Lost

I lost Waffles today. For a whole half-an-hour my baby was missing. I always call her my little Pugdini and today she made good on the name, disappearing right before our eyes. We were preparing dinner – my father grilling steaks, my Mom setting the table, and me as quickly clearing it of my paperwork. Dad had the back door to the fenced-in-yard open and I had just run some files upstairs with Alfie and Waffles in tow. Next thing I knew I saw Alfie peaking around from in back of my father’s legs, but no Waffles.

Up to no good again, I assumed and shouted her name. Typically, she comes running, stopping short at the baby gate that she hopped over to get up the stairs, but which impedes her journey back down. This time, she failed to show when I called. I called again – trying first my high-pitched excited voice, followed by a sterner cry, and then back to nervous screeching. When she didn’t appear, I ran to the backyard searching for her and then back up the stairs, tearing into my nephew’s room, my office and bedroom to no avail. I ran back down the stairs and to the car declaring her missing. I drove up and down the street looking for her, by this time in tears. Logically, I couldn’t figure out how she could have gotten out. In the past she had escaped through a hole in the gate on two occasions, but the hole had been repaired and even when she had gotten out she usually just sat outside the fence trying to find a way back in to be with Alfie. She had never wandered off. I pictured someone nabbing her from the backyard, envisioning horrors like animal experiments being performed on her. When I calmed myself enough to deem this vision unrealistic, my next thought was of a big eagle sweeping down while we weren’t looking and flying off with her. “I’ll never get her back either way,” I thought.

Beside myself, I returned home only to learn that my parents hadn’t found her yet either. Another search of the house ensued and then I heard my Mom’s voice calling to let me know she was found safe-and-sound in what we assumed was a locked bedroom. I should have realized. The door was shut because of the bathroom renovations, but I had noticed that she had found a way in the other day. The problem is the door swings in to allow her entrance, but just like the baby gate, once it closes she can’t get it to swing out, impeding her exit. In my terror, I hadn’t thought of this, however.

I scooped Waffles out of Mom’s arms and held her close. She wiggled and wagged her usually stoic tail, while Alfie did the same. The two, sensing my excitement, got all worked up, like two children on Christmas morning. They didn’t know why I was so happy, but I could tell they both hoped it meant something tasty for them. In the end, it did. I placed both Waffles and Alfie securely in their pens with a bite-sized morsel of the grilled filet mingon. And, as she ate it I think Waffles was as happy as I was that she hadn’t gotten permanently lost.

Norman

If there was a rock star at BlogPaws it may well have been Norman, the scooter and bike-riding dog. It seems Norman is a bit of a celebrity, so when he appeared at the hotel, he was rushed by a crowd of fans. When the time came for him to perform, it was raining outside, so a a circle formed in the hotel lobby and Norman entertained the crowds by scooting across the floor first on his scooter and then on his bike. Pretty impressive. I can't even teach Alfie to sit or Waffles to stop knocking over trashcans!

Too cute

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.

Creative Sparks

I've been busy this week pulling together my work for the above event. I, and a number of other writers who have been working under the tutelage of author Jon Katz for the last year, are giving a reading and showing off our artwork this Friday at Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY.

I've also been trying to settle back into everyday life following a working vacation in DC last week in which I attended Blogpaws and visited with an old college friend. I came home to a house torn up by renovations to the upstairs bathroom, so reentry has been challenging to say the least. As a result, I haven't had much time for serious work and hope you have been as entertained as I was by some of the great pet photo ops from Blogpaws.

Those of you in the Cambridge, NY area please consider attending the reading on Friday and don't forget to say "hi." I'd love to meet you!

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.

An Artist's Journey

When I was ten years old I took art lessons with an art teacher who lived up the street. She eventually moved to a nearby house, built an art studio and opened her home up as a gallery and teaching space. I remember wanting to emulate her – not only her art, but also her lifestyle. Maybe someday I too, could draw, paint and work out of my home.

It seems to me that for many artists, the title is about more than a profession; it is about a way of life. Most artists I know are trying to carve out a living doing what they love. Most want to be surrounded by beautiful things. Many want to live a simple life, close to nature, close to the work they love.

I have been trying for most of my life to create such a life for myself and in many ways I’ve achieved it. I am a professional writer and teacher. I have managed to eschew the 9 to 5 grind. But, the term starving artist exists for a reason and I have yet, to establish the home that I have always dreamed of having as my own creative space. I’ve set out and tried a couple of times to build one, but money always proves an obstacle. Still, the dream is strong, which is why perhaps I am so enchanted when I see it realized by others.

Several years ago, I wrote an article for Upper Valley Life Magazine about two potters, Becca Van Fleet and Nathan Webb. Theirs was a love story, both as a couple and as artists. Recently married, they were building a kiln and creating their own artistic dream. I fell in love with their story and watched as they finished their kiln and set out to build a studio. Each open studio weekend I am there, purchasing a fine collection of their wonderful pottery. Today, when I stopped by with my mother and sister-in-law Leah, to introduce Leah to their work, I discovered not only their completed studio, but also learned the news that they are pregnant. Another unfulfilled dream of mine, but rather than feeling jealous I find myself delighting in seeing this deserving couple’s personal and work lives expand.

These two potters, and their dog, Lego, short for Legolas of Lord of the Rings fame, make their home not far down the road from my own property, so after visiting them today, I walked the winding dirt road from my brother’s home to my land. Though chilly for May, the world was green and lush and rich with possibility. Becca and Nathan placed a chalkboard in their new studio, welcoming visitors and instructing them on how to negotiate the space. At the bottom, they wrote “a dream come true.” The words are a sweet reminder, but not necessary – the space and property is so infused with art and love that any visitor quickly becomes immersed in the dream that birthed it. You celebrate it as your own. And, so in this spirit, I stare out at my empty meadow and dream a dream large enough to fill the space. I continue my artist’s journey and envision where it will lead.

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.

Home Sweet Home

Thanks so much for your patience! I'm home and will be blogging tomorrow!