Dowsing for dogs

No, of course we haven't gone and got a dog.  You didn't really believe that, did you?  Seriously, how long have you known me?  What on earth would possess me, or indeed anyone, to want an animal living in the house?

What's that?  You've just got a dog?  And you've got a new cat?  And even you've got your eye on an adorable little puppy/kitten/hamster (delete as applicable)?

Why oh why oh why?

I mean, it's not that I don't like animals - in fact I like them so much I don't even eat them.  I just don't want to live with one and have it chew up my stuff, fart under the table at mealtimes and need its poop picking up whenever it goes for a walk.  And don't tell me it teaches kids nurturing skills.  I know exactly who'd end up doing the "nurturing".

Nope, not for me. 

And BTW if I did, in a moment of madness, get a dog, I wouldn't choose a long-haired variety.  It's not like there aren't enough hairy creatures in our household already, yelping at me whenever I try to comb the knots out.



So, no. We were just looking after next door's old pooch while its owners were away for the weekend.  He's a nice enough, if diffident, little fellow. Well-behaved and no trouble really.  Well, I say that.  He was wandering about in our backyard and managed to get himself stuck under the deck. 

It's a big deck, with only one way under, not humanly accessible.  We had trouble locating him at all at first.  We had to employ ancient technologies...

He eventually appeared, trapped behind the trellis, and gazed at us inscrutably...

To extricate him we tried going state-of-the-art (we asked Siri how to get a dog out from under a deck.  She said she didn't know of any dog breeders near here.  Gee, thanks, Siri).

After twenty minutes or so the Boy, with much coaxing, managed to lure the doggie out with half a biscuit. 

Back in the house he kept an eye out for his owners. When they came to collect him this evening he shot out of our front door without a backward glance.  As a house-guest he was so silent and capable of merging into the background that you could actually trip over him while looking for him, and yet now the Boy is going around sighing and claiming that "The house just feels too quiet without him!"

The beagle has landed

Sometimes blog stories fall out of the sky...

...and sometimes they just come running into the yard.

I was busy in the backyard, dealing with the last of the leaves, when I suddenly realised I had four-legged company.  A beagle!  A handsome, healthy-looking hound, but he had no collar - where had he come from?

And where was he headed?  After a good sniff around, he set off again at a pace.  I decided I'd better give chase.

Up the road he ran and through all the neighbours' yards, with me in hot pursuit.  I had him cornered once, but he gave me the slip (a collarless beagle is hard to handle).  Finally, about a quarter of a mile away and with the aid of the Girl and Boy who'd jumped on their scooters and come after us, I got the dog under control and borrowed a collar and lead from a nearby householder.  The kids let him drag them back to our yard, where they enjoyed feeling sorry for him while I tried to find his owner.

To cut a long story short, we worked out that the dog must belong to the new people who moved into the house opposite only yesterday.  Though they weren't at home, we managed (with help) to track them down.  A very nice guy came to collect the beagle, clearly relieved that his dog was ok and most apologetic for causing us trouble.  As a reward for our efforts he has granted us sledding rights in his yard, all winter long. Wahoo!

But trouble?  Not at all!  Without this adventure what else would I have found to write about?  Though I must admit after all that hounding around, on top of the yardwork and my usual skating lesson, I'm feeling dog tired tonight.

The Weeder

It has been a lovely day here, sunny and warm. I spent the day at home, waiting in all morning for a workman who didn't show up (though he did call mid-afternoon to apologise and say he'd be along tomorrow). Although there were doubtless more pressing things I could have been doing I mostly sewed, read and did weeding. The latter I just do for the exercise, really. It's like weeding a rainforest - a whole new set of weeds always pops up overnight in the patch I thought I'd finished with.

D'you remember we had a dog to stay a couple of weeks ago? He was rather diffident and we weren't convinced he liked us much. So I was surprised this evening when I was sitting out on the front step with the Boy and this same dog came bounding over the grass to see us, all smiles and wagginess. His owner followed on the other end of his extendable lead. The dog seemed keen to get inside the house, but was persuaded to return to his own home for dinner instead. Perhaps he hadn't had such a bad time with us after all.

