Zoology, Madness, and Me

Bad Cat!

2011-08-01T14:15:00.011-04:00

Maia Louise Being a Good Girl (for a Change) and Staying Close to Home

Maia Louise has been a royal pain in the ass of late, making her escape whenever possible in a bid to get to the ever-growing number of birds in our backyard since we added several new feeders to the big old crab apple tree, and being a cat, who can blame her? I'm very diligent about keeping her indoors, safe and sound, but sometimes she manages to make a break for it anyways and when she does it can be hours before we get her back inside. If I'm lucky enough to catch her fairly early in the act, and being the elderly cat she is and knowing she no longer can move faster than me, she'll gaze wistfully at the avian cafeteria ahead, sigh deeply, and with a sad little meow turn and skulk back to the house. But should she get free without my seeing her right away, she'll stay gone till long after her old body has grown tired and craves a nap and I worry endlessly for her safety. I long for cold winter days when her stiff achy bones prefer to do nothing but laze by the fireplace rather than plan a prison break every other minute.

Chihuahua Art

2011-07-12T14:00:00.002-04:00

I adore this work! There's such joy on Norman's face, it's palpable!

Norman, by Rebecca Collins courtesy of artdogblog.blogspot.com.

Chi Propaganda

2011-07-11T19:05:00.002-04:00

I love the idea of a tiny chihuahua leading the doggie revolution to world domination!

Out for a Stroll

2011-07-04T20:15:00.006-04:00

As neat as the shopping cart cozy has proven to be (see "Riding in Style, April 27, 2011), not all shops have shopping carts. And then there are the endless antique fairs throughout the summer which are far too crowded to allow two little dogs to walk on their leashes, lest they nearly get stepped on and flattened by one overly zealous treasure hunter after another. And have I ever mentioned those stores where dogs really aren't allowed? Well now I can usually get away on a technicality provided the men are zipped into what amounts to a mesh canopied cage on wheels. Canopy down for those days that are either too sunny or too rainy, canopy down and soft-sided mesh zipped up for stealth shopping in no-no stores, or canopy up and all sides open for the perfect (and safe) ride anywhere at all. And I totally dig the crazy plaid fabric. Here's to two little boys riding everywhere and anywhere in mega-style, safe from indifferent foot traffic and less than friendly store managers. Yay!

Bath Time!

2011-05-07T16:55:00.008-04:00

Bath time is an event in our house, with one boy loving it and one boy hating it. Edison is not a fan of baths (and just about everything else, for that matter) and spends the entire time he's in the kitchen sink making these odd little old man whining sounds. It actually takes two adult humans to keep him in the makeshift bathtub, lest he leap out and seriously injure himself. Or worse. The joy he feels when he's been rinsed off, removed from that torturous water, toweled off and finally- at long last!- set free is palpable. Bram, on the other hand, loves the bath. But then, with the possible exception of children and Griffin's girlfriend, he loves everything anyways. Bram also needs two adults to supervise him, but only because while one quickly bathes the little monkey, the other has to perpetually keep him from eating the shampoo, drinking the yucky bath water, and any other thing Bram could possibly get into while immersed in a tub of warm water. The two boys are handfuls in their own unique ways.

They have their own sets of brightly colored and luxuriantly thick (and soft) bath towels and face cloths, as well as dog perfume to mask that corn-chip-and-dog-fart scent all dogs seem to develop as they ripen between baths. I'd been using a lovely sun-kissed raspberry scent on them till I found the only bottle of lavender-rosemary I have ever seen. Oddly, the first time I used the lavender fragrance on them, both boys instantly smelled exactly like the sort of lime rickeys you could only get at an old soda fountain/luncheon counter. Remember those? The lime rickey dog scent is actually quite delicious-smelling, and then it occurred to me: if I sprayed the lavender-rosemary perfume on them and then sprayed the sun-kissed raspberry over it, would I get two chihuahuas who smell like raspberry lime rickeys??

I can't wait to try this, but I'm going to wait till just before their next baths, lest I end up with two small dogs that smell not of sweet raspberry lime rickeys, but rather some heinous brew of multiple dog fragrances and dog farts, too

Your Friend

2011-05-04T14:33:00.007-04:00

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.

-Unknown

Photo of painted dog courtesy of idyllewilde on flickr.

Riding in Style

2011-04-27T17:59:00.018-04:00

Trying to juggle two antsy (and usually barking) chihuahuas, carrier bags and a purse while out shopping with the boys is frequently more than I can handle. I can't carry them both loose at the same time and while Edison will happily ride in a doggie purse (see "Christmas Tree Shopping, Doggie Style," December, 13, 2008), Bram wouldn't get into one if his life depended on it. Shopping carts are often the answer (when stores have them- and most stores that allow pets do), but the boys' feet are so small they just slip right through the holes in the bottom of the cart. It isn't particularly comfortable for them to shop while immobilized to the tippy tops of their thighs, legs dangling through the cart and out the bottom, not to mention that I'd be terrified of an injury to one or more of their tiny legs.

The remedy? Whip up a quick cart cozy, quilted to keep tiny bums comfy and fleecy soft in the event anyone might wish to lie down and take a quiet snooze while riding (yeah, right). It can be rolled up, secured, and even worn over a shoulder for hands-free carrying while walking the boys into a shop or across a busy street. It weighs next to nothing and is the perfect solution for all three of us being able to enjoy our shopping experiences together. Now all I need is to get Bram to stop lunging and snapping at every small child he sees. Man, does that boy hate kids.

Portrait of Maia Louise II

2011-04-22T12:09:00.005-04:00

Another portrait of Maia Louise, this time in nearly three-quarter profile and also drawn from those photos that appeared here a few weeks back (see "Maia Louise," January 4, 2011 and "Portrait of Maia Louise I," February 27, 2011). I've been commissioned many, many times to draw dogs but no one ever hires me to do a portrait of their cats. I wonder why this is? Even I never draw my own cat. While I enjoyed the novelty of working on a cat portrait (or two), her stripes were far too fussy for my liking for just a couple of drawings in a sketchbook. Sorry, Maia.

Portrait of Maia Louise, graphite on paper, 2011

Spring Afternoon

2011-04-17T18:34:00.008-04:00

Two boys enjoying a quiet moment in their favorite chair in the afternoon sun. There's often much vying for the choicest sun spot here where it's all warm and cozy, from lunchtime till the sun dips below the horizon at the end of the day. As usual, Edison is showing his quiet manners nicely, while Bram hogs the camera, front and center, always Mommy's little ham bone. Frankly, it'd surprise the hell out of me were they to behave any other way.

Baseball Season's Begun

2011-04-10T12:38:00.005-04:00

This billboard is actually from last season at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington, Texas. And while we have just two Chik-fil-A restaurants in my entire state (neither of which is near me and neither of which I've ever seen. Who knew? I had to look it up on the ever-useful web to discover this fact) I certainly wouldn't be at all bummed if a billboard like this went up around Fenway this season. Heck, I'd love to see a cow actually charge the mound in protest for eating beef. Honestly, how awesome would that be?

Edison's Fourth Birthday

2011-04-04T20:17:00.005-04:00

Despite all the stress of the last few weeks, I did manage to take a little time to celebrate Edison's fourth birthday on the 21st of last month. I can't believe my little man is this old- sadly, time flies by far too quickly in our little ones' lives. Lack of time prevented me from making them more intricate party hats this time around, so the boys were forced to wear simple clown cones made of iridescent paper, but with the addition of some bright blue marabou trim to jazz them up a bit. The boys enjoyed a tiny homemade blueberry cake and shared some spring-themed gifts, including a crocheted squirrel holding a large (also crocheted) acorn. And no holiday would be complete without a new catnip mouse for Bram, who prefers small cat toys to all others and has quite an impressive collection of mice. This latest one is a bright sky blue one that is morbidly obese, quite unfortunate for the little fellow as due to his enormous belly, his tiny feet come no way near to touching the ground. Happy birthday once again my little man!

A Brief Hiatus

2011-03-17T18:41:00.004-04:00

I've been post-less for almost two weeks now due to a family crisis and most likely won't be back for some time to come (hopefully not too long though). There is just no way, given the circumstances I am dealing with, that I can focus enough to actually write something worth reading. I hope you'll bear with me during this difficult time and will still be here waiting for me when I return. Take care and much peace to you all!

Victorian Chihuahuas

2011-03-06T16:16:00.005-05:00

Chihuahuas from more than a century ago, living in Victorian elegance.

Photos courtesy of prouxchihuahuas.com.

Portrait of Maia Louise I

2011-02-27T01:18:00.004-05:00

The first of two portraits of Maia based on some photos of her recently published here (see "Maia Louise," January 4, 2011). I managed to effectively maintain her haughty, obnoxious attitude in this drawing, which is so important as it's her defining characteristic.

Portrait of Maia Louise, graphite on paper, 2011 (detail)

Edison in the Land of Oz

2011-02-20T19:48:00.005-05:00

Edison has liked to watch The Wizard of Oz since he was a baby and even now at nearly four enjoys sitting on my lap and joining me in a viewing. In fact, we've watched it twice in the last month alone. He loves the munchkins and all the kooky things in the busier scenes, like those that take place in Munchkinland and those within The Emerald City. He likes to watch Toto, any birds that appear in the film (he loves all birds anytime, anywhere), and he really enjoys the Wicked Witch. Her flying monkeys send him into paroxysms of joy. However, for reasons known only to him, he hates the Tin Man. He gets especially upset when the Tin Man is first introduced and goes into his "If I Only Had a Heart" song and dance. Edison goes absolutely berserk while watching the Tin Man clanking about on the Yellow Brick Road and banging here and there on his body. He poofs up, growls and snarls at the TV, eventually escalating into uncontrollable barking. The hysteria ends abruptly when the Tin Man toots steam out of his little hat, at which point Edison not only shuts up in mid-bark, but visibly flinches and jerks backwards with a look of amazement on his tiny face. When the dancing resumes, so does the crazy-dog mania. After this scene, those lucky enough to watch the movie with Edison have a slight reprieve, but only a small one, as from here on out, every time the Tin Man can be heard clanking about in a scene no matter what the character is doing or not doing, Edison ramps up the crazed shouting once again. And on and on it goes till he exhausts himself and takes a blessedly quiet nap.

The Eccentric Mr. Fish

2011-02-15T16:46:00.011-05:00

Mr. Fish, usually being an in-your-face sort of chap, suffers from a bit of camera shyness as he swims away from his nearly constant face-pressed-to-the-glass pose.

Mr. Fish's actual name is Mr. Sparkle Fins (whose brother is named the rather unfortunate Senor Rainbow Fish Sparkle Fins II), but for obvious reasons I prefer to call him simply "Mr. Fish." He lives in a small tank in a sunny spot on the kitchen counter as he found it too cold in one of the bedrooms upstairs where he briefly lived. This is actually his second tank, the first one having been knocked off the counter by Maia Louise at 4 am one morning as I showered the day's art filth off of me. I heard a muffled crash, leaped out of the shower and ran dripping and naked through the house, only to find a broken tank, an insane amount of smelly fish water covering the entire kitchen floor complete with gravel and plastic plants floating lazily around in it, and Mr. Fish flopping madly while being volleyed about by an ecstatic Maia Louise. I managed a quick pick up to make do till a more reasonable hour and followed it up with a second shower. But I digress.

Mr. Fish is a very weird little fish. Unlike every other fish I've ever encountered in a tank anywhere, Mr. Fish never simply goes about his fishy business unaware of the humans doing their own personal things around him. Mr. Fish watches everything you do. And I mean everything. He constantly moves from one end of his tank to the other, following your every move, never once taking his tiny black eyes off of you. He's enthralled by ordinary kitchen-y type objects (utensils, food packages, et al) placed on the counter near him. He's especially fond of things that are yellow, though why he is is anybody's guess. I've discovered that if you stand in front of his tank while he's staring you down, and you wave to him, he gets so excited he spins in a circle like a puppy.

