Maddie is now rolling on the carpet as Jennifer and I check e-mail. We just found an unsecured LinkSys wireless network in Jill's neighborhood, I assume it's next door. Not a great signal, but enough to get online without hard-connecting to Jill's network. Only negative being that we have to be in the front room in order to connect. At least the couch is comfortable (particularly after nine hours in the car).
More later.
Maddie: "I was good, I put up with the haircut, I even let them put silly little bows on my ears. Now can I have my pumpkin pie?"
And of course, I'd rather be reading. Especially considering the books that have wandered onto our shelves over the last week or so:
Duke Elric: Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melniboné, Vol. 4 - Michael Moorcock
Elric in the Dream Realms: Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melniboné, Vol. 5 - Michael Moorcock (Does this one finish the series? Or will there be more?)
Boneshaker - Cherie Priest (I'm bringing this one with me to read while we're in San Diego.)
VALIS and Later Novels - Philip K. Dick (Birthday present from Jennifer.)
The Autopsy and Other Stories - Michael Shea (Birthday present for myself, with a bit of help from my parents.)
And not last Sunday but the Sunday before, we dropped by Book Passage in Corte Madera for Patrick McDonnell's appearance. Here's Patrick signing a few things for Jennifer:
But since I'm not sure what books we brought with us, and what we purchased there, I'm going to leave those off the list for now.
We'll be on the road for the next several days, so communication may be more erratic than usual. Please stand by.
And one parting thought, spotted pasted to the side of Rivertown Feed Store on Friday afternoon:
At first Maddie was perplexed. "Why are all these people in my park?" Soon, however, she warmed up to the commotion, sniffing around and meeting other people and dogs who were out for the occasion.
Pearl Harbor Survivors cart, sans horses and veterans for the moment.
( More photos behind the cut. )
“Who’s a good drummer?” asked Maddie, climbing onto the couch and examining the Rock Band drums.
“This guy,” I answered, pointing to the TV. “Keith Moon.”
“I know who he is,” pouted Maddie. “You play this disc a lot. This is the Who.” She looked up at the TV for a bit, as Moon the Loon joked about going backstage to overdose. I cringed. “I think he tries too hard to be funny. Who else?”
I closed the file I’d been working on, then the laptop itself. “Who else what?”
“Who else is a good drummer?” asked Maddie.
I scratched my head. I thought about saying “Ringo Starr,” but changed my mind. “Martin Chambers.”
Maddie cocked her head to one side. “Who’s he?”
“He plays drums for the Pretenders. First band I ever saw live. Unless you count my cousin’s band when they played the Del Mar Fair. I guess that makes the Pretenders the second band I ever saw live. Anyway, that’s Don. You’ve met him. He’s a drummer too. And so’s Dustin, Don’s son. He’s in Afghanistan.”
“Is that a band?”
“Is what a band?”
“Afghanistan.”
“No. That’s a country.”
“Oh… wow.” Maddie scratched an ear thoughtfully. “He plays drums for a whole country?”
“Well, no. He’s a Marine.” I tugged my beard thoughtfully. “But it’s an arguably good metaphor.”
Maddie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to talk about metaphors,” she snorted. “I want to know about drummers. All the drummers you mentioned are boys.”
“So you want to know about girl drummers?”
“Sheesh,” shrugged Maddie. “Duh.”
“Okay, Moe Tucker.”
“No, girl drummers. Moe is a boy’s name.”
“Hang on, Maddie. Moe—short for Maureen—was the drummer for the Velvet Underground.”
“Okay. Who else?”
“Gina Shock from the Go-Gos, Meg White from the White Stripes. There’s a bunch. Why are you so curious about drummers, anyway?”
“I always wanted to be a drummer. I bet I’m a real good drummer.” Maddie leaned forward, sniffing at the Rock Band drum set, tail wagging. “I bet I am.” She looked back at her wagging tail, as if surprised. “Hey, I’ve even got a built-in metronome.”
“You want me to turn on the game?”
“Would you?”
“Sure. But we’ve had this thing for, like, a year. How come you weren’t interested before?”
“I couldn’t reach the drums before. Here by the couch, I can.”
I swapped discs, plugged in USB cables, and navigated through menus. Maddie picked out a song, then looked up at me, grinning.
“Okay,” said Maddie. “I’m ready to rock and roll. One question, though.”
“What’s that?”
“What are the sticks for, anyway?”
Maddie, Emerald, and Koda Bear try out beds on Sunday during Small Dog Social.
And previously at Small Dog Social: The Usual Suspects, Hannah and Emma Parsley.
Maddie's all ready for Independence Day...
...and so are we!
8.5 hours to go... and counting.
Maddie's having a long, slow day at Our Best Friends. "Where is everybody? Hiding from the heat? Somebody come buy something, quick!"
