I've been sick with a cold all week, working from home. Thursday was the first day that I actually felt human, so I planned to drive down to the City, get in to the office around ten, and get caught up. But fate intervened...

Maddie and I were three-quarters of the way through our around-the-block circuit, approaching the corner of 5th and G Streets near Wickersham Park. We paused to let a procession of school kids pass, Maddie watching with fascination as they paraded past. "Where are they headed?" asked Maddie. I shrugged. "They're not heading to my house, are they?"

I shook my head. "No chance of that, Maddie," I said.

"Oh good," said Maddie. "I'm not in the mood for a party today."

"Yeah, me neither." I bent down, scratched her head as the last kids passed, a pair of girls linked arm-in-arm with a youngish teacher.

We let them get a bit further ahead, then started down the street, Maddie pausing to sniff and point things out as we ambled along. "Check out that bug. Hello, Bug," she'd say, looking down, or "Hello, Crow," she'd say, looking up. I'd nod in acknowledgment, not really paying attention, then prod her back to moving along. Midway down the block, as the kids began to disappear into the middle distance, Maddie stopped. "Hello, scared little dog," she said.

I stopped. "What dog?" I asked.

"There," said Maddie, pointing with her paw. "Next to... er... Under that car."

I bent low. Sure enough, shivering underneath a parked car was a terrified Shih-Tzu puppy. "Hi there, little guy," I said.

Maddie stared for a few seconds, then said, "I think she's a she."

"Okay, little girl," I answered, then turned back to the puppy. "You want to come on out of there?" I asked. The puppy just shivered.



"What are we going to do?" asked Maddie. "I think she's lost."

"Looks like she's got a collar," I answered. "Sit here," I pointed to a neighbor's porch. "I'll see if I can coax her out."

Saying and doing are entirely different things, so without going into too much detail, I spent the better part of the next half hour prone on the curb talking to this little dog in a calm voice, treat in hand, hoping to bribe her to safety, as Maddie offered helpful hints from the sidelines. At one point, the little refugee got nearly close enough for me to grab her collar, but I fumbled, spooking her into running to hide under the next car up the street. Fortunately, that one was a big, American SUV instead of a tiny import, so I was better able to crawl under, catch the puppy by the collar, and lead her out into the light.



One task accomplished, a new complication reared its ugly head. Collar, but no tags. As I held the little dog, feeding it bits of jerky, I wondered what I was going to do with this dog, particularly since I needed to head down to the office. So I wandered from door to door, ringing doorbells, asking "Do you know this dog" to the neighbors that were 1) home on a weekday morning, and 2) willing to answer their doorbells. No luck, though a couple of my cooler neighbors offered to keep an eye on her for a bit. I called Jennifer for wifely advice, then called Stephanie at Our Best Friends, asking if anybody had dropped off a "Lost Dog" sign in the last day or so. Still no luck.

So we went back to the house, and Maddie babysat (barking all sorts of rules and admonitions to the new arrival, hoping to keep her in check) as I got the rest of the way ready to drive down to work. I figured we'd drive around looking to see if anybody was out looking for a missing dog, or if any telephone poles had been newly decorated with fliers.

But then my doorbell rang. Standing there was my neighbor, owner of a Dachshund named Herc (short for Hercules, a bit of a wanderer himself, Herc has a habit of taking himself for walks). The neighbor explained that the puppy was his visiting sister's dog. I handed the dog over, followed my neighbor out to the sidewalk and within a few moments, his sister approached. My neighbor headed back to his car and drove away, and I stood awhile chatting with his sister (as the now-happy puppy planted kisses all over her face). The little refugee was Lola, who had been left in the back yard with Herc, and had likely decided that she'd had enough of Dachshund attention and shimmied under the fence, planning to take her chances with the big, wide world. I'm sure the parade of kids (who, surprisingly didn't notice a little dog hiding under a car) panicked Lola, leading to my difficulties in luring her out to safety.

But it's a happy ending. Lola is back with her human, and Maddie and I managed to get to work before eleven.


Late yesterday afternoon, once we got home from work, I sat with Maddie on the back porch, talking with her about the day. "So what did you think of Lola, Maddie?" I asked.

"Why?" responded Maddie, "Is she coming back over?"

I shook my head. "No, I was just wondering what you'd think of having a little sister, another dog around the house. Would you like that?"

Maddie looked at me suspiciously, considering the question. "Sounds like an awful lot of work," she said.

I scratched her head. "Yeah, you're probably right," I answered.

Pics from the latest Small Dog Social at Our Best Friends just went live. Click on Atticus, the portly pug above, to check 'em out.

