When we went for walks in Meadville, Pennsylvania, it was all about the pee and poop. Sure, we chased and caught a chipmunk now and then, she killed about thirty moles in two and a half years, and a few birds and baby bunnies bit the dust. But those were incidental to the work of taking care of business. Here at Wyndchase Bellevue, and for some distance around the property, it's all about the hunt. Sometimes I think she's playing a game called "No peeing or pooping until I kill something." Instead of sniffing the ground for good places to make deposits, she's sniffing the bushes for rabbits, poking in the grass for moles, and all the time watching watching watching for rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks. We almost never go out in the local area without giving chase to something, and usually several somethings. She has caught and killed three moles and three rabbits in two months, and come within inches of many more, including many chipmunks.
This week has been chipmunk week. Monday morning at Edwin Warner Park, I swear they were taunting her. They ran across the trail right in front of us, just out of reach. They sat at the edge of the path until we got close, then darted into the cracks and crevices of the stone walls along the edge. They ran in the gully beside the road, Grace hot on their tiny heels. Back home at Wyndchase, the tradition continues. The little bastids are doing the same tricks, with the addition of storm drains and down spouts in which to escape. I have done an emergency repair of a downspout torn from the wall by a frustrated bassador. In addition, there is a ten foot by forty foot pit behind the complex, with retaining.walls of railroad ties, deep enough to dissuade her from jumping in, where chipmunks and squirrels are visible and in tantalizing motion. I keep a tight leash on our girl when she is at the edge gazing down at the action in the pit. And back home, they even come strolling across the porch on the other side of the sliding glass door. Evil little critters, chipmunks .
I don't know if it's a Tennessee thing, a Nashville thing or a Bellevue thing, but around here, the hedges are mostly short, squat holly bushes. They are, evidently, excellent evergreen bushes. They are, certainly, excellent rabbit habitat. The area around the trunks is wide open, and the canopy hangs down close to the ground. During most of our walking time she is poking that busy busy nose into the bushes, sniffing and looking for rabbits. As often as not, a bunny comes shooting out the other side, dashing for cover elsewhere. Grace goes running around the end of the hedge, hoping to find it on the other side. No luck? She dashes back around to the original point. No luck? Back around again, back and forth until either she gives up, or her dad drags her away. Then on we go to a different hedge.
This gives her a lot of exercise per mile, and I appreciate that.
And she does grudgingly accomplish the business detailed in the opening paragraph. I appreciate that as well.
All Clean!
Home From The Groomer
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Friday, August 14, 2015
Nashville Dogs
Tomorrow we'll be here four weeks. We are up and running at home, with much of our stuff still packed up and stored in the third bedroom of our apartment here in Bellevue, an area in the southwest reaches of Nashville. We have closed on the sale of our house in Pennsylvania, made strides toward buying a condo in a nearby geezer community, gotten our Tennessee tag for the car, and tried three nearby Mexican restaurants, all very good. And I've even worked a day as an extra on the ABC TV show "Nashville." We love it here.
Through it all, at least two or three times a day, you guessed it, walking with Grace. The apartment complex is very pet friendly. One of the office guys lives one corridor over with a big golden dog named Harvey. He's not playful, but he's friendly. Many other dogs are walked around the grassy areas between buildings and surrounding the whole property. We rarely go out without encountering at least one or two dogs. Rabbits are also plentiful. Grace has caught two already. Squirrels, chipmunks and moles round out the mammals, and cicadas and lizards add to the fun. And that's just around here.
A five minute drive away is Edwin Warner Park, a 625 acre chunk of land with a maze of paved and unpaved nature trails, a Nature Center, an amphitheater, benches, trash cans and best of all, a huge fenced in dog park, where there are always dogs to play with, and a dog-height water fountain. Pretty much every day we get Grace dressed in her collar and harness and take her for an hour walk on the trails or romp in the dog park. We do it early in the morning before the day gets too hot, and more importantly, before the dreaded Nashville rush hour traffic builds. Then we come home to air conditioning and Grace's king size Sleep Number bed. She somehow manages to take up the whole thing, and sleeps until the afternoon walk.
She doesn't have a best friend here yet. But then, neither do I.
Through it all, at least two or three times a day, you guessed it, walking with Grace. The apartment complex is very pet friendly. One of the office guys lives one corridor over with a big golden dog named Harvey. He's not playful, but he's friendly. Many other dogs are walked around the grassy areas between buildings and surrounding the whole property. We rarely go out without encountering at least one or two dogs. Rabbits are also plentiful. Grace has caught two already. Squirrels, chipmunks and moles round out the mammals, and cicadas and lizards add to the fun. And that's just around here.
A five minute drive away is Edwin Warner Park, a 625 acre chunk of land with a maze of paved and unpaved nature trails, a Nature Center, an amphitheater, benches, trash cans and best of all, a huge fenced in dog park, where there are always dogs to play with, and a dog-height water fountain. Pretty much every day we get Grace dressed in her collar and harness and take her for an hour walk on the trails or romp in the dog park. We do it early in the morning before the day gets too hot, and more importantly, before the dreaded Nashville rush hour traffic builds. Then we come home to air conditioning and Grace's king size Sleep Number bed. She somehow manages to take up the whole thing, and sleeps until the afternoon walk.