During a lull in the action, I’d excused myself to run the afternoon’s mail back to the folks in the back of the building, leaving Maddie to watch the store. But when I made it back up front a matter of minutes later, she wasn’t on the couch where I’d left her. I glanced behind the counter, looked in the office, and checked the beds before scrutinizing the very front of the store.
“Hey,” called Maddie as I walked near the front door. “Do you wanna buy a book? We’ve got a bunch of good books, and we’re making crazy deals.” She’d stationed herself beneath the front sale table, comfortable on the We Eat Like Pigs welcome mat underneath. “You buy one book at full price, and you get the second one for free. Free! How could you resist a bargain like that? And we’ve even got a cool sign.”
“It’s only me, Maddie.” I bent down to her level. “But that was a pretty good sales pitch. Are you comfortable?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s comfy. And it’s hard to tell from just legs. But now that you mention it, I should have recognized your boots. They need polishing.”
I shrugged. “Any customers while I was in back?”
“Just one. A police dog, Officer Rex. He dropped off a flyer.” She yawned, then nodded toward the counter. “We got started talking, and I was telling him about your other job. He seemed real interested.”
I scratched my chin, pensive. “Maddie, what did you tell Officer Rex that I do?”
“I said you were a bookmaker. Like I said, he seemed really interested…”
“Maddie.”
“What?”
“I’m not a bookmaker.”
“What, you make books, right? I mean, you do other stuff, too, but mostly you guys make books, right?”
“Well, sure, but that’s not the right word. I’m an editor, for a book publisher. Not a ‘bookmaker,’ that’s something else entirely.”
“Oh,” said Maddie, thoughtfully scratching an ear. “So what’s a bookmaker do?”
“A bookmaker is a betting agent. They’re also called ‘bookies.’ If somebody wants to gamble on, say, a horse race, they would place their bet with a bookie.”
Switching ears, Maddie said, “My bad. But why was Officer Rex so interested then?”
“Because with a handful of exceptions, bookmaking is illegal.” I thrust my hands into my pockets. “Oh, boy,” I sighed, then sat down with my head in my hands. “Now I’m going to have to explain myself to a German Shepherd.”
“That’s okay,” said Maddie. “I already took care of it.”
“What’d you do?” I asked, mentally working on my alibi.
“Well, he said something about ‘backup,’ so when he was leaving, just as he was heading out the door, I got a hold of his back leg, kinda like this.” She grabbed the cuff of my pants with her teeth, then stepped backwards, tugging.
In my head, I scratched out one alibi and started working on another. “Maddie--”
She let go of my cuff. “And then you know what I did next?”
I knew the answer couldn’t be good. “What?”
“Once I had a good grip on his leg, he yelped, so I pulled it. I pulled it hard... Just like I’m pulling yours.”
A moment passed. Maddie grinned up at me. “I really had you going, didn’t I? Too bad I don't know any bookies, I'd have won big if I'd bet you'd buy that hook, line, and sinker.”
I shook my head, relieved. “Okay, you got me.”
Maddie chuckled. “That was funny. I'm funny. Maybe I should write a book.”
“Would you give me one for free?”
“I'll make you a deal,” said Maddie, “You buy the first one at full price, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
"I guess that means you like the horses."
She nodded. "Yeah. They're awesome."
We watched as row after row of horses passed. Three rows in, Maddie's ears perked up and she glanced up at me. "Why are there horses on our street?" she asked. "Hey horses," she called, turning back toward the magnificent beasts. "Where are you going?"
"It's Butter and Egg Day, remember," I replied. We watched as the horses continued queuing up.
"Oh, that would explain all the chickens and stuff at Our Best Friends on Friday. Y'know, that would be the coolest job in the world."
"Our Best Friends?" I responded, confused. "Maddie, you already work over at Our Best Friends."
"No, not that," said Maddie. "Sheesh. I mean the horses."
"You want to be a horse?"
"No, I want to ride a horse. That'd be the coolest."
I chuckled.
"What, I could be a cowgirl," said Maddie. "I could ride a horse."
"You have ridden Champion at Heebe Jeebe."
"That's just not the same," said Maddie.
The horses past, Maddie watched a young man roll a cart up the street in their wake. "What's he doing?" she asked. As if answering, he scraped up a cluster of road apples with his rake and deposited them into his cart. Maddie's gaze narrowed. "Ooooh," she said. "I take it all back. That would be the coolest job in the world."
( More behind the cut... )
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.
"Pew, pew," said Maddie, looking out across the deck from the cockpit. "Kaboom." She glanced up at me as I approached. "Got 'em."
"What are you up to there, Mighty Quinn? Seal hunting?" I checked my watch. Nearly five o'clock, dinner time for little dogs.
