The National - Lindy Loo's Day

This is part five - good grief! Part one is HERE

Lindy Loo. Photo (c) Laurie Erickson

When it rains, it surely can pour. My poor friend was critically ill, and she knew it. Without prompt treatment, she could be dead in as little as forty-eight hours. But. The Universe, with its perverse sense of humor, decided on that very moment to pinch a rather large nerve in her sweet young dog's neck.

So there she was, knowing that she had to get to the Emergency Room but horrified at the sight of her brave, stoic dog reduced to screaming every time he moved. She couldn't - wouldn't - leave him. His eyes were wild with pain and fear. It was awful.

And this is where dog people shine. In no time, one of the Best Vets in the World (who was showing her dogs at the National) appeared and took care of the dog. Someone else who is a Vet Tech helped hold him for his exam and meds. Another friend appeared who knew the ill person's dogs well, and agreed to take all three dogs to her room. The vet assured us that the dog would be fine, after his injection of steroids and some Tramadol. Someone else ran and got plenty of Tramadol. I told Lee and Dee and Lisa that I'd have our dogs with me in the van and we'd be back at Central Baptist Hospital, but that someone had volunteered take them back to our hotel after the Top Twenty.

And off we went.

The E.R., which had been empty at 7:00 A.M. Monday morning, was packed full at 9:00 P.M. Thursday night. My friend's treatment had already been delayed too long. I was really concerned. A young pregnant woman told us she had been waiting for two hours. "I just want to make sure that my baby is okay," she smiled. After about an hour (I think), I had just decided to ask to speak to the triage nurse when they called us back. Despite my friend's calm - and crazy brave - demeanor, I could tell by the triage nurse's expression and reaction that she realized she needed to bump this case up to the front of the line. And they did.

As they were getting her processed, Lee called to say that they were on their way to the hospital with someone else's van. They would leave that van for us, and take my van with the dogs back to the hotel so they could walk them and tuck them in. "Oh, that's super," I chortled. There was a pause. And then there were giggles.

"Well..."

"Well?"

"It's got a lot of character," Lee said.

Now, most of my life I lived on farms. Big farms, little farms, rich people's farms, working farms, my own little farm. Every farm has a Farm Vehicle. Or two. Farm Vehicles are treasures. They might not appear that way to non-farm folk, but you farmers know exactly what I mean.

"We're out here in the parking lot next to your van," said Lee.

And there they were. Eighty-two year old Lee, sixty-five year old Dee, and Lisa, The Queen of Sweden. Laughing like a bunch of sorority sisters out on a panty raid!

"The headlights are a little dim!"

"Don't take the key out!"

"Don't touch that window it's duct taped shut!"

"I don't know what that wire is for but don't undo it!"

"It runs great, but you can't see so good!"

It was a relief to know that the dogs could get taken care of. If I had half a brain, I'd have sat quietly and let my sick friend sleep. She was getting the treatment she needed and the docs agreed to release her when she was done. She would need to come in the next night for another treatment, but could go back to the hotel with the IV cathelon in place and be with her dogs. (I LOVE Central Baptist!)

But no. I felt I needed to entertain her. So I talked and blabbed and tried to make the time go faster. (You know how good I am - I'm the Queen of Blah Blah Blah!)

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

And then it was time to go. We got in the van. With not a small amount of trepidation I turned the key. Like a Good Farm Vehicle, it started right up! Oh it smelled like heaven to me. Horses and cows and hay and corn and all the sweetness of the farm that I miss like sunshine. Whoa! The lights were a little dim, but they were good enough to see with. And the wires that came out of the hood and in through the duct-taped window and disappeared under the steering column were a little disconcerting, but it had started right up after all and the brakes were great and we laughed the whole way back to the hotel and wasn't life grand!

I tippy-toed into my hotel room at 3:15 A.M. I told Lisa, the Queen of Sweden that I would just skip showing Lindy Loo at 8:00 A.M. "There are forty-six bitches in her Bred By class," I said. "She won't do anything anyway. We can just sleep in."

The Queen of Sweden wasn't pleased. "No," she replied. In her lovely sing-song Swedish accent she said, "We are here. You will show your lovely bitch!"

And so I did. (Would you dare argue with the Queen of Sweden! No. Me either.) Poor Lee and Dee and Lisa: no time for breakfast. We rolled out of bed, fed and walked the dogs, threw the dogs and ourselves in the van and headed the mile over to Griffin Gate.

Now I love my Lindy Loo. She is very type-y and old fashioned. Our modern American whippets have gotten heavier boned, and less curvy. (That is a gross generalization and only my opinion. If your opinion is different, I mean no offense and you're probably much more knowledgeable than I am. But it is my opinion.) In the little bit of breeding that I do, I strive to preserve whippety-ness. Lindy Loo is very whippety.

Her markings on her show side don't help her. Some judges will walk around and look at her off side, and then I know they get it. I'll try to have her stacked backwards at least once so they can see her off side. Anyway, I was hoping the the National judge would appreciate her type enough that she could make at least one cut. But this was the National, and we'd be in against the top breeders in the country, and I didn't have any expectations.

At the National. The judge walked around to look at Lindy's off side. You're looking at her show side. Photo (c) Steve Surfman

Here is the judge's view of Lindy Loo's off side. Photo (c) Lisa Winder, Queen of Sweden

Well, she made the first cut. And then the next cut. And before I knew it we were back in for the the final cut!!! In Bred By (short for Bred By Exhibitor - meaning that the handler is the breeder of the dog) at the National!!! Lindy Loo loves to show. (As anyone who has heard her ringside while I'm in the ring with another dog will tell you.) She and I were having an absolute ball. To be in the final cut in Bred By at the National? To channel my dear, late friend Carolyn: Oh my gawsh!

Before the judge made her final placements she told the ten (?) of us left in the ring, "This is so hard. All of these bitches are just beautiful and could win anywhere. I hate to cut any of them!" I was beyond pleased that my little Lindy Loo had made it that far.

