Menschenmassen

Before the firecrackers and civilization: Tranquility

Oh, we’ve learned our lesson: Never go to the park on a holiday, especially a spring or summer holiday. Oh, the noise, the firecrackers, the screams, the menschenmassen dashing here and there and back again. I was frightened. Joan was rattled. Shane was confused. Saki didn’t care. There weren’t many humans in the woods where we usually walk, but I could hear the loud noises, and I froze in my tracks. So we took a trail to the street to bypass the noisy people, but the cars sped by like giant motorized predators in some horror story—my horror story.

Finally, I forced Joan to turn back, to escape civilization, to take refuge in the house—windows shut, doors locked, a nice veggie burger in the barby.

Well, the next day, while everyone was sleeping “it” off, we took another walk. This time there was peace in our little part of the world. It’s just the best when the people are sleeping it off.

Best wishes, Juno

The Fly and the Secret

When I was younger, I didn’t mind chasing a fly every now and then. But, these days, flies are annoying. So, I was very upset this afternoon when a fly came into the sunroom and started buzzing around as though it had the right to be there. Joan opened the door to let it escape, but I escaped instead. As fast as my legs would carry me, I ran to the corner of the yard—a little triangular haven under the vines where it smells like mint—and hid. No flies there. It’s my secret spot.

It was a lovely time. But, then Shane and Saki came along and I had to sit around with them and pretend I didn't have a secret.

Best wishes, Juno

Careful What You Wish For

So, it’s true—be careful what you wish for, because it might come true. A few weeks ago, I wished we’d stay home and skip the long walks for a while. So, what happens? Joan gets sick, and we get stuck at home for a whole week. No more wishing, okay?

Well, today, we went back to the park and took the short trail. It was still pretty muddy from all the rain, but it was peaceful enough and not too exhausting. We’re trying to get a few pounds off Shane, so we’ll have to keep Joan healthy, at least until Shane drops five or maybe ten pounds. Okay, five.

Shane’s trying very hard to be tolerant of Saki. I commend the effort. He’s a good dog. Sometimes I let him know that.

Best wishes, Juno

Bee Hunter

Whew. No park, but just as exhausting. Saki went on a bee hunt, circling the big azalea bush hundreds of times, jumping, running, hopping, digging, barking—all for the thrill of capturing the bees that sup on its sweet nectar. He almost caught one once or twice, but destiny wasn’t on Saki’s side. Or maybe it was; after all, he could have gotten stung.

He has some talents, and maybe we should hire him out. He can root out termites; chase squirrels off your property, you know, so they don’t climb up to the roof and build nests in your attic; he can wake people and dogs out of bad dreams by kissing them; he can clean crumbs from your floor; and, now, he can rid your azalea bushes of bees.

After all that running around, Shane and I were tired, you know, from watching. Eventually, Saki got tired, too. So, we sat in the yard and panted until the sun went down. And when the ice-cream truck passed the house, we didn’t even bother to get up.

Best wishes, Juno

The Emotional Eating of Chairs

1. Talk about a good healthy appetite! Saki ate Karen Fontana’s chair. Sorry Karen.

2. That used to be a ball.

Today I watched Saki and Ish run around for an hour or so. But, every time they ran through the backyard, Saki stopped to look at the chair that was parked on the walkway looking very much out of place. “Something is out of place,” he kept thinking. And he was right. I mean, what would an indoor chair be doing sitting in the afternoon sun?

I guess Saki forgot that he had eaten the chair, and Joan put it outside to strip it of its remaining stuffing. Maybe someday she’ll reupholster it; maybe she’ll never get to it. But, it certainly can’t stay in the house with that yellow foam spilling out all over the floor. Good thing Saki didn’t eat Aunt Judith’s couch or Uncle Tony’s sculptures. Wow. Talk about a disaster!

The problem is that Saki is afraid to be left alone—that is, without humans to reassure him with their honeyed love talk. So every time someone has to go to work, he gets all abandonment-issued and turns to emotional eating. Chairs, curtains, bedding, socks—anything but the hundreds of toys scattered all about for his amusement. Dr. Phil? Cesar Milan?

