A Story About Dogs - Part 2



Maggie

 As I was saying ... here we were living in Las Vegas and I had two big Lab/Chow former "pound puppies," Maggie and Nikki. Maggie was turning into a wonderful companion, very well behaved and she loved to play catch and take walks in the neighborhood. Nikki was another matter. She became an escape artist when we went on walks and could slip out of her collar even if I snugged it up tight. I tried a choke collar and she just tried to choke herself. So then I tried a harness and Nik could slip out of that too. One day she slipped free and took off at a dead run across the desert with me hot on her trail. I finally caught up with her about a half mile away where she wriggled under a creosote bush. I had to crawl on my hands and knees under that bush to get her out and I was not a "happy camper" by the time I got my hands on her. 
 

Nikki

I scolded Nikki every step of the way home as she tried to look remorseful. It wasn't until we were safely in the backyard when I realized I'd run across the desert in flip-flops and had stickers in my feet and my arms were badly scratched from the creosote bush. Well, I looked like I'd tangled with a really big cat. Anyway, Nik pretty much learned her lesson after that and when she'd slip out of her harness she'd just stand there and wait for me to put it back on.

Just before Nik's desert escapade I'd started visiting the pound again on my lunch break. One day I saw this beautiful liver-red Shepherd/Chow pup who just sort of followed me home from the pound. When my husband got home from work that evening he immediately asked, "Who's dog is that?" Well, what could I say? "Uh ... our's?"  So he went on a tirade about why we couldn't have a third dog and I promised to find another home for the puppy. Yeah, right! While all this was going on the pup worked her wonders and within twenty minutes he said "That's a great dog. No way are you going to give her away." So 13 week old Shiloh was home.

We continued on as one big happy family, my husband and I and our three dogs. Then I made a fatal decision that I regret to this day. A stray dog showed up in the neighborhood, a pretty but straggly blond-colored Shepherd/Collie mix with yellow eyes and about a year old. We named her Gypsy and for the next couple weeks we tried to find her owners but with no response. Then Gypsy jumped the wall and a neighbor called the pound who came and picked her up. I then had a choice to make, leave Gypsy in the kill-shelter and hope someone adopted her in the next couple weeks before her time was up or adopt her myself.

After much soul-searching I adopted Gypsy and brought her back home. So now I had four dogs. All four dogs seemed to get along great. Gypsy was the smalled dog, at about 35 lbs, Shiloh was a year and a half and 52 lbs, Nik was about 57 lbs and Maggie 67 lbs. A week later, on the morning of my 50th birthday, the dogs were chasing each other up and down the stairs. The next thing I knew Gypsy grabbed Shiloh by the collar, twisted it and shook Shiloh like a dishrag, choking her and snapping her neck. Shiloh was dead on the spot and I got bit pretty badly by Gypsy while trying to get the two dogs separated.

I learned a fatal lesson that day, to be very careful in adding a new dog to an existing family of dogs. I also learned when the pound carted Gypsy off, because it was considered a vicious attack, that she was actually a Wolf/Hybrid and not a Shepherd/Collie like I'd thought. The animal control officer figured Gypsy was most likely a Collie/Wolf mixture. They hadn't figured that out when they had put Gypsy up for adoption or she never would have been adopted out to me.

So a lot of mistakes were made when I thought I was just taking in a very pretty and seemingly gentle homeless dog. Shiloh had been the baby in our household and suffered by my mistake. I've played those few minutes of time over and over again and I can't really say if Gypsy made the attack on purpose or if it was playing that got out of hand. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Eight years later I'm still wondering how a 35 lb. dog could kill a 52 lb. dog, but it did happen and the other two bigger dogs, Maggie and Nikki, couldn't stop the attack any more than I could. Suffice to say, I learned a big lesson that day and I'm not too crazy about birthdays. This story continues with ""Part 3" and I can assure you some happy times were just around the corner. That was when Shani entered our lives.