She doesn't have a best friend here yet. But then, neither do I.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Parting
July 1. In just two weeks I pick up a 26 foot Penske truck and bring it home for loading. On the 17th, I drive it to Nashville, Tennessee, where Carmen will be the next minister to serve the Greater Nashville Unitarian Universalist Congregation. It's a happy happy thing - except for the folks we leave behind. The Meadville UU congregation will miss her terribly. Everyone else will miss Grace, the friendliest, sweetest, happiest dog on the planet.
Before October 11th, 2012, I knew maybe ten or so neighbors, all of whom were visible from my front yard. Since then, that dog and I have met many dozens of people and the dogs with whom they share their lives - not to mention cats, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, birds and moles.
Among the humans and dogs, several are standouts. There is a little girl up Morgan Street who drops whatever she is doing and runs to embrace, pet and be licked by Grace. I don't know her name and she doesn't know mine, but she knows Grace, and we know her dog Harry. Around the corner from her on Charlton is a tall man whose name I do not know, with a beagle named Steve, an older, friendly but not playful boy. Around the corner from them on Pine Street is Maddy, an old lady mutt who is walked by Sue, a professional painter whom I knew as a customer when I worked for Sherwin Williams, but whose home location I did not know until the morning Grace pooped in her front yard and, as I was cleaning it up, I heard a voice say "Jim?" Back on Chestnut there is Mrs. Crawford, with her two dogs corralled by Invisible Fence; Marge walking her two old shelties; and Melissa, a friend of the UU church with an old boy dog named Vic. Not one of those dogs wants to play with my girl.
Then we come to Walnut Street. Go west on Walnut from Morgan, and at the next to last house on the right before the blocks-long wilderness break, where the road is too close to the ravine to put a house, live an old designer hybrid dog named Dulie (sp?) and a German shepherd named Wolfie. Wolfie loves loves loves to play, is very big and very rambunctious. Wolfie was often tied out front while Dulie was tethered only by her territorial imperative. When we approached, Dulie would start barking and Wolfie would dance at the end of his tether. Then he and Grace would wrestle and romp and chase and roll around until the two leashes were tangled into a daunting snarl. I met Wolfie's mom when she came out in robe and slippers to help calm Wolfie and untangle the leashes. A couple of times, we encountered that bunch at Shadybrook Park, where I could turn Grace loose to run and play unfettered, stuck like glue to Wolfie, who was kept in control by Dulie. It was two years later that I learned Kelly's name. A couple blocks farther west, on the other side of Walnut, is where Mocha lives with Kevin and Gloria and their son Jonah. Mocha and Grace are best friends. Grace leads me to Mocha's house at least two or three mornings a week, plus any other time we happen to be in the neighborhood. Mocha watches out the window, waiting for Grace to appear. They always have a joyful reunion, and even when they are not in the mood to play, they like to just hang out together while the humans talk.
It's hard to think of taking Grace away from all of her friends, human and canine. It's hard to think of taking Grace away from her beloved lake effect snow. But her humans aren't getting any younger, and the snow in Nashville is probably not so hard on the primary shoveler. Plus, I can work in show biz again! And if I know nothing else about our new life in Tennessee, I know that Grace will make many new friends there. She's the friendliest, sweetest, happiest dog on the planet.
Before October 11th, 2012, I knew maybe ten or so neighbors, all of whom were visible from my front yard. Since then, that dog and I have met many dozens of people and the dogs with whom they share their lives - not to mention cats, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, birds and moles.
Among the humans and dogs, several are standouts. There is a little girl up Morgan Street who drops whatever she is doing and runs to embrace, pet and be licked by Grace. I don't know her name and she doesn't know mine, but she knows Grace, and we know her dog Harry. Around the corner from her on Charlton is a tall man whose name I do not know, with a beagle named Steve, an older, friendly but not playful boy. Around the corner from them on Pine Street is Maddy, an old lady mutt who is walked by Sue, a professional painter whom I knew as a customer when I worked for Sherwin Williams, but whose home location I did not know until the morning Grace pooped in her front yard and, as I was cleaning it up, I heard a voice say "Jim?" Back on Chestnut there is Mrs. Crawford, with her two dogs corralled by Invisible Fence; Marge walking her two old shelties; and Melissa, a friend of the UU church with an old boy dog named Vic. Not one of those dogs wants to play with my girl.
