step.

He is such a good boy in the vet's office. We are very proud of him. He gets some treats from them but as we leave, I raid the free treat jar.

It says they are lo cal. Not to add to his weight or anything.

Labels: Booker

FOREVER

Today is Booker's fourth anniversary with us.

When our Franklin died, we were despondent. We gyrated between trying to replace him with another Airedale puppy or never having a dog again. The hurt was very great.

But somehow, within a couple of weeks, we stumbled on an ad for the Southwest Airedale Terrier Rescue outfit. Four states in the Southwest that had taken in Airedales who have lost their homes for one reason or other.

We called and then applied and then waited. But not for very long.

Two days before we called, a new Aireboy had been taken in. His human mom had died and his dad was despondent and was smart enough to realize he couldn't be very good for the dog.

So we started to talk about him.

They keep every dog for thirty days observation but we would write and get pictures and so on. We fell in love with him from afar.

When it was time, we scheduled a visit. Raised in Reno, he was now with a foster home in Las Vegas.

When we went to look at him, I think we knew that it was the real deal before we got there.

Then we met. Bingo.

We picked him up the next morning, very early.

I remember feeling scared somehow about his size. He was half again bigger than Franklin. And there he was. Ready to go.

We had rented an SUV for the occasion because by that time the Cherokee was a bit old for a long trip.

Booker, his name coming to us, got in the back and immediately settled with his chest on the console between the two front seats.

He did not move from there for the six hours of the trip except when we got out to pee two times.

He would push his weight onto one of us, then the other. That close, close, kind of contact that feels so deep.

He also exuded the special Airedale odor that comes out of their body when they are happy and excited. I don't know if any other breed does this. It is a woodsy, earthy odor that grows around us.

We knew. He knew. The Airedale people knew. This was it.

And he is still here. It is an honor and a privilege to live with him.

In the rescue business they like to talk about their animals going to their "forever home".

A little corny. But quite apt.

There will be a special party at dinner tonight. Booker gets a fake bone. John and I will split a fancy cupcake.

Labels: Booker

SELL OUT

Our next food neighbor, Jim, has sold his condo.

He was asking more than we thought anyone could get and pretty much got what he asked for.

This is good news for us.

We have been technically underwater for awhile as prices fell just after we bought our unit. Jim bought his almost at the same time.

There has been a lot of fuss here about our land leases with the tribe. Don't ask. Banks were reluctant to loan to people because of it. Now, there has been some stability restored in the situation, so voila! Prices are up.

We have ended up liking Jim after some initial boundary issues kept us at odds.

We will miss him.

We hear that the new owner is a "mature", single, gay man.

It is always a little iffy, new neighbors, but not so much here as we are like row houses. Neighbors are almost always unseen and unheard.

I don't suppose the new guy knows that there is a rat in the walls between our unit unless Jim put it down as one of his "disclosures". It is not a problem, really, but the rat makes more fuss than Jim ever did.

They were inspecting the house the other day. On the roof, which is actually not part of the unit, up the walls and in and out. Booker does not like this. Every one of them is an intruder.

But things will settle down. The new guy will move in, Booker and we will get to know him and he will fade into the scenery as much or more than all the other neighbors we rarely see or bump into.

Labels: Booker, condo