This had to be among the cutest critters at BlogPaws 2013. This little guy was happy to pose on top of tables and chairs for just about anyone and believe me, there was a long lineup of photographers and cameras vying for his attention.
By Way of Introduction
One of my favorite red carpet moments at Blogpaws 13 was when this little lady decided it was time to check out this passing gentleman. She wanted an up close and personal introduction and found a way to get it! The only thing funnier may have been the way the swarm of bystanders, myself included, stormed the couple in an effort to capture the moment.
Are we becoming more like our dogs?
Are we becoming more like our dogs or are they becoming more like us? I met this poodle at Blogpaws. I believe its name is Chilly, but I'll have to sit down and sort through the myriad business cards I exchanged before I can be sure. Chilly's colorful purple and magenta head and tail sure drew attention, but I was attracted to them for an additional reason. It seemed that Chilly and I had the same idea when it came to preparing for the big event. I, too, had visited a hairdresser the week before Blogpaws getting my hair dyed with purple and magenta streaks. Could it be a case of great minds thinking alike?
Cat Lady
Worried about getting a reputation as a crazy cat lady? Blogpaws may not be the place for you. This photo certainly encapsulates the spirit of the event. A dog on a bicycle, a 40-lb rabbit, a cage full of baby chicks, a ferret named Marilyn -- all were present at this pet blogging conference, which concluded on Saturday evening with a red carpet event. Here, Marilyn donned a gown as did a number of dogs and yes, cats! No one seemed worried about being dubbed crazy and most embraced it as they strutted their stuff along their four-legged friends. The above duo had to be among my favorites.
The people gathered to have fun, but they were also there on serious business. Pet lovers often find themselves dismissed as being frivolous or juvenile. People can be patronizing, viewing animal lovers as cute, but never really taking them seriously. Yet, Blogpaws attendees were there to network and learn how to turn their love of animals and blogging into a paying enterprise. All seemed to truly being enjoying their work.
I have to admit that I sometimes worry about this reputation of animal lovers as "crazy," obsessed with pets because their relationships seem lacking in other areas, but what I loved about the woman above is she seems to turn this sterotype on end. Yes, she's dressed in the mild-mannered attire of a librarian, but she's working it and her love of her dolled up cat doesn't come across as crazy to me, but rather endearing, even sophisticated. I was in awe of the costumes and the ceremony, but also proud to be among those in attendance. True, it was challenging to describe to my friend Clare's circle what I had been doing at the conference, but I can honestly say I was proud to be counted among its attendees. There are so many more foolish activities than being a cat lover, pug lady or even ferret follower. We are lucky to have found something that makes us smile!
Best Dog Ever
I intended to share with you some of my adventures at Blogpaws, but then my best friend’s dog passed away. Muck, named by my best friend’s son, after the dumptruck in Bob the Builder, was a sweet happy girl with brown eyes and long black eyelashes that she would bat as if she thought herself the prettiest girl in the room. She made me smile every time I visited and even laugh out loud the time I watched her chasing Roxy, my friend’s cat, whizzing past her like Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner, as Roxy watched from a perch above her head.
A Walker Coonhound, Muck began having seizures a month ago and after a long one this morning, my friend had to put her down. I learned about this, when I read my friend’s son’s Facebook status this afternoon. He wrote about his love of his dog and if the words left any room for doubt (they didn’t), the accompanying pictures of the teenage boy with the aged hound’s head pressed against his, shed any remaining trace. The bond between the two is so tangible, intimate, raw and beautiful that even if you did not know the story accompanying them, it would be easy to cry. I read the story of their life together, having witnessed much of it myself, amidst tears. Near the end of this homage, the boy wrote: “I held her paw, told her she was the best dog ever…” And, as I cried all the harder, I also paused to wonder how many other dogs have heard the same words “…the best dog ever.”