Recently, at Our Best Friends...



"Hey Hannah," asked Maddie, rounding the corner. "I heard singing." She stopped, puzzled. "Who are your friends?"



"I am among the Moose," sang Hannah, in a low and tuneless dirge.
"I am among the Moose...
"There's no excuse, no truce...
"For Gander or for Goose...
"And you'll never, never, ever get loose...
"Once you're among the Moose."

"What are you doing?" asked Maddie. "It looks kinda weird."

"It's a performance piece," replied Hannah. "This isn't weird, this is art."


"But I don't get it," said Maddie. "And isn't there usually cheese at art openings?"


"Oh, foo," huffed Hannah, crestfallen. "No great artist is ever appreciated in her lifetime."

"That's okay," said Maddie, stepping forward and resting a paw on Hannah's shoulder. "Maybe I was just looking at things from the wrong angle."

Happy in Wickersham Park.

Out walking Maddie this morning, we stopped along the sidewalk so that a woman, someone we usually see dragged along behind a German Shepard, passed. In her hands she held a large coffee cup. Maddie wagged a "hello," and I asked, "No dog today?"

The woman shrugged, glanced at the cup, smiled. "Dog's sleeping in," she answered. "So I'm walking the goldfish."

I laughed, Maddie scratched, and the woman continued on, sipping from her cup and humming.

Maddie gets philosophical...



"Didja ever wonder what would happen," pondered Maddie, lounging on the couch at Our Best Friends, "if gravity just suddenly decided to go the other direction? It would be pretty cool, at first, walking around on the ceiling, but going through doors would be pretty hard, since you'd have to climb up and over the doorjamb. I guess you'd have to put in stairs. And everything would probably fall from the floor up to the ceiling, and that would be a big mess, 'cause stuff would fall out of drawers. And you probably wouldn't want to go outside, because then you'd fall up, and just keep falling up until you ended up in outer space or something, which would be bad. But then, what if I was the only one that gravity went all wacko on? I could walk around on clean ceilings, though I'd have to stay away from the ceiling fan. And you could take me outside for walks, on a leash, as always, but I'd float above your head like a balloon."

"You're a very weird dog, Maddie," I said, reaching down to scratch her belly.

Maddie squinted up at me. "Oh, foo. Like you've never thought of it. Besides, you look funny upside down."

---

Maddie listens to tunes...



"Play it again," demanded Maddie.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "This will make the fifth time through."

"But it's vinyl. It sounds so much better than CDs, or when you play music on the computer. It's warmer. You say so yourself."

"Yeah," I answer. "But you've already had me play this one four times. At least pick a different record than Henry Mancini's The Cop Show Themes."

"But I wanna hear the Theme from 'S.W.A.T.' again."

"Come on, pick something else. Please."

"You could put on Sebastian Speaks," suggested Maddie.

I considered this, rubbing my chin, then shrugged. "You win. The Theme from 'S.W.A.T.' it is."

---

Maddie meets Paris Roubaix...

We've got a new Dachshund in the neighborhood, Paris Roubaix. Yes, after talking about it for ages, Claire and Saul finally adopted a dog, which has turned out to be a little bit more of an adventure than either one of them anticipated. Some dogs have issues; Paris has a subscription. And she prefers to stand directly behind women. But give it time, I'm sure Paris will eventually fit right in.


Claire and Paris. That's Claire on the left.


Maddie, Paris, and feet.

Charlie the Dachshund passed away yesterday. He was a good dog.

On the Fourth of July, Charlie attempted to fly, managing a jump that no short-legged canine ever should. His launch was flawless. His arc, heroic. His landing, not so much. Charlie spent the rest of the day in terrible pain.

Over the next few days, Charlie's condition worsened. He was unable to move his hind legs, unable to do the things that Dachshunds want to do most: run, and play, and bark at passers-by. Jan and Randy tried to nurse him back to health, taking him to one vet, then another, carrying him outside to do his business, hoping that each twitch of his tail, each perk of an ear signaled eminent recovery.

Jan and Randy checked Charlie in for care and observation at his vet's office, but even acupuncture and constant attention couldn't turn the tide. Charlie continued to decline. Considering his pain, his paralysis, and his dignity, the decision was made to put Charlie to sleep.

Yesterday evening, Randy buried Charlie in the back yard. He and Jan wrapped Charlie in a shroud of purple cloth, along with a nearly-ripe strawberry, plucked from the vine, one of Charlie's all-time favorite things. They laid him in the ground near Meow, Poppy, and Pookie.