As I'm not a big fan of keeping any creatures that require a cage and loss of their freedom, I admit I feel bad for Mr. Fish and talk to him quite often when I'm in the kitchen, and I even take the lid off of his tank so he can see up and out the top for a change of scenery (I just have to make sure I remember to put it back before I leave the room, lest I give Maia a free shot at scooping him out and gobbling him down). And one day I felt compelled to reach in and touch him. Now honestly, what are fish supposed to do when you stick your hand into their water? Freak out and swim away in terror, right? Not our Mr. Fish who loves to have his back rubbed, so much so that he'll roll onto his side and wiggle around like a dog rolling in some sweet, cool grass on a summer's day. He's only big enough for a one-fingered rub and a very gentle one at that for fear of hurting him, but love them he does.

I dread the day he passes as Mr. Fish is unlike any fish I've ever known, seen or even just heard of. It's like there's another, more knowing creature inside his tiny fishy body, one that hates being trapped in a little tank full of water and yearns for interaction with the world outside. This is a thinking fish, a lonely fish and to be frank, a very, very strange fish that makes some people, who find themselves spending more than a few moments in my kitchen, quite uncomfortable.

Brammy Stays Warm

2011-02-08T19:10:00.003-05:00

Brammy had the right idea on a recent very cold winter's afternoon: sleepily hunker down in a down-filled bed under a pile of little fleece blankets and only peep out when someone insists you show yourself.

Chihuahua Art

2011-01-27T21:50:00.003-05:00

It had been awhile since I last saw some neat little art with chihuahuas as the main subject and then I stumbled across this sweet collage and instantly fell in love. The repeating chi is adorable and who doesn't like an ancestor with a helium balloon for a head?

Family Portrait/Chihuahua, collage, 2007

Photo courtesy of kaizermodo

Two Chunky Sweaters

2011-01-22T16:28:00.008-05:00

Despite my lingering vertigo-type virus, I've managed to finish these two super chunky turtlenecks for my boys just in time for an insanely cold arctic blast due to hit tonight. When it goes into the low minuses for the next few days, the little men will be sitting pretty (and cozy) in their uber-thick but very soft lambswool sweaters. I made Edison's first and discovered when I put it on Bram to see if I could get away with the same size and stitch count, that Brammo's head almost completely disappeared inside the large turtleneck, thus some adjustments were made to the pattern and chubby, shorter-necked Bram got a sweater he could wear without needing a periscope to see up and out the top. I had hoped to put some gorgeous sea green and blue buttons on them to tie the two together subtly in a colorwise way, but was very unhappy with the way they looked sewn on. Love the sweaters, love the buttons, but together? Not so much. But even unadorned, these sweaters still rock and so do my handsome men inside them. Bring on the chill, baby! Bring it on!

A Homemade Diet: The Early Days

2011-01-15T15:46:00.010-05:00

Bram has been struggling with intermittent stomach issues for the last few months, the origins of which remain unknown. His blood work is normal, his health is otherwise fine, but his tummy-and god only knows why- feels compelled to rebel in a very unpleasant way for both Bram and his humans. I'm pretty sure it's a new food allergy or intolerance but despite endless elimination and reintroduction diets, I've yet to figure out which ingredient it is. I'm thinking it may be more than one, with one of the culprits most likely corn, a food that is not in any of the dog food he or Edison eats but which I must admit I am guilty of feeding them in tiny amounts when noshing on my own unhealthy human snacks.

I've spoken with my vet about homemade diets, and although I'm willing to take the time and pay the expense of it all, I worry about my men getting the proper nutrition they need to stay healthy for many, many years to come. My vet has seen horror stories played out before her very eyes, and of course she shared every last gory detail with me (thanks, doc!) so I've decided to strike something of a compromise. I will continue to use the holistic kibble and organic wet food I know the little boy can eat without incident, and will also continue to add bits of human meats, veggies and fruits to their meals as well, but I've started to buy some of the better doggie cookbooks to use in creating those yummy, healthy foods to be used as supplements to dog food meal time.

The boys have had their first organic chicken livers; a meat that I really struggled with poaching while suffering from a flu-like virus. I've found that boiling fresh organ meats requires a stomach of steel, at least in my kitchen at any rate. They've enjoyed the recent addition to their diets of grass-fed sauteed buffalo and next we'll be testing the tummy waters with some salmon and possibly a bit of fresh tuna. Veggies are always welcome (except for the much-despised peas) and fruits are being kept to a minimum till Bram's stomach is fully settled.

As someone who was raised by an executive chef and who has an almost obsessive need to keep buying and using new cookbooks, moving into the realm of fine doggie cuisine is not only going to be healthier for my boys, but absolutely hands-down fun-as-hell for me too.

The Healthy Dog Cookbook: 50 Nutritious and Delicious Recipes Your Dog Will Love, Jonna Anne with Mary Strauss and Shawn Messonnier, DVM, Ivy Press Limited, 2008

The Natural Pet Food Cookbook: Healthful Recipes for Dogs and Cats, Wendy Nan Rees with Kevin Schlanger, DVM, Wiley, John & Sons, 2008.

Photos courtesy of Barnes and Noble.

The Stuffed Duck, Part One

2011-01-09T19:39:00.007-05:00

We had a very special little Call Duck who passed away last month after a very long and very blessed life. His previous owner had had many of his most special birds stuffed, thus preserving them for all time, and so we had talked about doing this ourselves for little Pibb when his time came, provided he was to pass while he was in fine feather. Well, he did and he was, so we took him to the man who had worked on so many of Pibb's predecessors.

As someone who doesn't like to see dead animals, or even think about them suffering or being killed in any way, I wasn't sure how I would handle being in the same room with a bunch of them. Oddly though, I generally like taxidermied animals (even the badly done ones), probably because they're a happy combination of a creature looking beautifully alive and acting as a piece of art all at the same time. I surprised myself by not having any trouble maneuvering through a minefield of bloodied and decapitated bodies and heads piled here and there on the floor waiting for their turn to be immortalized. In fact, I was fine with everything: the ugly untreated bits and the gloriously gorgeous creatures in the showroom: everything from the giant moose down to the tiniest birds and everything in between.

The only thing I didn't do so well with was when the man's very young daughter excitedly told me the story of how she had just made her first kill and that daddy was going to stuff her buck for her. Keeping a smile on my face and looking happy for her wasn't the easiest thing I have ever done. Hunting an animal for sport is not something I want to hear about, but a child hunting an animal for sport and being so pleased with herself was almost more than I could bear. But alas, bear it I did for our little Pibb, who I simply can't wait to have back here at home with us, fat little body, bent little wobbly leg and all.

Pibb! When will you be ready for us to come and collect you, little man?

Maia Louise

2011-01-04T19:51:00.005-05:00

Maia was being a fairly good girl for a change, sitting quietly in her bed, transfixed by a fly that was buzzing around on the light fixture on the ceiling above her head. (I'm not sure how a fly managed to stay alive in the frigid winter temperatures we're currently having, but power to it for making it this far into the season). When I saw how sweet she looked while not tearing up a pillow she isn't supposed to be on while sharpening her claws, rabbit kicking a magazine to shreds with her back feet, venomously swatting at shiny chihuahua eyes, or sundry other rotten cat behaviors she enjoys indulging in, I ran for my camera. Her giving me the cold stare in one of the photos aside, followed rapidly by her realizing that the fly was now a mere inches from her bum in the other photo, she posed rather nicely. For a cat.

Having now managed to get the rare couple of photos of her not in a blurry swirl of whiskers and fur, and given doctor's orders to rest through a nasty virus I'm now suffering from, I plan on sitting quietly for the next few days, wrapped all snuggly in a blanket with the boys, and sketching her up from these pictures, a rare treat from the usual dog portraits.

Meat? Yes! Fur? No!

2010-12-30T22:17:00.007-05:00

I was shopping at my local butcher shop on a very chilly day when my 'meat man' asked me if the fur ear flap hat I was wearing was real fur. When I told him no, it's a very realistic-looking fake, he winked at me and said, "That's good, because no animals are ever harmed in this place." And while it was all very amusing, and we both had a chuckle, it got me to thinking about what exactly my belief system is and where I draw the line.

I'm horrified at any animal cruelty of any kind and yet I eat meat. Most meat, at any rate. I refuse to eat veal as the way veal calves are treated appalls me. And I don't eat lamb as the thought of eating a darling spring lamb is equally upsetting to me. Yet I have no trouble eating beef, chicken or pork and it isn't as though I don't find the creatures from which those meats originate unpleasing, nor that I'm not bothered by the slaughter of those animals because I am. And still I eat some portion of them just about every single day.

I'm repulsed by real fur. The torture those animals endure and the ridiculous amount of lives and pelts it takes to create a single coat or hat makes my blood run cold, yet I wear leather shoes and boots, pigskin gloves and I even own a leather coat. Is tanning a hide any less evil than skinning a mink or chinchilla?

As I stood there at the meat counter expressing my horror at wearing a real fur hat, collecting my steaks and pork chops, feet tucked snugly into my toasty sheepskin boots, I realized with a certain amount of disgust that I am a complete hypocrite when it comes to my commitment to animal rights. And as sad as it makes me, I'm not sure I'm prepared to change my present habits. That's bad, isn't it?

Wrapping the Gifts

2010-12-24T15:14:00.012-05:00

Gift wrapping shenanigans and hijinks. While one of us was attempting to actually wrap some gifts, two small dogs (and a lazy cat) were doing their best to make the task as difficult as possible. Diving under paper, running across paper, tearing up paper, climbing into the bags with the unwrapped gifts, stealing gift cards and pens, and of course in the case of the boys, teasing the poor cat until she practically had a seizure. Ah, it must be Christmas again.

Merry Christmas One and All!

Four Old Disney Movies

2010-12-17T00:44:00.012-05:00

I was recently at a dinner party and though I can't remember exactly how it happened, the after-dinner talk somehow turned to old Disney movies. And I was surprised by how many adults, most of whom are my age or just slightly older than me, had neither seen nor, even more surprisingly, ever heard of some of my childhood favorites. In the last couple of weeks since that evening, I've been thinking about movies that I hadn't thought of in decades and since then, courtesy of netflix (what a wonderful invention that is), been systematically devouring them in the evenings after everyone else goes to bed. Here, in no particular order, are my four favorite animal-themed movies from my early childhood. And of course they'd be animal-themed! Did you expect something else?

The Horse in the Gray Flannel Suit (1968). Dean Jones plays an ad executive who's about to lose his job when a drug company owner hates the ad campaign designed for him. With a daughter who wants a horse of her own and no money with which to buy one, Jones gets the idea to buy the horse, name it after the stomach pill in question and take it through the show circuit as a living ad campaign. If the horse doesn't win big, Jones loses his job and the horse and makes his daughter miserable. I loved this as a little girl because the horse was a dapple gray, always my favorite, and I found myself last week as giddy as I was at six years old, madly in love with horses once again and thrilled to be watching two hours of the most gorgeous dapple gray ever to grace the screen.

The Ugly Dachshund (1966). Suzanne Pleshette's prize-winning weiner is about to have puppies and when she does, the vet talks her husband, again (the luscious) Dean Jones into bringing home an abandoned Great Dane to be nursed in the litter as well. Hijinks ensue when the poor Dane, who believes himself to also be a little weiner dog, gets blamed for all the chaos the naughty weiners create. When the Dane is entered in a dog show, can he realize what a big beautiful specimen he is before it's too late?

That Darn Cat (1965). When a bank teller is kidnapped during a robbery, she slips her wristwatch around the neck of DC, Hayley Mill's meandering Siamese cat, hoping to lead the police to her kidnappers' hideout. When Mills sees the watch, she gets the FBI involved, including one agent (Dean Jones again, am I sensing a pattern here?) who also happens to be highly allergic to cats and the hunt is on.

