Flappers

I love language. I think a lot about words and have some word games that fascinate me. Just think about it, each and every one of us can speak at least one language. I am writing words now that will be read by people I'll never meet in places I'll never see. How cool is that?

Some of us are fortunate enough to know several languages. I would love to speak French and maybe I'll take the time to learn. I know a little Spanish, a little Russian and I studied Latin for several years, though no one I know speaks it. Still I find it useful more than you'd expect. I also understand a fair amount of Dog and Cat and some Budgie. I don't speak those last three, but I can usually understand them when friends speak to me.

English is an intresting language. I like the idea that there are words that sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings. Examples are: to, too and two. Or how about rain,

rein  

and reign.

Or the one that gives so many of us trouble: there, their and they're.

Then there are the words that have two very different meanings for the very same word.
Rock

and rock.

Which bring me back to the title of this post... flapper.
My Grandmother was married in 1925 and wore a red Flapper dress at her wedding. I don't know if she would have described herself as a Flapper, but those were the times and she was young and I guess would be considered a Flapper. This is a stock photo from Google, not my Grandmother, but this was the style at the time.

I now have a different definition of the word Flapper, another Google pic.

Every morning one of the first sounds I hear is the shaking of ten furry heads and flapping of 20 ears. It's part of the morning wake up routine. Another part is a strange sound that Fudge makes, part yodel, part gurgle. I can't make the sound myself, I've tried. He makes this noise only first thing in the morning and Noah also does it. Sky did too. None of the girls do it. I don't know why the boys do this or what it means, but I choose to believe they're saying "Good Morning". I'm still not fluent in Dog.

Who Needs A Groundhog?

When Rob and I were first married, we lived in Indiana, Pennsylvania, not far from Punxsutawney. We never got to meet their most famous resident but of course, we were aware of him, as are most people in this country. A couple things have always bothered me about Punxsutawney Phil. First, I'm not thrilled that Groundhog Day is the day after my birthday. It just seems silly.

Second, of course poor Phil is going to see his shadow. They drag him out of his den in the middle of the night when any smart groundhog is sound asleep and surround him with bright lights. How could he not see a shadow?

Third, February 2 is six weeks from March 21, the first day of Spring. Therefore, Phil must predict six more weeks of winter, because that's what the calendar tells us.

But we dog owners have a much better, absolutely sure way to predict the coming of Spring. DOG HAIR!

 Yes, as any owner of a heavy coated breed knows, think Husky or St Bernard, our dogs start heavy shedding as Spring approaches. Our St Bernard, Brandy, used to look as if she was coming apart at the seams, as huge chunks of fur came off. It was impossible to keep up with the brushing.

Tsar would leave an outline of himself in hair whenever he stood up from a nap. I was able to grab hunks of hair from his back legs and still more would pop out.

Porties, contrary to popular belief, do shed but because they don't have an undercoat, they are mild shedders. Sebastian, on the other hand, is our current predictor of the change of seasons.

You in the Northeast will be happy to hear that he has started his Spring shedding. The last few days he's been leaving mouse sized pieces of black hair all over the place.

Keep your silly groundhog, our dogs are better predictors of when Spring will be here.

Mom's Little Helper

Aren't dogs amazing? The personalities are as varied as the human population. Portuguese Water Dogs were bred to work on fishing boats and in the water. When they were in dock, they were to stay aboard and guard the boat. During the winter when the boats didn't go out to sea, they often acted as shepherds for  flocks of sheep. They needed lots of different talents to be a well rounded Portie. Many of these talents have shown up in my dogs. I didn't teach them these things so I guess centuries of breeding are there in the genes.

Most, but not all my dogs love the water.  Sky and Bailey have no interest in water and stay as far from it as possible. They would stick their heads in water to grab a treat such as a hot dog or piece of apple, but they don't want to swim. That's OK. Lola was slow to become interested in water but last year was jumping into the wading pool along with the others. Tess, Fudge and Noah all like the water but Samba and Norma Jean and Gracie are obsessed with water. We need to hang on to all three in the boat. They'd be happy to jump off and swim to our destination. Norma Jean cannot resist putting her feet in the water bowl whenever she passes it. This means we have to refill the water bowl many times and  do some mopping up on a frequent basis.

Samba had a great nose. I learned to never leave a treat in a jacket pocket. She would sniff it as she walked by, pull the jacket down and work tirelessly at getting the treat out of the pocket. Happily, she never chewed thru the jacket to get her reward. Her daughter, Bailey has inherited her mother's nose. She loves following trails and usually has her nose to the ground tracking whatever creatures may have been in the yard. If I was more motivated I'd get her into a nosework class. I think she'd love it. She also has another talent that has been very helpful to me. She can find almost anything we happen to lose in the yard. This includes dog tags, Syd's collar, parts from the mower and recently, a piece of my windchime that came apart in the bad weather. Sometimes she finds them as she's checking out the yard and other times I'll tell her to 'go find' and she does.

