The Best-Dressed Dog

I rarely dress my dog so he looks cute. I dress him to keep him warm. The cuteness comes with the package. We both like this little Woolrich coat. Woolrich makes the best dog clothes, at least the best ones I can find. All hail Chez Target. And having a dog who's small enough to dress, and who kind of enjoys it.

I have written before about Chet Baker's uppity nature where other dogs are concerned. For some reason, this basic trait of his is amplified when he's got his gang colors on.

Cooper Davis is his best friend. But look out when Chet's wearing a coat. Maybe he's making a pre-emptive strike in case Cooper decides to say something out of the side of that long black snout about Chet's adorable little letter sweater. Cooper can be sarcastic, under the polite veneer.



All afternoon, Chet seems to have something to prove. We approach one of his favorite climbing logs, and Baker's on it in a flash. Try this, Cooper Davis.

Coat or no coat, I climb very well. I would bet that a dog like you could not climb this log.

No one is stopping you from trying, but do not get your hopes up. This is difficult.

I might not move aside should you try. (note how Chet's normally recumbent turd-tail holds the coat up. He's feeling uppity.)

You probably could not go as fast as I can. Many dogs have fallen from this log.



Because most are not as sure-footed as the Boston Terrier.

You are doing all right for a cattle dog, but you will never attain the grace and speed of me, Chet Baker.

It is misty in Goss' Fork
and the bluebirds are already going to bed in what's left of the shagbark hickory on the hill

One looks out of his roost hole

at the distant foggy hills

and when we get home Chet Baker writes his name on the studio birch. Now everyone knows he's the Top Dog

letter sweater and all.

Walk On Down a Country Road

Careful kids are a blessing to a mom and dad. Our kids were never the type to stand up in a shopping cart seat; to climb out of their high chairs or topple out of their cribs. They've always been careful, smart about that kind of stuff. Liam's especially cautious. He waited to walk until he was 21 months old; plagued by ear infections and unsure of his balance for all that time, he walked for the first time the very afternoon he had tubes put in his ears. Wearing a triumphant grin, he also climbed aboard a rocking horse he had always refused to ride. On my birthday no less. From fainting dead away in the pre-op room as my baby went under in my arms to seeing that baby walk the same afternoon...what a day that was.

To this day, he's careful, remembering in some inner recess what it is to be out of balance.

Cousin Jake leads the way, hotfooting it across a fallen sycamore. He's careful too, in a self-assured kind of way. Liam's not liking his own odds.

He drops to his seat and scooches without a prompt. That's my boy.

No shame in coming out all in one piece, in hanging on for dear life. Well, life IS dear, and worth hanging on to. I wear my weeny crown with pride. I think it shows how much we value our strong limbs and unbroken bones, this immense gift of health and life. No bungee jumping, no whitewater for me, thanks. No thrill's so great as to be worth your life.

You just take your time.

Chet Baker really wants to trot across the sycamore, and whimpers to be lifted up, but Mether's heart can't take it. I know he'd be fine, but that cliff fall is a little too fresh in my memory.

Nice brindling, Bacon.
He's hangin' wit his homey, Cooper.

What a good looking pair they make. I'm glad Chet finally has a best friend.

Liam fetches up on a boulder, snowy hair backlit in the weak winter sun.

And eases his way down.

Hitting a Rhythm

I like blogging. I've missed it, being away, even as I've reveled in the guilt-free ease of being out from under the daily deadline. Giving myself permission to relax and not have to do it on my usual frenetic schedule gives me clarity on a number of fronts. I'm figuring out what it means to me, what it does for me and, through your wonderfully expressed and deeply felt feedback, what it means to you and does for you. I'm trying to balance the time and work that goes into it and the entertainment value it offers to you with the hard reality that it gets in the way of my income-producing work--writing for my books and for National Public Radio, and painting a huge passel of illustrations for my bird memoir.

What's shaken out of all this reflection is that I need and want to keep posting here. I want to keep my connection to you all; I want to keep my readers happy and, I hope, growing steadily in numbers. I want to keep it up for all concerned, but posting five days a week....ehhh... ees too moishe.

As someone who reads blogs, I find that consistency is paramount in keeping me coming back. A blog needs to be reliable and consistently readable. It's a waste of your time to click every day hoping there will be an update, so I'd recommend scrolling down to the bottom of the page and clicking on the link that says "Subscribe." You can choose to get an email whenever there's a fresh post. It takes the pressure off us both while I figure out a more sustainable schedule and hit a livable rhythm that keeps us all happy.