Dog tired

The Girl was out at a sleepover last night, not getting any sleep (predictably enough) - apparently she and the six other girls were playing dodge ball in the basement at four in the morning.  Urrrgh.

I went to collect her before lunchtime.  I took care to avoid the large black dog that loped out onto the driveway as I pulled in - it likes to jump up at anything that moves, including cars.  It also throws itself in front of them, especially at night.  In other death-wish moves (I was told today) it eats whole packs of medication whenever it can, and tubes of sunscreen.  And it has twice had to be rescued from a freezing pond having wandered out on the ice and fallen through.  The second time it was touch and go - but he was right back on the ice again the next day.

I was asked when I got inside the house if I wanted a dog.  Every visitor is routinely asked and everyone replies no thanks, especially not that one...  No one wants it, even its real owner, who left it with this family a couple of years ago and has never come back for it.

Dog's dinner

I've just got in from an evening trip to Price Chopper. Unusually, I found myself wandering down the pets' aisle. This was because the Boy's class is collecting for an animal shelter at the moment and he has been on at me for weeks to donate something.

Oh my goshness (as a student of mine used to say). I remember when I first got back to the UK after six months in Burma being particularly shocked (a) by the triviality of weekend colour supplements and (b) by the grotesque excess of pet products. Whole long supermarket aisles of every imaginable type of food and toy and grooming gadget - just for dogs and cats. Not that I particularly had anything against dogs and cats, but it seemed a little obscene to see them given them the option of a gourmet beef dinner when at the Burmese orphanage I'd recently visited the kids counted themselves lucky to have a spoonful of rice and some boiled leaves once a day.

Anyway. Today I managed to resist spending $13.99 on a sack of Newman's Own Premium Organic Vegetarian kibble for senior dogs, threw my veggie principles to the wind and plumped for a couple of cans of chicken chunks. I also noticed, to my utter bafflement, that you can buy brand new cuddly toys specifically for dogs. Not only that, but there's a whole range of them based on 'Endangered Species'. Seriously. Cuddly polar bears and bisons for your dog to maul. Surely even contestants on The Apprentice couldn't come up with anything less appropriate?

But maybe you can! Share your top dog-chew ideas via comments please...

School's out for summer

For the first day of the vacation...

The Boy got up early, the Girl slept in late.

The Boy and I cleaned dusty trains in the basement.

The kids and I took a trip to the Goodwill store to donate some stuff.  They didn't want our jigsaw puzzles, so we proceeded to the Salvation Army store and donated them there (it's where we'd got most of them in the first place),

We then called in at Brits R U.S. and treated ourselves to hula hoops and sherbet lemons.

Next door's dog moved in for a little vacation of his own.

The pool has seen some good use (thank goodness, not by the dog), including late-night family swimming to round off the day.

Visitors from another world

One very underslept Girl was returned to us this morning, so I guess that rates as a successful "no-sleepover".  She didn't manage to muster any visible energy for the rest of the day.  I hope she catches up with herself tonight because she has a New Year's Eve sleepover tomorrow.

We had visitors in the afternoon.  Yesterday at the dentist, her son interpreting for her, my refugee friend offered to come and clean my house.  When I told her no, no she didn't need to do that, she admitted that really she just wanted to come and see where I lived.  Fair enough.

So this afternoon I collected her - and several other members of the family - and brought them over for a visit.  It was fun, even though the dog - still on loan from next door - scared the toddler (simply by virtue of being a dog - he didn't do anything scary and he's scarcely bigger than a guinea pig).  We looked through some photos and books about Burma, while the kids played with toys (including the dolls' house and the singing Christmas penguin).  Then we piled back into the car and I drove them home again. 

What people who have spent most of their lives in a refugee camp in Thailand make of an average American suburban home, I can't really imagine.

We all like sheep...

'...except me!' announced the Girl, which was a shame because we had just arrived at the New York State Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck.

There was more wool/yarn/fleece/felt than you could shake a stick at - barnloads of the stuff. And then more barns. It was all a bit overwhelming (or should that be 'overwoolming'?).