Another talent that has been useful is Norma Jean's herding instinct. You first must understand Norma jean. She lives to help. She absolutely adores me and wants to do anything that will help me. This began as soon as she was born. Even with eyes and ears still closed, she would sniff my presence and come crawling toward me. Once the eyes opened, she was always watching me. She still does. If she senses that I need something, she will try her best to help me.

Sometimes at our last call at night, a couple of the dogs may not want to come in. They may find something interesting at the bottom of the hill and not come when I call. Norma Jean always comes when I call her, though I don't usually have to call. As soon as I open the door, she comes racing to me with her back end wiggling. I don't go down the hill at night unless it's an emergency so I have to keep calling to get my stragglers in.

One night a couple years ago, Norma Jean was waiting inside the garage as I called Tess. Tess didn't  come and I was getting frustrated. Suddenly Norma Jean burst out the garage door and stood looking around. She spotted Tess and took off toward her.  As Tess continued to ignore us, Norma Jean crashed into her, sending her flying. Then she got behind Tess and herded her up the hill to me. When they got to me, Norma Jean was so pleased that she couldn't stand still. She danced all around the garage.

A few nights later, the scene was repeated with Lola. Norma Jean knows the names of each of her siblings and will go after whichever dog I tell her to get. It always works and now after being hit broadside by the rather solid Norma Jean, the others see her coming and decide it's time to come in.

Over the last few weeks with the weather being bad, the dogs haven't spent as much time outside as they would like and everyone is a little restless. Tempers can flare under those circumstances, even with humans. I've noticed that Norma Jean is getting a little too bossy. She's pushing her sisters around when she thinks they need to do whatever she thinks they should be doing. The others are starting to resent Norma Jean pushing them around and are snapping back at times. Nothing serious is happening, just some sisters saying, "leave me alone."  Still, I think it's time to find Norma Jean a new job that she can take pride in, that doesn't involve telling anyone else what to do.

This is going to take a bit of thought and creativity, but I know she'll be more than happy with whatever I decide on. Norma Jean is the happiest dog I've ever met and she makes everyone around her happy, too.

Standards

This will be a long post and maybe not very interesting for many of you, but I'm writing it because I need to reconcile my feelings about what happened on Tuesday evening. My emotions were in conflict with my ethics and that's always an uncomfortable feeling, so now I'm laying it all out there in hopes of clearing my thoughts.

I love dogs. I guess you all know that by now. I love all dogs, purebred and mutts. I know that's not a popular idea with a number of people these days. I think if I read "Adopt, don't shop" one more time, I may throw something. At another time I'll go into why I object to that not well thought out slogan, but this post is about what happened at Westminster on Tuesday.

This year the favorite dog at the 'big show' was Matisse, a Portuguese Water Dog. Matisse is three years old and has already won 238 best in show titles. Thia makes him the most winning male dog in history, only about 40 wins away from being the most winning dog of all. From what I understand from other PWD people and others in the dog show world, he is magnificent with almost perfect conformation. He certainly is beautiful and moves exceptionally well.

Matisse did not win. He did not even come in second. The top prize went to a Beagle. Now I have nothing against Beagles, I used to own one, and Miss P seems to be an excellent example of her breed. Still, I was holding my breath during the final judging, hoping that my breed would win the honor and adulation. When the judge announced the Beagle, I yelled NO, and left the room, just as Fudge reported yesterday. I also used some language that was unnecessary. Sorry.

I've been thinking about this for a couple days and last night I was talking it out with Rob, when I had to admit that if I were the judge, I would not have chosen Matisse. Given the group that he had before him, I would probably have made the same decision and chosen the Beagle.

Here's why. Every breed in the American Kennel Club has a standard written by the breed club which consists of breeders, owners and people who love that particular breed. The standard goes into every detail about the breed. It covers size, both height and weight.

It covers what the ears should look like. How does it walk?

 It goes into detail about every aspect of the dog. Is the coat long, short or missing? And what colors should they be?

The standard tells what sort of temperament the breed should have. Is it merry, strong willed, protective, etc

The standard for the Portuguese Water dog is detailed, too. It talks about coat type and how it should be clipped. Two clips are acceptable in the USA.
        The retriever - in order to give a natural appearance and a smooth unbroken line, the entire coat is scissored or clipped to follow the outline of the dog, leaving a blanket of coat no longer than one inch in length. The hair at the end of the tail is left at full length.
         The lion clip - As soon as the coat grows long, the middle part and hindquarters, as well as the muzzle, are clipped. The hair at the end of the tail is left at full length.