So. You can imagine how I felt when the judge pointed to Lindy Loo for second place! No, maybe you can't! I couldn't imagine it! I looked over at Lee and Dee and Lisa. LISA!! I wouldn't have even shown Lindy if it hadn't been for Lisa!

I could not believe it. Simmer had WON the Triathlon. Mia had made the final cut in her class. And now Lindy Loo was second in Bred By? Nah I had to be dreaming that was it. I was about to wake up and think oh rats what a great dream.

I love my little Lindy Loo. Photo (c) Laurie Erickson

Her photo came yesterday!

And that was nothing compared to what happened next...

hug your hounds

The National Simmers!

(this is part three, part one is HERE)

Laurie and Simmer after Obedience on Monday at the National - photo Steve Surfman

I have no clue what time I got back to the hotel. I have no clue what time Lee and Dee and the dogs got back, but they had filled my prescriptions and they said that Laurie and Simmer had done really well. Really well!!!

Swede William's breeder, my good friend Lisa from Sweden, called to say that her flight from Chicago to Lexington had been cancelled because of the storms, but she would be on a later flight that would arrive at 9:30. I told her I was a little under the weather and that either Laurie or Lee and Dee would pick her up. I called Laurie, or she called me.

"Simmer has done really, really well," Laurie said! A little background, first on Simmer. I had promised to give Laurie the pick bitch from Logan and Maggie Mae's litter. And from the moment Simmer was born, ooh boy I knew it was her.

Puppy Simmer photo by Laurie Erickson

In fact, I was pretty sure she was the best whippet I had ever bred, and man oh man would this test if I could live up to my word. But Laurie would do far more than I could with Simmer. She is a gifted, dedicated trainer and Minneapolis is full of training/competing opportunities like nothing we have here. And Laurie loves her dogs like I do. No brainer.

Second background. When Laurie decided to aim Simmer towards the Triathlon, oh I was full of advice. (After all, I had twice been second, (once by .01 of a point), and once fifth, and I was there when Rhonda won it; so I was an expert.)

"I know how competitive you are, so don't plan on winning it your first time. If you can just finish you have really accomplished something, and if you finish in the top ten, wow," I pontificated from my Paducah van on the way home from work in February. "It's the top whippets in the country. People who have been triathlon-ing for years. Really."

"Mmm-hmmm," said Laurie. Every time we talked about it I warned her not to have her expectations too high. "Mmm-hmmm."

Laurie arrived back at the hotel with Lisa from Sweden. They both looked at me sort of the way you would look at a big pile of vomited dog poop that you had to clean up. (I'll refer you to the E.R. photo from yesterday, and the hoodie-footie photo from the previous post, as it was a combined effort.) "You don't look so good."

The most fun thing was when Swede William saw Lisa. Whippets never forget. He began to wag the greetings any guest would get. Then all of a sudden, he whipped his head around and his eyes got HUGE and he started wagging all over and happy dancing. He jumped on my bed and said, "Look! Look! It's MY Lisa!!! LOOK!!!" I wouldn't have gotten so teary if I hadn't been sick I'm sure. (not)

Laurie was bubbling over. "Patience, they're saying that Simmer has a really good chance! She was tied for second in [her first ever] Obedience Trial, and she got second out of 35 in her conformation. With her Lure Coursing score..."

"Oh my gosh Laurie, do you think you made the top five?"

"Well, they're saying she has a shot at maybe the top three!"

Now, antibiotics are just the most wonderful invention. My face was already hurting much much less when I woke up Tuesday morning. My neck still was stiff and sore, but I felt almost alive. I had slept like the dead. After a hot, hot shower and the application of lots of make up (for me) I even looked sort of okay. Laurie had left early with Rivet and Simmer. Lisa, Lee, Dee and I fed and walked the dogs and loaded us all into the van and headed over to Griffin Gate. We walked into the ball room.

Laurie was beaming. "Patience," she said. "I think she won!"

"What?"

"Yes! Her name is at the top of the scoreboard and she has the highest total score and people are saying congratulations!"

"WHAT!!!!!?????"

It was Laurie's turn to get a little leaky-eyed. "Patience, Simmer won the Triathlon."

And I thought antibiotics could work miracles. HA! No comparison! Laurie and little Simmer had won the Triathlon!!! I was already proud as could be of them; this was just sheer fun! Laurie and little Simmer had WON THE GLORIOUS TRIATHLON AT THE 25TH AMERICAN WHIPPET CLUB NATIONAL SPECIALTY!!!

Get out of TOWN!!! Laurie and Simmer!!! I called Simmer's co-breeders Jim and Sue. "LAURIE AND SIMMER WON THE TRIATHLON!! WON IT CAN YOU STAND IT??? CONGRATULATIONS!!!" (This was especially fun because Sue was scheduled to have a total hip replacement on the following Monday and I loved giving her such great news.)

They called the top ten finishers into the ring in reverse order, starting with number ten, to get their ribbons and plates. And last they called Laurie Erickson and Simmer, Champion Warburton WW's Southern Skies, RN, NA, NAJ, PR. As they made their victory lap, I just whooped up a storm.

bad cell phone photo by me, but isn't Simmer beautiful?

I don't know what happened to the rest of Tuesday. I'm pretty sure there was a long nap with Lindy Loo and Swede William and I felt even better when I woke from that. I had to think long and hard when I woke up if I had been having a wild dream that Simmer had won the Triathlon. Nope, I was pretty sure it had actually happened.

And all I could say when I first saw her was, "She's FAT!!!" Remember?

Simmer, Lindy Loo's glamorous litter sister had won the Triathlon. I am so proud of Laurie! I guess living up to my word and giving her the pick bitch worked out just fine.

Little Simmer won the Triathlon.