Once, long ago, I must admit I ate the tv changer.

Best wishes, Juno

Forbidden Treasures

Everyone has noticed that I've lost a little weight. I did if for myself, of course, not to please the vet or anyone else. Those walks in the park are really paying off—at least for me. Shane hasn't lost any weight, and we're wondering if he's got a hidden stash of tasty treasures that he snags when no one is looking.

Speaking of which: Saki was here for the weekend. Now, we all love Saki—at least, some of us do for he's really irresistibly cute—but, he has a major problem; that is, he eats everything in sight when he's left alone. Pillows become shredded pieces of foam, rugs disappear entirely, tiles from Italy crack and lose their corners, and—here’s the piéce de resistance, as they say: The other day, when no one was looking, Saki jumped up on the table and attacked a pan of bread dough! Joan was on the phone with Jaaron when she heard the plate that had been covering the dough crash to the floor.

“Oh, no! My bread dough” she exclaimed, distressed.

And Saki growled and jumped off the table. Jaaron was listening to all this on the other end of the phone in San Francisco, and she thought it was very very funny, so she laughed and laughed all the way from the west coast and back.

Joan patted what was left of the almost-rising dough into a circle and stuck it in the oven, saying that at least it was whole wheat dough and had lots of dates, raisins, and nuts—you know, protein for Saki. Nuts! I don’t know if dogs should eat nuts. Well, that was two days ago, and Saki's iron stomach is just fine. He keeps checking out the table to see if there’s more contraband to be ingested.

Forbidden fruit—it’s the best. Right, Saki?

Best wishes, Juno

Play Fight, Play Fight

They’re at it again: Ish and Saki running off steam; Shane getting steamed up just sitting there; me trying to enjoy a spring day in the yard with not too much success. Saki and Ish ran around for 90 minutes this afternoon. Once in a while they stopped for water, and then they started in again without resting even for a minute. Yikes. Too much energy for my taste.

Joan let Shane come outside for a few minutes, you know, so he could feel included. But he doesn’t understand that play fighting is play fighting and has nothing to do with the real thing. So, he got all angry and started to growl, which made Ish quite nervous; so Joan took him back inside where he sat and wondered why life is shaded with so my complicated subtleties. Angry is no way to be. But, it doesn’t hurt to wonder about life.

Best wishes, Juno

Power & the Ice-Cream Man

Who has powers?

Oh, the power of the ice-cream man and his singing van filled to the ceiling with sugary treats for all the kids big and small—although nothing for dogs; nothing at all.

When the ice-cream man tootles down the street—which he does at least three times a day— the people run from their homes waving dollar bills at him, begging him to stop. “Stop! Please stop!” they cry. And he always does. The people buy even if they can’t afford to buy, and they eat even if they’re not hungry. That’s the power of the ice-cream man.

Usually people are afraid when Shane sits in the yard and barks. Mothers and fathers grab their children’s hands and dash past the house. But, not when the ice-cream man is parked outside the gate. Oh, no. Then, all they can think of is the icy treat that’s about to play on their tongues and slide down their throats. And suddenly no one is afraid of Shane. Go ahead let him bark, maybe even let him bite—just as long as we get our wrapped treat.

I wish I had the power of the ice-cream man. “What would you do with that power?” asks Joan. Naturally, I can’t explain. But, I’m surprised that she knows what I’m thinking.

Best wishes, Juno

Canine Encounter for the First Time

Would you be scared if you saw three dogs walking toward you in the woods?

The trees are all of a sudden just as they were a year ago—green and lush under white clouds. The azaleas are just beginning to peek out, and pretty soon Joan will begin taking our portraits in front of them, you know, for the flowery background effect.