And there were barnloads of actual sheep, too, all nicely washed and groomed for show.

Luckily for those in our party not mad keen on sheep or wool, there were also a few other diversions. Frisbee-catching canines for example. And the children were particuarly tickled by this guy and his dummy act - awesomely funny, if toilet humour is your thing.

All in all it wasn't quite the event we'd hoped for - so often 'less is more', and there was just too much at this festival. Still, it was a day out, and it gave me the opportunity to resist buying a book called 'Knitting with Dog Hair' (can you imagine loving your dog so much that you'd want to wear it?). And Dad bought me a pair of alpaca double thickness mittens which should help my freezy fingers survive the winter - thank you Dad!

Can anyone identify the classical/Biblical misquote in today's title?

Walkabout

The Man writes...in US English "walk" is essentially a transitive verb only. You can walk a dog, walk the mall, walk the [elevated] indoor track at the 'Y'. However, you don't walk to somewhere. It's not even possible to walk to the local YMCA without risking life and limb because of the lack of sidewalks.

You can also walk the roads around our home - a very enjoyable pastime as there are many beautiful trees, and birds and small animals to look and listen out for. However, it is clearly essential to first don day-glo lycra, baseball cap, and brilliant white trainers and make sure you march along with a definite appearance of purpose. Or take a dog with you.

I mentioned to some American friends of Albaniana that I thought people might be thinking I was a bit odd, strolling around the neighbourhood apparently just for fun. They were sympathetic and suggested a particular prop, which I was not familiar with until I saw it at the Memorial Day parade...


So what do you think? Will I seem less odd walking around like this?

Dog days of winter

It has been a funny old day, with different combinations of us to-ing and fro-ing, and the Man slightly feeling that he's running an exceedingly cheap taxi service.

The kids were up early - the Boy's buddy had stayed overnight and was spending the day with us. I took the Girl for a skating practice first thing.  Then later in the morning I was called out to take my refugee friend and her son to the dentist.  After lunch the Girl needed a ride across the river to visit a friend, and the Man went on from there to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles for an eye-test to renew his licence ("Would you like to try reading the chart first without your glasses? Go back to the third blue floor tile and no cheating now!").

Soon after getting home from that he went out again to fetch the Girl and get her to her evening skating lesson, and himself to the YMCA for a run.  Then we all scarfed down some dinner before I set off to deliver the Girl to a sleepover (her first teenager's birthday party. Yikes.), calling in on the library on the way home to pay off my final fines of 2011.  And now the Man has gone back to the Y to take the Boy swimming...

The most restful presence in the house today has to be next-door's dog, who is with us again for another overnight stay.  He can hardly be bothered to go out, never mind take a ride in the car.

Dog days of summer

We spent the day at home. A couple of kids from along the road came to play, and one of them spent an impressively long time in the pool considering how cold the water feels these days.

Later on the Girl and Boy were excited to take next door's dog for a walk. It's a little fluffy thing, given to squaring up to alsatians in a totally ridiculous way. We managed to walk it all round the block without it getting savaged, despite its best efforts, so that was a relief.

The topic of conversation

I drove the kids into school and went to assembly, where we learnt some fun facts about bubblegum. Then, in our hippy way, we sang 'We Shall Overcome' in honour of the election result.

Had coffee (which rolled into lunch) with Exile #2 and we talked about all sorts of things including Jane Austen, vegetable gardening and the election. Later on I went and picked up the kids and took them for a playdate with the friends with the crazy dog. Dog still crazy. It tried to eat our shoes. Talked about the election.

And tonight I've been at my book group meeting discussing 'The Double Bind' by Chris Bohjalian (a cheery tale of homelessness and mental illness), and detouring off onto the achievements of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. And also the election.

I must have drunk a bit too much wine as when I came home I nearly went to the wrong house.

A step up

The Boy had an urgent school supplies need, so we ended up in Staples this evening.  We found what he needed, then we were just browsing around.  I was bemused to come across this that some marketing genius has invented - a set of steps designed specifically to help your dog get onto your bed. Whaaat...?? And why were they selling it in a stationery store?