And that, my friends, was just the beginning... to be continued HERE

hug your hounds

The National - Monday

(this is part two, part one is here)

I pushed the button on my phone. Three oh three A.M. The maxillary and ethmoid sinuses on the right side of my face burned like they were filled with flesh-eating acid. And speaking of flesh-eating. On the unit where I work at the hospital, we care for patients who have bad infections. So I'm routinely up to my elbows in MRSA (Methicillin Resistant Staph Aureus). Granted, I'm gowned and gloved and I wash and wash and wash all day long, but in my three oh three A.M. mentation I was picturing my whole head just a'swarming with MRSA bugs and surely I was going to die a slow horrible pus-filled death.

It didn't' help that if I moved my head the slightest bit in any direction or if I held it perfectly still, I had stabbing pain clear down my spine. I turned away from Swede William so that I didn't infect him with my MRSA breath. At three oh three A.M. it was clear that I would be cold and dead long before I ever got to see Bill again, and I would never get to kiss Mama Pajama on her little nose.

When Laurie started stirring (six? seven?) I must have said I would ask Lee and Dee, who were in the room across the hall with puppy Mia, to take me to the E.R. (I'd love to blame the total lack of recall for Monday on my illness, but I'm just generally senile and I already can't remember what I had for breakfast this morning and it's only 8:40.) I imagine that Dee walked all my dogs. I know that Bill was terribly alarmed when I called and told him that Dee was driving my van with me and all the dogs in it. In downtown Lexington, no less. WHAT??!!

I do remember convincing a reluctant Lee and Dee to leave me at the E.R. and go back to cheer Laurie on. The clincher was when I pointed out that the dogs would be better off at Griffin Gate in the van than in downtown Lexington. The waiting room was empty (say hooray for 7:30 A.M. Monday morning E.R. visits) and the clerk asked me to write the reason for my visit.

I was momentarily stumped. I figured "sick" wasn't a good enough answer. I pressed my R.N. brain to come up with something professional. What was wrong with me, anyway? I had pain above and below my right eye. Oh! It suddenly dawned on me! I wrote:

I thought that sounded much too run-of-the-mill over-the-counter for how I felt, so on the next line I wrote:

That was better.

I work at Western Baptist Hospital. This was our sister hospital, Central Baptist. I was seen, stuck, and CT scanned in very short order, and everyone was so nice. While I was waiting for results I felt like my right eye was swelling. There was no mirror, so I took a picture with my phone. Bill double-dog-dared me to use it here. I figured after the hoodie-footie shot, what the hey?

the Queen of Glamor!

The doc came in and told me it hurt to look at my CT films. "Nasty," he said. Then he said he would have to do a lumbar puncture because I had a stiff neck ("nuchal rigidity").

Say what? A spinal tap? Could this day get any better?

"Well, you have a raging sinusitis, and a stiff neck. Your white count is normal, so it's probably a viral meningitis, but we have to check because your sinuses lie right there next to your brain." He did allay my fears of MRSA. "Nah, we're just usually colonized with the stuff when we're exposed all the time."

I called Bill. "They have to do a lumbar puncture," I weeped.

"It will be okay," Bill said.

"I know," I squeaked. I sounded pathetic, even to myself. I had assisted in a bazillion of them back in my O.R. /Recovery Room days. But it was hard to look forward to a lumbar puncture, even with my Big Girl Panties on.

End result: normal CSF. If anything was going on in my brain it was viral. I promised the doc that I would call my retired doctor husband to pick me up and take me to my own hospital if I didn't get better. They gave me a shot of Rocephin and a prescription for Augmentin and called a (free) cab for me - wasn't that nice?

I can't say enough good things about Central Baptist Hospital! (Little did I know I'd be seeing them again...)

Now enough of this wallering. Back to the show!

continued HERE

hug your hounds

The National

What a week. I don't know where to start.

My first American Whippet Club National Specialty was in Vermont in 1996, and I've gone every year since. Last year it was in Tucson, AZ, which was a long, weary drive. This year it was in Lexington, KY: a mere four and a half hours from home. Piece o'cake!

While showering before work on Tuesday morning, I thought, "Huh. I must have slept with my mouth open. My throat feels funny." While showering before work on Wednesday morning, I thought, "Hmm. Now the back of my nasal passages are kind of burning. I couldn't be getting a cold. Nah. Not right before the National."

I got a cold. No biggie.

I packed the van including Swede William, Lindy Loo, puppies Jabber and Alison, and my pink hoodie footie, and went to pick up Lee and Dee and older puppy Mia. We left on Saturday so that I could watch Lindy Loo's sister Simmer run in the Lure Coursing Field Trial on Sunday, and see my dear Laurie from Minnesooooooooota. (Bill told me that when I drove off, leaving Sam and the Dear Old Ones behind, Sammy threw his head back and howled like a broken-hearted Lone Wolf in the dining room. That made me die a little bit.)

We got to Lexington in no time. The puppies were stellar. No one would guess this was their inaugural road trip, or that they were just fourteen weeks old.

Minnesoooooota Laurie could stop and join us for an early dinner in Lexington. (She would spend the night an hour further south, so that the 6:30 AM Roll Call wouldn't be quite so onerous. We would drive down in the morning.) Sure enough, she arrived and oh how wonderful it was to see her, and there was Sam's sweet brother Rivet, and Lindy Loo's glamorous sister Simmer. Only...

Breeders are strange creatures. I open my arms to hug my dear friend, whom I haven't seen in ten forevers. "Oh Laurie," I exclaimed! "It is sooooo good to see y..." My eyes widened in horror as I gazed down at my Simmer, my little pup-pup.

"She's FAT!!!" I just blurted it out. Right like I was saying "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!" or, "You have an ax sticking out of your skull!"