The trail through the woods at the park is attracting more people every day, so we try to go there when other people don’t. But yesterday, Shane and I were walking along with Joan, Kyla, and Saki when a man and woman appeared on the trail coming toward us. I guess we looked scary because the woman almost jumped into the woods clutching the man’s arm and saying things like, “Oh, mercy. Look at those dogs” The man looked anxious, but he tried to smile bravely. With a shaky voice, he asked Joan if we dogs were “Okay.”

“Oh, come on, look how sweet they are,” said Joan. And she told the man to give me a nice hello. I sat down right in front of him, and he sort of waved at me. Even though the woman kept saying, “Oh, my,” I focused on the man and gave him my softest look fortified by an expectant dog smile. Then, at last, he touched my forehead and said, “Hello, nice dog,”

“See that?” Joan remarked. “There’s not a mean bone in her body.”

The lady sort of laughed, but she still held on to the man. But, I could see that the man was pleased, and he told us to have a nice day. I hope their encounter with me helped them arrive at a new awareness about life and adventure and taking a risk now and then. Sometimes, all you have to do is say hello and your life is suddenly on the upswing.

Best wishes, Juno

Happy Birthday, Will Shakespeare

Of course, we all know that it’s Shakespeare’s birthday. No, not that cat who used to sleep in the bookstore window; the real guy. So, we stopped along the path at the edge of the baseball field to consider things like the passage of time and how Shakespeare is more important than, say, a rock star, even though lots of people would have trouble believing that. I don’t, though.

Oh, and I’ve decided to forgive Shakespeare for never having written a play about dogs. He probably figured no one would come to see it. I guess he never heard of Lassie or Rin Tin Tin or Old Yeller (wow, that was so sad at the end).

Now, to Shane: Yikes! People think he wears a muzzle. But it’s not a muzzle; it’s a Halty. When we go to the lake, he really needs to wear a Halty plus an extra leash because he can get very agitated at, well, nothing in particular—a squirrel, another dog, the rustling of dry leaves.

The Halty is like braces for the whole face; that is, it’s supposed to be a training device, but Shane’s training has gone on for eight years or so. In other words, Shane is always and will always be in training mode. So be it. Joan keeps saying, “An ounce of prevention is worth …” and then she forgets the rest.” Did Shakespeare say that one, too? Nah; it sounds too Ben Franklinish.

Best wishes, Juno

Hyper Puppies

Puppies: they just don't listen.

After a week of listening to Joan cough, we finally saw some action today when Ish came over to play with Saki. Around and around they ran in big circles and small circles, play biting, panting, drinking water, panting some more, running all the way around the house maybe a hundred times.

I tried to calm them down, but nothing could dissuade them from acting like overgrown puppies. Shane couldn’t handle any of it and stayed in the house nurturing his nervous condition. Frankly, all three dogs are too hyper for my taste. They should be a little more like me—you know—subdued in their youthful exuberance.

I guess everyone has a different idea of a fun afternoon. For Ish and Saki, it’s all about the running; for Shane, it’s all about getting into conflict that's clearly way over his head; for me—well—I just like to watch the action from a distance. It’s the philosopher in me.

Best wishes on this warm spring day, Juno

Saki Attack

Attack of the Saki & A walk in the woods (see Saki up ahead waiting to pounce?)

Saki and Shane need people close to them, you know, not just within sight and earshot, but deep within their personal space. I like to know there’s someone nearby, but I don’t have to be pawing at their shadow twenty-four hours a day.

Saki is here for the weekend and has taken to attacking Shane. Not bad attack—puppy attack with play biting, play gnashing of the teeth, and serious romping. In the old days—about a month or two ago—Shane would have gotten mad; now, I think he actually looks forward to a little romping on the rug. Dare I say it? Saki is good medicine for Shane.

The two of them follow Joan around the house and yard—Shane very slowly, Saki hopping up, down biting at Shane’s neck and legs, and running in tiny hot circles around him. He knows I have my limitations, so he doesn’t bother trying to play with me. With me, he just runs in circles—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—around me. I ignore him. That’s where the real power is.
Right now, they’re both sleeping, and I have my peace. Shhhhhhh.