A Story About Dogs - Part 1



Me with my first dog, Dusty

I love dogs. It seems like I've always had one or more as a companion since I was a baby. The first were Dusty and Rusty, red Cocker Spaniel puppies that my parents got for me when I was a year old. The two apparently didn't get along, or so I've been told, and Dusty was given away to a cousin, and Rusty was renamed Dusty. Not sure why they decided to change his name. My favorite Dusty story is when he and my 3 year old brother ran away together. They were waylayed a couple miles away by a sweet little old white haired lady. I can still picture the two of them sitting in the lady's yard when my mom and I went to pick them up. Anyway, Dusty stayed by my side, or my brother's side, for 12 whole years until he died of cancer.



Mr. Binks

 

It was a difficult decision in picking out a new dog. Tear-stained we finally made a trip to the pound and brought home Mr. Binks. Yep, he came with that name, but he was commonly known as Binky or Binks. That's him in the Slideshow photo standing on the rocks on Laguna Beach. Binky was an interesting mix, supposedly from a Cocker mom and an Old English Sheepdog, Hollywood movie star dog. Binky could pull us at breakneck speed up and down the sidewalk on our skateboards. He loved taking me for a walk, only the leash got clipped onto my jeans belt loop and Binky carried the leash in his mouth. Binky loved sunglasses, bright colored bandannas and T-shirts. He loved to swim in the pool or at the beach. I have mourned his loss for all these many years.

Lady and her two pups were dogs passing through. Lady was one year old stray Collie mix, pregnant by a neighbor's giant German Shepherd mix. Not long after she took up residence with us she had two puppies, born 8 hours apart as my Mother tells the story. Well, Mom named the pups Pansy and Yogi, only when they found new homes their names changed to Sheba and Max. Go figure. I rather liked the original names. Lady found a nice home with a woman who had a lot of dogs. I was in college at that time and moving on with my life and no room for dogs.

After Bob (name changed to protect the guilty, he wants me to say his name is Bob) and I got married we moved from California to Reno to Florida. That's where I found my adorable Dixie Darling, a Blue Merle Australian Shepherd pup who got so excited she tumbled to my feet when I first saw her. Dixie was known for her love of kids and her ability to round them all up in a circle. She was great at "kid control." Her unfortunate trait was that she was an escape artist. There was no fence she couldn't scale, so she'd take neighborhood walks on her own, visiting all her favorite people who gave her daily treats, plus she'd venture on down to the bay for a swim or to hunt for snakes. She could catch a water moccasin by the tail and whip it to death in a flash. Now those are mean and dangerous snakes to have around, so she kept the yard clear of them.

Dixie had a litter of pups before we had her spayed. Three found new homes, Rocky, Rebel and Blackie, but Jambalaya (aka Butchie) lived out his days with Dixie. One day Butchie disappeared and never came back. He was either stolen or hit by a car. Since he was a gorgeous big Blue Merle with one blue eye and one brown eye, I like to think someone took him home. Dixie ended her days when she got in the way of a car. Memories of Dixie just make me smile.

I eventually got another puppy, Rebel, a beautiful Border Collie whose claim to fame was jumping off our neighbor's fishing pier and swimming in the bayou. Rebel had a keen dislike of squirrels who would bomb him with hazel nuts from the trees overhead. So Rebel would bark his fool head off over those squirrels whenever we were away from home. This meant the neighbors complained and since a new "No Barking Ordinance" had just gone into effect, we had to find a new home for Rebel or face a $10/day fine. We didn't make that kind of money, so eight month old Rebel found a new home with a little old lady who was retired and wanted a dog to sleep on the end of her bed and to help her with her gardening.  



Maggie

 

Many many years passed before I ever considered bringing home another dog. By then we'd moved to Las Vegas and spent most of our time working and little time for anything else. But I started visiting the local pound on my lunch breaks and eventually brought home Maggie. She was a 10 week old Lab/Chow mix, full of energy and wanted to play catch for hours on end. So Maggie and I played catch on my lunch breaks and after I got home from work. She didn't care what I threw, a ball or stuffed toy or stick, she'd retrieve anything. At four months old Maggie stopped an early morning break-in, when a guy came over the wall with the intention of breaking and entering. Maggie backed the guy up to the wall and held him at bay until the police arrived. After the guy was arrested, it turned out he was an unregistered felon with a long record, the cops told us that Maggie was a dog to keep and were amazed at her guard-dog traits at such a young age.