Simmer was entered in the Triathlon at the National. The Triathlon is a Big Deal. Whippets entered in the Triathlon combine their scores from Lure Coursing, Obedience, and Conformation. You have to have your dog fit enough for Lure Coursing, trained in Obedience, and they have to conform to the breed Standard. Mama Pajama had twice finished second in the Triathlon; accomplishments of which I am enormously proud.

Luckily Laurie is a forgiving sort. "Well, we do live in Minnesota, and it's been a horrible winter, and I've been working her on treadmills and doing everything I can," she reasoned. Using all my gracious tact I said, "But she's FAT!!!" (Do remember this later, Dear Readers. Do remember how I carried on.) Laurie, being a Kind and Gentle Soul, just smiled and hugged me and said it was so good to see me and let's eat.

Sunday morning I really didn't feel well at all. The right side of my face burned like fire and my neck was stiff, and maybe I had a little fever? Lee and Dee had never seen lure coursing and I had never seen Simmer run, so I didn't care how I felt, we were going. The day was sunny and windy. We got to the field and oh the memories. Giacomino had been Best In Field at the 1998 National in Temecula, California. And oh the friends! Folks I hadn't seen in years! "Don't hug me," I warned. "I seem to be a little bit sick." Well that was pure torture.

Fat little Simmer ran her heart out and finished with quite a respectable score. In fact, her final run was just beautiful, so much so that she reminded me of her famous cousin Mama P.

Simmer at the National - Photo Steve Surfman

"Laurie," I gushed! "That was awesome! She was fantastic!"

"Not too bad for a fat dog," smiled Laurie. "No," I agreed. "Not too bad at all. And I think she lost three pounds today. She ran so fast she ran away from them!"

I don't remember all that much of the evening. We went back to the hotel and fed dogs and we went out to eat. I don't remember where but I remember I had hot water with lemon to drink and it was like heaven. Laurie and Simmer would do Obedience in the morning and conformation in the afternoon. Sweet Sammy's brother sweet Rivet would do Rally in the morning. I couldn't wait to see it all. But ugh. I couldn't wait to get in bed.

We got back to the hotel and I called Bill and told him what was going on. "You better go to the Emergency Room," he said. "Okay, if I'm not better in the morning I will."

I woke up at 3:00 AM. Oh boy. This wasn't better...

to be continued HERE but obviously I lived because I'm not writing this posthumously so go ahead and hug your hounds

The Many Benefits of Having Laurie as My Friend

Minnesooooooooota Laurie, that is. She just happens to be a talented photographer, as well as a kind, caring, understanding, funny, advice giving, dog training, always ready for a laugh or a hug friend. Oh I could go on forever but here's what I'm talking about today!


First, here's Laurie in a photo that her sister took. Laurie's on the left, then goofy me, then Laurie's 89 year old dad with whom I'm a little bit in love, watch out Bill! then Crystal who went with me to Minnesota (and to Sweden a couple of years ago if she looks familiar) and who was trying to snag Mr. Erickson with her blond hair and blue eyes and I had MY green eyes on her yes I did!

I digressed.

So, Laurie is this fantastic photographer. I get awesome show photos.


(Okay, if you look carefully, I'm trying to be a real pro by tossing the liver and catching it. But notice how the liver is bouncing off my wrist and will soon hit the ground? Yeah, I'm cool!!!)



Lindy Loo looking glamorous!

But then there are the candids. Oh my heart! Absolute TREASURES, and there are tons more. It's impossible to choose which to share so I just randomly picked some.



Sweet essence of Sam I Am

Mia - Oh breath-taking!

Swede William and Sam - pure art

More art - Lindy Loo in the sunshine

But then...

there's the risk ... well, remember how your mother told you if you made a face it might stick like that forever?

Oh boy!!!

LAURIE!!!!!

I sure am lucky. And she did formal portraits, too. Wait til you see them!!!

hug your friends and your hounds

Blah Blah blog

Lordy I am hopeless. I just can't write to save my soul. I'm just going to blah blah blog what's been going on.

Lee and Dee were supposed to get a Swede William / Lindy Loo puppy. Actually they were supposed to get two Swede William / Lindy Loo puppies. Only Lindy Loo was in season while my sister was dying and I was driving back and forth to Toledo, Ohio, and Lindly Loo's season was short and she told Swede William if he got that THING anywhere near her Special Place, she would bite off his right front leg.

At the elbow.

Completely. And his name from that day on would be Stumpy.

So there weren't any Swede William / Lindy Loo puppies. "That's okay," said Lee and Dee. "We'll wait."

Only then their last sweet German Shepherd passed away from old age cancer and they didn't have a dog at all. That is not an acceptable way to live, as we all know, so I set about finding them a whippet.

Long story short, some good people had a litter of pups. I always loved the people and I loved their dogs. And this particular litter, well the mom's great grandmom was the mom of my very first whippet, Gracious. And the dad's grandpop is Sammy's grandpop!!! How amazing is that!!!!

Angie and Robin let Mia come home to Lee and Dee's house which is two blocks from ours. But the night that Mia came home, Swede William and Lindy Loo started hacking. And snorking. They got some respiratory bug at a show (I guess). So Mia couldn't come to my house and I couldn't take any whippets to see her. Ended up five of my eight got sick. I am ONE BIG MESS when my dogs are sick. ONE BIG HUGE MESS. They're on doxycycline and cough medicine and I feel like typhoid (gack cough) Patience. The vet said that my house will be safe after the last dog hasn't coughed for a week, and that the individual dogs are safe from being contagious after they haven't coughed for a week.

Lindy Loo and Swede William haven't coughed since Sunday, so they're safe Saturday. (Really they only snorked once when they got up Saturday morning, but I'm being careful.) Sammy hasn't coughed once today, and neither have Easy or Luciano.

It's been hellish.

But I did shower and put on shoes that haven't been worn and clean clothes and sneak over to see her a couple times. I'll get to show her and do agility with her and I cannot WAIT til she has a little Swede William / Lindy Loo best buddy to snuggle with.