The Three Lives of Thomasina (1964). The story of a little girl named Mary whose mother has passed and whose life with her depressed veterinarian father is anything but fun. Only her cat Thomasina brings her joy but when the cat contracts tetanus and her father puts the cat down, Mary becomes enraged. She runs away and brings the cat to a witch, hoping she can heal Thomasina and bring her back to life, possibly reuniting father and daughter in the process. Not exactly the rollicking fare of the previous three films, but still a very sweet little movie that I fondly remember from my childhood (even if it doesn't have Dean Jones in it).

Bullies With Antlers

2010-12-13T19:13:00.009-05:00

I really do love to dress up my boys for the holidays. Strike that. I really do like to dress up my boys, period. I don't need any excuses to make them look adorable, but having a theme helps. I haven't had the time to think up or assemble any funky Christmas outfits for Edison and Bram, and while I'm sure they're pleased as hell I haven't, I'm going to miss them looking dapper and festive this year.

Last year I bought them two adorable little santa hats with fur trim. The hats played little twinkling versions of well-known holiday classics and I thought the boys would be irresistible in them with their giant ears poking out of the hats and merry tunes emanating from their tiny heads. What I didn't take into account was having two chihuahuas who were so freaked out by the music that was suddenly swirling all too closely to their heads, that every time I put one of the hats on them, they'd drop down, bellies to the floor, legs splayed out, with a look of sheer terror on their otherwise angelic faces. My guilt got the better of me after only one or two tries and with a heavy heart I returned the hats to the shop where I had gotten them.

This year I saw a gift set that included a tiny green fur hat adorned with holly that came with a set of four tiny curly-toed elf boots that had little jingle bells on theirs tips. It was meant to be for cats, but would have fit my boys perfectly. But being the loving mother I am, I decided to not put poor Edison and Bram through the horrors of holiday clothes again, for this year at any rate. I have told Maia Louise, when she's been naughty and abusive to the boys, that I know where I can very easily get an outfit that will not only be physically uncomfortable for her but will humiliate her in her uber-snobby cat world as well. So far, my threats have kept her nicely in line. And of course, there's always next year to go holiday-outfit-hog-wild on all my furry children.

These three adorable bullies sporting festive holiday antlers belong to a friend of mine. From top to bottom these cuties are: Sophie, the adorable little Frenchie, Chelsea and Charles. It's good to see some dogs have gotten into the holiday spirit, even if Sophie looks like she'd rather be asleep than posing for her close up.

Many thanks to Mary Lou for allowing me to use these photos of her gorgeous doggies.

How to Torture a Snowman, Chi Style

2010-12-08T00:49:00.004-05:00

These are two of a friend's (nine) dogs enjoying a fun afternoon in the first snow of the season. That's tiny Pru, the tomboy, scaling a rather unfortunate snowman, first attempting to steal his hat and then deciding that the hat alone wasn't enough, thus going for his carrot nose and ultimately knocking his head off instead. Unfortunately, Beryl (the little black pug) wasn't quite quick enough when it came to joining in on the happy destruction.

Many thanks to Jo for the use of these hilarious photos of her girls torturing a snowman!

Dog Sweaters

2010-11-29T16:53:00.009-05:00

Before I went utterly insane and took on a commission of four portraits in four weeks (to be completed by the third week of December), I had planned on knitting the boys two new sweaters for the holidays, a task which, trust me, does not come easily to me. And had it not been the holiday season when everyone who knits or crochets (another skill for which I have absolutely no ability) is presently knitting and crocheting their fingers off in all the beautiful yarns your mind can imagine, I may have had a few more choices as to available yarn colors, too. But alas, the sea blues and field greens my eye imagined were nowhere to be found and in their stead I chose two lovely chunky lambswools, albeit in rather 'serious' colors for my men. Edison's sweater will be in a deep charcoal gray which will play nicely off his dark sabling and Bram's will be in a rich oatmeal flecked with large charcoal and tan fibers which will not only complement his tan features, but this sweater and Edison's (and my boys too, of course) will look simply smashing when seen together. Once an artist, always an artist! So stay tuned to this site for photos of the boys in their finery should I ever not only have the time for knitting, but somehow manage to figure out how to actually make these sweaters as well.

In the meantime, enjoy some photos of a little chihuahua named Ollie who has an entire wardrobe of jazzy sweaters made by his loving mom, Kimberly.

Photos of Ollie in his knit finery courtesy of Kimberly Vogel.

World's Smallest Police Dog

2010-11-19T18:26:00.007-05:00

Meet Japan's newest police dog- all 6.6 lbs of her. In what is a first for Japan, and perhaps the world, a long-haired Chihuahua named "Momo" (which translates to "Peach") passed her exams to become a police dog in the western Japanese prefecture of Nara. The tiny brown and white (and perky!) Momo was one of 32 dogs out of 70 to successfully pass her exams. She completed a search and rescue test by finding a person in five minutes after merely sniffing their cap.

"Any breed of dog can be entered to become a police dog in the search and rescue division," said a Nara police spokesman, but he admitted that news a Chihuahua had been entered may still come as a surprise to many. "It's quite unusual," he said.

Television footage showed the 7-year-old Momo bounding across grass or sitting proudly, long hair blowing in the breeze. Momo will be used for rescue operations in the case of disasters such as earthquakes, in the hopes that she may be able to squeeze her tiny frame into places too narrow for the more usual breed of rescue dogs, German Shepherds. The public response to the news of Momo's selection took police by surprise, the spokesman said, adding: "The phone's been ringing all afternoon."

Thanks to Reuters for the photograph and original version of this story.

Dog Language

2010-11-12T19:51:00.004-05:00

I know everyone thinks their pets are the smartest and greatest animals in the world, but my animals actually are. At least when it comes to their comprehension of human words. My dogs (and to a slightly lesser degree, my cat as well) have a rather astounding vocabulary. This is probably due to the fact that I seldom shut up and as I've been yakking at them since the moment they came home as babies, it was only a matter of time before some of it rubbed off onto them and stuck.

They know all the key words a dog needs to know: those for walks, car rides, food, toys, and anything else that drives them to fits of doggie bliss, but they also know some more obscure ones, like "garage," "upstairs and downstairs," the names for various rooms in the house, the names of all their much-loved people and stuffed toys and, inexplicably, in one case, Elvis. And most unfortunately, they know the names for things we wish they didn't.

And it's these words that denote things, behaviors, or people that we try to hide from the dogs that sometimes makes talking around them difficult. Say something enough times and eventually a very smart dog will learn to associate the word or phrase with the action that accompanies it. And so we began to use Pig Latin when speaking of those forbidden things. That is, until it became apparent that the boys had developed an understanding of a fair amount of Pig Latin, which then forced us to speak in French. And now they're starting to comprehend the French. We figure that we have a bit of time left before we've exhausted all the more common languages on earth, which buys us some time before we're reduced to speaking of forbidden doggie things to one another in a remote African language that consists entirely of clicks and whistles. But at the rate we're going, it may be sooner than we think.

Ivy and Doris

2010-11-05T20:10:00.007-04:00

Two sweet little English girls, recently captured in two very different portraits. The solid (dare I say, chunky?) pug named Doris was drawn in fairly heavy graphite on a very thick, hand pressed paper, while Ivy, the wispy little long-coat chihuahua was drawn very delicately on a soft blush-colored paper to enhance her fragility. I adore both of these dogs and would love to have them for my very own. Alas, all I have are the photos of the works I did of them, but that's okay because they are both very much loved and spoiled where they are, across the pond.

Portrait of Ivy, graphite on paper, 2010

Doris in Profile, graphite on paper, 2010

Glamour Shots

2010-11-01T15:13:00.003-04:00

The boys posed in their tiny fezzes for some lovely glamour portraits to be used in a photo portfolio. I personally think they both look like tiny super models, but I have to say that Bram, the boy who will do anything for food, has now trumped Edison, the boy who will panic over anything, as the Next Top Chihuahua Model in my house. And the treats used to coax the boys into their glorious poses? Vienna Fingers. Far, far too many little pieces of Vienna Fingers. More than any healthy chi should eat. It's a good thing we don't shoot every day or these would be two very fat little men. And there's nothing glamorous about that.

Brammy Turns Two

2010-10-27T18:33:00.005-04:00

Monday was Bram's second birthday and boy does time fly! It seems like just yesterday we were making the trip to Connecticut to meet a little female from the same litter only to find myself head over heels in love with a little boy who had more personality than could be contained in such a tiny body and who was equally suffering from love at first sight with me as well. We celebrated his big day on Sunday though, as I wasn't going to be home on Monday evening and didn't want to have to rush his gifts and cake. He got a gift of his own and one to share with Edison and both boys wore tiny fezzes with tassels I made for them last week. The little Man of the Hour also wore a lime green marabou boa to show just how festive he could be and both boys dined on a teeny tiny homemade butter sponge cake with vanilla icing. A grand time was had by all, even those who donned hats they may have preferred to have not been forced to wear in the first place!

HAPPY 2ND BIRTHDAY BRAM EBENEZER, MOMMY'S LITTLE BRAMMY-DOODLE!

Boys With Bling

2010-10-25T16:45:00.007-04:00

Okay, so maybe 'bling' isn't exactly the best choice of adjective, but they are some well-accessorized boys. I made these necklaces for my little men in the hopes of balancing their energy just a teensy bit when we're out and about in the world. Each of the twelve stones used in them was chosen for their specific properties: grounding and centering, inducing a sense of calm, being outgoing and making friends easily, courage without swagger, and safety from theft or injuries. A few of the stones are simply to bring them a long, healthy and very happy life.

I was shopping for a second red stone to complement the coral and while in a bead shop asked the clerk if she had any red jasper, a stone known for its grounding energy. She looked around and told me she hadn't any jasper, but she did have carnelian. I laughed. She looked confused. I told her that yes, carnelian is a beautiful rich red stone, but it's used to give a fearless voice to those who wear it. I explained that I have two little chihuahuas, a breed known for its incessant yapping and which for my men is always even worse (if this is even possible) when we're out in public. The last thing I would want around my boys' necks is something that will give them even more bark.

Do I honestly think this dog jewelry will in any way modify the out-of-control behavior my tiny men exhibit when we're out and meet new people or, even worse, other dogs? No. But that doesn't mean I can't wish for it as hard as I possibly can, and for my boys to look uber-stylish while I'm doing it.

Edison and Bram's matching necklaces are made of aventurine, obsidian, polished red coral, aquamarine, amethyst, jade, tiger's eye, red jasper, smoky quartz, blue lace agate, turquoise and hematite. Each necklace also has a tiny sterling silver peace sign that dangles from the clasp.

Mouse Trouble

2010-10-21T20:54:00.007-04:00

Literally every single night Maia Louise sits by the radiator in the corner of the dining room, waiting and watching, on the off-chance a stray mouse will climb up the pipes from the cellar and make its way into the house. She's done this every single night since one lousy mouse did this ages ago. Talk about stubborn. Well, her persistence finally paid off as one very chilly little mouse recently made the mistake of climbing up those pipes. And of course once it did, all hell broke loose. The cat grabbed the mouse and did what cats do to them, the boys went berserk because the cat was going nuts. I dove at the men to get them out of the way while Griffin cornered the cat and tried to get the poor mouse away from her so we could let it go outside. The dogs were thrilled that the cat was being both yelled at and shaken and insisted on being involved because they love when Maia gets in trouble (after all, what self-respecting dog doesn't love a good cat bashing?). The noise level was absolutely insane for quite some time with animals running pell mell all around the downstairs chasing mice, chasing cats and dodging humans. I finally managed to corral the boys behind a barricade at the foot of the foyer stairs, which of course only made them bark more, -and this was just pure luck- the now bleeding mouse got away and went right back down that pipe on its own. It probably figured it was far better off taking its chances out in the cold and rain of that night than to stay in this madhouse. It took another 20 minutes to get Edison to stop barking at everyone in a stern, lecturing voice about how all this was totally uncalled for. Edison is quite a persnickety little dog.