"Nope," replied Maddie. "I'm flying my rocket ship through the asteroid belt, hunting for giant space scorpions and crab monsters. Besides, I like seals. They're cute. I think I'd like to meet a seal." She paused. "Wait, what did you just call me?"
"'Mighty Quinn,'" I answered. "It's—"
"It's a store downtown," said Maddie, eying me suspiciously. "We walk past there all the time. Why did you just call me a store?"
"I didn't. The Mighty Quinn was a character in an old Bob Dylan song long before it was a store. He's an Eskimo."
"What's an Eskimo?"
"Indigenous peoples of the Great White North," I answered. "They come from Alaska, Siberia, and Greenland. They invented kayaks." I tapped on the boat's hull. "Though the song's really about the actor Anthony Quinn."
"Who's he."
"Zorba the Greek, for one. And he was Zampanò, the Gypsy strong man in La Strada. Oh, and he also played Auda abu Tayi, the leader of the Howeitat in Lawrence of Arabia. You watched that one with me, remember?"
"I think so," said Maddie, like she was trying to fit puzzle pieces together. "So this Quinn guy is from Greenland? And he's the leader of the Weetzie Bats? Or was that the Aquabats? I'm confused."
"Anthony Quinn? No, he's from Chihuahua."
"He's a Chihuahua? Now I'm even more confused."
"From Chihuahua, not a Chihuahua. It's a state in Mexico."
"But I thought you said he was an Eskimo."
I shook my head. "No, Anthony Quinn was an actor. He only played an Eskimo."
"Oh. I think I get it. So do they sell Eskimos at the Mighty Quinn? Or do Eskimos run the place?"
"No, it's a head shop."
"Wait, they sell heads there?" asked Maddie. "That's really weird."
"Never mind that," I said, changing the subject. "You about ready to head home for dinner?"
"Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry."
"Well then come on, it's dinner time."
"But what about the giant space scorpions?" asked Maddie.
"Don't worry about them," I said. "The asteroid belt's a long way from earth. We'll be fine. You can always come back and hunt them after dinner."
But meanwhile...
I shook my head. “It’s only 9:30, Maddie” I answered. “Come on.”
“But I’m hungry,” said Maddie, sitting down on the welcome matt and scratching an ear to stall. She twitched her button nose. “And it smells good in here. I smell lamb and beef and—” she paused, sniffing at the doorway. “—chicken, I think.”
“Come on,” I said with a tug. I had to admit, the place smelled good. I walked a few feet, then stopped to read the menu posted in the window:
Real Doner (Gyro)
Mediterranean Turkish Food
We do Excellent Catering
Reading the descriptions, Real Doner's Falafal sounded good, Spinach pie and a big Greek salad sounded better, but that ever popular combination, Hummus and Baba Ganouj, sounded best of all.
But Maddie and I walked home toward home. “It’s too early for lunch,” I explained.
“Oh, foo,” said Maddie, looking up at me as we walked along. “I wanted a Gyro.” She said it as you would gyroscope: jī'rō.
“Say it more like this,” I corrected. “Yee-ro.”
“Gear-o.”
“Yee-ro.”
“Hero?”
“That’s close enough.”
Maddie stopped, held her ground. “That’s it. I’m holding out for a Gyro,” she demanded.
I bent down and scratched Maddie’s ears. “’Til the morning light?”
“Huh?” said Maddie. “I don’t get it.”
“Never mind,” I said, changing the subject. “Just two things you forgot to consider.”
She looked up at me, squinting. “What’d I forget?”
“One, I can easily pick you up and carry you home.”
“And number two?”
I pointed. “Those are our front steps. We’re home.”
“Nuts.” said Maddie.
“Would you settle for some jerky?”
Maddie ascended the stairs. “I guess,” she said, pausing by the door. “But I’m going to pretend it’s a Gyro.”
---
I went back to Real Doner alone at about eleven and ordered the Appetizer Combo Plate ($9.95 – which seems to be the going price for most of their combo plates). To go.
Real Doner’s food is impressive, from first taste to final olive. Everything is attractively presented, fresh, and toothsome, with each flavor complementing the next. The garlicky bite of the hummus (Jennifer's sure to insist I sleep on the couch tonight) is offset by the smokiness of the Baba Ganouj; the spice of the ezme well-balanced by the complexities of the tabouli. The dolmas are tightly wrapped and dripping with flavor. And the bread, a thick, seeded flatbread, is perfect.
