"God, please help me to be the person my
dog thinks I am"
(anonymous message on a Christmas ornament)
When I was 4 years old I was diagnosed with asthma and so Mama bought a Chihuahua named "Peppy" on the advice of a Mexican doctor who convinced her that if it slept with me it would help rid me of my terrible nighttime coughing spells. The part of this pea-brained prescription which they didn't divulge was that the dog would supposedly contract my asthma and die and then I would be fine. Well as it turned out the "asthma" did disappear about the same time the poor little doggie died of some mysterious ailment that caused wasting and brain damage so bad that he could only walk down our hallway if he was leaning against the wall. Upon his merciful death they finally revealed the evil scam leaving me forever burdened with guilt and the awful feeling that, concerning dogs anyway, there must be a knot in my karmic stream of being that even Houdini couldn't unravel.
So what do you do? You get another dog! A weinie dog named Fritz (better known by my Father as Shitz after the first couple of weeks.) My job was to completely cover the hardwood floors of our house in newspapers every morning before I left for my first grade classes. This small puppy, (probably as a result of my horrible karma), was miraculously able to convert each pound of dog food eaten into 20 pounds of liquid manure by the time I arrived home everyday. Funny, I can't recall whatever happened to Fritz. I bet Daddy remembers.
Then there was a black Cocker Spaniel named "Wiggles" or something like that. Not sure whatever happened to him or his identical twin "Waddles" either. I just remember they stayed outside, always, and they were good at football.
Next! an enthusiastic little brown mutt named "Puppy", "saved" from the pound, who bit through the electrical cord of a lamp in my room on his first night home. He was not around long enough to ever receive a proper name.
Somewhere about this time Mama decided that "dogs were
not a good idea" but some friends of hers (obviously not
aware of my checkered past) decided that I would make an excellent
"Junior Dog Handler" so every
week-end they would pick me up and take me to their home where
I was schooled in the art of grooming and training magnificent
champion bloodline German Shepherds. I was most shocked (but secretly
delighted) to find that I was not only allowed but expected to
call the female dogs bitches. A few months went by and I became
quite good at "dog handling" and was entered in a big
show one Sunday at the park where I won first prize, for my performance
in getting this "bitch" to run around in circles without
leaving my side and not biting the judge (the dog not me) when
he opened her mouth to check the quality of her teeth. Looking
back now I can see how clearly the universe was sending a message
in the form of that blue ribbon that I had finally paid my dues
for murdering poor "Peppy."
Time passed and at the tender and stubborn young age of 16
yrs. I moved away from home and made the executive decision that
in addition to becoming pregnant with my first child I would also
take what little cash I had and purchase an expensive German Shepherd
puppy of my own. Remembering all I had learned from my short past
I taught "Solomon" (I named him after the king in the
bible stories) how to sit, lay, stay, come, go, stop, don't bark,
etc... He never left my side and he taught me things I never knew
before about loyalty and unconditional love. A few years later,
one cold November morning, the day before Thanksgiving, he showed
up on the porch of my farmhouse bleeding uncontrollably from a
gunshot wound. His left front paw had been shot by a boy "deer
hunting" down the road. I put a tourniquet on his leg and
we rushed him to the vet in the small town near-by where I was
told the foot would have to be amputated and that I should do
the "right thing" and have him put to sleep. I looked
deep into his eyes (our normal means of communication) and he
didn't look like he was sleepy to me so I refused and we went
home where he promptly chewed the wounded leg off himself. Despite
the fact that he became known by all the neighbors as "that
three legged dog" he lived a happy and healthy life for at
least 6 more years, chasing rabbits and running in front of our
pick-up truck down dirt roads. He took a wife, "Lady",
and sired puppies who soon had puppies of their own. At one point
I realized we were running a dog farm and had about 20 something
dogs. It was hard to count them all but Solomon was King. Our
days together convinced me that
3
I could trust my instincts and through his courage I learned the
value of never giving up but he also taught me that there comes
a time in life when like heaven, you must learn to let go when
your work is done. He died on a beautiful spring day. We sat under
the oak tree in the yard and he laid his head in my lap and cried
for hours. I knew it was because he didn't want to leave me. We
had a funeral beneath the Mulberry tree. I said a prayer about
something, God only knows what and I planted sunflowers on his
grave every year after that until I moved away from the farm.
This was my first experience with the horrible mathematical miscalculation
on the part of nature that deemed that one year of dog life should
equal 7 human years. It was also my first taste of grieving and
with that I also began to appreciate the beauty of impermanence.
"No more dogs, I said." Of course, before long someone brought me another wonderful, smart little Shepherd puppy, Sergeant (named that by them not me, I never liked that name.) He died a few weeks later, very quickly one afternoon, of the deadly new disease that had come along called Parvo virus. I began repeating my mother's mantra "a dog is not a good idea."
Years passed and a melange of various dogs came and went quickly. I cultivated a "dog proof" heart. Then the fateful day came. I was driving past the park at the end of our street and I saw a frightened little golden Labrador puppy, running in circles, frantically seeking shelter. As I slowly passed our eyes met and there it was again, that unmistakable communication. Oh no. I stopped. Convinced that I would surely find the distraught owner of this sweet little pup I brought her home and placed signs all over the neighborhood. Weeks passed, nobody came to claim her. By this time she was sleeping on our beds and eating out of our hands. My daughter announced that she had "always wanted a dog and God had finally given her one!" It was too late to turn back. I gave her a name, "Bonnie."