And then, less than a week later: another mouse. I knew there was a mouse in the dining room again as the cat was on alert and Bram was running around and around the table and chairs frantically sniffing the carpet, intently focused on the hunt. I couldn't find it though, which isn't a surprise given how tiny a field mouse is and the fact that with nothing but period lighting in our house, it's virtually impossible to even see your hand before your face after sundown. Three hours later I found Bram in the dining room, growling his hilarious little helium growl at David's Gibson propped in a corner. I picked the guitar up and sure enough, there was a little field mouse hunkered down behind it, bum against the baseboard, freaking out. I called Griffin down to help me. On went two pairs of rubber dishwashing gloves and out came a little bag in which to place the mouse for its trip back outdoors. I moved the guitar and Griffin grabbed the thing, plopped it into the bag and we both went outside together to let it go. Griffin set the bag down, the mouse came out onto the lawn, briefly looked surprised to find itself out there in the cold, and took off running with absolutely no hesitation around the side of the house, through the shade garden beneath my kitchen windows, up our ancient fieldstone foundation and right back into the house between those stones. It took it less than three seconds and the damn thing was back inside the warm house well before Griffin and I even reached the back steps, let alone got back indoors ourselves. I half expected to see it already up and out of the cellar, back in the toasty dining room, with a very tiny but smug and satisfied look on its face.

Photo courtesy of Mazart on flickr.

The Ride Home

2010-10-17T19:14:00.008-04:00

And here are the men on the return trip home and utterly tuckered out from their day walking the beach and climbing cemetery hills in the wind and chill. Brammy refused to get into his bed that he had vomited in earlier, despite my having carefully washed it out and lined it with a thick dry towel. Eventually, his fatigue won out, and he climbed in and settled down for a long snooze on the ride home, much cozier in his bed than on the bare car seat.

Beach Boys

2010-10-11T18:35:00.003-04:00

The boys spent a very blustery and chilly fall day at the beach. Despite the fact that at times they looked as though they would have liked to be anywhere but where they were, they did have some fun. Bram, who had never been to the beach before, was endlessly fascinated with the enormous piles of kelp drying at the high tide line, and both boys couldn't get enough of sniffing the various leftover dead bits of seagull dinners. They got good and sandy, smelled a bit too strongly of seaweed, dead marine life and a small amount of vomit (courtesy of Bram's brief episode of car sickness en route) and so after a very long and tiring day, they had a very satisfying dinner, a nice warm bath, and went to bed smelling like two sweet little boys once again.

How to Properly Cook Your Chihuahua

2010-10-05T21:06:00.012-04:00

I'm forever telling my boys I'm going to bite their legs, or that they should come over to me so I can chew on their faces, and of course, they always do. Then while I'm snuggling them and munching on them, I tell them how, if I were to ever cook and eat them, I would prepare and serve them.

Edison, being quite lean, would be ideal for a summer supper, served outdoors on the patio with a gentle warm breeze blowing. He'd be grilled with a light lemon glaze, served with a tossed green side salad and some not-too-spicy watermelon salsa. We'd enjoy strawberry margaritas and we'd follow him with some fresh fruit and a homemade sorbet for dessert.

Bram, however, being the chubby little guy he is, would best be served on a cold, cold winter night. With that thick layer of fat he wears, he'd crisp up nicely as a roast and would be delicious with a rich gravy, assorted root veggies and mulled cider. A warm pumpkin pudding with french vanilla ice cream would follow him nicely.

And if you asked them, my boys would insist that the dreaded cat be served first as an appetizer, preferably as something filleted. They'd have it no other way.

Please note for those of you who either don't get humor or have no sense of humor: I'm kidding. I would never engage in any form of animal cruelty nor would I eat my boys. I might nosh on a cocker spaniel, but never a chihuahua.

Photo courtesy of jenida on flickr.

Vintage Chihuahuas

2010-10-02T01:04:00.009-04:00

Here are two more vintage photos of chihuahuas from long ago and far, far away. The chihuahua in the first photo doesn't seem to be enjoying his summer beach holiday at all (who ever heard of a chi who didn't like the sun??), while the lady in the second one looks far too unhappy for someone who is holding (and most likely also owning) one of the tiniest and cutest little babies I've seen in a vintage photo in a long time. How could anyone be that depressed who owns a chi? Maybe that's why the little munchkin is gazing off with such a wistful expression on its tiny face. Perhaps it's dreaming of someone who's a bit more fun than this bummer of a human?

Top photo courtesy of carlafrances on flickr.

Bottom photo courtesy of mdchunko on flickr as well.

Glorious Greyhounds

2010-09-27T16:10:00.004-04:00

The other day I was talking with a couple of friends about greyhounds and how utterly magnificent they are. There's nothing quite so regal as a long and lean greyhound mincing along (or better still: running like the wind). Years ago, when Griffin was young, we looked into adopting a retired racing greyhound but for reasons I can no longer remember, and despite meeting several lovely canine candidates, we never did adopt one. There's a brindle female who lives in my neighborhood who I secretly covet and there's a pair of tiny silver Italian greyhounds who live on the other side of town that I also am wildly smitten with. I watch for them every time I find myself driving in their area. Were those two ever seen being walked by a tiny, decrepit and very weak-looking old lady, I would be out of my car in a flash and knocking her butt to the sidewalk while I made off with those little darlings. Unfortunately, their owner happens to be one very buff, very burly gym rat who looks like he eats girls my size for a midday snack. Alas, my love of this breed will remain (for now) from afar.

Portrait of Cody courtesy of kimw_01 on flickr.

Photo of Nell at the beach courtesy of bredlo on flickr.

Teasing

2010-09-13T15:19:00.008-04:00

Bram is the world's greatest tease and Edison is his usual target of choice (though the poor cat isn't very far behind). The other evening I was working in my office and the boys were snuggled sweetly in their brand new cat beds amongst the piles of wrapped artwork. They looked so adorable that I just had to grab my camera and get some shots of them. My timing proved to be perfect though, as seconds later, the formerly snoozy Bram woke up and began to terrorize poor Edison. The entire sequence of shots is 21 frames which begin with two sleeping chihuahuas and progress through Bram waking up and briefly watching me, Bram discovering Edison sleeping quietly in the bed next to him, Bram poking Edison in the head repeatedly until Edison exploded in a fit of rage and then continuing the teasing until Edison finally (and with a very audible sigh) gave up and allowed Bram to chew his head, wash his ears and slap him in the face five or six times. It was at this point that Bram, once again, sadly realized that there isn't any fun in teasing if the tease-ee just gives up and so he, along with Edison, went back to sleep, each in their own little beds. And while the entire series of shots is a riot when viewed sequentially, I have winnowed it down to three sweet photos of my two boys doing what they do best: amusing the hell out of me no matter what they're doing.

Two Chihuahua Portraits

2010-09-09T14:23:00.003-04:00

Two small portraits. The top fellow is Oliver, a cream and tan chihuahua who, in his young life, has been quite the world traveler. This is a very tiny portrait at just 4x6 inches. The bottom boy is Enrique Caruso, otherwise known as Neekie Pete. Neekie is a little tri-color guy who lives in (the often very frigid) upstate New York. This is a fairly recent portrait and at 7x10 inches, slightly larger than Ollie's rendering.

Head Study of Oliver, graphite on paper, 2009

Face Portrait of Neekie Pete, graphite on paper, 2010

I Love Cows!

2010-08-30T17:49:00.006-04:00

"Cows are amongst the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young when deprived of them; and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures."

-Thomas de Quincey, English author and intellectual (1785-1859)

Photo courtesy of shastadaisy on flickr.

Edison

2010-08-24T18:00:00.004-04:00

I was fussing over some work in my front hallway when I noticed Edison watching me rather intently from his little bed, semi-drowsy from the summer sun that was deliciously warming his tiny back. I may be something of a nerd for always having a camera at the ready no matter where I am or what I'm doing (once an artist always an artist), but sometimes it makes for some very sweet shots. These were taken from the furthest end of the hallway with a close up lens so he didn't feel compelled to jump out of the bed and run over to me if I walked into the room he was in.

Watching the Horses

2010-08-21T18:53:00.006-04:00

The boys love to visit the horses up the road and are always delighted when they're in one of the fields that we can easily access from the road, thus allowing Edison and Bram to get up close and personal with them. Sometimes, though, the horses are in one of those fields that won't allow one to walk right up to the fence. No matter how much I or my boys love to pet and sniff the horses (respectively, of course) there is no way I'm going to do it in poison ivy that's tall enough to reach my knees, or brambles full of thorns that would rip my legs to shreds from thigh to toe. On those days we sadly take a horse-free walk and then head home. Sometimes, later in the day when we're heading out in the car to run some dog-friendly errands, the horses will have switched fields and be close enough for us to enjoy them once more. But often I've got too little time to pull over, get both of the boys out of the car and carry them over to the fence for an intimate meet and greet, so we have to make do with a few quick moments of horse gazing from the car window. It may not be as good as standing nose to nose with a big beautiful horse, but we love it all the same.

Horse Farm

2010-08-16T12:20:00.009-04:00

I love horses and have since I was a little girl (after all, what girl doesn't?) and the horse farm up the road from my house is one of my favorite places to be. All of the horses are beautiful, but I am especially partial to a dark dapple gray with a blonde tail. While there are several dapples on the farm, this one particular stallion is simply gorgeous and makes my heart skip a beat every time I see him grazing in one of the fields. If I was ever going to steal a horse, he'd be the one I abscond with. And while you may think this is just talk, be forewarned: I come from a long line of 18th and 19th century horse thieves, so it's in my blood. If you find me suddenly and inexplicably gone from this blog, you'll know exactly where I've gone: off into hiding with that beautiful, beautiful horse (and my boys) to live happily ever after.

But How Do the Squirrels Feel?

2010-08-08T19:50:00.006-04:00

According to a headline article in the Christian Science Monitor:
MONKEYS HATE FLYING SQUIRRELS, REPORT MONKEY-ANNOYANCE EXPERTS

Japanese macaques will completely flip out when presented with flying squirrels, a new study in monkey-antagonism has found. The research could pave the way for advanced methods of enraging monkeys.

Seriously? In my next life (or when I grow up into adulthood in this one, whichever comes first), I'm going to become an expert in some ridiculous field of animal research and I'm going to waste millions of dollars in grant money to study some incredibly dumb behavior that nobody gives a shit about (except in this case maybe the freaked out and clearly unhappy monkeys) and then I'm going to have the results of my exhaustive work plastered as the top headline in newspapers the world over, thereby ensuring that tons more grant money comes my way, thus funding my next absolutely retarded research idea and making sure I am set for life.

African Wild Dog

2010-08-04T20:56:00.005-04:00

I'm endlessly fascinated with wild animals that look vaguely like our domesticated versions but still remain untamed and, well, different. In the case of the African Wild Dog, it would be (and I'll give you one guess- quick!) those ears. At a brief glance, this guy looks a lot like a German Shepherd, doesn't it? And that's rather cool given that this dog still roams wild in packs on savannahs and in lightly wooded areas, hunting and eating everything from wild birds up to zebras. But egads! Those ears! If this species was ever domesticated, as has been successfully achieved with some wild varieties of African cats, I don't think I could ever own one because I would be perpetually distracted by the poor animal's Mickey Mouse Club ears. They're mesmerizing in a really funky sort of way. I doubt I'd ever get anything done because I'd find it difficult to ever look away. That and the fact that its hearing has to be off the charts. Edison has really big ears and I swear he can pick up signals from space because he hears things (and summarily goes off on a wild barking tangent to sound the alarm) that no one else can hear. With ears like this, these dogs have to be able to eavesdrop on conversations in other galaxies. Frankly, I don't think I could take anymore nuisance barking in my life. And oh yeah, I would so not be up for cleaning the remnants of meals out of this thing's beard either.

Photo courtesy of Wild Dogger on flickr.