Charlie will be remembered for his antics: the time he made a snout-sized hole in a bag of food, then ate until he nearly burst; the way he'd sit quietly on your lap, then try to kiss you on the mouth, tongue and all; his habit of following a sunbeam across the floor, charging his solar batteries.

In their dreams, Dachshunds can fly. Today, Charlie, you fly in ours.


Charlie, listening to records. July 10, 2008.


Randy and Cooper say goodbye.


Young Charlie, Dangerous Dachshund. Photo by Randy.

Maddie says: "Hey! Pictures from the latest Small Dog Social at Our Best Friends just went live. Yeah, it took almost a whole week this time, 'cause Ross was really busy. Sorry 'bout that. And we've switched from Flickr to Photobucket 'cause, despite what Flickr says, twenty five bucks a year ain't cheap. So come on by and check 'em out."

Maddie's got a cookie...


...and there's fireworks for later...


...lots of fireworks...

( More behind the cut. )

This is Charlie. He thinks you should go check out the pictures from the latest Small Dog Social at Our Best Friends. After you get him a biscuit, of course.

Friends of the Petaluma Animal Shelter presents:
Bark in the Park Goes Hollywood

Saturday, June 14, 2008
McNear Park in Petaluma (F and 11th Streets)

Professional photos, Walk of Fame paw prints, Hollywood Dog Spa, “Ask the Trainer” and “Ask the Vet” booths, agility Demonstrations, Canine Caricatures, Mutt Strut Parade, Costume Contest, and other fun activities for you and your canine star!

Advance entry fee per dog $10.00
Day of event $15.00
Box lunches $8.00

Pre-registration requested but not required.
Registration forms available at the Petaluma Animal Shelter (840 Hopper Street) and Our Best Friends (301 2nd Street).
For more information call 707-763-6560.


---
Posted here because I can't seem to access Petaluma360's Community section. Instead, I get the following message: "We're sorry, but the page you requested is no longer available. Please use the site search or archive search to locate the article." Has Petaluma360 gone the way of the Dodo?

Early one morning last week, I was working from home, drinking my coffee while cleaning up and correcting the Harry Turtledove book Night Shade is putting out in June. Suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

Now it wasn't a big knock, only a slight scratching. And it wasn't the front door, either. It was the back door. So I went to check.

I looked out the window. Nothing. I opened the door. Still nothing. I looked down...

( Find out what was at the door (and more) behind the cut... )

We got to meet Annie today at the second First Sunday Small Dog Social over at Our Best Friends. Click here to check out all the pictures.

A few days ago, Maddie and I met a pair of Shih-Tzu mixes (with Maltese, I believe), Mairzy (as in "...Doats") and Sparky. Sparky marched around, trying to impress the girls by scratching at the ground with his back feet and marking every bit of territory that wasn't moving. Mairzy was much friendlier, she came right up to Maddie in order to say hello.


"Oh, hello," said Maddie. "Cool hairdo. Have we met before?"


"Oh, a camera," said Mairzy, nudging Maddie out of frame. "Cheese."


Mairzy and Maddie strike a pose...

( More Mairzy (and a shot of the elusive Sparky) behind the cut. )

"I think I know why they call it fall," said Maddie as we walked downtown this morning.
"Why's that, Maddie?" I responded, the etymology of autumn running through my head.
"'Cause some of it just fell in my eye. Do you think you could give me a hand here?"


More new car stuff...


The new car in full daylight. Its name has been decided... and will be announced soon.

( Much, much more behind the cut... )

Maddie and I had a few errands to run this morning, and while we were out and about, we decided to drop by Our Best Friends. Maddie sniffed around outside, doing her usual thing of checking for unusual smells, then we headed in, only to be met by a bat-winged Hannah at the door.


“Trick or Treat,” insisted Hannah as we stepped inside.
“I think you’ve got that backwards,” I said. “We’re supposed to say ‘Trick or Treat.’”
“It’s my shop,” said Hannah, pressing her paw against my foot. “I’ll say ‘Trick or Treat’ whenever I want.”


“Cool wings,” said Maddie. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing much,” said Hannah. “Just hanging around. Get it? I’m a bat.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “That’s silly. Say, what kind of Bat are you, Hannah? A bulldog bat? A fruit bat?”


“Pshaw,” said Hannah dismissively. “I’m a vampire bat. Blah!”
“Ooh,” said Maddie. “Like Lord Ruthven? That’s cool, we just read The Vampyre.”
Hannah shook her head. “No, more like Dracula,” she said. And then, in a Transylvanian accent, “‘Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make…’”
“That’s a pretty good Bela Lugosi impression, Hannah,” said Maddie.
“Thanks, can you do any movie vampire impressions?”
“Maybe,” said Maddie.
“Oh, who?”