All dogs lucky enough to find a good home no doubt hear those words at one time or another and certainly at the end, because they are true – the reward for the companionship, joy, heartache, headaches, fun and loyalty they bestow. We dog lovers deem ourselves lucky to have shared our lives with such creatures and praise them for their unconditional love, but in reading these words today, I realized our dogs know unconditional love as well. We stare inside their soulful brown eyes and think of all the faithful years they gave us and declare each of them– the best dog ever, because Muck was, and so is mine, and so is yours.
Off on an Adventure
I’m off on an adventure. This winter I was googling pet blogs when I stumbled upon an event called Blogpaws, a conference for pet bloggers. For someone who had launched her new blog only a couple of months before, it sounded like the perfect opportunity to learn more about blogging in general, connect and network with other pet bloggers, and participate in yet another dog-centric activity, one of my favorite things to do. To top it all off the event was in D.C. and I have an old college friend from Middlebury there, who I’ve wanted to visit for a while. I purchased my tickets on the spot.
Now the event is upon me and I leave tomorrow for my first ever Blogpaws. I understand that lots of other bloggers bring their dogs and cats -- there is even a cat lounge – but unfortunately Waffles and Alfie have to stay at home. I couldn’t even imagine bringing the puggies on an airplane. I don’t think they’ll be very happy with me gone. With all the doctors appointments and renovations going on at home as late, the poor pugs have had to tolerate a lot of crate time and have already expressed their desire for some R & R. I have promised them plenty of trips to the dog park this summer.
In the meantime, I am off on my adventure. I have decided to leave the computer at home, having already packed my suitcase and carry on to the max and with my tennis elbow acting up I don’t need any extra baggage! I will have my i-pad and will try to blog as much as possible, but from the schedule it looks like my days will be pretty well packed. I did download the new Wordpress App to make blogging from my tablet easier. I’m excited and a little nervous. I wasn’t sure what to pack – I understand some people are wearing jeans and teeshirts, but the videos I’ve seen show a lot of business wear. I tried to aim for something in between. I’ve packed my new Pug & Pic business cards, which feature my blog banner on the back and some added surprises on the front. It seems to be the season for business cards. My friend, John Greenwood of Raining Iguanas, just wrote a blog post about receiving his new business cards the other day. Both John and I will be sharing readings from our blogs at the Creative Sparks reading at Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY on May 31st. But that’s a little down the road. I have to take my adventures one at a time.
Stay tuned for posts from Blogpaws…
Girls and Dogs
The saying goes “dogs are a man’s best friend,” but I think there may be an untold story about girls and their dogs, too.
Today, I posted a give-a-way on my blog for a boxed set of notecards featuring collages of “Girls and Dogs.” I was surprised by the comments I received both on the site and privately in e-mail because they seemed to touch a chord. Many people shared with me that they had been dog owners since they were little girls or told me they collected prints of girls and dogs. Collette wrote that she has “one daughter and always several dogs.” Peggy told a whole story about begging for a new puppy after her dog had died. I am reposting it below. Many found the notecards poignant, whimsical, and innocent. I think the traditional image of a boy and his childhood dog conjures images of innocence as well, but there is something to be said for the sweet image of little girls and their dogs.
As many of you know, I frequently photograph young girls and focus on them in my collages. I believe that when you watch girls at play you often can catch glimpses of the women they will become. Perhaps you can see some of this in the way they interact with dogs as well. When my niece Catherine was a toddler, she used to cover my old pug Buffy up with towels or small blankets when she came to visit. She would kneel by her on the floor and delicately spread the piece of cloth over Buffy’s body, pulling it up to her neck and murmuring to her as she smoothed the wrinkles. I was surprised a few years later when my pug Vader had aged and was also feeble. My niece Tori, who was too little to have observed Catherine’s ministrations years earlier, repeated almost the identical ritual with Vader, frequently visiting and spreading a dishcloth or baby’s blanket over him, talking quietly as she did so. They both nurtured in a way I could imagine them doing in the future should they become mothers.