Then we come to Walnut Street. Go west on Walnut from Morgan, and at the next to last house on the right before the blocks-long wilderness break, where the road is too close to the ravine to put a house, live an old designer hybrid dog named Dulie (sp?) and a German shepherd named Wolfie. Wolfie loves loves loves to play, is very big and very rambunctious. Wolfie was often tied out front while Dulie was tethered only by her territorial imperative. When we approached, Dulie would start barking and Wolfie would dance at the end of his tether. Then he and Grace would wrestle and romp and chase and roll around until the two leashes were tangled into a daunting snarl. I met Wolfie's mom when she came out in robe and slippers to help calm Wolfie and untangle the leashes. A couple of times, we encountered that bunch at Shadybrook Park, where I could turn Grace loose to run and play unfettered, stuck like glue to Wolfie, who was kept in control by Dulie. It was two years later that I learned Kelly's name. A couple blocks farther west, on the other side of Walnut, is where Mocha lives with Kevin and Gloria and their son Jonah. Mocha and Grace are best friends. Grace leads me to Mocha's house at least two or three mornings a week, plus any other time we happen to be in the neighborhood. Mocha watches out the window, waiting for Grace to appear. They always have a joyful reunion, and even when they are not in the mood to play, they like to just hang out together while the humans talk.
It's hard to think of taking Grace away from all of her friends, human and canine. It's hard to think of taking Grace away from her beloved lake effect snow. But her humans aren't getting any younger, and the snow in Nashville is probably not so hard on the primary shoveler. Plus, I can work in show biz again! And if I know nothing else about our new life in Tennessee, I know that Grace will make many new friends there. She's the friendliest, sweetest, happiest dog on the planet.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Snapper Stopper
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a herpetologist. Reptiles fascinated me more than anything else. In Boy Scouts, the only merit badge I strove for was Reptile Study. I brought home snakes. I collected turtles every summer, then let them all go when school started. I know from reptiles.
Walking with Grace has brought me close to more fauna than I've seen since high school in Vero Beach, Florida. We've come within catching range of a half dozen snakes, four or five turtles and even a couple of lizards. So I'm always on the lookout. So is Grace.
This morning's walk took us straight up the western face of the steep grassy earthen dam at Shadybrook Park and down the other side to Rainbow Lake (the locals call it Rat Lake.) Beyond Rat Lake is a huge grassy, often soggy field where Grace loves to ramble. We go there a lot. Sometimes the grass is feet high, but this summer it has been mowed pretty regularly. This morning, as we walked and stopped and sniffed and chewed grass and such, I noticed a dark shape just about in the middle of the field. I couldn't remember ever seeing it before, so I spent my part of the time staring at this thing. At first it looked like a big snapping turtle, something you rarely see this far from water. Probably a stick with a broken off branch, looking like a shell with a head sticking out. We circled on around, and I fully expected the shape to change with our shift in perspective. But try as we might to discern what it really was, it still insisted on looking like a big snapping turtle. Finally, Grace saw it too, and we crossed the field for a closer look. It turned out to be a big snapping turtle, about twelve inches from the front to the back of her shell. She was this far away from the lake because she was laying eggs. The rear portion was deep into the soil, and she wasn't coming out. I remembered a snapper I had in my collection back in the sixties who laid her eggs in my mother's garden.
Grace, of course, wanted to make it run so she could give chase. That's what fauna are for, after all. She strained against the leash to go up to it and nudge it. She doesn't know what I know - that this snapper's neck is also a foot long, and her jaws can bite a chunk out of you in the blink of an eye. I wasn't going to let that happen, and I also did not wish to disturb this lady in her egg laying endeavor. I dragged Grace away and led her reluctantly home.
Walking with Grace has brought me close to more fauna than I've seen since high school in Vero Beach, Florida. We've come within catching range of a half dozen snakes, four or five turtles and even a couple of lizards. So I'm always on the lookout. So is Grace.
This morning's walk took us straight up the western face of the steep grassy earthen dam at Shadybrook Park and down the other side to Rainbow Lake (the locals call it Rat Lake.) Beyond Rat Lake is a huge grassy, often soggy field where Grace loves to ramble. We go there a lot. Sometimes the grass is feet high, but this summer it has been mowed pretty regularly. This morning, as we walked and stopped and sniffed and chewed grass and such, I noticed a dark shape just about in the middle of the field. I couldn't remember ever seeing it before, so I spent my part of the time staring at this thing. At first it looked like a big snapping turtle, something you rarely see this far from water. Probably a stick with a broken off branch, looking like a shell with a head sticking out. We circled on around, and I fully expected the shape to change with our shift in perspective. But try as we might to discern what it really was, it still insisted on looking like a big snapping turtle. Finally, Grace saw it too, and we crossed the field for a closer look. It turned out to be a big snapping turtle, about twelve inches from the front to the back of her shell. She was this far away from the lake because she was laying eggs. The rear portion was deep into the soil, and she wasn't coming out. I remembered a snapper I had in my collection back in the sixties who laid her eggs in my mother's garden.
Grace, of course, wanted to make it run so she could give chase. That's what fauna are for, after all. She strained against the leash to go up to it and nudge it. She doesn't know what I know - that this snapper's neck is also a foot long, and her jaws can bite a chunk out of you in the blink of an eye. I wasn't going to let that happen, and I also did not wish to disturb this lady in her egg laying endeavor. I dragged Grace away and led her reluctantly home.
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