Poor DellDog

Poor DellDog.

He's paid a high price in the name of keeping (me) warm this cold, wintry Mississippi eve.  Oh, sure, he feigned cooperation, but I'm here to tell ya:  he had had enough of that consarned photographic contraption hanging in front of his nose, whirring and clicking.

Yup.  It was all he could do, not to reach over and bite the hand that feeds him.

Evidence is everywhere.

It began simply enough ~ I in my kerchief, and he in his cap, had just settled down for a  . . .  wait a minute.  Who are we kidding here?  I'd just returned indoors after taking this mutt  four legged friend of mine on his final relief break of the day/night.  The cold was so crisp it seared through my jacket, and drove itself into my lungs.  There would have to be some serious heating going on once we made it back inside.

The DellDog instinctively knew where we'd be setting up camp.  He got there first, but that slight delay on my part was only due to the fact that I'd spied my camera sitting nearby, and heard it calling my name.  I heard Dell groan from across the room.

He knew he was in for it, and there was little he could do about it.

And I, being the wonderful individual I am, took full liberty with his angst.

Of course, there were a few precious moments, ones in which he was a little less annoyed, and more . . . resigned to his fate.

He was very glad for the reprieve, when I discovered that fluffy textured socks make for some great close ups:

Yep.  It's cold here, Choosers.  Nothing better to do than to move in close and snuggle with the one you love.  Or find highly annoying, whichever the case may be.  :)

A Day Of Rest?

Whilst the GilGuy snoozes away the afternoon, here I sit, with nary a thing to do.

Bethany has taken Keller and Aubrey, Tiffany is snuggled up in her new little house with Keeton and her new pup Tater, and Israel has hiked down the road a piece to spend time with some friends.  It's just me, the Dell Dog, and the chilly air as the day wanes into evening.

Therefore, I shall use this time productively.  I shall blog.

Ready?

:blog:blog:bloggity:blog:blog:blog:blog:blog:blog:

LOL  Oh, all right . . . just kidding!  I've got a few more never-before seen photos to pull out of my bloggy hat of tricks, and I know you all are just sitting on your chair a-waitin' for me to do so.  Right?

Right.

So, here we go:

Is there anything more wonderful than to see your dog enjoying life to the fullest?  In late September, we had taken a weekend trip up the coast of California, to Pigeon Point Lighthouse.  We stayed in a hostel, on the lighthouse property, which provided for breathtaking and stunning views of the Pacific Ocean.

We'd taken the DellDog, and his friend Annie.  Both canines surprised us tremendously.  It was as if they *knew* what the water was for:  BODY SURFING! Dell would lunge at his leash, begging to be let go, so he could jump in!  And jump in he did:

Once thoroughly soaked, it was then time for a friendly game of ball:

At the time, I was full of hundreds of stories and anecdotes I could have eloquently penned here for your reading pleasure.  As it stands, I'm in a mode of blog rehabilitation, and, even though I know those stories are in there, somewhere, I am doing my level best to get back on this bike.  Therefore, what you see is what you get.

Dog Pictures.

LOL

Enjoy the rest of your restful Sunday, Choosers . . . I shall.  :D

Day Five of Twelve

This Image . . .

That floating Photobucket icon is driving me crazy!  :)

Even the DellDog feels a sense of consternation about it!

But he's no help, really . . . he tends to cavort about the Big City with us, so he doesn't have any time to handle the matter, either.

:sigh:  I suppose I'll have to force myself into a three or four hour lockdown and do a major overhaul.  I might even fix the typo in the banner.  Wouldn't that be great??

Here.  I'll set Dell at watch, to see that the job gets done:

:D

Gotta love it!  :D

City Dog, Country Dog

Opening the door, exposing the long hallway before us, the DellDog and I began our journey toward the great (?) New Orleanian out-of-doors.  Crossing over the carpet, onto the highly polished hardwood floor, Dell began to scamper and scoot like I've never witnessed him do before!  Jumping vertically into the air, and to the left, he attention completely on the ground beneath him, gave me the angle at which he was seeing the big, hairy water-roach scramble for his life - with the same intense veracity as Dell!