Matisse was not groomed to the standard. His coat was sculpted for show purposes. When I showed Samba and Fudge, I showed them in retriever clips and always had them clipped to one inch. We were the only dogs in the ring with the short coats called for in the standard, the others were four to six inches long . At our last show the judge told me that Fudge needed more coat. He did give us a first place, though. That was when I decided that our show career was over. Even the judge didn't know or care about the standard.

The PWD standard goes on to say - The Portuguese Water Dog is spirited yet obedient, robust, and of unexaggerated, functional conformation; sure, substantially boned and muscled, and able to do a full day's work in and out of the water. 

When the judge chose Miss P, the Beagle, he said he could picture her doing the job she was bred for, hunting rabbits in the field. For me, that says it all. Matisse is lovely, but he doesn't look like a dog that would jump out of a boat into cold water to pull nets. He looks like a dog that wouldn't want to get a hair out of place.

In my opinion, the Beagle deserved to win, the PWD did not. Not because he isn't an exceptional dog, because his owners and groomers didn't stick to the standard and didn't allow him to look like a working water dog.

If we write a standard for the breed, then we should aspire to achieve it. If we intentionally go against the standard, than we don't deserve to win. Do I think the PWD community will learn anything from this? No.

Deflated

Hi Everybody,
Are you all staying warm and toasty? Ive been helping Mom and Dad make a big pot of food for Noah and me. I help by tasting the sweet potatoes and carrots. If I say they're good, then Dad chops them up and Mom stirs them into our food. How would they survive without my help?

Because it's very cold outside, we've been staying in and watching a lot of TV.  I have to ask, do your peeps yell at the TV? Our Mom seems to yell at the TV a lot and sometimes she uses HBO words, too. The other night we were all watching the dog show and I'll admit I drifted off to sleep before it was over. Suddenly Mom jumped up and yelled "NO" really loudly. We all started barking because we weren't sure what was going on. Then Mom said a couple bad words and walked out of the room. 

A few weeks ago Mom got mad at the TV because she said they were stuck on one stupid story and couldn't talk about anything else. She really hates when that happens and it seems to happen a lot. Even though there are like 87 thousand stations and they're on all day and all night, all they can talk about is one story till everyone is sick of it, then they go on to one other story.

The story she got mad about last month was about a football that was deflated. She tried to explain to us why the news people were yammering on and on about it, but we just couldn't understand why it mattered to anyone. You see, we like out basketballs and soccer balls deflated. It makes it easier to pick them up. 

Mackey is a little dog and has a little mouth, not like me with my huge mouth. I can hide toys in my mouth and Mom doesn't even know they're there. I can pick up lots of stuff, but Mackey has a harder time picking things up. She likes to play ball and isn't happy just chasing the little baby balls around, she likes the soccer ball.

Most of our big balls are a little deflated so Mackey and Syd can play with us. So what's the big deal? Isn't there something more important going on somewhere in the world to report on?

 Your pal, Fudge

Tough Guys

Rob and I are always amazed at how tough birds are. They look so tiny and fragile, yet they manage in such terrible weather when we huddle inside. When you hold one in your hands, you're struck with both how delicate they are and how warm they are.

We feed the birds during the winter when food is difficult for them to find, so that they don't need to go as far or work so hard.

We also feed them during the spring when they're raising their chicks.

Yesterday while it was snowing and the wind was driving the temperature down, I stood on the porch and photographed some of our feathered visitors.

Birds are real scavengers so even if you don't want to invest in seed, think about tossing some stale bread out. Oh, they also like sweets, so a spare muffin or cookie would be appreciated. Even a little of the dog's kibble will disappear.

Hang On, New England!

Hi Everybody,
Happy President's Day. Mom says she liked it better when we just celebrated Lincoln's and Washington's birthdays on the right days. She used to work at a bank and got both days off. She says now the date moves around every year and she can't keep track of it. Silly peeps!

We have lots of friends in New England even though we've never been there. There are the Lapdogs in New Hampshire and Mitch and Molly in Connecticut and Dexter in Massachusetts. There are others, too but you know who you are. 

Anyway, they've been having a really snowy winter. It snows all the time and the snow is so deep they can't even do zoomies in it.

Well, we're trying to help. See we got snow last night and it's still snowing. Last night when we went to bed it was freezy snow and it hurt when it hit us so we came in really fast, but this morning we found all this snow.

Now I know you pups and peeps in New England are laughing and saying, "That isn't much snow." You're right, we  only got a few inches, but think about it. That's a few inches that you're not getting. Right??

We doing our best to help you out. 
Your pal, Fudge