Feeling Social

It's hard to pinpoint a favorite moment from the 10th Anniversary Green Mountain Pug Social. Because I was sick, I arrived late this year and didn't enter that many contests. So, no Pug Kissing or Fanciest Costume awards this year. Alfie and Waffles both ran in the Pug Races, which is always a highlight -- seeing those chubby bodies run with butts tucked and ears flying is a hilarious thing, an act of valor and redemption for those non-athletes among us. You don't have to be aerodynamic to win!
The costumes were amazing and imaginative. Here, is a sample of my favorites. One family dressed up the Star Wars clan complete with Jedi fighters, Princess Leia, and of course, a Yoda pug. Another fave? The group from Alice in Wonderland -- White Rabbit and Mad Hatter among them.
I donated two photographs to the silent auction and was happy to meet the family that took home my photo called "Blue Smile" of my pug Alfie.
My favorite part of the day, however, had to be the end of the event after the contests and races had died down and everyone sat quietly on the lawn waiting for the Silent Auction, Chinese Auction, Quilt Raffle and Poop Raffle winners to be announced. It reminded me of those Sunday School scenes from the Bible where people sat quietly on the hillside listening to Jesus. Although there was no Pug Messiah present, a general peacefulness descended on the tired crowd.
As the sun died and the air chilled, pugs snuggled in wagons, baby carriages, blankets and laps. Owners slunked down in the grass beside them. People seemed happy to just sit and share in each other's company. You could hear a shriek of glee here and there as people won their favorite treasures. Joan bid on a print of a Pug Gnome, one of the last items announced, and was the proud winner.
I scampered around taking photos of the resting crowd. And, of course, I do not exaggerate the only pugs not snoring or sitting pretty were ours. In our x-pen, Alfie stood on tip-toe panting wildly, scratching to get out. Waffles and Joan's Tar Baby let out long woeful banshee screams and hollers.
"You're pugs are ferocious," one neighbor announced to me as Tar Baby and Waffles screeched and growled at their pug, a big, black who barely moved the whole event.
"No, they're not," I defended. "They just sound that way."
I don't think she believed me. I eventually put all of ours back in their cars, windows down, and came back to sit on the grass and stare at another sleepy, black dressed in a Harley Davidson outfit, who was making himself at home first in his comfy chair and then by his owner's foot.
As tired as we all were, as ready as some of the pugs were to get home to dinner and their beds, I don't think any of us were happy when the last prize winner was read. It was the kind of day where everyone was feeling social, caught up in a shared moment of bliss.
And, in the car our pugs barked on....

Day of Rest

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I have 85 email messages to read, hundreds of photos from GMPR's pug social to size and send off, blog posts to write and respond to, student papers to mail off and lessons to prepare, but today I decided to do something I rarely do especially when my to-do list is so long -- I stayed in bed. Waffles, Alfie, my Kleenex box and I curled up in bed with Gone Girl, a book my friend Maria passed on weeks ago. I dozed and read while Waffles snuggled beside me and Alfie dove under the covers. In spite of my stuffy head, I have to call it a good day. I did succumb to a sketch to commemorate the experience and to this blog post and am now updating my computer software and watching the Emmys, but I am heading back to bed soon where I will tuck in with the pugs to finish that book. Tomorrow I'll get to the email and work and posting those pug social pics. Tonight the pugs and I are catching up on some R & R.

GMPR Pug Social

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What's better than a pug? How about hundreds of pugs and pug lovers all in one place? And, when pugs and pug lovers come together that means pug tee-shirts, pug license plates, pug costumes, cookie jars, photos, paintings, bumper stickers, magnets, notepaper, the list goes on and on. Who could miss such an opportunity even if one had a head cold? Not me! So, Alfie, Waffles, a box of Kleenex and I set out to Killington, VT this morning for Green Mountain Pug Rescue's 10 Anniversary Pug Social and it was well worth the trip. I took a lot of photos had Alfie and Waffles run in a pug race and chatted with lots of pug folk. The rain held off and it was a beautiful day in more ways than one. Problem is pugs and I are tired and vegging on the sofa, so photos will have to wait until later. Here's one my friend Joan snapped of me and her puppy, Trump, in front of the pug hay bale sculptures -- I warned you there's all sorts of pug paraphernalia!