Best wishes, Juno

Suddenly Green

Summer's leaves wilt on the doorsill of the swelling spring.

Spring came and went all in a day. Everyone says it will be back. Shane and I must have walked a hundred, or maybe six, miles in the past two days, not that I’m complaining or anything. The exercise will do us good what with bikini season just around the corner. At least, that’s what Joan offers as encouragement.

Spring always seems to arrive in a single explosion of green. But, that’s just an illusion. Today, we stopped in the woods to look at the baby buds on the trees; they were all curled up and squashed in soft-bark shells, looking for all the world as though they were hiding from prying eyes. Of course, what they’re really doing is uncoiling very very slowly, so when they suddenly burst forth, the entire cosmos will gaze, awestruck and speechless, at their green beauty. Yes, presentation is everything.

Best wishes, Juno

POV & Dog Hugging

I’m used to my vantage point, and from this place on the floor where I sniff out things no human can detect, the world is somewhere up—that is, except for the noises, which are everywhere and vibrate through the floors and even make the curtains flutter ever so imperceptibly. Shane looks so—well—macro-close; and then when he looks at me, I seem so far away.

Then, I look at Joan hugging Saki, and before I can think, "Hey, what's she doing hugging another dog?" I remind myself that life is all about perspective, vantage points, and relativity.

Best wishes, Juno

Bridge to the Long Cut

Once we pass over the bridge, there’s a choice to be made—the long cut or the short cut. I prefer the short cut, of course; Joan and Shane prefer the long cut. So, I stop on this bridge and hang my head hoping to convince everyone to cut over to the lake where it’s already a long enough walk to the parking lot. On occasion, I get my way.

But, life isn’t always about getting one’s way, and that’s not a bad thing, because every time we take the long cut—which adds maybe another mile to the walk—I forget all about being tired. Wow. So many squirrels, so many strange sounds coming from the trees—creaks and groans and whooshing sounds that we don’t always hear in real life, you know, because of all the cars and people calls.

It’s quite the trip back to the nineteenth or eighteenth century. No donkey carts, though. And no robbers trying to take from the rich to give to the poor. And no inns along the way. But, it sure is peaceful because the only reminder that we’re in the 21st century is the occasional jogger in Spandex.

Best wishes, Juno

Mud & a Wink

Saki and Kyla Watching Ducks & Geese

By the time Joan came home from work, the rain had stopped, and we were all eager to get to the lake. Alas, there was mud up to my ankles. Wait! Do I have ankles? But, you get the idea—the trails were muddy and studded with pools of brownish rainwater.

So, instead of walking through the woods, we walked across the ball fields, where dogs are prohibited; and then we cut through the picnic areas, where dogs are also prohibited; and then we walked across another field—yup—no dogs allowed there either. But, hey, hardly anyone was in the park. Just a few people and certainly no dogs.

A police officer cruised by in his car, but he just smiled and gave me a wink. I’m sure he realized I couldn’t read those signs that read, "No Dogs Allowed."

Best wishes, Juno
PS: Happy Birthday, Kyla

A Day to Rest My Muscles

You can drive a dog to the park, but you can't make her exercise.

It’s raining. Life isn’t always a walk in the park, but I’m just fine with that. Joan’s the one with the exercise mania. “Come on, Juno. Walking’s good for you.” “You can do it; just one more mile, and you can go home and watch all the Animal Planet you want.” At least, that’s what she says, you know, to encourage me.


In my neighborhood, humans come in two groups—the smoking beer drinkers who sit in their cars for hours and the exercisers who jog sweatily along the street and then disappear on the horizon. Dogs aren’t that way at all. We like a good run, but we do it in moderation; we also like to rest, but, again, we don’t spend hours sitting in cars, smoking, drinking, and staring at nothing. I’m not saying humans should be like dogs—but they sure could learn a thing or two from us.