My nephews love my pugs as well. They visit and let them out back where they throw balls for them, toss sticks and play games of chase. They frolic and laugh, but there is a different sense of more intimate interplay between my nieces and the dogs. I have witnessed my niece Tori, “training” her family’s Akita Miley, instructing her to “sit” and demonstrating the maneuver with gentle authority. Again, I can envision her as she may be as a woman, strong and authoritative, but also clear and instructive. My 16-month-old niece Ellie met my brother’s boxer Sophie for the first time the other day and acted positively coy. My sister-in-law Leah was worried that Sophie might bother the toddler so she had locked her in her crate, but Ellie was nonplussed. She went over to the crate, stuck her face to the bars and said “Dawg, Dawg.” Later, when they let Sophie loose, my mother spied Ellie playing hide-and-seek with her. At turns coy and giggling, I could picture her years later as a teenager flirting and giving the boys a run for their money.
It seems to me that dogs, which so easily read and play off our emotions, have a lot to work with when it comes to girls and their rich emotional lives. This is not to make less of the emotions of boys, who I know have hidden depths. But so often the interplay between little boys and dogs seems so genuinely simple – happy lugs loping side-by-side through childhood. The relationship between girls and dogs seems to require more inference on the dog’s part. They seem to look to the little girl and ask – what does she need: a doll to dress, a baby to mother, a playmate to tease, a companion on which to practice her blossoming flirtations? The dog, an expert at reading emotions watches and assumes the proper role, the girl finds a willing partner to act out the faces she will one day wear. There are of course exceptions, instances when this isn’t true, but for many little girls, dogs were their first great audiences and mirrors – observing their emotions and reflecting back their many facets. My collages try to capture this complex interplay – a secret world that is a precursor to the world to come, where girl becomes woman and the playmate of childhood evolves into steadfast companion.
I’d love to hear from more from female readers on what dogs meant to them as children or to any little girls they know now? What is the role of dogs in the life of a little girl and do you think that manifests itself differently than it does with boys? Please leave a comment or email me at kimbi@pugsandpics.com and let me know.
And, below here’s Peggy’s wonderful tale:
I think that I am likely the most “original girl and a dog.” In 1970, when my parents decided to move to Wisconsin, from Illinois, I was 12 years old. My German Shepherd, Blackie, who my parents bought about 6 months before I was born, had died the day before we left WI. My mom was trying to herd 4 children into her 1966 Plymouth Fury to get us to Wisconsin. The eldest, me, would not leave….not until I got the promise of another puppy.
The conversation went something like this:
Mom: “Get in the car.” Peggy: “Nope. Not until you and Dad promise me another dog.” Mom: “You can have your own room.” Peggy: “I already get that. I’m not leaving without that promise.” Mom: “You can do WHATEVER you want to the walls. Get in the car.” Peggy: “I know that, too. Please promise me another dog.” Mom: “Get in the car, it is time to go.” Peggy: “Okay. But I promise you that if I do not get another dog, you will get no grandchildren.”
So…I got into the car and off we drove to another life in WI.
I find it very synchronistic that I would come to this website (probably from a link to something else) and see these very imaginative and amazing cards that truly speak to a young girl’s love for dogs and that age of innocence.
I am an avid thank-you note writer and I find that these would be an amazing addition to my collection of thank-you cards for those “special” friends that deserve a nice pick-me up.
Now….almost 43 years later, my mom’s home just sold which is most excellent, but the doggy wallpaper that I made them put up in my room still remains. The whimsical wallpaper with such phrases as “wanna go out?” “Let’s go to the vet” still remain in that lovely old Victorian home that I spent most of last year cleaning out for my mom.
While I never had any children, I did fulfill my dream of raising and showing dogs. With almost 30 years of loving and owning Gordon Setters, I still love life and fondly recall the joys of being a young girl and LOVING dogs.