Until then, Lee and Dee are doing a fine job!

hug your puppies!

Cyber Friends

Recently one of my Facebook friends wrote

"I love sitting in my living room on a gray, rainy day reading FB and feeling like my friends and relatives are near and knowing a little bit of what they are up to. I know it's a counterfeit form of intimacy, but it beats only seeing y'all at reunions and funerals!"

That got my attention.

This friend was, for years, My Best Friend. And then life scattered us willy-nilly. We've reconnected through Facebook.

Is cyber friendship real? I had thought about this before. I have made lifetime friends on an Internet group called Whippet World. I have gotten to know people through their blogs, and through their comments on this blog. I care about these folks. I miss them when I'm not able to communicate in cyberland. (Too much of that going around lately!)

I think I get to know the hearts of these online friends. Their very center. I've revealed things about myself on my own blog that would be nearly impossible to talk about in real life, except with my husband or My Best Friend. And I have stared at my computer, covering my mouth to hold in a sob as I read of a bad diagnosis received by a wonderful man in another country. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I have leaked tears all over one of my worried dogs when I read that someone I've never met has lost a pet. I'm so very, very sorry, I write. I will hold you in my heart.

There is time to sit, to reflect, and to delete. We can distill.

Of course, we all know that anonymity of cyberspace also brings out the very ugliest of human conversation. Which is I guess the dark side of all this good.

Because I think it is good that whole communities are out there, being present to each other. Showing that they care. Listening. Pouring out their hearts and allowing me to care. Making me smile and laugh. Sitting alone in my little sewing/computer room laughing so hard that I have to get up and pee.

I imagine pen pals of the 1800's. Distant cousins, or long-separated acquaintances. Casual friendships which deepened. Sharing intimacies in their letters, which were shared with none of their real friends.

I think it all comes down to the power of the written word. And our power to care.

So let me quote my wise friend again.

"I love sitting in my living room on a gray, rainy day reading FB and feeling like my friends and relatives are near and knowing a little bit of what they are up to."

Me too.

hug your hounds and your Internet friends

Here we are!

Emmett

Playing catch up.

I've got some orders to get out: thank you wonderful people who are buying my book! You know how in that James Stewart Christmas classic movie every time a bell rings an angel gets wings? Well, for me, every time a book sells, I feel like I can fly. Just for a second.

But it feels great, so thank you.

We went to a dog show on Sunday and had a blast. All three dogs showed like pros! Emmett went first, and did better than I imagined he would. His Heather was home - baby Ben's little brother is due in four weeks, but that wasn't why. Ben's daddy had to work, so Heather had a day with Ben, just the two of them. My great and generous friend Dee (of Lee and Dee fame) went with me, packing a yummy lunch to eat on the way, to hold dogs ringside and be excellent company on the SIX hours - three up, three back - of fascinating southern Illinois Interstate.

So Emmett had to go first, and didn't have his Heather to cheer him on, but he was a brave and happy and wonderful boy. No stage fright for him! Then it was Swede William's turn and he gave me goosebumps. Not so much the judge, though, who apparently got indigestion from William's glorious Swedish color. Dee reported hearing collective ooooh's and aaaaah's from the whippet folks ringside, which is gratifying.

Lindy Loo, who is the worst little fussbudget when we practice, was showier than a Rockette! She stood like a statue, arched her neck, cocked her head at the judge and moved like a dream. I couldn't help smiling - okay, beaming - at her. She had a blast.

These three dogs just love to show, and that makes it so much fun for me. Plus I got to see some friends who I haven't seen forever. Dee and I got home to Bill and Lee enjoying wine and cheese in our kitchen while Bill made a signature pasta dish - oooooh sun dried tomatoes artichoke hearts shrimp wine and cream sauce ohhhhhh ahhhhhh. It was just a great day. I was asleep under a pile of whippets by 8:30.

Work is going fine. (Although you've noticed it cuts into my blog time something fierce.) Bill is doing a heroic job of being primary dog servant. I am so enjoying giving patient care again: it is such a special privilege. I don't have the time to devote right this minute, but in another post I'll talk about that. The gift of caring for people.

And I'm having a blast getting to know the staff of the floor where I'm working. It's a delightful, fun, energetic, responsible, cooperative group of people. They help each other, and they put their patients first. That makes for a rewarding work environment. My preceptor is a very good nurse. So young! More on that in another post, too.

It's a busy day. The Paducah Kennel Club Christmas Party is tonight. No rest for the weary!



Hug your hounds - it's good to 'see' you!

Sunday Hallelujahs

Someone is trying to tell me something.

Last Sunday I was a big jumble of raw emotions as I walked the dogs on my final Sunday of life before returning to hospital nursing. I was excited, nervous, frightened, grateful, reticent, eager, worried. The old dogs go around one block, maybe two since Mama Pajama is doing so well and the weather is just right.

These old dogs: Fat Charlie, Mama Pajama, and Easy. In their eyes are twelve golden, magical years of my life. Of long trips with heart friends, of thrilling runs, breath-stealing sorrows, of laughing so hard that soda shoots out of your nose, of soaking toes, wrapping feet, of pride, of couch piles with me on the bottom. Of children growing up and moving out. Of grandbabies born. In Easy's eyes are my late friend Carolyn's voice and laughter. Her "Oh gawsh!" Greg's jokes. And Spice. I always see Spice in Easy's eyes.

As we walked last Sunday, I heard music coming from the Presbyterian church. It was in the afternoon; long past Sunday service. I deviated from the old dogs' normal route - much to their delight - and turned right, to hear more.

Oh! I thought it was a recording of Handel's Messiah. But it was (I think) The Paducah Symphony Orchestra Choir rehearsing. All of the windows were open. The old dogs and I stopped on the sidewalk just outside those windows. All three dogs pricked their ears and tilted their heads, listening.

