So last Friday when I went to pick up Nate, Garrett beats him to the car. Garrett walked outside to check mail anyway and on his way, decides to come down to the car and give me a hug. It is very chilly out, probably in the mid 40s. Yet there he is in his bare feet with his favorite Batman throw blanket around his shoulders. I give him a hug and we talk for 10 or 15 seconds and I admonish him that he “… shouldn’t be out here in bare feet!” so I shoo him away and back into the house.
Next, I see Nate come out the door. He starts walking down tentatively and I can see why. He has Ginny in his arms.
Many times I’ve asked Nate not to bring her down to see me because it was hard on Ginny and it was hard on me. But he insists on doing it anyway. So I dash up the hill in front of the house to meet him before he gets too far.
Ginny takes one look at me and her tail starts wagging a mile a minute like a flag in a tornado. Nate hands her to me and she licks my face, licks my face some more, and cuddles up against me — something she’s hasn’t done in a long, long time, if ever. I talk to her and rub her tummy, gently scratching her, and tell her I love her. She rests her head on my shoulder like a small, little Yorkie hug. Then I give her back to Nate after one more scratch and a snuggle so that he could return Ginny to the house.
What is most charming about it was the sight of that little Yorkie tail start to thrash wildly back and forth as soon as she recognized me. She was so excited to see me! Of course, she couldn’t stay, but I really did want to take her home with me for a visit. She’s such a sweetie and I had no idea she would recognize me at a distance and get so excited to see me.
It really warmed my heart to see Ginny so enthusiastic about my presence, especially after losing Katie, my cat in Virginia the same day. It was a really, really sweet, adorable moment in what was otherwise a fairly lousy day.
Here’s another in a series of posts I’m going to make when I find some of these treasures. Some will be captioned, others will not. The only criteria for posting in this series is that:
a.) I’m in the photo or…
b.) … I took the photo.
In the summer of 2017, Nate, Garrett and I went on a biking tour of the National Mall in Washington, DC. We stopped at all the sights – and there are many. Here’s some select snapshots from the trip including the Lincoln Memorial, The White House, The Ohio column at the World War II Memorial and the Capitol.
Here’s a video of the ride. It’s 15 minutes long and the battery gave out, but it captures the event.
I was sitting at a soccer game last year and turned my head to see this dog relaxing on the sidelines. Glad I had my good camera with me!
The solar eclipse in August of last year swept across the United States. Prior to this event, no solar eclipse had been visible across the entire contiguous United States since June 8, 1918; not since the February 1979 eclipse had a total eclipse been visible from anywhere in the mainland United States. The path of totality touched 14 states, and the rest of the U.S. had a partial eclipse.*
The boys and I road-tripped to South Carolina to the home of Lisa Shuler, who graciously hosted us for the event. This is an edited version of the photo I took at totality. The only change was to add color to the corona, as that’s what most people expect. However, the actual corona was pure white.
This is an oldie but goodie. I shot this in 2009 at the Dog Paddle in our community pool. At the end of summer upon the closure of the pool to humans, the pool is open for one day for dogs to come splash around and enjoy the water. These two were observing the action from a comfortable distance.
* Most of this paragraph was excerpted from the Wikipedia Page.
Last year, I wrote this piece on the second anniversary of Emmett’s arrival in our family, affectionately known around these here parts to be an Emmettversary. Click the link and you can read all about last year’s anecdotes and there are more links to other stories about Emmett in which there are MORE links to other dog stories. You know how the Web works.
Or you can click on “Dogs” in the tag cloud to the right.
I know your time is more valuable than that, so to get right to the point, today is Emmett’s THIRD Emmettversary. With the passing of the year, Emmett continues to improve his interactions with the family and, much to my surprise, with strangers.
Over the weekend, I had zerorez come clean the carpets in the house. This is the second time I’ve used their services and I recommend them highly. Anyway, this time, I left Emmett out and about roaming the house rather than cooped up away from all the hubbub.
When Steven, the technician, came in, Emmett let out one little bark, far fewer than the usual tirade he emits when anyone — even family — touches the doorknob. He eyed Steven from head to toe and then sniffed at his shoe. Steven reached down against my admonitions and offered a couple of tentative fingers which Emmett gently explored, sniffing intently to find out who this new person was.
And with that, it was over. Done. Finito. Emmett chose to go about his business.
Nice change.
Fuzzy Emmett, pre-grooming.
I’m much less worried about him biting anyone. Repeated successful, non-nibbling trips to the groomers supports my relief. He appears to be – dare I say it? – mellowing.
Nah…
He’s still a bit of a jackass from time to time though mostly he’s become charming, demanding, adorable and even occasionally cuddly.
Anyway, rather than write something ridiculously long, here’s some photos Facebook friends have probably already seen.