It's Nice to Have Friends

Photo By Amy Chan
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I found myself in a bit of a predicament the other night. I needed a picture of myself teaching my class and I wasn't sure how to get one. Yes, I could have set up my tripod and camera on self-timer, but I wasn't sure I could ensure a good shot and didn't want to interrupt the class too much. I could have asked someone at the school to snap something, but there are not a lot of people on hand the evenings I teach and again there was no way to be certain they would get a good picture. I thought of asking my sister-in-law who is a great photographer that has helped me out before, but she lives two hours away from the school and has a young baby. I decided instead to ask two friends who I have taken photography classes with through Jim Block ( http://www.jimblockphoto.com ) if they might be willing to stop by and snap something for me. Both friends, Renee Brown ( https://www.facebook.com/ReneeBrownPhotography ) and Amy Chan ( www.amychanphotography.com ) are excellent photographers and I knew I would be happy to have either of them take the picture. Both got right back to me. Renee was busy taking a class, but Amy was able. She even arrived at class before I did.
Unfortunately, I felt ill that evening and was worried I wouldn't photograph well, but Amy pulled it off and sent me several pics to choose from including the one above. Amy is a mother and L&D, RN and specializes in birth photography among other things. I realize how fortunate I am to have these wonderful and talented friends who are willing to help out at a moments notice.
I am also happy that Amy's picture of me will be featured on my new web site, which draws closer to completion each day. I'm told I'll be able to see the first design layout for it next week. Again, I wouldn't have found these great web site designers if it wasn't for my friend Jon Katz (www.bedlamfarm.com).
We often say "it's who you know" as almost a derogatory thing, attributing success to connections and networking, but there's truth in the statement and nothing derogatory about it. Often success does come from who we know, the friends we make, the bonds we forge and the kindness of those willing to put their talents to work to help us. This has certainly been the case with me and I am lucky to have such friends.

Not Beyond Here

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It's been a long time coming but I finally finished my Mermaid collage. I'm calling it "Not Beyond Here." I was under the weather today, but being at home in bed gave me some time to do the sewing on the collage. So now it is complete.

As I said before, this one was a difficult one to pull off because of the black background and the light layers of the images, but I like how it turned out looking like water. The not beyond here signs were actually signs used after Irene to keep people from certain flooded areas. The mermaid tails were from a restaurant sign I passed one day. The moon in the corner was an actual reflection of the supermoon on my parent's pool cover. The pug belongs to my friend and the little girl is my niece Tori. but here, she has already taken on another identity for me. She is the mermaid. She looks older than my niece. Her eyes are different. She and the mer-pugs here are creatures of another world. One that simultaneously dares us to enter and warns us to stay away.

And, sometimes it's hell

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It's not all bliss. Take the other day for instance. Sure, I described the Shelburne Museum Goes to the Dogs event as heavenly, but life with dogs isn't always peaceful even in Paradise.

After strolling the grounds and browsing vendors, I was eager to make my way back to the Round Barn to hear Luis Carlos Montalvan talk about his book Until Tuesday: A Wounded Warrior and the Golden Retriever Who Saved Him. Amidst talking to other dog owners and taking in the sights and sounds, I lost track of time and was already 20 minutes late for the discussion. As I approached the building, I realized the event was still going strong. I could hear the author talking in a low, steady voice. I reached the doorway and started to lead my pugs inside what seemed like an intense and serious environment.

The basement of the Round Barn was exactly that -- a basement. I don't know about most dogs, but mine have never liked going into basements. I always wondered if they feared being trapped or if it was something else, but on this occasion, Alfie slammed on the brakes and wouldn't proceed. I can't say I exactly blamed her. As much as i wanted to hear Montalvan talk, the atmosphere didn't seem entirely welcoming. I don't mean to give the impression that it was unfriendly, but the subject matter did not seem to be eliciting a bunch of laughs. I managed to get Alfie through the doorway, but she would not move beyond a certain point to let me sit down in a chair. I stretched as far as I could, trying to move a chair so it would be closer to Alfie, but it was a long reach.

At this point, Waffles too, seemed to be picking up on the nervous tension in the room. Luis Carlos Montalvan was still talking in a deep, low voice about trauma and how we are all going to experience it at some point when Waffles started in on her banshee scream. I love my new little pug. She is sweet, quiet, petite, almost cat-like in the way she studies the world, but she has created some challenges in training her -- anyone know how to stop a pug from overturning trash cans -- and she has a wild cry, not typically heard in nature.