You know, I love to eat dirt on occasion. The pet websites say I have either a behavioral problem—me?—or a terrible disease. I say, I just like the gritty texture and pungent smell of cool damp earth fresh from the ground. After all, it’s not every day, and it’s not as though I’m obsessed with the stuff.


Anyway, no walk in the woods today for it’s way too wet. That’s good. My muscles need a respite from healthful practices—at least for a day or two.


Best wishes, Juno

Looking Like Rain

When it rains, we stay close to home, run out in the yard for a minute or two, and run back to the protection of the house where we have the option of resting on a soft dog bed or looking out the glass doors in the kitchen and watching the slow growing of the grass in the backyard.

Yesterday it rained, and I was grateful, because Shane and I were still tired from the day before—a two-mile walk through the woods and around the lake followed by a bath, a quick blow dry and poofing of the fur, and that confusing ride to Babylon Animal Hospital to get our nails done. Whew! Once all that was done, we drove home, had our teeth brushed, and finally lay exhausted on our freshly washed sheets. Joan said, “You think you’re tired?” I’m not sure what she meant, but I don’t see how she could be tired, if that's what she was implying.

Today, it looked as though the afternoon might have turned into another washout, and I didn’t mind the idea of spending another day in repose. But, it wasn’t to be. Joan got home from work and announced that we’d be touring the grounds around Belmont once again, and off we went to the woods & lake. We didn’t take the long cut because it was a little muddy, but we had a good walk.

A man in the parking lot admired our beauty, said he sees us there every day, said we were nice and he was Irish. Then he got all poetic and said something about me looking like rain. "Looks like rain," he said, looking right into my eyes. Maybe he was seeing a sadness from long ago. Very insightful, I thought.

By the way, I lost maybe a pound and am down to 126—that’s actually six pounds lower than my all-time high of 132. But, who’s keeping score? Not me, for sure.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Hi Rosemary. Don't forget to visit my blog once in a while. Joan says she'll miss you.

Netherfield (aka Belmont Park) in March

Inside, I’m Juno the athlete, the cheerleader, the cross-country runner. It’s who I am, but not who I appear to be. So, I was sort of glad that we took the shortcut through the woods today. Joan’s sick again; she couldn't handle take the usual route that turns in mysterious ways and suddenly opens up on the lake.

During the first part of the walk, a big black dog named Bruno came charging through the woods to greet us. Some woman with a baby carriage kept calling him: “Bruno, get back here! Bruno, get back here!”

But Bruno didn’t listen. He and I exchanged greetings and wagged our tails while Shane whimpered. The woman kept calling Bruno, but he steadfastly ignored her. Then—no surprise here—Shane made a leap toward Bruno with his mouth wide open, and Bruno finally heeded the woman’s call. It’s good that she kept calling him; it helped him save face.

The rest of the walk was peaceful. Joan kept coughing and saying things like, “The woods around Netherfield are so lovely at this time of year.”

I think she was half expecting Mr. Darcy to trot out of the novel on his great brown steed. But, he never did show up. I knew he wouldn't.

All in all, it was a good walk. Not too long. Not too short.

Best wishes, Juno

Changes

On our way to the lake. By the way, that's a Halty, not a muzzle. We love Shane's Halty.

The crocuses are sunning themselves at the front of the house; the flower pots, though still empty, know they won’t be empty for long, and so they tremble every so slightly in anticipation of lovely things to come. Shane and I wait for everything to change as we stay pretty much the same.

However, I must say that Shane has been a lot calmer of late. Dogs come to visit, and he doesn’t get all mean, unless, of course, they act like puppies and jump all over his face. Yes, he still has a long way to go; we have to give nervous dogs some time and space. After all, how would you react if some puppy jumped all over your face or chewed on your hair or nibbled on your shoes?

I see promise in Shane. He’s really a good dog who had a bad beginning in life. That alone can be the ruin of anyone, even humans. Coolness is in the genes, but it's also a matter of luck. Dogs like me are naturally tranquil, because we just happened to be at the front of the line when the calm genes were up for grabs.

Best wishes, Juno