Décor-wise, Real Doner has made the best of an odd location, what was previously a long-shuttered liquor store tucked behind an automotive garage near the corner of F Street and Petaluma Boulevard South. A fresh coat of paint, a stereo playing festive Turkish music (loudly), a few posters of scenic Turkey, and the antique shisha holding court on a corner shelf go a long way towards setting the right mood of culinary exoticism that helps make a Mediterranean restaurant fun. The staff is friendly, though I get the sense everybody’s still getting figuring out the finer points of running a restaurant. Opening day was the only 6th, less than two weeks ago, so I’m perfectly willing to cut them slack in this department. Besides, it adds to the homestyle charm.
Hmmm… guess I should have taken a picture before I ate half of it.
"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."
"Is it lunch?" asked Maddie.
"Lunch?" asked Jennifer. "It's too early for lunch. We're going for coffee. You're hungry already?"
Maddie looked down at her feet. "A little bit." She looked up at Jennifer. "Maybe we can stop at Copperfield's, too. I know where they keep the treats."
Jennifer shrugged. "I already figured Ross would drag us in there." I grinned. Jennifer held out the card for Maddie to see. "You got a post card from Colorado."
"Ooh, it's pretty," she said. "But it's upside down." Maddie glanced up at me, narrowing her gaze. "You were in Colorado."
"Last year," I answered, taking the card from Jennifer and turning it over before holding the back up for Maddie. "Who's it from?"
"It says 'Miss Maddie,'" said Maddie. "Hey, that's me!"
"Maddie, that's your address." She pointed. "This is the person who sent it."
"It says it's from Hollie (
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rain19). Oh, I know, she's on LiveJournal. I like the way she signs her H." "So what's it say?" asked Jennifer.
"Ummm... 'Hello from Colorado, Maddie,'" read Maddie. "Hey, that's me again."
"Go on," I said.
"Okay, okay," said Maddie. "It says 'I wanted to say hello and give the sunlight in your box some company.' And then it says the word 'pets' with little stars drawn next to it. I know what that means: footnotes! I'll bet they're under that sticker." She pawed at the postal barcode affixed to the card.
"I don't think that's supposed to be a footnote," I said. "I'm pretty sure that means this." I handed the card back to Jennifer, then patted Maddie atop her head.
"That's amazing," said Maddie. "I had no idea you could mail one of those."
"Sure thing," I said, taking the steps two at a time, trying to keep up. "What's the big hurry."
"There's something I need to check," Maddie said. She led me down 5th Street to E, then up to 4th Street. I expected her to drag me over to Walnut Park, but she turned, leading me to the post office. "I hope it's here," said Maddie, leading me up the stairs and inside.
"Check the box," said Maddie. "I hope it's something good."
I fumbled with my keys, dropped and retrieved them, then opened the box. I peered inside. "It's empty, Maddie."
"Huh?" asked Maddie. "Empty? Pick me up so I can see."
I hefted her up, so that she could see into the box. "Nothing but sunlight," I said, lowering her back to the floor.
"Oh, foo," said Maddie once we got back outside. "How disappointing. I had a dream there was something good for me in there."
"In the P.O. box? Jennifer and I usually just use that for business stuff."
"But it was a really good dream," insisted Maddie. "You know, the kind that makes you wake up smiling."
"Oh, Maddie," I said, sitting down next to her on the sidewalk and stroking the top of her head. "It's like my mom always says, 'you have to send letters to get letters.'"
Maddie looked up at me, squinting one eye inquisitively. "Does she really say that?"
"Yeah," I replied. "At least she always said that when I was a kid."
"Is it true?"
I shrugged. "Sure. My mom wouldn't steer you wrong."
Maddie thought for a few moments as I scratched her ears. Finally, she spoke up. "So if I send stuff, I might get stuff?"
I nodded.
"Grandma's kinda smart, isn't she?" asked Maddie.
I nodded again. "So, who do you want to write to?"
"I dunno. I'm going to have to think about it," replied Maddie. We walked back home, lingering in Walnut Park awhile on the way. When we got back to the house, the mail had come. In the mailbox was a card from my mom... for Maddie.
( Tons of stuff behind the cut... )
Maddie's kitchen sense is also unavoidable. Spider-man's Spidey-Sense has nothing on this girl. The moment someone steps into the kitchen, whether to scramble eggs for breakfast, re-heat leftover mac and cheese for lunch, throw together a veggie "meatloaf" for dinner, or merely to read the mail, Maddie knows. And when she knows, she follows her nose straight to the kitchen, tail wagging, asking, "What's cooking?"
"What's cooking? Smells delish."
"What's cooking? Do I get a slice?"
"What's cooking? Is it something for me?"
"But Maddie," I reply, "you don't even like onions."
So here we go again... Happy Maddie-versary! Let's count off five years of Maddie's hair-dos and hair-dont's...
( Maddie-kateer roll call behind the cut... )
Maddie, having just polished off a few bites of baked macaroni and cheese, asks for seconds.
( More behind the cut... )
Maddie wants to steal my cookie.
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