Speaking of keeping us all happy...yesterday, we walked the length of Dean's Fork, but this time we took Bill of the Birds! We had the most wonderful time. I looked in my blogfolder and whoops! there were a whole bunch of photos from an earlier walk that were just begging to be posted. So here is a bucolic critterkidfest for you.

Walk on down, walk on down, walk on down, walk on down a country road...


Photographing kids as one would wild animals pays off in unobtrusive telephoto shots that tell a story of ease and contentment. No grinny front and center camera smiles here, thanks.

Snacktime. Baker decides he'd better anoint a fencepost so everyone knows he was here with his homies.

I get so hooked on scenes like these that I can barely hang on until the next sunny day when we can recreate them. And I don't have to talk the kids into coming along--they're all over it like the sticky on sweet. Being outside is its own reward, once you get kids over the hump of relaxing into it...

hitting a rhythm.

Chet Baker and his friend Cooper look for voles and shrews.
I know it was in here somewhere...

Baker promises to be a gemmun, but we know his promises can be hollow where other dogs are concerned.

Still, the two get along better each time they play, and each pays attention to what the other notices, like good friends do.
When we reach the bend in the road with the old log cabin, the kids always ask to linger. So I lose myself in the landscape and the barbed wire and old wood while they explore. I would love to have a little cabin down here on this forgotten road. But I'd have to have a MONSTER TRUCK to get to it. And I suspect that that's why Dean's Fork is so unspoiled, so beautiful, so all our own little secret. You can't get your Ford Fiesta through. You have to walk. It definitely cuts down on the traffic.
The kids re-enact some kind of scene of pioneer tragedy and triumph before the old log cabin. Really, all they need is water, rocks and sun to have fun. No outlets required.

I'll see you in a few days.

Chet Baker is Five!

Today, December 12, Chet Baker turns five. I can hardly believe the Eternal Puppy is five years old! But I have a hard time believing Phoebe is 13 and Liam is 10, too. As I write, Liam and I are deciding what Baker's birthday meal should be, and The Bacon is happily chewing an ear of Nylabone corn in a pile of Polarfleece blankets. The cake needs to be something other than chocolate. Rest assured that he will be getting even more hugs and kisses than usual, and a variety of wrapped presents to rip open. Susan, yours arrived just in time!

Not long ago, we took a ramble with Chet's friend Cooper, a cattle dog/blue heeler cross.

Cooper is a very, very nice dog. He defers to Chet, having figured out immediately that that was the only way they were going to get along.

I have to play nicely with Chet Baker? He's not very polite, you know. Well, maybe you don't know. But trust me on that. It's a dog thing. You might not understand.

I do understand, sweet Cooper, and I hear you loud and clear. And you are a good good boy for putting up with him.

Boston terriers think Keepaway is the best game ever, and that's because they're fast, agile, and extremely snotty animals. At first, Chet got the stick from Cooper every time, but now Coop has learned to hold it in reach, then whip his head to the side at just the moment Chet's jaws are about to clop on it. A snapshot of that exact moment:

When they tie onto a big stick, GAME is ON.
Chet starts out at the lower end.

He works his way closer and closer to Cooper.


And the snarling starts.

You can see Cooper's expression change the closer Chet gets. Gaah, Baker is such a hobgoblin.


I wish I had a soundtrack. It is quite impressive, with continuous raspy snarling--a hailstorm of snarls--from Chet Baker, and the occasional low rumble from Cooper.

But Cooper doesn't give in.

Though he takes a terrible tongue-lashing from Chet.

GIVE ME THE STICK. GIVE ME THE STICK. GIVE ME THE STICK, COOPER YOU PITIFUL GIRLYDOG!! GIVE ME THE STICK OR I WILL LITERALLY KICK YOUR SPECKLY BLUE A--!

Note position of Tennessee turd-tail. Danger! Danger! But Cooper's tail is up, too. He ain't givin' in. Gee, Chet, can you stand any taller? You need Tom Cruise's platform shoes, buddy.

Mighty tugs, and lots more snarling. The bulldog in Chet comes roaring out.

Cooper is the ideal companion for such a Napoleonic beastie.

Any friend of Chet's has to be able to say, "You win!"


Happy birthday Chet Baker! Known as an inveterate bully among his few dog friends. The American Gentleman, around people. But we have abundant forgiveness for your transgressions, few as they are. In fact, there are only three: Canine Napoleon complex, a tendency toward suddenly boinging up four feet into the air and French-kissing unsuspecting guests, and your well-documented gaseous emanations. Forget 'em all. Chet Baker you are all spirit, all heart, and one of the bright lights of my life. Happy five, sugardog lovepuppeh!!