Common Thread Give-a-Way
Time for the Great Common Thread Give-a-Way and this time it's me giving away a product! This month, fresh off the presses, are note cards based on my collages. I'm calling them Collages: Girls and Dogs note card set. It is a boxed set featuring eight note cards and envelopes. There are four different designs with two cards of each design. The cards are blank but there is story about each collage on the back of the card.
To qualify to win this boxed set just leave a comment on my blog www.pugsandpics.com. And, don't forget to visit the blogs of the other participating artists. Check out Jon Katz's photography and wonderful writing at www.bedlamfarm.com. Jane McMillan at Little House Home Arts always has some terrific pincushions available on her site, which I know would make an excellent Mother's Day present. Maria Wulf has introduced a new product over at Full Moon Fiber Art -- beautiful scarves made from vintage hankies and Nancy has some terrific jewelry showcased at Spinning Glass Studio.com.
Winner of the Give-a-Way will be announced on Thursday. And, please check out my other artwork in my gallery. Full size prints are available of the four collages printed on my note cards.
Growing Up
Growing
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Metaphors seem lacking. I have heard people express pride in their gardens having tilled the soil and nurtured the plants from tiny seeds and sprouts. I have heard parents squeal in glee at children who have learned to count, say Mama or Dada or recite their ABCs. Puppies aren’t vegetables or kids, but I feel an almost inexpressible pride when I encounter one of the puppies we have raised from birth, carefully choosing new families to love and care for them.
This weekend I got to reconnect with two such puppies – one that we had sent on to a new home and one my friend Joan chose to keep. The two were brothers and both had grown into handsome boys. Trump, now known as Goofy, had always been a peculiar little boy. He was the loner in his litter, always off in a corner cocking his head and watching the world go by. He had a wrinkled, furrowed brow and a white splotch on his chest. His new owners, the Damitzes, said they took one look at the little puppy they had brought home sitting on the living room floor, his big ears flapping in strange directions and they knew his name was Goofy. He has grown into his ears and into himself. He strikes me as gentle, quizzical, but still a playful goof. He perfectly rounds out the Damitzes group of four and when they thank me for hand picking him for them, a part of me beams. In some small way, I was responsible for this little one’s fate and I did right by him and my friends.
My pride in Gryffindor is of a very different sort. Joan has been raising pugs since the sixties, but as any breeder knows even the best of them have a challenging time foreseeing how the puppies will look as adults and which ones are most show worthy. For many years Joan would consult with her friend Tom, bringing the puppies to his house and a allow him to feel them over, watch them play, and pass judgment on which to keep. After many years of knowing Joan and watching puppies born, I realized I’ve developed an eye for seeing into the future and now offer my own advice on which puppies might be best in the ring. With Gryffindor I think I got it right. He’s a big, beautiful boy with his daddy’s lovely face and a sweet, joyful temperament. He already seems to assume the show pug’s stance, “stacking” himself. He is larger than his brother, more cobby and square. He has a special twinkle that makes you smile just registering his exuberance. I’m glad he is close and I will have the opportunity to carefully watch him grow.
We are stewards of these puppies as a parent is of her children or a gardener of his garden. We till and toil and carve out a place for them. We hope it is enough. We bear witness to their growth. They provide testament to our good intentions. There is something spiritual that passes between us – the puppy and the ones who brought them into the world; there is a covenant. They will provide joy and companionship if we provide proper care and nurturing. It is not a duty to be taken lightly; there is something sacred in seeing it through. To me a life among pugs is not something frivolous or funny. It is a responsibility, a commitment to another living, albeit very different, kind of creature. In caring for them, it is me that grows.
Growing Up
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Dinner Party
We sit in the fading light of a glorious spring day. Glowing yellow sunlight bounces off the warm beige walls of the condo. Sue lights the candles on the coffee table then reaches above the fireplace to snap on the Christmas lights that she and her husband Charlie have yet to take down. The colorful bokeh casts a twinkling halo around her blonde, pixie-like head.