Not ten months passed before I got it into my head that Maggie was lonely while we were at work. Hey, that sounded like a good story to me. So I took to visiting the pound again on my lunch breaks and brought home Nikki, a 7 month old Lab/Chow mix who looked very much like Maggie. Nikki was at the pound for the 2nd time, supposedly because her last owners had a cat and a new baby and decided to give up their puppy as they didn't have enough time for her. Nikki was very depressed when she came to live with us, but she took to Maggie right away. So in no time Maggie replaced the Cat Mother that Nikki had lost. To this day Nikki still has a fondness for babies and cats. In fact, we think that Nikki thinks she's a cat instead of a dog. Nik is very vocal and "talks" to us about everything. Her bark is an "uh-ruff" and she winds herself around your legs and furniture just like a cat.



Nikki

 My husband (Bob?) took the addition of Nikki to our household with mixed feelings. For the first year Nik tore out our drip water system in the backyard. My husband would painstakingly replace the drip lines and the next evening Nik would greet us at the door with 10 ft. of drip hose hanging from her mouth and her tail wagging so hard it shook her whole body. How can you scold a dog who looked that cute? Eventually Nikki learned better manners, but not until I had a long long talk with her and promised to return her to the pound if she tore up the drip lines one more time. Now Nikki is a very smart dog and she never tore up anything again after that. I guess Nik and I should have had that talk long before? (Read more at "A Story About Dogs - Part 2.")







The Frog in the Shower

On Friday night I had a visitor while I was taking a shower - a frog. Now don't get me wrong, I like frogs, particularly the little ones. They're cute. When I was a kid I used to collect small frogs and put them in a paper bag to carry them to their new home in my backyard. Afterwards I'd frequently find the frogs swimming in our pool. So I liked frogs back then. Here in Florida we live close to wetlands, so it's Frogs-R-Us at night around here. Just open up the back door at night and their croaking is almost a roar. In fact, it's so loud at night that my dogs are hesitant to go outside when the frogs are singing.

So as I said, I like frogs in general. But I didn't much care for the tiny frog that tried jumping in our bed the other night. Nor did I care for the one who ended up in the shower with me. Now I know my grandson tells me, "Frogs can't hurt you, Nana." So I wasn't worried about getting hurt by that little green/brown frog. However, when the frog  landed with a plop in the shower-water at my feet, well, I let out a holler that sent my dogs and husband running. So my husband had to catch the intruder and put him back outside.

This is the third frog visitor in a week. Now I've always loved the story of "The Frog Prince." But I'm too old to be interested in "kissing a frog." I already have my own "Prince Charming" though he's getting a bit gray and worn, I'll stick with the one I've got. Those frogs need to find someone younger and single.

Black Cats & Friday the 13th

Chester

Friday the 13th and visits from our neighborhood black cats. We have two of them. One is bigger with a leonine walk, cocky and acts like he owns the world. The other is smaller, takes her daily strolls, looking in all our front windows and examining all the flowers in my flower pots. I assume that one is a female, only because she's inquisitive, like I am, and we share a love of flowers. My husband is not a cat person, so we don't have any of our own, but I love cats of all shapes and sizes.

My Mom and Brother have three cats. "Chester," the newest addition, is a two year old pure Maine Coon, 20+ lbs. in size and has the loudest purr I've ever heard. He likes to put his cheek up next to mine and "sing" to me. It's definitely a love song. "Larry" is a Seal-Point mix, a contented fat cat who only "talks" to my Brother. "Sabrina" is a senior lady, a tortoiseshell who becomes a contortionist when she's getting petted. She has a deep mellow purr that won't quit. Well, as for my neighborhood Black Cats, I've never heard a sound from the bigger (male?) one. The smaller one will wind around your legs and say demurely, "Mew, mew."