I'd have taken a photo, only I didn't have a camera on me.  I tell you what would be a cool invention - a handy camera that you always have with you because it's, like, embedded in your phone...  Really?  Other people have those already? Where can I get one?

Green day

Barbeques, eh. An awful lot of trouble to go to to half-cook a hot-dog just so that you can throw it up in the middle of the night.

We assume that's why the Girl was heaving in the wee small hours, anyway - she'd been at a friend's cook-out yesterday afternoon. The upshot was that she had to have the day off school, even though by this morning she was perfectly ok again.

But we had a good time, finishing a sewing project, playing games etc.






Intermittently I popped outside to tend to the pool, which was opened this morning. Not unlike the Girl, it started out dispiritingly green, but just like her it rallied after only a few hours. It should soon be swimmable (by penguins at least - boy-oh-boy it's cold!).

Crafty sods

This morning Exile #2 introduced me to the wonders of Joann’s Etc - all your crafting needs under one roof! It’s a great source of quilting supplies and other useful goods, but I’ll also know where to come if I ever require a plug-in Comfy Candle Warmer (to heat up a scented candle without having to set light to it - thrifty!); or a set of Hallowe’en costume patterns for a dog; or a legless Barbie on a spike to stick into a crinoline cake (in Britain you'd just pull the legs off your own Barbie, surely?). I tell you, in this country every need is catered for, even ones you can’t imagine ever having.


As Exile #2 observed, the dogs pictured in their Hallowe’en outfits in Joann's looked pretty cheesed off. Not so our Doggie, who I think looks rather distinguished in this cunning pirate-Pilgrim-Father-goes-a-witching disguise. Captions welcomed if you feel so moved.

The Man keeps going on about the sodding men at work. He says they've done a lovely job putting down new grass around the office building. People round here don't seem to use the word turf.

How to write a best selling how-to book

There were a couple of shelves of books to borrow from at our rented place on Cape Cod. Many of them were by Bill Bryson, which was surprising in an American house. The book that diverted me most, though, was this one.

Even though I am over 35, I'm not actually trying to find a husband as I'm quite fond of the one I already have. But there is something relaxing about reading a self-help book knowing that you've no need put it into practice, and I was intrigued as to how far the author would go with her premise of 'see yourself as a product - devise a sales strategy and go market yourself.' Also as to how many times she would mention that she went to Harvard Business School (so many that I lost count).

The stated aim of the book is to help any older woman find herself a 'wonderful' man to marry - with a subtext that, for the sake of pragmatism, she may want to stretch the definition of 'wonderful'.

My favourite bits of the book were towards the end when I should have been several months into her fifteen step 'program', but perhaps no nearer to finding my elusive Mr Wonderful. The advice is to take an audit of my lifestyle - am I making sufficient effort to meet men? I am to look at my pets - are they helping or hindering me in my man-hunting endeavours (presumably: dog - useful, if walked where men are; cat - rubbish, have it put down). And if I have children, are they distracting me from looking for a man? If so, I should just ignore them for a year or so - they'll still be there with their selfish need for attention when I've landed my catch, after all.

Not all her advice is appalling, if a husband is what you are seeking, but the endless marketing-speak is pretty unbearable: "don't sleep with him on a first date - you want him to see you as a 'big ticket item', not an 'impulse buy'". Sounds like a contestant on the Apprentice, doesn't she? But you can't blame her for that. She went to Harvard Business School, you know.

Foodfest

On a whim, we went along to a Food Festival tonight on Albany's vast Empire Plaza.  The Boy had arrived earlier with his best buddy's family, and we met everyone there.

There was a pretty wide selection of food on offer, though no surprises that a whole lot of it was fried(including alligator nuggets, a new one on me).  When we caught up with him the Boy had already consumed a "doggie-bowl of fries" - yep, chips served in a (polysterene) dog-bowl - and a bucket of fresh lemonade.  He chased it all down with a huge ("small") chocolate ice-cream by Emack and Bolio.