Soon we were back on track, down the hall, and in the elevator.  Down, down, down . . . the door finally swinging open like a huge jaw.

Now on polished concrete, Dell's overgrown nails tippy-tapped across the foyer.  The front door swung open, and gingerly, the DellDog scrambled down the stairs to relief.

Hurricane Alex had left behind a welcome breeze, overcast skies and cool temperatures; low humidity.  I stood, taking all this in, while Dell investigated the lone 4x5 patch of grass, jutted up against the building.  In the distance, I could see two white, middle-aged Scotty dogs were headed our way.  A perfunctory morning greeting of sniffs and snuffs, and we were once again mobile.

Down the sidewalk, around the corner; past the iron fences and busy streets of a 17th century city, on leash.

Business to do, then back again . . . no squirrels to chase, no birds swooping down, no morning dew to run in.

While a quaint  . . . uh, fragrant (?) air emits from the walkways, and the hustle and bustle of the city invites, it's obvious that the DellDog is curtailed from his greatest pleasure ~ that of frolicking in the summer sun of the countryside.

He'd rather be with us, than left behind, so he doesn't complain . . .

And neither do I.

:)

Canine Conundrum

One unique feature of this window of time that we're in, while my son, the actor films for the upcoming movie, is not that we as a family are separated into "Studio Mom" and "Studio Dad" camps. (Aubrey's theatrical performance in "Never mind How It Happened, How Did It End?" opens this weekend, and Gil has taken up the rehearsal duties thereof . . .) It's not even the fact that Israel and I and Keller are alone for an extended time together . . .

No, the unique feature is that The DellDog is living an existence he was not supposed to be living during this season.

You see, Dell was originally slated to go to Doggy Day Care for a couple of weeks. However, when news came that we had to board a jet plane in less than 42 hours, an impromptu decision was made to put him into Aubrey's capable hands for care and keeping. For us, a sound financial decision, saving us hundreds over a five-week course; for Gil, a compromise he'd allowed half-heartedly, knowing of the savings; and for Dell ~ well . . . a Canine Conundrum of epic proportions.

It's not that Dell doesn't love Aubrey; nor that he'd adore to finally win over the heart of the GilGuy; not even that he doesn't appreciate the comforts of home. In reality, he'd very much enjoy going to Doggy Day Care, because he loves his special digs, and it's a get away, a change of pace in an otherwise predictable world.

No ~ Dell's greatest delimna in life right now is that he is bereft of his two VIP people in the whole wide world. A veritable toss up as to whether or not he loves *me* or Israel more.

When we walked out the door, he began to droop inconsolably, devastated that he would not be allowed to go with the packed suitcases, and the people who bear them.

His life as of late has been comfortable, and he's adjusted. He even got to go along on the usual and customary trip to Lafayette that happens quarterly. Not too shabby for a fur-baby.

It was painfully obvious in the recent picture the Gil Guy sent me that Dell was doing the best he could to cope. If that included a sleep on Aubrey's bed ~ so be it.

After all: a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do!

HB, DD*

Is it really true?



Possible?



Correct???

By Golly it is!

The DellDog is three years old this month!

Wow!

*Happy Birthday, DellDog!

Pious Pup.

Who knoweth the spirit of man, whether it goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast, whether it goeth downward to the earth? Ecclesiastes 3:21

It's long been standard fare, that the DellDog join me in my snuggled up reading spot - whether on the couch, or propped up on pillows in the bed - the warmth of his body mingling with the warmth of mine, creating a coziness and comfort to aid the ingestion of words. More often than not, the book of choice has been my Bible.


Little did I know that my actions would have such a profound effect on the canine.

It would appear, Choosers, that Dell has taken up a spiritual quest all his own:

I discovered him yesterday afternoon, curled up on his own accord, with the Word tucked under his front paws, and his eyes gazing downward toward the printed page. It was obvious he was in deep Scriptural study! I'm impressed with his pious endeavor. Perhaps he'll do marvellous works for the Kingdom of God! Convert a multitude to the knowledge of Christ!