Antiquing

2010-07-27T12:07:00.009-04:00

The boys went antiquing with David and I this past weekend and were the Belles of the Ball (even though they're not exactly little ladies). Everyone was cooing over them and insisted on crouching down and petting them and surprisingly, both of my men were fairly well behaved the entire time. Sure, there were a few rather dicey (and loud) moments such as when a dealer's Pug decided that Edison and Bram were not going to shop in his human's tent, or when that Brussels Griffon suddenly leapt out from beneath a table full of glassware and startled the hell out of the boys who then had an extended case of residual barking for quite some time afterwards.

It was a stiflingly hot day with much rest time in the shade as well as gallons of water for all. The boys didn't find anything to buy that interested them (though I found a lovely antique turquoise bracelet that I talked David into buying me for my upcoming birthday). I love it when my boys behave so well and charm the pants off of everyone they meet. It sure beats those days when I'm walking two obnoxious little dogs that have people looking at me like I'm the worst pet owner on the entire planet and one who hasn't a clue how to control her dogs. Or worse still, those days when I'm carrying two armpit piranhas who try to bite the fingers off of everyone within arms' reach. But this weekend was pure doggy bliss...sigh...

Maia and the Skunk

2010-07-19T18:24:00.007-04:00

Maia Louise all tuckered out, but smelling much better, the day after her skunk-filled evening.

Maia Louise got out the other evening and led us all on a merry chase for several hours. David and I left to go to a local early evening concert and when we returned home, there was Maia, sitting sweetly on the walk by the kitchen door. She pretended to start up the steps with us but then dashed off once more with a wicked gleam in her eye. Frankly, I was in no mood and instead of playing her endless game of chase, I went inside, shut the door behind me and turned off the outside lights. I completely forgot about the two baby skunks that had been busying themselves in my kitchen garden for the past three nights. Forgotten that is until about two hours later when I smelled the blast right outside my windows. Edison went berserk and ran maniacally from door to door, begging to be let out so he could handle the skunk situation himself (yeah, right) and Bram kept pace though I'm not entirely sure he even knew what he was barking at (that's Brammy-doodle for you).

Sure enough, there was Maia sitting beneath the hedge around the corner from the kitchen door, and just four feet from her was one of the young skunks, each giving the other the hairy eyeball and neither daring to look away first. So with flashlight in hand to keep an eye on where that skunk was at all times, David and I spent the next 90 minutes trying to get the damn cat into the house. Nothing worked, and honestly, why should it? Maia knew very well that there was nothing nearly as exciting indoors as having a live skunk toy to play with outdoors. Eventually, I was reduced to prancing about the back lawn in the dark with a bizzy ball on a long length of string, doing my damndest to entice the cat into a game with me and amazingly, it finally worked (after all, what cat can resist the lure of a wiggling string?). I couldn't quite get my hands near enough to her to pick her up without her skittering away, so on her next twirl around my legs I gently but firmly stepped onto her tail and David grabbed her.

She smelled only vaguely of skunk, as if she had walked into the butt cloud after the skunk went off rather than having taken a direct hit. I at first decided not to torture her by giving her a bath (and me as well, being very allergic to cats) and instead doused her rather generously with the boys' sun-kissed raspberry body spray. I asked David if he thought she smelled any better and he responded with, "No, she smells like she's wearing raspberry skunk-stink perfume." I tried to live with the smell, but it was a hot night and frankly, being cooped up in the heat with a cat who reeked of fruit scented sun-kissed skunk was more than I could handle, so at 1:30 I gave in. Griffin and I took Maia outside where she got what was coming to her: a late-night, ice cold garden hose bath with half a bottle of baby shampoo. Maybe next time she'll think twice about tangoing with a skunk.

A Surprising Baby

2010-07-14T18:20:00.010-04:00

Our ducks and chickens are old and as such, they lay very few eggs these days. The rare ones they do lay are very quickly collected, simply because being able to enjoy ultra fresh eggs in our house isn't an everyday occurrence anymore. So it was with great shock and surprise that one morning last weekend we went out to clean the barn and found a tiny just-several-hours-old baby duckling running under and between the legs of Wilma Marie, an extraordinarily gentle and maternal silkie chicken hen who has mothered every baby duck and chick we've hatched in the last four years.

So how on earth did this happen? And I don't mean the fact that based on the markings of the duckling and the color of the hatched egg shell that this is clearly the love child of Pibb, our tiny male gray call duck no bigger than a toy rubber duckie and our very large and buxom rouen Emily Claire. How did the boy manage this without a step ladder? But I digress...After much thought, we've deduced that this one little stray egg was well-buried within the depths of a nest by a very possessive duck hen as no one who collects the eggs saw it at any time. And since none of the barn residents have shown any evidence of being broody, the outrageously high temperatures we've endured over the last few weeks in an unusually lengthy summer heat wave probably helped to create just the right conditions for this baby to be hatched without an incubator or a hen setting on it. It was, however, born with an unusual birth defect to its bill and tongue, which may or may not be due to the unusual conditions of its incubation and birth, though not one of my many fowl textbooks describes this aberration.

After several stressful days of worrying that the duckling wouldn't be able to eat or drink, we've had our fears allayed by a baby that is doing what ducklings do: growing at an alarming rate. If it continues to thrive, we'll now be watching to see whether it's a little boy or a little girl. I am not much for the vent sexing of birds and with the little one's deformed bill, my one nearly surefire way to sex a bird is impossible this time around. Stay tuned to this spot for updates on the newest and most unexpected member of our flock.

Vintage Chihuahua

2010-06-30T20:56:00.004-04:00

Two very old photos of what appears to be the same little dog, enjoying some leisure time on the grounds of a large institution. Apparently, there weren't any leash laws at that time.

Summer Day

2010-06-23T19:42:00.007-04:00

The boys enjoyed a happy romp on a hot and sunny early summer day. They ran till they were panting like mad and then fell into the cool green grass for a quick rest, only to get right back up to chase insects and shadows. When they'd had enough, they retired to the coolness of the house, drank cold water with ice cubes in it and napped the afternoon away.

Some Pricey Poop

2010-06-16T22:54:00.003-04:00

ST. LOUIS (AP) — This is why your mother says to wash your hands after handling money: A St. Louis worker found $58 — packed in dog poop.

Steve Wilson works for DoodyCalls Pet Waste Removal. On a recent call, he noticed money sticking out from doggie doo. Wilson wasn't sure what to do, but eventually pulled out the bills, sanitized them, placed them in a plastic zip-locked bag and returned them to the customer. It turned out to be $58.

The company says the money was torn, but the serial numbers were identifiable, which means the bills could be returned to a bank and replaced with new money. The Association of Professional Animal Waste Specialists says Wilson is the first person in his profession to find and report money in dog poop.

The Boys

2010-06-10T21:24:00.002-04:00

A sunny afternoon in the dining room with the boys. Bram can usually be found with his face pointed towards the warmth of the sun (even if the rest of him is in shadow) and Edison will always have his serious but gentle face on (unless Bram is poking him while he's trying to sleep). The two faces of serenity, chihuahua-style.

Worth a Thousand Words (or a Maybe a Bit Less)

2010-06-05T23:16:00.004-04:00

Some photos tell a story far better than others. You look at them and an entire backstory instantly unfolds in your mind, complete with a goofy conversation told in funny voices. This photo screams not only one story, but several different ones, and every one of them is impossibly silly. I'd share my thoughts with you, but I imagine that you have your own little narrative currently running through your head right now and I wouldn't want to disturb you.

Photo courtesy of pyramidhead84 on flickr.

Field trip

2010-05-25T14:12:00.006-04:00

The boys took a weekend field trip to one of their all-time favorite places: the nursery. They love to sniff every single plant in the place, watch the tiny toy train running along its track through the plants, and hop up onto the flat stones that line the decorative koi ponds to watch the fish and frogs swimming in and out of the lily pads. They love to take the Zen walk along the paths through the pine trees, where everything is cool and quiet, and then they like to head back to where the action is and bark, loudly and furiously, at all the other dogs who are also spending some quality time shopping for plants with their humans. But the main attraction for the boys is the goats who live at the nursery. Bram especially goes berserk when he rounds the corner to the goats' digs and if you don't keep a tight hand on his leash, will even tear through the tiny gap under the fence and go right in with them (naughty boy!). The goats are equally as interested in the boys too, bending down low to get face to face with them, utterly intrigued by these two odd little creatures. It was too bad the day was so chilly and windy. Had it been warm it would have been perfect. Oh well, at least the boys got to look smashingly adorable in their matching stripey turtleneck sweaters with the pom-pommed butts.

Vintage Chihuahua

2010-05-21T20:22:00.004-04:00

Here are a couple of photos from a vintage chihuahua book. I'm especially in love with the little freckled one on the far right (bottom photo) with the oh-so kissable pink mouth. One of these days I hope to find my elusive little girl chi, and it will be extra sweet if she were spotty or freckled. And honestly, who doesn't swoon (even just a little) at the sight of a tiny chi in a brightly colored knit sweater??

Aging Pets

2010-05-17T21:35:00.004-04:00

It's always a bittersweet thing to watch a pet age and with that age, grow slower and weaker. Maia Louise is getting up there in years, having joined our family when Griffin, who is now a junior in college, was just nine years old. While she's no longer the lunatic younger cat who would leap into the fridge and steal something to her liking (see "My Cat has ADHCD" October 21, 2006) or engage in any of the other insane things she used to regularly do like happily swimming in a full bathtub or straddling the banister and sliding down it backwards like a child, stopping only when she bumped her butt against the bottom newel post, she can still bring it in a round of play fighting and hide-and-seek with the dogs. It's just that the duration of these games are substantially shorter than they used to be. Likewise, a romp with some fresh-dried catnip is fairly brief too. She now takes the stairs very slowly and one at a time, sometimes pausing partway up to take a rest on one and she prefers to be picked up and placed on a piece of furniture rather than make the leap herself. There is much grunting and sighing when anything physical is involved, sort of like the sound an arthritic old man might make when forced to bend over to pick something up and I swear if Maia had hands, they'd be holding her lower back and hips when she moves. As much as it sucks, time marches on. I've grown older and much more creaky right along with my cat, but it pains me far more to watch it in her than it does to watch it in me.

A Quartet of Edison and Bram Portraits

2010-05-12T18:33:00.010-04:00

To be able to keep the fluidity between an artist's hand and eye, they need to draw every single day. Renoir said that it's essential for an artist to never miss a day and he never did, even if all he drew was a simple apple. So I draw every night, usually for three or four hours. For me it's the perfect, almost Zen, way to end my day. What feels like mere minutes is in actuality hours, as I lose myself in whatever it is laid before me. Sometimes I draw simple apples, sometimes self portraits, and sometimes I draw complicated still lifes, working more each night until they're done. I never feel rushed to complete my drawings as seldom does anyone see them. After all, who else looks into my sketchbooks besides me? My favorite thing to draw though, is my boys. And while I can't work from life with them (asking them to hold a pose would obviously be impossible), they do pose beautifully and rather patiently for photos, and that's the next best thing to a live model, which is good enough for me. I have more sketchbooks than I can count filled with all manner of drawings, but I also have sketchbooks dedicated to nothing but portraits I've drawn of my dogs. I think my babies are more than special enough to warrant their own books.

Portrait of Edison Jack Looking Up, graphite on paper, 2009

Study of Edison Jack Looking Over His Shoulder, graphite on paper, 2009

Large Bram in Repose, graphite, red chalk and watercolor pencil on paper, 2010

Small Portrait of Bram Ebenezer, graphite on paper, 2009

Two Handsome Little Men

2010-05-10T16:11:00.002-04:00

The title says it all. Need I say more?

Mating Season

2010-05-06T20:18:00.006-04:00

The wild mallards that live seasonally in the wetland behind my house have returned and the mating games have begun. The other evening I heard some very loud quacking in the front yard and when I looked out nearly had a full-blown cardiac event as I mistakenly thought the wild female mallard was my own fat rouen girl, Emily Claire, and I frantically wondered how she had escaped from the barn (gimme a break okay? Her markings look exactly like a female mallard and it was getting dark). After a brief moment where I visualized Emily's horrific death under the tires of a speeding car, I calmed down when I saw that it was not only Miss Mallard out there, but a suitor as well. No, make that two suitors: one happy to have been chosen and one slightly less amused.