It was such beautiful music. The voices didn't strain, they gloried. We walked in the grass around the church. I couldn't bear to walk away. That music gave me a sense that it would all be okay.

And then the week of reality hit me. I forgot.

This morning I headed off to blog land to play some catch up. The first blog I came to with my coffee and my sleepy breakfasted dogs was a new one I just started following last week. I don't know the blogger well yet. She's in Australia and it's hot there. She posted a video of k d lang singing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. (Do click on that link. Do!)

I sat weeping.

I spent the next hour listening to all different versions on Youtube. Here is one for you.

I have read your generous comments, and I thank you. November 18th was the one year anniversary of Maria's death. This awful year of loss. I pronounce that year OVER.

Say Hallelujah!

I pronounce that year OVER.

Sing Hallelujah!

I pronounce that year OVER.

Hall Lay LOOOOOOOOOOO YAH!!!!

hug your howling hounds - we're having a good one here!

Best Wishes for a Dear Wire Fox Terrier

The whippets have a friend out in blog land who needs some good thoughts and prayers. She has the same name as a wonderful 15 year old whippet who is so very special to us, and who is FINE, so we didn't want to scare anyone. This wirey friend is named Snickers, just like our 15 year old whippet friend.

But Wire Fox Terrier Snickers is needing some positive healing energy.

So, some other very cool blog friends of ours, Jake and Fergi, are asking everyone to set your alarms
And at exactly 11:00 PM GMT on Saturday 14 Nov 09
(Go to this link to find what time that is for you)
5:00 PM Saturday evening in Iowa (that's 5 PM in Paducah, 6 PM on the East coast)
as Snickers' family sits down to eat

Turn toward them (in the central USA)
And join together in a silent minute
Of prayer, meditation, contemplation, reflection
Whatever feels right to you.
Followed by whatever means of communication
You choose.

Arrooing
Barking
Howling
Yipping
Yapping
Wooing

To wish and send Miss Snickers and her family
whatever is in your hearts
That will help them feel the Love and Support
They need right now.
Personally, we’ll be sending Miracle Whippet Magical Wishes.

Then
Blow a Kiss
and send your Love and Prayers and Best Wishes
to Miss Snickers and her Family
and they will feel their arrival
in the breeze.

hug your hounds

in gratitude for their

good health

Sammy the Saint and Literary Doings

It's been a fun-packed time around these parts.

I went to my first-ever writers' retreat and learned oh my gosh so much. The presenters (see below for some great book recommendations) were enormously talented, and helpful, and funny, and did I mention talented? As were the other participants. I think I did a very bad job of being me: I felt like I said exactly the wrong thing at every opportunity; like I picked the absolute wrong choice of my writing to read; like I was a big impostor who-did-I-think-I-was boob for being there. Do you know what I mean?

I felt like I had shrunk so far as to be nearly invisible.

But once I cast aside my ego, bruised and pulpy from nothing but my own demons pounding the poop out of it, I emerged more educated, more determined, and strangely - after a couple of weeks of being back home with the dogs and Bill - more confident.

Our Kennel Club hosted our four day autumn Agility Trial. Two words? It. Rocked. I stayed too busy to be frustrated by the fact that Sammy wasn't entered. For the most part. But the judges were happy, the competitors were happy, the club members were happy, and the facility was great. We got the most spectators ever and they loved it. The dogs were spectacular. The club fed dinner to about eighty guests and I'm still full!

And yesterday Sam I Am and I did a book signing/reading at Western Kentucky Community and Technical College. I am not usually that nervous at a reading. But the recent humility of the writers' retreat, coupled with the fact that I would know so many in the audience, including and especially Bill, I was a mess and a half.

It poured. I mean there were flash floods and closed roads. I followed Heather (of Emmett and Baby Ben fame), and as we walked to the library I thought, If Heather weren't leading me I'd never find this place, and if I knew where it was I surely wouldn't come in this rain.

I figured I'd be reading to Bill, Heather, Kim who invited me to read, and Lee, who was bringing Bill. The thought of no one coming made me even more nervous.

But they did come. Lots of people. Oh I was glad to have Sam I Am with me. At first he was confused: since when were his Bill and his Heather and his Lee and his walking buddy Tracey at a therapy setting or a reading? But he was so good. I usually bring a little bed for him, but I forgot, so I put his coat on the floor.

Heather sat in the front row, and when she cried during Opie's Song, Sam sat with her for a bit. When I read The Wild Dinner Party and he heard his name, he rejoined me at the podium. The audience was so very kind and generous. I stumbled over more words than usual because of my nervousness, but folks were forgiving. My sweet friend Deb came and took these pictures. Thanks, Deb.

These stories are always so well received. They certainly aren't great literature. They're just little stories. But I think it's because they come from the dogs. That's why people like to hear and read them.

They come straight from the dogs, and all of our dogs speak the same language, don't they?

hug your hounds

Or better yet, sneak them cookies like Lee did! You ROCK, Lee!

*** Book recommendations from the writers' retreat:

We All Live Downstream - Writings About Mountaintop Removal

edited by Jason Howard

Can A Democrat Get Into Heaven

hysterical!!! by Anne Shelby

The King of Gaheena

by Squire Babcock

Eli the Good

by Silas House

A Friend

Someone did something crazy nice for me.

I still can't believe it.

Thank you Laurie!



hug your hounds and your sweet friends

Thank you smiles

Mama Pajama ate her chicken breast and basamati rice for dinner, and she took her meds.

I am blessed with generous, kind, oh so smart friends, some who live right down the street, and some who I see once or twice a year, and some whom I've never met in person. (See that I can go from rant to hoke in one day!)

Thank you all. We feel better. I know better than to complain when I am given the company of any dog for more than 13, 14, even 15 years! I do know better. And I wouldn't trade a day.

Thank you all.

Good night

And hug your sweet hounds, while considering yourselves squish-hugged by me

Friends!