The Man and I ordered veggie patties from a Caribbean-American stall.   In honour of a Jamaican sprinter, we Bolted them down.  The Girl had more of a contest with her serving of barbecue chicken wings from the same vendor - so hot and spicey she was soon in need of a bucket of lemonade herself.

Eating was accompanied by live music.  By the time we had food in our hands the act on stage was Tonic, a "post-grunge" band from LA.  I liked them, though they were very, VERY loud.  Too loud for the younger members of our party, so with some regret at not trying more food, we ended up finishing our dinner at home.

Golden syrup

I had another teaching assignment at Five Rivers this morning, unsupervised for the first time. It went pretty well, especially the bit at the end when the kids all got to sample the maple syrup. They always clamour for more, but we can only afford to give them a tiny amount to taste: genuine maple syrup is liquid gold in more than just colour. Even local people are shocked at the prices this year. With global warming reducing the harvest time it will become an ever more rare and expensive treat.

This evening the children were watching a bizarre DVD called The Adventures of Milo and Otis. It's a live-action movie from the 1980s about a kitten and a pug dog. I'm pretty sure real animals were hurt (or at least traumatized) in the making of it - dogs and cats getting nipped by crabs and lobsters, dropped down pits, half-drowned in the sea etc. It was originally made for TV in Japan. It was all very odd, but the kids liked it.

Tomorrow the Girl and I are off on a little adventure, so you'll get to visit the Man's world for a day or two...

Happy New Year

Over the last few days the snow has been thawing and we've even seen the odd patch of green in the yard. However this morning we awoke once again to a winter wonderland - about eight inches of snow had fallen overnight.

So we sent the Boy out first thing to shovel a path to the road (the Man helped a bit too). Meanwhile I was indoors nursing a still poorly Girl. On medical advice she has subsisted all day on a diet of Ritz crackers and Gatorade, and as I write this she really does seem much better. Fingers crossed that's it now.

Here's a little list of top stuff (according to me) that I've enjoyed over the last year but haven't mentioned elsewhere in this blog:

Top Fiction: The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. A favourite of the book group in Linton of which I am still (sort of, I think) a member.

Top Children's Music: Sandra Boynton's Dog Train (various artists). It comes complete with songbook. I especially like the Ramones-style track (Don't Give Me That) Broccoli.

Top Film (actually about the only one I've seen this year, and that was on an aeroplane, but it was excellent. Don't be at all put off by the fact that it's in German with subtitles. No, honestly): The Lives of Others

Top Website: www.stitchymcyarnpants.com leads to the Museum of Kitschy Stitches. It makes me laugh.

Happy New Year!

USCRI

Elsewhere in this blog I've mentioned Nipper, a giant dog on top of a building, and my favourite Albany landmark.  As far as I used to know, the Nipper building just housed Arnoff's Removal Company.  Tonight I went inside and learnt better.

On the ground floor there's an Irish-American Museum - who knew?  But I wasn't there for that.  I was heading up to the next floor to attend a volunteer orientation event at the local branch of the US Committee for Refugees and Immigrants.

USCRI is the hub of support for refugees in the Albany area - and much of that support comes from volunteers.  About 400 refugees arrive here each year, fleeing war or persecution, and they desperately need assistance.  Many, such as those from Burma, have lived for years in rudimentary camps in the jungle, and they arrive in this country with little more than the clothes on their backs.  USCRI sets them up with a place to live, basic resources and a case worker to help them begin the challenging process of settling into a brand new culture.  Refugees have just 90 days of fully funded, professional assistance - three months to try and find their feet in an environment so alien they may as well have landed on another planet.

Volunteers act as mentors, teachers and friends as they try to help refugees along the road to independence. They might lend a hand with booking medical appointments, or explaining paperwork, or teaching how to navigate the public transport system.  Some volunteers offer English lessons.  Others organise collections for needed household items, or help furnish an apartment. There are all sorts of ways to help.  

I know most of my readers aren't anything like local, but if you do happen to live around here, and if helping refugees is something you'd like to get involved with, there's lots more information here.