Or . . .

Well, perhaps, it behooves me to teach the pup to read first!

"Here, Dell . . .the Book is upside down. Let's turn it right-side up . . .There! Isn't that better? Now - here is the letter 'A' . . ." and so on.

:D

Lively Liver Love

Since Fred was removed from the premises, Dell was restored to his primary position in the animal kingdom of Domesticated Animals That Live At Our House.

This called for a celebration of sorts, even if only in the DellDog's mind.

What to do?

Tricks!

Lots and lots of tricks for his Ma.

See? He comes when called, and sits on command!

Liversnaps are his favorite!

Egads! Look at those canines, will ya?

"Delish!" says Dell. "Got anymore of those??"

Meanwhile, the neighbor dog looks on longingly.

Poor baby. All alone, behind the fence . . .

From the looks of things, I'd say she loves liversnaps too . . .

Trauma On River Drive, continued

Rain began to pelt my face.

Calling, calling, calling to my dog to no avail, I felt as though the storm clouds had moved in and settled directly over my head. Dell was a sniffer, and was bred to ferret out small game from tight spaces. If I couldn't find him, surely he would make his way home, I reasoned.

I had reached the section of road with heavy two way traffic. A small portion of the walk, but one that must be managed with keen awareness to oncoming cars. I traversed this area disheartened to say the least.

Dell had never been struck by anyone. No tool of illwill had ever graced his snout. He was corrected when necessary, yes ~ but not with harsh means. A newspaper rolled is louder than it is painful; a smack under the jaw imposes a self inflicting clenching of teeth that need not be repeated. Dell is a lover, not a fighter.

"Love me, and I'll love you back."

is Dell's motto.

When I happened upon a man taking out his trash against the busy highway, I thought to ask if he'd seen my dog.

I didn't have time to utter a word.

Excitedly, the man engaged me. Pointing wildly at his fenceline and frantically sharing the details of an accident that had occurred on his property the night before, he drew me in to view the damage.

Shortly, his wife was by his side, sharing her version of the events that had transpired.

In all honesty, I was very interested in their story. I was even more interested when they told me what they do for a living: the little house before me was a quilting workshop, where quilts and custom draperies had been fashioned. Their wares graced the windows of hundreds of Gulf Coast establishments and bedrooms of countless hotels and homes.

Listening intently and politely, I would nod at appropriate times. Within me, though, my voice was calling for my dog. "Perhaps he tried to swim home? What if he drowned?" I'd never actually seen my dog swim, although I was confident he could. Dread kept me from thinking clearly. "This traffic!" as cars swooshed past me, the baby, and the couple. "He certainly is too green so as to manuever this road on his own!"

As soon as I'd have a dog-thought, the woman would venture another piece of amazing information about the incident on her property, or the career she held. I really, really wanted to get to know her. "Ma'am, I must - really, I must - find my dog . . .perhaps another time, you'd allow me a visit? I'd love to see your machine . . ."

"Where is your dog? . . .THAT man? . . . Oh my gosh . . ." as she ranted about him, some nebulous detail from days gone by. It was easy to hear she was unimpressed by her neighbor. "Here ~ bring the baby . . .you'll notice that the car broke through the wall, coming mere inches away from our $17,000 quilting machine . . ."

And soon, propelled by Southern social graces as they drew me in, I was standing in a smallish building that held ream upon ream of fabrics; factory quality sewing machines, and a quilter. Chatting, chatting, chatting. "Hurricane this, hurricane that . . . We quiltled this; we quilted that . . ."

"How do I bow out of this gracefully?" I thought, in a half stunned amazement at the work station before me, and the searing concern that penetrated my heart.

To my relief, the insurance adjuster arrived at that moment.

I was free.

My steps now took me off the main road, and back into the quiet section of the last leg around the lake.

"DELL!" I called. "D E L L ! ! !"

Nothing.

My emotions ranged from intense fury to hot tears to confidence that he would return on his own.