Those of you who are Facebook friends or Twitter followers may have noticed that I cleaned the house yesterday. I am not a good Hannah Housewife. I figure I'm married to a man, not a house!

The dogs know something is up when the scrub brush and mops come out. Either we're getting company, or I'm going away. They watch. They all stick a little closer, and listen more carefully to street noises. Will I get out the suitcases?

So, they were on their tippy toes when Susan and Jeanette came through the gate. Susan and Jeanette are good friends. They lived with us for a brief time a couple of years ago, when they were between 'here and there'.

Susan wondered if the dogs would remember them.

Do you think?

.

Hug your hounds

Fireworks Phobia?

Here's a wonderful post on a friend's blog. Shoot, the whole blog is wonderful and you will enjoy following it.

Stephanie is a talented professional dog trainer and an entertaining writer. What's not to love?

Click HERE for the fireworks article.

hug your hounds

We're home/Thank you/Figuring things out

Oh, friends.

Your amazing outpouring of kindness makes my fragile heart smile.

Thank you for understanding.



I probably shouldn't be blogging. What I write will be neither cheery nor entertaining. Dear Readers, please do feel free to go to the next blog and check back in a little bit. Writing (next to hugging my hounds) is the best way I know to process "stuff" and I need to do that.


Carolyn and Greg had years ago named three friends in their will to take care of placing their dogs, should something happen to both of them. I was one of those three. (Never in our wildest dreams did we think... ) About four weeks before she died, Carolyn asked me to keep her oldest two, eleven year old siblings Easy and Spice. Easy had been a great good buddy of my Fat Charlie's, and Spice was Maria's mirror image. (Actually, Carolyn said - tearfully - that she was worried about where they would go. I said they were welcome to move in here, and she said that would be good.) Easy had surgery to remove his cancerous thyroid last year. It was supposed to give him a good quality ten months to a year. We prayed that Easy would outlive Carolyn. And bless him, he did.

Carolyn had helped us immensely, by letting some of the dogs go "visit" friends in the fall, knowing that they would stay. She couldn't bear to place Easy and Spice, Early, Beauty, or Jack, and trusted us to do that for her.

We had homes for the others, except Early. Early had lost a hind leg in a freak accident (actually after two surgeries to repair a fracture) as a six month old puppy. Carolyn had taken him through all his training and gotten him certified as a Therapy Dog. It was important to her to find a home for him where he could be a whippet and run and play, and where he could work miracles as a therapy dog.

I was on a mission. Not that generous people who would adore him hadn't volunteered to give him a loving home. But I felt a strong, personal burdon. I put out some quiet feelers. And then God, or the Universe, or a higher power, or whatever you believe in took over. Susan had two whippets. Her aged greyhound had just recently died. She had been active in greyhound rescue for years. She had been active in Animal Assisted Therapy and still does visits regularly. She has a perfect whippet yard, and goes to the beach. She trains obedience. She has a happy heart.

Even getting Early to Susan - from western Pennsylvania to southern South Carolina - was a breeze. We would all meet in Atlanta. I would be there just a day for the board and general membership meetings. Another friend (one of the three) was driving down and could bring Early. Susan had entered her whippets in Obedience and would be there. It worked.

We had to wait for the reading of the will, and though I knew that the dogs were getting excellent care, it haunted me to think of them sleeping in the house alone. It haunted me.

And then all hell broke loose.

[But the sun just broke through and I'm going to walk now. I hope I can hang on to Easy and Spice when they see all the Stupid City Squirrels around here.]

hug your hounds

For Me

Thanks, Laurie Erickson for this wonderful photo of Carolyn and Jack, who gave her so much love and laughter.

Just about one year ago, Carolyn called me up and said she didn't feel right. "Something just isn't right," she said.

Carolyn was the perennial picture of health. Always fit, trim, though she'd tell me she'd been 'eating like a hog' and had gained five pounds. I knew better. She loved DQ.

She was so well versed in things medical, but this had her puzzled and she went to the doctor. They didn't find anything, but tried some meds. They didn't help. Maybe they did, she said. Maybe a little.

I saw her at the American Whippet Club National in April. She looked great! She traveled from western Pennsylvania, and I travelled from western Kentucky and we gave each other an excited hug in Oregon. To my relief, Carolyn looked fine.

"You look great," I said.

"I'm feeling better," she said. But...

Days after we got home she called again. "Something is really wrong. I've been tripping. I fell down this morning. And have you seen how many typos are in my emails?" [We phoned and emailed every day. She was better at phoning than me.] "My hand doesn't do what I tell it."

I felt a chill. One of those deep, soul-stopping bad feelings. You need to go back to the doctor. Today. Tomorrow.

It was Carolyn, so she already had an appointment for the next morning.

And then there was the emergency CT scan and Greg was calling me from the hospital and she was having brain surgery to have the damned damned damned glioblastoma removed and I felt so useless and how on earth could this be?

Carolyn did everything in her power to recover.

Greg died in December. Carolyn was talking to me on the phone that morning. We talked about how Bea did at the show. When she went upstairs to wake him he was gone.

They were friends in kindergarten. Prom dates. Married after college. Greg was fifty-six.

I have worried every day about Carolyn for a year. I have felt so sad that she has had to face this. She loved this life. She loved all the birds at her feeders. The best fed birds in the world. She loved "Chipper" with his full cheeks. She loved Greg so deeply. She loved her dogs, God knows she loved those dogs. The first time I heard of the miracle of puppy breath was from Carolyn. She loved her little 94 year old mom, who stayed by her side. She loved Greg's dear sisters.

And she loved her fortunate friends. She loved her brother who fixed her computer. She loved her flowers and her vegetable garden. She loved to cook. She made the best salsa from her garden in the world. And Christmas cookies! She loved to laugh. How much we laughed! We would talk, sewing machines whirring in the background, one in Pennsylvania, one in Kentucky, and laugh until we had to put the phones down, get up from our sewing machines and go pee.