Happy Emmettversary to you, Mr. Dog, and to all of you readers as well!
Here’s another in a series of posts I’m going to make when I find some of these treasures. Some will be captioned, others will not. The only criteria for posting in this series is that:
a.) I’m in the photo or…
b.) … I took the photo.
#alternativefacts: I am neither in nor did I take any of these. Unless that’s not true. Then maybe I did. Or not. Click on any photo to enlarge in a new window.
This has been posted on Facebook before but I was surprised to learn that I’d not put it anywhere on this site. This is my Dad in 1949 right about the time he started working for the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad in our hometown.
F-Tower was the railroading equivalent of an air traffic control center. Dad routed trains through a complex network of five different railroads traversing Fostoria. This was his professional home for 30-plus years, not counting his multiple times on active duty in the Army. He retired from the B&O on December 16, 1980.
I have no idea how to credit this, but it looks like a publicity shot perhaps for the new electronic traffic control system at F-Tower.
Last post, I showed you photos of the pups that have blessed me with their presence over the years. This one is also Addie, the Wire Fox Terrier, with my Mom in 1952 in Germany before he, Mom and Dad returned from duty in Europe.
My guess is that Dad took this one.
I miss the days when you got photo prints with the month and year on it. Makes it easy to identify.
This was taken at the Camillia Apartments in Columbus, GA while Dad was stationed there for the Infantry Officers Advanced Course. We lived there for a number of months, but as I was just three at the time, I have virtually no memory of being there. That’s my sister, Bobbi Jo and my Mom in the photo with me. I suspect Dad took this one, too. He was quite the shutterbug.
When I went back to Fort Benning for Airborne School, I had the strangest, spooky feeling when I walked through certain areas of the post, as if I had been there before, but had no real, solid memories. When I went there again with BJ in 2003, I warned her that she’d have the same spooky experience and she didn’t believe me until it happened.
This one was among my Dad’s photo collection so I suspect this is his. It’s a guess, but I’d bet substantially that this is from the old Cleveland Municipal Stadium. A quick photo search on Google seems to indicate that this is the case.
That’s Chief Wahoo up there, by the way, who remains the mascot for the Cleveland team, for better or for worse.
More specifically, puppies and dogs with which I’ve shared space ever since I can remember. You’ve probably seen some of these photos before, but I’m compiling them here because… well, because I want to.
So there, too.
Click on any photo to see the large version.
Addie:
Addie was a Wire Fox Terrier born in Germany sometime in the early 1950’s. My Mom and Dad brought him home with them after Dad completed his assignment there in 1953. I don’t remember much about Addie except that he would often sleep with me on my bed.
He was a stereotypical male dog who wandered off for days on end only to return roughed up and hungry. He dashed out the door one night and never returned.
Schatzi:
A Collie, as you can tell, Schatzi was the family Christmas gift in 1962-ish. She was loyal, well-trained and just the sweetest dog ever. She was raised around me and my older sister when we were still in elementary school. She tolerated without complaint all the relatively unkind shenanigans that kids inflict upon their dogs like trying to ride her like a pony or hitching her up to a sled. She never fussed. Not once.
We had to give her away when we moved to Camp Hill, PA in 1969 and she died shortly thereafter. Dad said that her new owners told him that she was never the same after that and that she died of a broken heart.
Myrtle:
After our cat, Sam died, Dad brought home Myrtle from Lebanon, PA near Fort Indiantown Gap, the Army post where he was stationed after returning from Vietnam in 1969. I remember watching him come up the front yard from the parking spots of our apartment building concealing something under his uniform overcoat.
Myrtle was all Poodle through and through, with all of the frenetic personality traits for which miniature Poodles are well known. She was a good guard dog and doorbell, would play ball relentlessly, and was an excellent judge of character. If Myrtle didn’t like you, then it was pretty clear that I shouldn’t either, which made her dislike of the first Mrs. Wolfe so much more contextually relevant. Of course, by the time the two of them faced off, it was too late for me.
I used to take her outside and smack a tennis ball with a racquet as hard and as high as I could. She would take off at warp speed often arriving in time to greet the ball as it bounced its first bounce, zeroing in on the sound of the impact. The last time we got to play ball like this, she was much older. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. She dashed after the first ball like she was a puppy and them came back so out of breath that it was clear that hitting another one was a very bad idea. Myrtle and I had to be satisfied with that last moment of play together.
Somewhere I have a picture of Myrtle, but I can’t seem to locate it right now. I’ll have to add it later.
Alexander:
Alas, I have no photos of Alexander. He was a large mixed breed dog that we rescued in 1981 when I lived in Augusta, GA. He was as sweet as they come and equally dumb. He would jump the fence so we leashed him. He jumped it anyway. We discovered him one night hanging by the neck over the fence with one foot on the ground keeping him from hanging himself. I was horrified.