I turned the corner of my house to glance hopefully upon the deck. Surely my dog had come home. Surely he lay, panting, waiting for me.

Nope.

I felt crushed.

Another wave of anger towards the man that seemed to know nothing about being neighborly, and about dogs in particular, motivated me to the car. Snapping Keller into the car seat, I backed out of the driveway.

"I won't give him the benefit of seeing me look for my dog." I stated to myself, and turned so as to retrace my most recent steps.

My eyes scanned the water, the lake edges, the neighboring dogs, lying placidly in their own back yards. I drove slowly past the little shop that graced the street side, peering into people's fences, calling Dell's name.

Nothing.

Soon I came to the place where I had confronted the Bicycle Man. A woman moved about her yard to the left. Was that a dog I just saw?

No.

I continued.

Slowly, slowly, slowly. Now I was directly in front of the gully where Dell had taken his cooling off splash. I stopped.

Nothing moved.

There was no sound.

I called for my dog.

My periphrial vision caught movement.

Turning my head, I thought I saw a small black and silver dog run a fenceline.

Could it be? I thought to myself. Backing up, then stopping, I yelled his name again.

Unmistakable were the ears that stopped short and turned my direction.

That champion showmanship stance gave him away.

Blood rushed my face, hot tears filled my eyes. I turned around and sped back to where I had seen the woman.

"Did you loose a dog?" I might as well have been speaking to Audrey Hepburn in person, her features were so remarkably similar.

Kindness spilled out of her very being, as she recounted how her daughter had found Dell, my normally happy and assertive minature schnauzer, afraid and cowering under the stairwell, and coaxed him out with loving gestures.

Dell was soon in my arms, as glad to see me as I was him, and the friendly neighbors more than willing to hear my story, share thier educated dog handling skills, and affirm me with remarks of the difficulty of the Bicycle Man in other neighborly endeavors.

Relief came in the form of nurturing Dell's noggin; his eye swollen from the bruising he had endured.

The canvas of the day distressed, I sought to settle my feelings through the process of words. Peace came when the GilGuy responded to my tale of the day. "Angi, walking sans leash carries a fine, no doubt. Yet animal cruelty? That is a felony. What this man has waged against Dell is the greater crime."

My thoughts turned at day's end to the intention of my walk in the first place. "Walk With Me" had been my blogtitle in progress, a picture of our daily commune with the Lord, abiding in His presence.

Perhaps the trauma I'd experienced wasn't so far away from that working title after all.

The choice to utilize the restraint of soulish passions and anger at injustice.

A confrontation with an expected end of peace.

New neighbors met, with foundations for relationship built.

A dog, a woman, and a baby.

Impacting a community by unusual means, and somehow, despite the negative connotations, making the most of it.

In my trauma, did I pass the "What Would Jesus Do?" test?

I certainly hope so.

Trauma On River Drive

I'd been planning a post for several days. The morning walks around the lake are so pleasant, I really wanted to share them with you. I'd even chosen the title of what was to be today's post: "Walk With Me" - intent on utilizing it with a spiritual bend towards taking note of ones' walk with the Lord.

I wanted to take pictures of this genre, to note the minuscule beauty of simple items around us:

as well as landscape photos of grandeur for the path ahead:

and how about some browsing the various and sundry beauty or state of dilapidatedness of the homes that call this particular expanse of acreage their foundation:




Well, not unlike any other endeavor I undertake it seems, the simple turned into the extraordinary. And today, drama turned into trauma.

Let me explain.

The morning routine had gone exceptionally smooth. In a state of readiness, Dell, Keller and I set out. The day was slightly overcast, but very comfortable with a gentle cool breeze bringing in a distant rainstorm.


Trotting happily beside me, Dell indicated he would like to be let off leash - a treat I'd been granting him as of late because no other pedestrians are out and about while we are. Folks are at work, and most other neighborhood dogs are contained in their various and sundry fencelines. This treat has been an excellent training time, as I've reduced the DellDog's response time to "come!" to an immediate recall.

Under normal circumstances, that is.