David and I spent the next half hour or so watching the three of them parading around the back yard: the chubby female with her proud new boyfriend close by her side and the rather agitated male who had been rejected, though still doing his best to win over the girl. The little female was shrieking at the top her lungs and heavily engaged in that odd little head-bobbing thing that female ducks do to express their dominance in a situation, or what we like to call the "Disco Dominance Dance" because you can set it perfectly to any Bee Gees song from the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever, and her mate was chattering away in that raspy little whisper that male ducks have in lieu of a real voice. The odd man out was not about to give up without a fight and that's exactly what happened. Feathers briefly flew and then for the moment he dropped his fight for the mallard girl when he saw our two silver Indian Runner females watching the shenanigans from the safety of the duck run. Clearly, the sight of two long, lean platinum blondes trumped the chubby, mouthy gal before him and he instantly veered off to get a closer look at Francine Edna and Lola Agnes. But alas, with the model slim beauties safely behind hardware cloth, he soon gave up and went back to the fat one with the bad attitude.

In the end, the pair went off to the wetland where they have since made their home and nest, the third male flew off to hopefully find himself a mate elsewhere and David was left feeling very bad for the little boy with no one to love.

Photo courtesy of mike.pointon on flickr.

Brammy-Doodle-Doo and the Fireplace

2010-05-03T20:06:00.009-04:00

It's been in the 80s (and even dipped into the low 90s) for the last few days, yet less than a week ago it was so cold we had snow in the morning and a fire in the living room fireplace that night. Here's Brammykins warming his tiny hiney before the fire. Oddly, he looks photoshopped into the picture, but trust me he was very much there in the flesh. And the explanation of why there are no photos of Edison enjoying the snuggly warmth of the fire? That would be Bram, being, well, Bram in all his manic glory. Every time Edison would lazily stretch out on the rug before the fire, Bram would rush in and jump up and down on his head, pull his ears or chew on his cheek, thus ruining a very sweet photographic moment in a blur of barely-discernible blue and brown fur. Edison would leave in disgust and when Bram left the room would return and begin to settle in, only to have Bram rush back in and torture him all over again. And again. It's hard to be loved so much by your sibling when all you want is a little peace. Dealing with annoying little brothers can be such a challenge. Poor Edison.

My Little Men

2010-04-30T20:14:00.005-04:00

I just realized that I haven't posted so much as a single photo of either of my special boys since Easter and honestly, that is just unacceptable! I should be ashamed of myself, and I swear I most sincerely am. For slacking off on the job, you have my absolute heartfelt apologies.

There, I feel much better. How 'bout you?

Be Kind To Animals Week

2010-04-27T01:22:00.006-04:00

The American Humane Society's "Be Kind to Animals" Week is just a few days away, May 2-8. The annual event was first created in 1915 as a way to encourage general compassion towards animals, but over time has become so much more. Every year, animal shelters throughout the country work during this time-honored week to raise awareness about animals in our homes and communities and to celebrate the unique bond between humans and animals. "Be Kind to Animals Week" is now one of the oldest special week-long observances in the United States.

While most of us adore our animals and ensure they live like royalty every day of their lives, there are so many more animals who are not so fortunate. If you're planning on adding another little furry baby to your family, why not pick a shelter cat or a dog rather than seeking out a breeder? Donate money or time to a local shelter, or even pet food or fleece blankets. And if these things aren't possible for you, you can express your love of animals by doting on your own babies a bit more than usual. Spend more quality time with your pet if your schedule is usually very busy, make sure your dog is microchipped so you can ensure their safe return to you should you be separated while out, and spay or neuter your pet so they live a longer and healthier life (as well as curbing the insane animal population explosion). Even a quiet moment sharing some treats together is a wonderful bonding experience. And you can also honor wild animals as simply as planting flowers that will attract birds and butterflies to your garden, making sure feeders are always filled, and driving very carefully (especially at night as this is when most animals are hit by passing cars).

By being compassionate and mindful in all we do, we can easily make every week "Be Kind to Animals Week" in our own little corners of the world.

Many thanks to indexjournal.com and americanhumane.org.

Photo courtesy of amyboemig on flickr.

Photo Contest

2010-04-23T17:20:00.009-04:00

Several weeks ago I was invited to enter a photo of my boys into a contest for beloved animals, and the photo that the organizers had requested was one of Edison and Bram dressed in their spring finery for Edison's birthday, complete with flowered cowboy hats and boas. And although I'm not at all ungrateful for the invitation, had I entered on my own, that particular picture wouldn't have been my choice of photo.

So I entered my silly photo and then promptly forgot all about the contest until I received an email letting me know that the voting had ended and who had won. And guess what? Nope! My boys didn't win. In fact, they got a whopping five whole votes throughout the entire entry and judging period. That's right, you read that correctly: exactly five people on the entire planet voted for Edison and Bram.

But we don't mind one bit, do we boys? No, we don't, and that's because the photo that won and took home all the prizes more deserved the win, as you can clearly see above. And unbelievable-over-the-top-baby-bunny-cuteness aside, the story behind the photo is just as lovely. That little wild bunny had been seriously hurt by a cat and the woman who took the photo had rehabilitated her and then successfully released her back into the wild. That's a blue ribbon win any day, if you ask me.

"Sweet Dreams" courtesy of Rhonda Woods via STORYBRUSH.

Farm Sanctuary

2010-04-20T19:59:00.006-04:00

The Farm Sanctuary in Watkins Glen, New York does wonderful work to save livestock and poultry from unwanted and abused lives. Years ago, when we first heard of them, David and I gave Griffin and a couple of other people fun little gifts from Farm Sanctuary. You'd donate a certain amount of money (at the time it was perhaps $15 a bird) to save a turkey's life at the holidays and in return you'd get a glossy photo of a specific turkey you had sponsored along with a little card with the bird's name and the story of how it came to be a resident in Watkins Glen. We thought they were great, as did Griffin, who insisted on putting his bird photo in a frame and displaying it on his night table. But the other people we had gifted with them were less than thrilled. In fact, one person snorted outright and cast it all instantly aside (nice manners).

Still, the Farm does wonderful things for countless animals and opens their doors to walking tours, retreats and conferences. And with a second shelter farm now open in California, they can save even more unlucky animals and bring their message of compassion to far more people. Both farms are located in idyllic country settings and if you're considering paying a day visit, are more than worth the trip. If you love animals, take a peek at Farm Sanctuary and all that their immensely big hearts have to offer, and if you're feeling especially generous, make a donation to help them in their work.

http://www.farmsanctuary.org/

Photo courtesy of Farm Sanctuary.

The Pleasure of a Dog

2010-04-15T18:29:00.003-04:00

The great pleasure of a dog

is that you may make a fool of yourself with him

and not only will he not scold you,

but he will make a fool of himself too.

-Samuel Butler

Photo courtesy of albino octopus on flickr.

Another Vintage Chihuahua Manual

2010-04-12T19:13:00.002-04:00

Apparently the early 80s was a time for not only ugly human beings, but dogs too, as this cover clearly shows. Two fairly unattractive chis and one almost cute one. You decide.

Chihuahuas by Beverly Pisano, 1983.

Newborn Rabbits

2010-04-08T15:37:00.006-04:00

David called me on Saturday afternoon to tell me not to get my hopes up, but that he had offered my services of mothering some newborn baby rabbits, and to be perfectly honest my heart absolutely sank. He was visiting with a friend when the friend's very large and very hyper dog brought them an offering of a nearly dead baby rabbit, so young its eyes were still closed and only a few inches in length. The friend thought he knew where the den might be and so, after humanely putting down the poor suffering baby, he and David went to investigate with the dog eagerly leading the way. They found the nest with four still-living babies, one very dead one and the mother rabbit nowhere to be seen. After putting the dog in the house they erected a small fence around the den that would allow the mama rabbit to get back in to her babies, but keep the dog securely out. Not being sure whether the mother would reject the remaining babies as they smelled of both dog and humans, the friend said he would keep an eye on things and if the mother never returned would give us a call to come collect them.

Mercifully, no one called us, though I spent several days while waiting in a somewhat dread-filled fog. David seemed rather disappointed that we weren't going to be mothering the babies, but I was more than thrilled. After all, I've lived through one episode of caring for abandoned baby wildlife and it was anything but fun (see Noodles and Melvin, January 10, 2007). And being allergic to rabbits, I saw myself in playtex living gloves up to my armpits, breaking out in an itchy raw rash anyways and wheezing endlessly for the several weeks it would take of hand-feeding the rabbits until they were big enough to venture out into the wild on their own.

And though I would have taken them and cared for them regardless of my personal feelings, apparently this was another Easter miracle as it's now been six days and there are still no baby rabbits in my reluctant care. Hallelujah!

Photo courtesy of CoryGurman on flickr.

Easter Visit

2010-04-05T19:46:00.004-04:00

The boys accompanied us on a day-long visit yesterday to see family for Easter. They visited with human relatives, some of whom they'd never before met, ate lots of foods they shouldn't have eaten and went for three separate walks in the warm sunshine: two through a lovely garden and one to a local park where they ran around in the grass and chased bumble bees. By the time they got home in the early evening, they were two very exhausted little boys who napped endlessly before bedtime, and then slept like logs in the their people's bed until nearly lunchtime today.

Stamps to the Rescue

2010-04-02T19:24:00.003-04:00

On April 30, the US Post Office will have available for purchase books of 20 First Class Postage stamps called "Adopt a Shelter Pet." The post office, in conjunction with Halo Pet Food, is helping to save the lives of millions of unwanted pets. When you buy a book of the stamps, you'll be contributing funds to the 'Stamps to the Rescue Campaign.' You buy the stamps and Halo will buy food for one million shelter pets. The dogs and cats on the stamps are adorable and you'll be helping to keep some unwanted and unfortunate animals alive until they find their forever families. You can pre-order the stamps now through USPS.com or pick them up at your local branch when they arrive at the end of this month. Buy something as practical as a book of stamps and in the process, do something wonderful for an animal who deserves a happy life. It doesn't get any simpler than that.

http://www.stampstotherescue.com/

Chihuahua Mail

2010-03-29T23:13:00.005-04:00

Yesterday on a dog group I belong to, one of the lovely ladies was saying how she was unable to find any pumpkin in her area. Store after store had not a single can of the stuff we all use to make pies and puddings, but she desperately needed it. Her vet had told her it was what her little chihuahua with some perpetually blocked anal glands needed in order to cleanse them naturally and effectively. Living in a rural area, I guess pumpkin is merely a seasonal foodstuff for her local stores. So to help her out, I went out and bought a couple of cans of organic pumpkin for her to freeze into tiny poop-inducing cubes that she could thaw as needed and add to her baby's meals.

And so this afternoon I found myself at the post office, mailing those cans to her. At the window I was asked if there was anything perishable in my package to which I replied, "yes." I was then asked what exactly the perishable item was and I explained that it was cans of pureed pumpkin. The man smiled as though he was thinking how tasty a slice of pumpkin pie would be, and I thought he was going to ask me if it was, in fact, for pies, but he didn't. And that's when it occurred to me how odd the real explanation would sound to a total stranger: "No, it's not for pie. I'm actually sending this to a little chihuahua in Kentucky with digestive issues."

Sometimes our lives take a truly absurd turn every now and again.

Photo courtesy of HelloMokona on flickr.

Vintage Chihuahua Manual

2010-03-25T21:35:00.005-04:00

Another old owner's manual for chihuahuas. This one is from England and was published in 1968. It's chock full of ridiculous photos and some really ugly little dogs (but, to be fair, a handful of tiny cuties too). I've started a collection of old chihuahua books and photos as one can never have enough goofy chi memorabilia. They're usually good for a guaranteed laugh when you're feeling low. After all, what says "chihuahua" more than two small dogs sandwiched between two very predictable and heinously ugly (and giant!) Mexican book ends? I know I can't think of anything.