( See Maddie's impression behind the cut... )

Last weekend, the Jennifers and I took Maddie to the pumpkin patch. Here's how it all transpired:


“Oh, boy!” exclaimed Maddie. “Pumpkins everywhere. Let’s make pie and jack- o’-lanterns this year!”


“I wonder if this is what a chicken feels like.”


“No room for pumpkins in here,” said Maddie, peering up from the wheelbarrow. “Now push me around, fast.”

( Continued behind the cut... )

“Wait, I don’t get it,” said Maddie, watching Jennifer and I carry colorful bits and pieces across the store. “What are they doing?”
“They’re making an altar,” whispered Hannah. “It’s for Dia de lost Muertos.”
“I know that,” said Maddie, then, lowering her voice, continued. “But what are they doing? And why are we whispering?”
“It’s one of the rules,” replied Hannah. “You’ve got to whisper when you’re doing stuff like this.”
“I see,” said Maddie. “But what are they doing?”
“It’s for Dia de lost Muertos,” said Hannah. “They’re making an altar. It’s a Mexican tradition. On November first and second, you set up a colorful display, light candles, and put out little offerings of food and drink in order to help those who have passed on find their way into the next world. It’s so they don’t get lost. Get it? Dia de lost Muertos.”
“I know that,” insisted Maddie with a stomp. “But I can’t see over the edge of the table. What are they doing?”
Hannah shrugged. “Beats me. I can’t see up there either.”







( More stuff behind the cut... )

After this morning's weather-induced blackout had passed (We spent our powerless moments putting together a puzzle and listening to a battery-powered radio. How about you?), we decided to brave the rain and venture forth for our usual Saturday walk downtown.

We stopped at Starbucks, only to discover (Horrors!) that they'd run out of soy milk, so we made our way, espresso-free, to Copperfield's, where I picked up a few books downstairs: A Song of Stone, by Iain Banks, The High Window and The Long Goodbye, by Raymond Chandler, Karl Edward Wagner's Robert Howard pastiche Legion from the Shadows, and Fritz Leiber's Conjure Wife. We stopped back by Starbucks after leaving Copperfield's to find that soy milk had been delivered. And there was much rejoicing.

From there, we made our way over to Theatre Square in order to check out the grand opening festivities.

We'd just walked onto the plaza, and were standing between Toys West's balloon-tying magician, Twistyman, and Jennie Low's sample fortune cookies and princess chicken when Maddie pawed at my leg. "Omigoodness," she said. "It's Elvis."
"What?"
"Elvis is here. How's my hair look?"
"Maddie," I said, shaking my head. "We're not calling any tabloids."
"No, really," said Maddie. "He's here."
"Maddie, Elvis Presley died in nineteen..."
And that's when Elvis sauntered over.



Not Elvis Presley, mind you, but Elvis the Papillion, along with his human, Frida.



"Oh, Elvis," said Maddie, batting her eyelashes. "You're so dreamy."
"Thank you very much," replied Elvis, with a curl of his lip.



Elvis and Frida demonstrated one of their parlor tricks as well, as she balanced him atop her head. Wow!

( A whole lot more behind the cut... )

Familiar Pillows

“These are the coolest!” exclaimed Maddie, climbing onto the couch and inspecting the new cushions.
“You like ‘em?” I asked. “Jan made those for Jennifer for her birthday.”
“Oh yeah,” said Maddie, spinning around excitedly. “And the little face on them is so funny!”



“Let me get this straight, Maddie. You like the cushions because the picture on them is funny?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “It’s a funny, fuzzy little face with a silly smile. It makes me want to giggle.”
“Um, Maddie,” I said. “Doesn’t the face look a little bit… um… familiar?”
She turned, and sat staring at the cushions for few moments, pondering my question.



“Oh hey,” said Maddie, the light bulb over her head flickering into full brightness. “That’s me!”
I nodded. “It sure is. Like I said, Jan made them special for Jennifer. Do you still think they’re cool?”



“Check me out,” said Maddie. “I’ve got a posse!”

(Jan Frost’s custom cushions or pillows featuring your dog can be ordered through Our Best Friends.)


Maddie and the VW

“Hey, check out this cool car,” said Maddie as we walked down Petaluma Boulevard. “It looks just like one of your books.”
Sure enough, the Volkswagen was covered with fantastic artwork: dragons, unicorns, scantily-clad maidens, and mighty-thewed warriors, intricately airbrushed onto every inch, so we stopped to take a closer look. “That’s quite a paint job,” I agreed.



( The rest of the story (and more) can be found behind the cut! )