You see, the day before Thanksgiving, the DellDog was dutifully obeying me, when, suddenly, from out of nowhere, a man on a bicycle whipped past us at lightening speed. So stealth, so speedy was his approach, that the man startled all of us, including the dog, who deftly jumped into 'protect' mode, and nipped at the man's pedals. Snagging the edge of his jogging pants, I could hear the man muttering as he sped away. I yelled out an apology, and retrieved Dell.

A solid twenty minutes later, I had resumed my off-leash training, when a pair of dogs, separated from the fence that contained them, menaced Dell in a "Hey,-I'm-bigger-than-you-but-I'd-like-to-get-to-know-you." kind of way.

It was at that very moment that the Bicycle Man reappeared. "HEY! You got a leash for that dog?"

"Yep." I hollered out, and entering the canine growls and snarls; the raised hair on backs, I clipped Dell's leash securely. I then address Bicycle Man. "Sorry about my dog's nip. I"ll replace your joggers. Dell was startled, as we all were . . ." my voice trailed off as Bicycle Man began berating me excessively.

Stunned, I simply let him speak on and on, then bid him good day. I knew it was useless to get a word in edgewise.


Fast forward to today.

It was about here, at this lovely, relatively new home about the lake

that I determined we had the 'all clear' in terms of others being out and about - especially Mr. Bicycle Man. I'd purposely taken my walk later in the morning, purposely scanned my surroundings before unclipping my dog.

Dell, Keller and I turned happily to the road ahead.

Once again, suddenly, without warning, and very purposefully, the man on the bike was at my side, moving fast as blue blazes. I saw the flash of his arm raise to the full height of a man standing, and, wielding a large stick, bring it down upon my dog, unprovoked. So extreme was the event that I stood speechless, while Dell sought to regain his bearings. I could feel hot fumes begin rising from within me, but I would not give them place.

Counseling myself, we continued.

We visited the Great Dane that delights me so, then rounded the curve that opens to the lowest part of the lake. A neighbor was out with his little dog and two children. Exchanging greetings, an abrupt interruption occurred:

Bicycle Man had sped around the lake in nothing flat. Less than three minutes had passed since his previous attack, and here he was again, smacking my dog on purpose, unprovoked.

The neighbor watching exclaimed, "Did he just hit your dog??" incredulous as I was. "He'd better not hit mine!"

We all turned our attention to the man who was pedaling off furiously. "A conversation would be nice, sir!" I yelled after him, in a loud voice.

Dell didn't know what to make of any of this. He lingered as long as he could with the neighbor before finally agreeing to follow after me. "Matter of fact," he seemed to say, "I need to cool down myself." Plunging into the hazy lazy water, he splashed around to restore his soul.

It seemed to do the trick for him ~ but I was now rehearsing my conversation with the biker. I didn't know if he'd attempt to come back around, but something told me he would . . .

A few paces later, I was in the process of calling Dell to me to click his leash back on when, sure enough, not more than five minutes since his last go 'round - the man who took twenty minutes to encircle the lake the other day - had now accomplished three laps in less than 10 minutes. I watched Dell catch sight of him before returning to me - and bolt away like a flash of lightening.

"DELL!" I called, with useless effect. Turning, I moved to the center of the road and positioned myself front and center, policeman style, arms crossed and waiting.

When Bicycle Man was in speaking range, he sought to go around me. I wouldn't let him. "Can we have a conversation, please?"

He pulled up short, his defenses bristling before I could even begin.

Our words ranged from polite and calm to terse and pointed, hashing out the residential and recreational rights we both maintained. I oft felt as though he sought to intimidate me; I'm certain he was not expecting me to hold my ground.

In the end, he pedaled off, agreeing to our compromised resolution. Yet I felt as though my encounters with him were far from over ~ and my instincts told me that he had originally seen me unleash my dog, and left his abode at that moment, intent to teach me, and the dog 'a lesson.'

It was now my duty and desire to find my dog. Rain began to pelt my face.

Yet I tell you Choosers, the morning was far from over . . .

. . . to be continued.