The New Girl on the Block

As promised, Tiki now has a new friend--Irene--named after two aunts. Both my mom and my dad had a sister by that name. One Aunt Irene is still thriving near Chicago; the other passed away in December. They were a year apart and now in their nineties. I maintain that being named Irene is the secret to longevity.

This new Irene is 6 years old and a Petit basset griffon Vendeen like Jina. She is beautiful, as you can see by her picture. In addition, she is well-behaved, not timid, happy, healthy, and wise.

I am comforted as she lies curled up at my feet, trying to figure out this machine that keeps me immobile for so many hours. We both have our inner lives. Mine comes out through speech and writing; hers comes out through her snuffles and movements. I'm hard pressed to say which is best.

Dogs and Civilization

Here's a Kahlil Gibran story from The Wanderer. The comfort of dogs comes from their living on the fringes of civilization and keeping us honest about our animal roots. If I come back after death, it's a dog I want to be--and be housed with any of the cool people I know.

Peace and War
Three dogs were basking in the sun and conversing. The first dog said dreamily,"It is indeed wondrous to be living in this day of dogdom. Consider the ease with which we travel under the sea, upon the earth and even in the sky. And meditate for a moment upon the inventions brought forth for the comfort of dogs, even for our eyes and ears and noses."

And the second dog spoke and he said, "We are more heedful of the arts. We bark at the moon more rhythmically than did our forefathers. And when we gaze at ourselves in the water we see that our features are clearer than the features of yesterday."

Then the third dog spoke and said, "But what interests me most and beguiles my mind is the tranquil understanding between dogdoms."

At that very moment they looked, and lo, the dog-catcher was approaching.

The three dogs sprang up and scampered down the street: and as they ran the third dog said, "For God's sake, run for your lives. Civilization is after us."

Bucking Basset

Did you know that bassets buck? This happens at happy times, but also when cutting their toenails--as I attempted to do yesterday. Imagine trying to pin down a bucking basset, get the clippers around the nail and squeeze at the same time--or, for the real problem nails, position the dremel tool so as not to grind down the foot pads. All this is no mean trick, but the deed was done with a minimum of yelping and a victorious wrestling match.
This got me thinking about bucking---a strange word at that--conjures up images of cowboys--and bucks, as in Harry Truman waiting for some hovering buck to stop on his desk.
So, I looked up "buck" in the internet dictionary. It just reinforced why English is such a hard language to learn. Here is this four letter word whose meaning as a verb ranges from leaping to dislodge a rider to objecting strongly to butting to gambling. And then there are the nouns-- Bambi's father, dollars. Remember white bucks? What about young bucks or sawbucks? When were you last buck naked? "Buck, buck," go chickens. Confused yet?
This dictionary also offered translations. My favorite was Swedish " hoppa och sparka bakut ." Yep, that's just what my basset did. So buck up, little buckaroo, and buck the system. Maybe next time your toenails can keep on growing.

Q words, hearts and dogs

I commented on the lack of "u" after "q" in Arabic words, and a friend of mine pointed me to a Wikipedia article on English words where "q" is not followed by "u." The article lists 16 plus plural words suitable for Scrabble where no "u" is required--a very "u"seful thing to know. The article also points out that other than trade names or proper nouns, these are imports from other languages.
Back to the original subject of dogs, I learned that the romanized Arabic "q" which can be "q" or "k" (as in Koran) needs to be carefully differentiated in writing and speaking, since the word for "heart" (qalb) is very similar to the word for "dog." (kalb) In light of the comforts we get from dogs, it's only fitting to mix them up with hearts .

I now live with only the basset. The 15 year old cocker spaniel died peacefully in his sleep on the rug by my bed. I felt relieved at not having to clean up his pee when he couldn't make it to the door. It was hard to be incontinent for that little gentleman. I do miss his constant companionship. The basset is a love, but not a velcro dog. He often keeps his own company, but I do believe he is mopey about not having the old cocker around to pester. At least he could get a growl and a snap out of him on occasion. I guess it's like some human relations where a growl and a snap at least confirms our existence.

I'll get him a new friend in May or June.

Is a blog every 2 years sufficient? ...and in that time the dogs changed. My velveteen mama basset succumbed to cancer. My showgirl PBGV died in the night after a short illness. She was 15, so it was not unexpected.

I now live with a 14 year old creaky cocker who can't hear, is incontinent, riddled with fatty tumors and rheumy eyes. Yet, he is dog happy--waggles his stub, gobbles with relish and sticks to me like velcro--which is particularly difficult as I bound up and down my three floors.

The backup pooch is another basset--a very handsome boy mistreated in West Virginia and rescued from a beating by the cops then turned over to BROOD, the local basset rescue. They cleaned him up; I fattened him up a bit, and now he's a barky, loving gem. They both reside at my feet as I type. I can almost forget the losses.

Snarf, urf, urf. Snarf, urf, urf! She lies behind me with her head scrunched up against the lamp, her legs and eyes randomly twitching. Her lip pulls back and her nose wiggles. Snarf! Is it a dream about chasing a rabbit? Urf, urf! Is it a fantasy of a lost puppyhood? Why does looking down on the unconscious velveteen Basset make me smile? Maybe it's the trust she has that I won't roll my chair over her as I sit here computing. Maybe it's her silly wrinkles and saggy belly from her years as a breeder in a puppy mill. Maybe it's just that in her silence, she seems wise and understanding. What could be more comforting?