Prior to getting Alfie I had read about the pug "whohoohoo," a gentle barking noise. None of mine had made this, but Alfie did, and I loved hearing it the first time. Waffles, on the other hand, has a screech and a scream. It isn't pretty. She started in during the talk, barking at another dog sitting quietly beside its owner's feet. It didn't seem to disturb Montalvan's drone, but just to be sure I tried to move her out of view of the other dog. This would have been easier if Alfie and she weren't coupled together on one lead. When I tried to pull Waffles left, Alfie moved right and pulled. She exercised enough energy to slip her harness over her head. She was loose.

Those of you who have well trained dogs may not understand the implications, but I live on a main road and there is little safe space available to train my dogs off lead. Add to this the fact that Alfie associates being caught with doing something she doesn't want to do. Yes, I know, there are rules you should follow in training her -- give her food, don't put her in the crate each time you catch her, etc. But Alfie knows that food comes with a price and it's not just her crate she doesn't want to go in, she doesn't want to go anywhere she's being MADE to go and she knows how to avoid this -- Don't Let Them Catch You!

So, Alfie heads for the door at a run with her harness hanging from the other end of Waffles' lead. Waffles jumps as the thing waves beside her and begins a second chorus of screams. A woman outside yells "Loose Dog."

I trip over a chair trying to get outside where I see Alfie following a little girl. "Hey, can you hlep me?" I call. She stares at me blankly.

"If you sit down I think my dog will come to you and I can put her harness back on," I said.
The girl doesn't move.

"Hey!" I tried again, trying not to let panic rise in my voice. "Could you please help me catch my dog?"

What's the matter with this kid? I thought. It wasn't until I got home late at night that I thought about the warnings we all give our kids. Don't trust a stranger even if they offer you an icecream or a chance to pet their dog. This poor kid who I was getting so angry at was probably just well trained or very smart. Heck, I probably wouldn't have trusted this frantic lady dragging a little black dog and an empty harness down the sidewalk either.

Struck down by the girl, I turned to a vendor packing up her supplies. Yes, her hands were full, but she was the closest to me and my dog was quickly moving away. "Could you please help me with my dog?" I asked, thrusting Waffles lead into her hands. I then fell to the ground, trying to attract Alfie's attention. She saw me, but remained just out of reach. "Come here," I murmured.

"Do you have a snack I could give her?" Now, I was screeching like Waffles. The woman I asked was sitting at a table full of bags of dog treats, but she didn't answer me.

"Do you have a snack I could give her?" I repeated. When she didn't answer I jumped up and approached the table, ready to grab a bag myself.

The woman holding Waffles shouted. "She's right behind you. You're dog is right behind you."
I knew this, but I also knew that if I turned around and tried to grab her she would just back up and move further away. But, to this woman I probably looked clueless. Just as I was getting ready to rip open a treat bag, the woman behind the table sprang to life and handed me a liver treat from her pocket. I tried to lure Alfie with it, but she only backed up.

"Make her come to you," the woman instructed as if I had never thought of this.

Alfie came, but not close enough. Anyone who questions an animal's intelligence should know that they understand advanced mathematics. Alfie demonstrates this over and over by being able to calculate the exact right distance she needs to maintain at all times to be just out of reach. This time, however, I was lucky and was able to spring upon her fast enough to grab her fat, round body.

Holding a pug is just about as easy as holding a slick pig. There is nothing to grab on to, no handles so to speak, and they wiggle their chubby forms right out of your hands. Fortunately, Alfie has a lot of fur so I just grabbed on.

"You better get that  harness back on your dog," the woman holding Waffles barked at me while simultaneously snapping at the barking Waffles to calm down. I barely got the first strap closed before she was handing Waffles back to me. By this time, I was a sweaty mess with a migraine. Also, I was fearful about getting Alfie back to the car now that her harness had been stretched out of shape and could even more easily slip off. And, I desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

Yes, spending time amidst dogs can be a taste of heaven, but sometimes spending time with them can be a bit of hell, too.