Later, he went to live in Augusta with my in-laws and finished out his lazy life as the neighborhood dog, wandering about greeting the cul-de-sac house by house and returning home at night for food and rest.
Esme:
I was stationed in Belgium when I heard an AFN radio ad for an American family that was trying to find homes for a litter of puppies. (Not unusual that I heard radio ads as I worked for the AFN station at SHAPE, Belgium.) So after work, I dashed a few miles over to a small Belgian village and found Esme.
She was a fierce little thing, and playful. We’d sit on the couch and watch AFN’s SHAPE’s fuzzy TV signal together. One evening, Esme and I were roughhousing and she got a little too excited and bit me, not breaking the skin. I yelped in pain and surprise and she immediately backed off, tucked her tail between her legs and decided that we were done with that for the evening and we should go back to watching TV. So I sat down with a beer in one hand and started watching TV. Esme snuggled up next to me and started licking the spot where her teeth had indented my hand. She sat there soothing my “wound” for a half an hour until the beer finally had it’s effect and I got up to excuse myself.
She remained behind in Belgium with a trusted neighbor. Esme subsequently had a litter of puppies and for whatever reason was afterward uncontrollable and dangerously aggressive, so much so that she had to be euthanized for the owner’s safety.
This is the only photo of Esme that I have.
Gizmo:
He’s a Papillon, for those curious about the breed. Like most Papillions I’ve met, he’s ridiculously smart, friendly and craves interaction and activity. Gizmo’s passion was playing ball, and he would — and has literally played until he fell over unable to move. He would come to you looking for something, a treat, his ball or frisbee or some other item he wanted. If you couldn’t decipher what he was after, all you had to say was “Show me what you want!” and he’d show you. If it was a treat, he’d stand near the kitchen cupboard and gesture to where the treats were stored. He was the best companion and while we’ve not lived in the same space for a long time, miss him terribly. (P.S. He had his own web site at one time.)
Chloe:
Chloe was Gizmo’s pal until her untimely demise not too long ago. Although she didn’t share Gizmo’s size, she was otherwise all Papillon — gregarious, playful and happy-go-lucky. In fact, she and Gizmo both would get together with about 15-20 of their Papillon friends, and not once do I remember any aggression breaking out. Pap’s are the most agreeable pups in my experience.
Charlie:
The first of the real canine hard luck cases in my experience, Charlie was a rescue who was in the worst shape of any dog I’ve ever seen. His coat was matted and sheep-like, filthy dirty and greasy to the touch. His breath smelled of rotting teeth and he was an emotional wreck.
While that last part only slightly changed before I was forced to find him a better home, the rest changed quickly. Once bathed, his coat grew out soft and luxuriously. Once his dental issues were resolved, his breath improved because he had no teeth left.
He often tried to bite, but without teeth all he could do was gum you unexpectedly. Disappointed that he wasn’t able to stay with us, a better home was found for him that immediately enrolled him in obedience classes for abused dogs. While I have no updates on what happened to him, I am choosing to believe that his life is better now.
Bella:
Bella’s story is here. Every time I read this it makes me laugh and tear up. But there’s some fun pics of this truly lovely addition to my life that I hadn’t shared before. Bella had a huge positive impact on me aside from burrowing under my laptop computer when she wanted attention. I miss her terribly.
In Bella’s defense, it was warm under there.
This is a video of Bella just after she realized that she was going outside for a “romp.” That meant that she and the kids and I were going out to the large field behind our home to romp and play off-leash. She was like this ANYTIME she thought she was going out to play. The neighbors thought wrongly that we were somehow abusing our sweet Bella, but we weren’t. She was just that exuberant. TURN DOWN THE VOLUME on this video. She gets loud.
You’ve been warned.
And this is Bella behaving as she most often did.
Romping.
Bella and Nathan on a romp.
Emmett:
Yes, he’s still a jackass. But he’s so much improved now that he’s almost like a real dog. He’s cuddly on occasion, and craves belly and neck scratches, but ONLY on his terms. He’s affectionate with the family and squeals with delight when he’s furiously licking our faces. He’s also fiercely protective, as Dachshunds are. But he’s really only mean to one person.
If he’s outside, off leash and sees the autistic kid down the street, he chases him. And the kid runs. Emmett thinks it’s a chase game while the kid is freaking out, being chased by a snarling little wiener dog. If it weren’t so horrendously un-PC, it would be hilarious. Anyway, we put an immediate stop to that behavior and now make sure that the kid down the street isn’t in the area before we go out.
You gotta admit, that’s kinda jackass-ey.
He does not greet romps with the same exuberance as Bella did. Thank heaven for small favors.
“I’m not a jackass! And I’m hurt that you’d even think such a thing.”