Edison's Birthday Bash Part II

2010-03-21T21:13:00.010-04:00

The toys may be fun as hell, but nothing beats cake and the boys always get their own little cake to share (even though they barely make a dent in it before mommy tosses it- tiny tummies musn't overdo it). This year's cake was a white layer cake with vanilla buttercream icing and a lemon custard filling over which the boys went berserk, as any self-respecting dog would.

And once again, they came to the table dressed to party. It was rather rudely pointed out to me by a certain family member that this year's theme appears to be "gay cowboy" and while you might get that impression by looking at these photos, you'd be wrong. The theme was 'an ode to spring" (since Edison's birthday falls on the equinox, give or take a day or so), thus the straw hats with the hand painted flowers and whimsical hat bands. 'And the matching feathered boas?' you may well be asking. Sure, they may seem a bit flamboyant, but that's just my boys embracing their feminine sides as they express their joy at it finally not being a cold, gray winter anymore.

Happy birthday Edison Jack, and may you have a million more wonderful years!!!!

Edison's Birthday Bash Part I

2010-03-21T21:12:00.003-04:00

Today was Edison's third birthday. I can not believe how fast time has flown by. It seems like just yesterday when a tiny bundle of brown fur made me fall instantly in love with him when he leaped into my arms at the breeder's house, gave me a tiny chi hug around my neck, and never let go. It was love at first sight for us both. Yet here we are, in the blink of an eye, at birthday number three.

There were less presents this year, not because the boys don't love them, but because daddy said the amount of dog toys in this house has become obscene, and he's unfortunately right. But that didn't mean that the gifts that the boys got (the non-birthday boy always gets something too so as not to feel left out) weren't greatly enjoyed. They were, with much tug of warring over them and chasing of one another around the house in a bid to snatch away a desired new toy.

There was oodles of doggie play fun before we moved on to cake.

Oscar the Cat

2010-03-18T23:15:00.011-04:00

Oscar the cat is the subject of a book written by a nursing home doctor. And why exactly would a doctor be writing about a cat? Because this cat has a very special talent: he can predict when people are going to die. Oscar lives in a nursing home in Providence, Rhode Island and has, within the last five years, correctly predicted the deaths of 50 (rather unfortunate, if you ask me) residents. Earlier in his career as the feline Grim Reaper, Oscar was featured in the New England Journal of Medicine for curling up with 25 patients, all right before they passed away. The nursing home has given him a plaque commemorating his compassionate hospice work.

I have to say, if I worked at that nursing home I'd be afraid to even rest my eyes for a moment on my lunch hour because I would freak if Oscar curled up with me for my cat nap. And thank god Maia Louise is virtually indifferent to all of us here at home. I'm not sure I could handle her having this "special talent" or anything even remotely like it. How can anyone spend any time- and do it calmly- with any animal that can accurately predict the deaths of those around it? I know I couldn't. Some may see it as gently compassionate but to me it's just scary as hell.

Making Rounds With Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat, Dr. David Dosa, Hyperion, 2010.

Edison Up Close

2010-03-14T17:12:00.003-04:00

PEEK-A-BOO!

Bram and Mouse

2010-03-11T12:44:00.007-05:00

There's nothing quite like being utterly lost in the joy of your favorite toy.

Mrs. Nesbitt

2010-03-09T20:03:00.006-05:00

Griffin has a new bedroom roommate and her name is Mrs. Nesbitt, also known as Nezzie. He was feeling rather down this past weekend so his girlfriend treated him to a guinea pig, as well as all the necessary accoutrements for said guinea pig. But it's never just the animal, is it? There are all the "other things" that the one small creature needs: the cage, the bedding, the food, the requisite hamster ball (or in this case, guinea pig ball) so she can travel about our house in the safety of a hard plastic orb, special treats, a small house, and toys. The guinea pig was on sale, which was wonderful. Everything else? Full price, naturally.

After spending some time meeting and greeting all the various rodents available, he chose Mrs. Nesbitt, not only because she was a very docile little lady (whereas all the other girls in the large cage were waging full-on war against one another) but because when Griffin had said he'd like to see the little gray one, the employee at the pet store said that he was the first and only person to ever show any interest in her in the few months she had been there. Apparently her ruby eyes were off-putting to literally everyone before him, something we both find really odd and very sad. From the get-go, he and Mrs. Nesbitt got on with one another like a house on fire. When a guinea pig bonds with a human, it whistles when it sees its favorite person and this behavior usually takes some time to develop, but Mrs. Nesbitt was chirping, cooing and singing to Griffin within moments.

There is nothing quite so satisfying, when one is feeling something missing from their life, in adding a new warm, furry creature, be it big or small. It fills the heart with joy and makes both the human and the hairy one more than content. And to keep things as joyous as they've been for these last five days, all I need to do is to keep Edison away from Mrs. Nesbitt. He isn't quite so smitten with our new family member and has been something of a little bully. After all, there isn't much in this world that is smaller than a chihuahua and being bigger than Mrs. Nesbitt clearly makes him feel quite large himself.

GRRRRR!

2010-03-06T23:17:00.005-05:00

And this is why most photo shoots that involve one small chihuahua named Bram Ebenezer don't yield many usable photos. It's a damn good thing, for his sake, he's so freakin' cute.

Vintage Chihuahua

2010-03-03T19:00:00.004-05:00

I can't imagine what's out of frame to the right that could possibly be more interesting to this chihuahua than this woman's hairdo. Personally, I can't take my eyes off of it.

Photo courtesy of spurmark on flickr.

Mini Cameras for Pets

2010-02-25T00:52:00.008-05:00

The newest geek gadget to come down the pike is the Pet Mini Digital Camera. This is a tiny little camera that your pets can wear around their necks attached to a collar and the camera is kept safe within a sturdy plastic case to prevent breakage. The ad for it reads:

"Just clip the lightweight digital camera to your pet's collar and you'll be able to take up to 40 photos to document their shenanigans. The camera has an auto interval mode that can be set to snap pictures at 1, 5, or 15 minute intervals. At 640 x 480 resolution, the quality isn't too shabby either.

All that's left for you to do is to hook up the camera to your PC or Mac and check out what sort of mischief Rover and Tiddles have been getting up to in your absence. Small and light enough for most cats and dogs."

I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I'd want to see what my hairy children are up to when I'm not around. I've witnessed firsthand what they do when I'm right there in plain sight of them, so it stands to reason that when the alpha female isn't around to keep everyone in line it's got to be far, far worse and I don't think I'm ready to see that.

And besides, I'm pretty sure the majority of the "shenanigans" would involve the cat, who really isn't into rules of any sort. She would either be climbing onto things for which I'd have a heart attack knowing she was climbing onto, or two small dogs would be antagonizing her nonstop (thus sending her climbing once again in a desperate bid to escape). And were the camera to be put around Maia's neck, the photo above is pretty much all we'd be seeing, the only variation being which color the dog was. That and a whole lot of paws, claws first.

Another Vintage Chihuahua Manual

2010-02-20T19:29:00.003-05:00

Another vintage chihuahua owner's manual, this one with one very worried little dog on the cover. It seems to me that if I were the editor of these books, I'd try to pick the most inviting looking, emotionally stable and happy little dogs to grace my book covers. Yet so far we've seen two obviously retarded chis and now a terrified one that looks as if it can't wait to get the hell away from all humans. Hmm...I'm sensing a rather unfortunate pattern here.

Photo courtesy (once again) of Painter Girl on flickr.

The Politics of Show Judging

2010-02-18T19:49:00.010-05:00

While I know it's nothing new, that the ridiculously unfair judging in show competitions has always happened, from little small-scale local poultry shows right up to the daddy of them all: the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, for some reason this week, I am more bothered by it than usual. Maybe I'm getting older and more pissy, or maybe it's because at this year's Westminster Show, the Old Boy mentality was far more front and center than it usually is, even for Westminster, where you can almost always pick the winning dog by its "story" before the broadcasted portion of the judging even begins.

Go to any local poultry show more than once and you will see the same old men winning time after time. Yes, their birds are nearly perfect, but you'll also see that they and the official judges know one another and have for years. Are the up and comers' birds any less well bred? Not usually, but as they aren't members of that super special inner circle, finding themselves with a blue ribbon and a trophy in their hands at the end of the day is rather unlikely. Same with Westminster. Ever notice that the dog who is retiring at the end of this show after a long and storied career in the ring usually wins Best in Show? Or how about the dog who was bred by some old and well-respected man or woman who had been breeding champion (insert breed name here) for centuries and has recently died? That dog will surely win the top honor that year, too. And so it was with this year's "story."

The dog generating all the buzz this year was Sadie the Scottish Terrier who had won the first two legs of the Triple Crown of dogdom and everyone was wondering, "Would she win Westminster too? Could it finally happen? No dog has ever done this before!" And if that weren't enough for anyone to have safely placed a bet on her winning, the judge who judged Best in Show at this year's event had judged- guess who?- just last September, awarding her Best in Show at another prestigious dog show. Hmm. If you ask me, this dog had been hand picked to win before her plane ever touched down in New York and it's not right.

When my mother was a newlywed, she bred persian cats for show and she won a few championships herself in the Midwestern cat fancier world of the 1950s, but all that changed when she was unfortunate enough (or fortunate enough, depending on how you choose to look at this) to witness a very large bit of underhanded judging for one particularly important show. At a fellow breeder's home a few evenings before the Big Day, the judge for Best in Show arrived at her home and was shown into the room where the cats were being kept to see one particular white persian. Not knowing that my mother was a fellow breeder/handler, the judge leaned into the woman conspiratorially and with a wink said, "You know this is completely against the rules but between you and I, don't you worry because you've already won your breed group and Best in Show." And with that, he left and my mother, horrified by the collusion and utterly despondent, never showed her cats again.

I've heard this story a few times in my life (it predates my birth by some years), but I think of it whenever there is too much talk of one particular dog at Westminster and then that dog invariably wins. It seems to be a regular occurrence and with each passing year, I grow less enthused about watching Westminster. It used to be a must-see event for me, but now I figure why bother? After all, the dog the media is yakking about in the week or two leading up to it is the one who's going to win, so why waste my time? A done deal is a done deal and that's just the way it is, sad fact or not.

Photo courtesy of Reuters.

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T18:47:00.004-05:00

Wishing everyone a very happy day of romance and joy. Edison and Bram have spent the better part of the day trying to find any bits of gourmet chocolate that a careless cook might have dropped on the kitchen floor while making homemade dark chocolate and orange truffles, but alas that never happened. It's too bad that chocolate is deadly to dogs because they sure go bonkers for the smell of it (but then, who doesn't?). Sorry boys...

Late Night, Posing Pretty

2010-02-11T22:58:00.002-05:00

It was late, we were up playing with some toys and being as silly as usual, when the boys decided they'd like to pose for some photos in exchange for some organic dog cookies. So out came the camera and this is what we got. Bram was clearly very into it (he'll do anything if there's food involved), but Edison, as can be seen by the rather jaded expression on his tiny face, was somewhat bored with the whole thing, snack or not.

Vintage Chihuahua

2010-02-09T16:15:00.004-05:00

"I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas."

- "Deep Thoughts" by Jack Handy

Vintage photo of "Perrito" by Pics for Pedro on flickr.

Emily, the Sacred Cow

2010-02-06T22:59:00.009-05:00

This was a local story that went international, and even though it is quite a few years old, it's always fresh in my mind probably because The Peace Abbey is just down the road from me and I pass it regularly. That and the fact that Emily's soul was and still is breathtakingly powerful. So for those of you who may never have heard of Emily, this is her story. And once heard, you'll never forget it.