Sketches from North Hampton

I took my ipad to the beach with me last Friday. I love the ease with which I can use it to sketch. It takes the need for perfection away and allows me to capture an impression of the moment. Obviously both of these are not finished drawings, but they will help remember the seagull who kept shuffling by and the old man, head down, strolling the beach and the two old ladies who waded into the water with the glee of children -- one stood with her hands tucked behind her grasping her buttocks as if to plant herself against the gentle waves, the other trying to avoid stepping on pebbles even as she gathered treasured ones up in her hands.

Heaven of a Different Sort

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If my trip to the ocean and the concert this weekend were spiritual experiences for me, Sunday brought heaven of a different sort. As a dog lover, the Shelburne Museum Goes to the Dog event may have been the canine equivalent of Paradise. Instead of loved ones strolling on streets of gold, dogs of all different breeds, sizes and colors greeted us beside owners just as diverse. Swimming pools to cool dogs off, water bowls to refresh them and a maze of doggie games, activities, and vendors dotted the pristine and picturesque lawns of the Shelburne Museum. Baggies to dispose of waste were in easy reach and no one restricted the dogs from sniffing each other and going where they pleased. Yes, they were all on leash, which might make it a little less heavenly for the dogs, but my pugs Alfie and Waffles bounded up to mammoth Irish Wolfhounds and petite Chihuahuas alike, gleeful to get to know their brethren.
We walked the grounds, browsing vendors that included therapy dogs, rescued pugs and greyhounds, retired veterinarians turned authors, dog fencing and more and literally stopped to smell the flowers along the way. As the dogs sniffed each other becoming a tangle of tails and leashes, owners chatted about names and breeds. The sun engulfed the venue in a golden glow all day, the grass blazed green. The sky could not have been a more vivid shade of blue. Everyone smiled including the dogs.

I was happy to bask in the peaceful chatter, happy barks, unceasing tail wags. Everywhere I looked there was something new to see, another dog to pet. It was a cozy end to a perfect weekend.
Unlike the exultation elicited in me by the ocean and the concert the days before, this day conjured feelings of comfort and quiet joy. Here, old and young, big and small, working dogs and toys, herders and terriers all played as one. We, humans strolled beside them, their faithful companions. It was another piece of heaven, but of a different sort. Here, I felt content, a part of the pack. It seemed for a day we all had come home.

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Heaven

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Friday I stood in the ocean's infinite waters, watching the dance between sky and sea -- one reaching down for a kiss, one stretching upward to grant it. Awed, I acknowledged the profound; this is what heaven is like, I thought. And, like God in the Bible, I too, thought it was good.

Saturday, I felt this way again. I stood in front of another waterfront: Lake Champlain, watching silhouetted canoes glide past a tremendous sunset. I was there with my best friend, Sheila, and her family for a concert -- The Avett Brothers and Grace Potter. As color cascaded over the sky, music cascaded over the crowds, filling the park. Banjo, guitar, upright base created sound that surged through the heart of me. The chilled air nibbled through my sweatshirt, caressed my cheeks and that of those around me. But few noticed. This crowd knew the heat of pleasure. We soared to our feet -- clapping, dancing, singing until our throats ran dry. We became a part of the concert, indistinguishable in our hearts from the people on the stage. We knew these songs, they were ours. We embraced them.

I looked to my left to my best friend mouthing the words to our song. I looked to my right at a clutch of college-aged students swinging their bodies in heat. The melody tore through my soul. I was part of something bigger than myself. Thrilled, I acknowledged the profound; this is what heaven is like, I thought and it was good.

Moments like this always take me back to a time when concerts meant getting out of Vermont, leaving my rural roots behind and traveling to Boston with my brother and the boy I loved. It was thrilling to be traveling to the city, to someplace new. We would browse comic shops and record stores. Eat at bistros and coffeehouses, sampling Thai and Indian and experiences far flung from Bethel, Vermont. As the day faded, we would make our way to the concert venue. We would revel in the music, under crisp night skies in stadiums and concert fields, returning in the twilight hours in my brother's mustang. We would leave the top down, but turn the heat up, so our feet would toast as the wind whipped our hair and U2's Where the Streets Have No Name cut through the night. We were young and whenever music floods over me like this, I remain that way.

Concerts are a metaphor for life, I think. We hear the music as one -- all on the same journey. We stand together, rocking to the rhythm. But, we experience it alone.

Yet, at water's edge, in music's midst, we are swallowed by the sacred. Frozen in feeling, we stretch upward for a kiss, humbled as the holy reaches down to grant it. We know heaven when we see it. And, it is good.