As far as this Friday the 13th goes, it started out cloudy, gloomy and humid. Now this afternoon we have bright cerulean-blue skies, still humid, but with a light ocean breeze. Before I end today's blog, I want to mention that I was delighted this morning to find that the Slideshow feature, that I installed yesterday and wasn't working then, is working fine today. So in explanation of the current slideshow photos, these were taken in '65 to '67 in southern California where I was born and raised, before I moved to Florida. Some were taken at Catalina Island and one even shows the Casino at Avalon Harbor on Catalina. That's a place that will always hold special memories in my heart. Two of the photos show me at 15 learning to tandem surf at Doheny Beach, in So-Cal. The one shows me at 14 in Huntington Beach with my very first boyfriend, who moved away to northern California not long after the photo was taken. We wrote letters back and forth for a while and then that was pretty much the end of it. But that's another story, not a Friday the 13th story.

One of the photos is of my old dog, "Mr. Binks." Now "Binky," as he was commonly known, was a connoisseur of beaches. He preferred the ones with rocks he could climb on, like the photo of him at Laguna Beach. But he also loved the beaches on Catalina Island because he could swim in the crystal-blue waters and watch the bright orange Garibaldis and gray-and-white Sheepshead swim underneath him. I'm sure "Binky" would have been a scuba diver if he could have figured out how to wear the gear. However, he was rather fond of colorful bandannas and sunglasses. He was also partial to seafood, particularly lobster, and once ate two whole lobsters, shells, antennas and all, when our cat "D.C." knocked them off the counter onto the kitchen floor so "Binky" could help himself to the feast. "D.C." on the other hand was more into fresh fish and once ate a hole in the side of a marlin that my Dad caught and brought home.

My Dad had a sports fishing boat so I grew up eating seafood: swordfish steaks, yellowtail tuna, calico bass, lobster tails, fried abalone. In fact, I ate seafood so often that I was prone to groan, "Not again!" Ah, but now I'm older and wiser and would love to have some of that great seafood every now and then, particularly the lobster and abalone. Well, this lets you know a little more about me, that I was a California "beach girl" who later moved to Florida and am still a "beach girl."

Beach Memories

Pensacola Beach through the Sea Oats

I hadn't realized this would be a trip down memory lane, but that's what it is, at least today. I pulled out some old photo albums, the ones from my teen years, to look for beach photos. The pictures were old, faded, some even in black and white, but each one has a memory attached. So I've decided to install a Slideshow of beach photos, a few as far back as 1965. My parents weren't into cameras, so though we frequented beaches as a family from my earliest days, there are no beach photos older than 1965.

I grew up in southern California and frequented beaches all up and down the coast, from Coronado Island, San Diego, to Doheny Beach (where I learned to tandem surf), Laguna Beach (where I learned the basics of surfing but spent most of my time underwater trying to avoid the rocks), Newport Beach (where I lived for many years), Huntington Beach (where I watched some surfing championships & had some great beach barbecues), Malibu (only to watch the surfers there with awe), Big Sur (where I camped by the beach in my college days). In my teens I spent many a weekend or summer vacation on Catalina Island, transported there on my Dad's sport fishing boat, first the "Jon-Dee" (an Owens 24')  then the "Jon-Dee II" and the "Jon-Dee III" (both Owen's 32's with a flying bridge). There were Baja California beaches I frequented as a kid and later in my 20s when I sailed from Newport Beach south to Costa Rica. There were those beautiful Hawaiian beaches that I visited only once, at age 17, after I graduated from high school (gee, that was 1969). Those beautiful Caribbean beaches on St. Thomas and Tortola,  that I sailed around in my 20s.  The Jamaica beaches, Ocho Rios and Montego Bay, in my 30s.

Through the years my husband and I have traveled up and down the East Coast, visiting beaches from Miami to Kitty Hawk and parts between. For a while we lived on St. Simons Island, Georgia, (where our dogs could run the beach off-leash, chase seagulls and play in the surf). We lived in Florida off and on for over 28 years and so consider just about every Florida beach as home. Then there's visits to Australia and Alaska beaches (spectacular). Now we're finally settled almost a stone's throw from Pensacola Beach. So yeah, I guess you could say that beaches have always been a part of my life. Are there more beaches that I want to see? You bet! I can't surf any more, my back and arthritis give me pains so I can't walk all that far, but I can take short walks on the beach and can just sit and watch the birds and the surf and dream and remember. I hope through this blog that I can share some of those memories with you and that you'll share some with me. As I sit here I can feel that sand between my toes and that soft ocean breeze ...