I guess time has taught me everything and nothing about dogs, depending on how you look at it. In the dog training world they like to say that a dog is only as smart as it's master but at this moment Bonnie lies at my feet ready to jump and follow if I should I move even slightly, ready to protect me with her life if necessary and all I can say I really know for sure at this point is how to bake homemade dog biscuits that will knock the bitch's socks off!
Homemade Dog Biscuits
5 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup milk
2 eggs
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons vegetable oil or bacon fat
2-3 cloves chopped fresh garlic
6 bacon strips fried and crumbled
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup cold water
Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl or food processor. Roll out 1/4 " thick on a lightly floured surface and cut into dog biscuit shapes with the dog biscuit cookie cutter you found at the cooking shop. (If you don't have one any shape will do.) Place on greased cookie sheet and bake in a 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes. Makes about 4 dozen. Please cool before serving!
Sunflowers
One of the most precious and picturesque memories I have of is driving through the countryside of Provence in summer past fields and fields of tournesol, meaning turn to the sun in English, Sunflowers. The giant flower heads literally turn to follow the sun all day as it makes it's way across the sky. The large blooms last only about a week and then whole fields of blossoms bow their heads under the weight of the seeds. Wild and multiple head varieties last quite a bit longer. The French use the seeds of the large ones to make oil for cooking much the same way we use vegetable oil in America.
Sunflowers like full sun and grow anywhere from 2-12 feet depending
on which variety you decide to grow. Plant the seeds about 6-8
inches apart and then thin to 1ft. apart once they germinate.
Feed them with a good balanced fertilizer like 15-30-15 to provide
plenty of nitrogen for the plants to grow and phosphorus for the
giant blooms. Keep them well watered and be sure to plant tall
ones at the back of the garden so they won't shade shorter plants.
If you want you can grow vine beans up the stalks.
They make great plants for children and first time gardeners because
the large seeds germinate quickly and give instant gratification.
You can plant a Sunflower house by planting a 6x6 foot square
with seeds, leaving an entrance. Put a few chairs or an old blanket
on the ground inside once the plants get tall enough and it makes
a nice shady place for kids to play in the summer or a great spot
for adults to hide when the phone is ringing too much.
As Van Gogh noted in one of his letters to his brother Theo, the cut flowers fade very quickly so if you want to paint them you'd better work fast. You will need a really heavy vase to keep it from tipping over or you can float a blossom in a large bowl on the table and people can splash around with it and get a better look and feel of it.
You can dry the flower heads and put them out in the winter for the birds to eat. Hang them on a tree in your yard with other things birds like, such as plastic spoons covered in bird seeds mixed with peanut butter and you will have a natural Christmas tree complete with an assortment of live birds. If it's near the window you can get a Audubon society bird book and some binoculars and do some bird watching and rest your mind for a while or you can tie bundles of dried blooms and Indian corn with raffia and hang them on your front door or gate instead of a wreath in the fall.
And finally, you can roast the dried seeds and salt them and eat them but of course, you knew that.
How To Teach Your Dog English
Actually it's my opinion that most dogs understand much more of what's spoken than people give them credit for but because they rarely speak (although I know one dog who can say no) people tend to assume that they don't understand what's being said. My friend Marilyn's Golden Retriever once brought her a bottle of aspirin because he overheard a phone conversation in which she complained of having a migraine headache!
If you want to teach your dog to understand you speak in short phrases and be repetitive. Use the same words as often as possible and keep it simple, the way you would want someone to speak to you if you were trying to learn Swahili for example. Say, don't bark, don't lick etc... instead of "please stop licking me you idiot or I'll kill you. This is too much information for any being who is trying to grasp a new language. Be nice. Say good dog, or bad dog for example instead of "what a great dog. I like you much better when you drink from the dog bowl instead of the toilet. Say bad dog, don't drink. Say lay or down or even lay down and say stay instead of get over there and lay down and don't get up for at least an hour (dog's have no concept of time) or I'm going to toss you out into the yard for the rest of your life. I think that's enough examples for you to get the picture but even if you decide to teach your dog English by reading it Shakespeare sonnets be prepared that it might take a little longer but eventually he will probably get the picture anyway because dogs basically aim to please.
As a side note please remember when your dog is begging that they get tired of eating the same old thing every meal but usually a simple don't beg and a refusal to feed him from the table will take care of it. Don't forget, a dog is only as smart as it's master! Good luck and may dog bless.
Words & Music: Kimmie Rhodes , Joe Ely, Gabe Rhodes
Oh weary me I'm broke as a man can be
my bills are all due, I got holes in my shoes
bill collectors they won't let me sleep.
If I could teach my Chihuahua to sing
I could make cash registers ring,
what a sight to behold her
she could sit on my shoulder and whimper in harmony.
If I could teach my Chihuahua to sing
what a wonderful world it would be.
I could take her to the border and teach her how to order
margaritas and fajitas senoritas would bring.
The circus is a comin, to town the telephone lines are down,
the tightrope is stretchin' while my puppy is a fetchin'
tin cans all scattered around.
If I could teach my Chihuahua to sing
the whole world would live in peace.
Instead of them fightin' everyone would be writin'
love letters to senators and police.
If I could teach my Chihuahua to sing
what a brave new world it would be.
I could take her to China on a big jet air liner
and bark in the park till the freedom bells ring.
If I could teach my Chihuahua to sing
there would be no more sorrow or grief.
I could take her to the border and teach her how to order
guacamole and pasole and feel holy and free.