Emily started out as just another nameless cow raised locally to be slaughtered for all the things cows are sadly slaughtered for. On November 14, 1995, while waiting her turn in line at the A. Arena & Sons slaughterhouse here, she jumped a fence and beat feet into the woods. A 1400lb cow jumping a five foot fence? Uh-hunh. And then she managed to elude her captors and keep herself alive for more than a month living by her wits in the wintry wild. And that's when The Peace Abbey stepped in. They bought her for a dollar and lured her to them with buckets of feed and on December 24, she became a permanent resident at the Abbey. She was named Emily and instantly became a spokescow for peace lovers, animal lovers, vegetarians and hindus everywhere.

People revered her for her strength and made pilgrimages to her beautiful barn, built from donations. She was a serene and gentle soul who touched everyone who was in her presence. There was definitely something there behind those big brown eyes that the average cow is missing. She was possessed of a genuine wisdom and intelligence. She knew things.

Emily lived happily and was adored by those who knew her until her passing on March 30, 2003 after a lengthy battle with cancer. She was buried on the grounds of The Peace Abbey, behind the beautiful statue of Gandhi, on April 2 of that year before a standing room only crowd. Hair clippings from her forehead and from the tip of her tail, a bit of her blood, and a bit of a golden thread that had been placed through her ear by a Hindu priest were released into the sacred Ganges River later that month.

Emily lives on today in the hearts of everyone who has heard her remarkable story or was blessed to have met her in person. She was a gentle soul with immense courage and conviction. Her gravesite marks the Sacred Cow Animal Rights Peace Memorial at the Abbey and is marked with a life-sized bronze statue of her (which was reworked when the sculptor was told that he hadn't gotten her eyes right and her eyes needed to be perfect to reflect her remarkable inner self).

A cow with a sense of self, who knew how to save her own life, who in the next seven and half years spiritually moved countless people, and convinced thousands more to become vegetarians? Sometimes miracles do happen.

Photos courtesy of The Peace Abbey.

Chicken Clothes

2010-01-31T01:59:00.004-05:00

Apparently a group of Austrian and Japanese clothing designers have decided that chickens are no different than cats and dogs in that they too should have little coats and outfits to keep them warm and allow them to strut their stuff in style. And with that idea burning a hole in their collective brains, the clothing line known as 'Chicken Clothes' was born. I delight in dressing up my dogs in cute clothes, I own a small barn full of chickens (and ducks), and to be honest I do think these photos are cute as hell. After all, who wouldn't find a chicken in a tiny fur coat adorable? But would I actually dress up my birds in little track suits and furs? No. Do I think this is a good idea that will catch on so well that pet boutiques around the world will be unable to keep these chicken clothes on the shelves and keep up with the demand? No comment.

Photos courtesy of golberz.com.

Snow Day!

2010-01-28T19:11:00.009-05:00

All the snow had melted last weekend in a blast of warm torrential rain and high winds, but today it snowed again and we got a couple of pretty white inches to mercifully cover the ugliness left behind after that mud storm. The boys hadn't been outside for what seemed like forever, so we bundled up and went out for a very brief walk through the chilly air and snow. In getting dressed for the weather, we discovered that Bram has put on a significant amount of weight (we suspected as much- the boy is a cinder block with a face) and both his harness and clothes are much too tight. Still, we managed to squeeze his chunky ass into his harness (barely) and his new winter coat (only partially done up) and out we all went for some January afternoon fun.

Their next trip out? To the pet store for a new, larger harness and some roomier warm outfits for our husky little blue child.

Cute Taxidermy

2010-01-20T19:26:00.003-05:00

As a general rule, I'm not a big fan of taxidermy. Seeing majestic animal heads hanging proudly on someone's wall just isn't my thing. I'd much rather see those beautiful creatures alive and well and doing what nature intended them to do, which in my opinion wasn't being shot, killed and made into art. When I was a little girl there was a family in our neighborhood who lived in a split level house and as you walked in their front door, they had the most enormous moose head I have ever seen hanging right there on the wall between those two short sets of stairs. You were virtually smacked in the face with its huge brown nose the moment you entered. Overkill to the max. I also can't quite see myself having a beloved dog or cat done after they've passed as it would just make me terribly sad to see them every day and not be able to interact with them or cuddle their warm little bodies, but that's just me.

There are, however, exceptions to every rule and I think that odd or really bad taxidermy can be fun. I'm not talking about the endless parade of squirrels with beer cans in their hands or dressed like cowboys complete with tiny six shooters, but the really out there specimens: those that have been done by folks with really twisted senses of humor, artists who "work" with dead animals, or those folks for whom the art of taxidermy is simply not their calling. I happen to think this little cat is adorable. With her tiny crown, satin dress and forest of twigs, she brings a whimsical almost fairy tale sense to what is in reality a poor deceased kitten. But she's cute. This sort of stuffed animal makes me smile.

Photo is from morbidanatomy and appears here courtesy of crappytaxidermy.com. Many thanks!

Getting Involved (Per Usual)

2010-01-11T19:22:00.004-05:00

I was shooting some photos and while I was busy for a moment tending to something else, Bram jumped up into the frame and made himself comfortable. Actually, Bram has the ability to get comfy just about anywhere, anytime. Not much phases this little boy and he simply has to be in the middle of the action, no matter what that action might be. With the tripod still in place, I starting clicking and of the series of shots of Bram sitting, laying down and then falling fast asleep all within a few short moments of each other, this is my favorite of them all.

Chihuahua Art Shrine

2010-01-06T20:53:00.005-05:00

I've used my boys in my own mixed media works on occasion and they also are the far-too-frequent subjects of studies, sketches and portraits, but this little shrine enchants me every time I see it on flickr. I have absolutely no idea if it's meant to be "just art" (and in no way do I mean this in a negative way, trust me!) or if it's an actual shrine-cum-homage to a beloved lost little dog, but whatever it's purpose, it's simply perfect!

Guardian Angel Grubdog Shrine courtesy of Blood of Bee on flickr.

Felines and Frappucinos

2010-01-03T21:12:00.007-05:00

In Japan, very few people in the cities own pets due to their uber tiny apartments that haven't an inch to spare, as well as busy workaholic lives that leave no time to care for them. But that doesn't mean that the population doesn't like animals, not at all. And they seem to especially like cats. The Japanese are mental for cats. And if a great number of people like cats but can't have them in their homes, then why not give them a place to play with cats and make them pay for it as well? And thus was born the cat cafe, which is all the rage across Japan.

The first cafe opened in Osaka in 2004 and in the years since this phenomenon has spread into all the major cities. In 2008 alone, twelve new cat cafes opened in Tokyo and business is booming in every single one of them.

So what exactly does one do in a cat cafe? Well, seeing that it is Japan, the first thing one does is remove their shoes. Then one's hands must be washed and sanitized, then one orders the coffee or tea drink of their choice and gets down to playing with the many cats and kittens that live in the cafe. Each cafe is different. Some are low-keyed and quiet, with paw shaped cushions to recline on and low lighting and some look like a sort of Chuck E. Cheese for the cat set, with people getting wild with cats in designated play areas, climbing up cat trees, and even just sitting quietly holding cats and scratching bellies. Some people just go to watch the cats, never laying even a finger on them. And there are some general rules throughout all the cat cafes: no flash photography, no grabbing any cat's tail, and no waking any sleeping cats or kittens. Play is restricted only to those cats who wish to play at any given time. There is usually an hourly fee of $8-12 that those who adore cats don't hesitate to pay at the end of a long work day.

This is a very interesting cultural trend, but one that would never fly here due to Board of Health regulations forbidding the allowance of animals where food or drink is prepared, which is probably a good thing for me, given that I am very allergic to cats (even though I foolishly own one). As far as I'm concerned, I like my cats as far away from my coffee and doughnuts as I can possibly get them, if only to keep the inevitable itchies at bay.

Photo courtesy of the Christian Science Monitor.

Forty Winks

2009-12-27T20:26:00.003-05:00

There's nothing quite like a belly full of holiday goodies and a comfy snooze, as evidenced by Bram and David getting sleepy in a chair together after a nosh on some yummy treats.

Wrapping the Gifts

2009-12-15T22:25:00.012-05:00

My boys and Maia Louise like to help with just about everything I am doing and wrapping Christmas gifts is no exception. I like to do it on the floor where I can spread out and have enough room for all the gifts and everything needed to turn them into beautiful presents, but that just gives the little ones an open invitation to get overly involved in every aspect of the job. Edison is a very good boy who steps gingerly around the packages and over the papers and bows, watching from a few feet away and occasionally getting into my lap to sniff something that has caught his eye. Bram and Maia Louise, however, stomp on and through everything, climbing into bags and boxes, crunching the wrapping paper, eating the bows and then tearing off the lower branches of the tree and eating those for dessert.

This year I had to rewrap several gifts before they had even made it under the tree, courtesy of those two. This is our first Christmas with Brammy-doodle but given his penchant for nonstop nonsense (since his first moment here with us) I expected him to be somewhat out of control come the holidays, but I didn't think he would open the gifts as soon as I wrapped them. He simply can't wait for Christmas morning, and he doesn't seem to care who the gift is actually for, he just wants to see what's inside the paper and after tearing one open and getting a good look at what lay within, will move immediately on to the next. Maia, who was also a terror in her youth, seems to have had her wild ways revived by Brammo's maniacal behavior and is once again, despite her advancing age, tearing into everyone's gifts.

When I finally managed to get far enough ahead of the destruction and finished wrapping all the presents that had been bought to date, Bram decided to eat the gift tags on many of them, some of which were found under the couch, some licked clean and sporting tears and itty bitty tooth holes but still attached to their gifts. And if there had been any doubt as to who had done this, Bram was the only one in the house whose tiny mouth was covered in pretty light-catching glitter.

So now there is no admittance into the living room without human supervision. We have French doors on two sides of the room, so even with it closed up we can still (sort of) see our lovely tree and if we want to visit it, a close eye needs to be kept on two certain small animals with a penchant for good-natured destruction. It's going to be a very merry Christmas if I can keep Bram and Maia Louise away from the tree for just a little bit longer.

Christmas Tree Shopping

2009-12-13T18:02:00.010-05:00

Two boys in the car on the way to fun and excitement.

Bram serenely checks out the selection of trees.

The drizzle starts and Edison's hood goes up to keep him warm and dry.

We all went Christmas tree shopping last weekend and the boys were very well-behaved, as always. It was a super chilly day and while we were walking about the tree lot a very cold drizzle started to fall of which Edison and Bram were none too happy about, but they pulled their tiny fur-lined hoods up over their little heads and braved the inclement winter weather like wee soldiers until the perfect tree was found.

We used to always cut a live tree at a tree farm, but now with two small dogs who prefer to go in the opposite direction of each other despite being leashed, it's become easier to go to a lot for a pre-cut tree rather than herding the wee ones into the woods, however cultivated those woods might be.

As much as the boys enjoy being out in the world, and as much as they also love the concept of a Christmas tree (after all, what dog doesn't love having a real, live tree indoors to chew on and dig at?), my boys were very happy to get back into their warm home and a bowl full of food. A quick snack and a long nap and they were ready to help with the decorating.

Hand Injury

2009-12-08T22:31:00.003-05:00

I have given myself a fairly significant (and incredibly stupid) accidental injury to one of my hands and as such, am forced to type with only a couple of fingers which is rather time consuming. As a result, I'll be taking a few days more off from this blog until I am no longer sporting a giant mitt and can once again get back down to business here in a more efficient manner.

I will talk with you all soon and will share the sweet photos we took of the boys helping to pick the Christmas tree this past weekend. Until then, take care everyone.

Second Anniversary

2009-12-03T23:03:00.003-05:00

Today marks the second year without our beloved Cordelia. It was two years ago today that she left us and we all still carry the sadness in our hearts in a now-permanent void that her life with us filled so beautifully. I've spent some time today reminiscing about her and her quirks and thinking again about how wonderful it was to have had a message from her come through on that awful, awful day to let us know she was happy and healthy again and it was all going to be alright. She was an amazing dog and no matter how many years pass, she will always be missed with all our hearts. Sixteen years and change was just not enough time.

Cordelia you are thought of often, still loved to pieces every single day and I look forward to the day when we can again go walkies together and play the piggy toe game once more. Good girl!