“Red or white?” Charlie asks our friend Yvonne as she grabs a seat on the sofa, her flowing blouse settling in around her. She has worked all day at her gift store and is happy to relax among friends.
“Red,” she answers and Charlie bends his tall frame to reach down and pour some wine in her glass.
Joan and Jane steam through the door, a whirlwind of coats, voices, boots and dogs. Joan looks better than she did a half-hour earlier. I left her at her house in pawprint-stained sweats, her graying hair in disarray. She has showered, pinned her hair back and stained her lips with a cheerful smear of peach lipstick. She takes her chair like a queen holding court, suddenly calm and poised. Staring at her square shaped face, which bears more than a passing resemblance to Joanne Woodward, it is easy to envision her in one of her past lives as a model, a role she held in New York City in her younger years. Jane hovers, slightly hunched, in back of her, peering at us from behind coke-bottle glasses. In her flowered dress and brown bobbed haircut she looks strangely childlike.
Both eschew the wine in favor of water and with the niceties complete, Charlie takes his place on the other sofa, closing our circle. Then as if drawn like magnets to fill in the holes, we are barraged by pugs – a small fawn and black army of compact, but solid bodies that feel like heavy sacks of flour landing on our laps. We move and adjust our bodies to make room for them. A very pregnant Truffles hoists her seal-like form to the top of the sofa, resting her head near her owner, Charlie. Chunky, the furry senior, curls up in the unclaimed loveseat. Lily, Josie and Miska circle their mama, Yvonne. Jerry, the grand old dame, hides in the corner. Lorelei, whose legs are starting to wane, shuffles over to Yvonne, placing her head squarely in her lap, begging for attention. The youngster, lanky, black Goofy, bows to whoever will humor him, hoping for play. He is one of the puppies from Joan’s last litter and we have gathered for a reunion to see him again. Joan has brought his mother Griffles, grandmother Releve, and handsome brother, Gryffindor, who also scamper and scurry around the floor. Sweet Pea, another old girl, sits erect on Joan’s lap, as regal as her mistress. The pugs are so plentiful I have lost track of their number. Jane has left Shim and his dogcart in the car.
I survey the room and grin at the lot of us. Charlie, Sue, Yvonne and I sip wine from fine goblets and nibble on the spread of cheese Sue has placed before us, while the pugs chew on the wine corks, try to sneak a bite from the table and occasionally piddle on the floor. We chat about the Boston Marathon bombing, Charlie and Sue’s grandchildren, condo fees, and pug ailments while attempting to keep the dogs corralled and the carpets clean.
“Do you think we need a couple of more dogs?” I joke. Everyone smiles. We would not know each other if it were not for the pugs in this room. I’m not sure how we would have met otherwise. We encompass different generations, have varied backgrounds and live in different states and towns. But we are now going on a decade or more of gatherings such as this one. We have become a comfortable pack.
We talk about when the puppies are due and plan our next visit. We laugh as the visiting pugs catch a glimpse of the resident pugs on the other side of the sliding glass doors and go berserk, charging the glass in an attempt to reach them. “You gotta go around,” Sue explains. “They just bark louder as we erupt in laughter.”
The room fills with it.
I have heard the belief that we live in an ever-increasing age of isolation, turning to our pets to fill the void vacated by humans. There may be times when this is true, but I feel none of that here. I see friendly faces both canine and human. Charlie and Truffles rest eyes half-closed, mirror images of satisfaction. Joan, Jane and Sue giggle as Yvonne shares with them dog videos on Charlie’s i-Pad. I bask in the friendship. It’s true as a single woman I know my share of longing and have some voids to fill, but I have no need of substitutions. I am part of a tribe and its members have both two legs and four.
This may not be a dinner party for everyone, but it suits us just fine. Like a dog chawing on a bone, we find ourselves perfectly at peace.
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