She loved to go and do. To watch dogs running in the yard. To watch Spice stalk a squirrel, so quiet and patient like a cat.

And this morning, she peacefully passed from this life into the next.

It occurred to me, when I hung up the phone from the 5:30 am phone call, that I am relieved of the sadness I have felt for Carolyn.

Now, I am left with my own.

Reunion!

Oh how I would love to climb inside my dogs' brains and hearts and just once, see their world through their eyes. I could only guess what they were thinking, as Special Humans from their past marched right back into their home.

Linda arrived first, for all intents and purposes another purchase from the grocery store. Linda is Sammy's nana, but she has been a huge part of all of my dogs' lives. Giacomino, Fat Charlie, Mama Pajama, Luciano, and Delia saw Linda, Willow, and Jessie (Sammy's mom), nearly every weekend, and a couple of times a week for their whole existence. Then we moved six years ago, and we lost her. The glee when I returned from my normal errands run with the Krogers bags, and Linda! I had found her!!! Only Swede William and Lindy Loo are out of the Linda loop, but they had met her as puppies and a whippet never forgets.

They were not done celebrating, no they were not, when the next day, who should march right on in the back door? Oh my stars, it was their Rhonda!!!

Accompanied by the Nice Lady, Crystal, who is practically family because she has stayed in our home for a couple of overnights. But Rhonda!!!! Right here in living color. Rhonda, who had been at dog shows, lure coursing, race meets, and road trips. Rhonda, who dogsat Fat Charlie and Giacomino at her house. Whose bags smelled of Giacomino's one and only wife, Snickers. It was Rhonda!!!

And while they were still celebrating the reincarnations of Linda and Rhonda, two more angels appear: Cheryl and Terrie.

People who shared every day of the week, when the whippets and those two people and I worked in the same office. Fat Charlie and Mama Pajama's nana Terrie, and their very own Cheryl, who now has three whippets, two of whom are immediate family, because she fell so deeply in love with mine. Dogs remember love like that. Dogs remember.

Not only had the missing humans materialized, they brought with them scent-images of dog friends and relations. Nose pictures of Giacomino's siblings Jazzbo and Lilly - Fat Charlie and Mama Pajama's mom. And their sisters, Mollie and Jessie. And Sammy's siblings Tucker and Graffiti. Noses found dads, grandads, great grandaunts, moms, cousins, nephews. Little hints of smells on clothing, in suitcases, on purses.

The tails kept on wagging. Eyes sparkled. Noses sniffed and sniffed, which started the tails wagging all over again.

I thought it was too much for Giacomino. He'll be fifteen in April, and he seemed to be overwhelmed. He continued to perk up, though, and I realized something. The last time a Special Person came to visit, Bill and I disappeared for Way Too Long. He had just recovered from our trip to Italy, when he lost his lifelong cuddle buddy, Maria. He had just recovered from that, when Special People arrived in droves, and I think he was terribly worried that I was going to disappear again. But I didn't disappear, and on Linda's last day here, she got to see him pull me around the block on his walk and gallop to me in the yard. Eyes shining, legs akimbo, tail wagging.

And I had a blast! You know you're with wonderful dog friends when not only do you not have to be embarrassed when you're stooping to pick up the eighth dog's poop on your walk, but your friend remarks, "That is really good quality stool. What are you feeding these days?"

Oh, but I miss them so.

hug your hounds, and your friends, too.

Linda Arrives!!!

Oh, dear readers, I am a mighty bad blogger. Yes I am. I've said it and I mean it.

I bought batteries. I put the camera right on the kitchen counter, where I couldn't possibly forget. I repeated "I shall take photos, I shall take photos, I shall..."

I opened the kitchen door. Sam I Am looked around me. So did Mama Pajama. Bill had a good hold of Very Old Dog to avoid tippage, either from over excitement or from bumpage and generalized greeting flummadiddle. Fat Charlie came swooping in. Luciano's eyes got huge.

They couldn't believe who I had found. Their Linda!!! The very Linda who Lindy Loo is named for!!! Here right here in our kitchen, brought in with the rest of the groceries!

Since when did Krogers start stocking Their Linda!!!!????

The greeting was sweet, dear readers. Excitement, disbelief, sniffing just to be sure it wasn't a bobo Linda, but no... It was the real thing. Their LINDA!!! Whom they hadn't seen for two years, which is very long in dog time.

But I failed you. So taken was I in the merriment, and so senile am I in the head, I forgot to pick up the stinkin' camera and click.

These are from two hours later, after the meal.

Sammy says, "My Nana Linda."

the rare Mama Pajama kiss, as tolerated by Sam I Am, and witnessed by a happy Very Old Dog

I promise I'll do better tomorrow. I'll try to.

I'll ask Linda to remind me.

hug your hounds

Getting ready

[photo from 2004 or 2005??? or 2003? I dunno. Friends start arriving on Thursday!!!]

Every year for so many years that none of us can agree just how long it has been, some friends get together for a holiday hug. And a whole lot of good food. And belly laughs. And a gift exchange.


We used to live within an hour of each other. We'd see each other nearly every weekend at a dog show, or obedience trial, or lure coursing. We saw each other through the very best times, and we saw each other through unspeakable tragedies.


We were our dogs' favorite other people.


Linda was the first person I told I was pregnant. Jake just turned 32 on Thanksgiving.


When I moved fourteen hours away, I drove home for our holiday get together. And other years they flew out here.


Last year, we all decided it was just too expensive. Wasn't that a foolish decision?


This year, they're flying out here. This year, Linda and Rhonda and Cheryl each have a new puppy to tell us about and show photos of and miss. This year, Crystal, of the trip to Sweden, will be joining us.


My dogs will go completely bonkers.


So will I.


I can't wait.





hug your hounds