He kept me company studying late nights through college, and saw me off before sunrise when I was doing my field research. He knew me when I was young and dumb and reckless and lost. He knew me before I knew myself.

Harley moved all the way to Portland with me, and then all the way back. He was there through my marriage, my pregnancy, my divorce. He was Waits’s first friend.

I was able to spend the whole weekend with Harley, before he died. We hung out on the floor in a cuddle pile for pretty much the entire 48 hours, and that was a gift. Many of our friends stopped by to say their goodbyes – a testament to his amazing spirit, that he had touched so many lives and had so many people who loved him.

Damian brought Waits to say goodbye too. We talked about what would happen on Monday, and Waits drew a picture of the two of them together. That picture is hanging in our living room now, as a memorial.

For me, not for him.

Damian was out of town for the 10 days before school started, and I was so happy and grateful to have that time to savor life with my sweet little boy. I wanted to steep in every last second of it.

Kindergarten is a beautiful beginning, and I’m very excited for Waits to start this great new adventure . . . but I’m also sad, because this is really an ending, too, in its way. I guess that every beginning is.

My baby is growing up, and it’s stunning and magnificent to behold, and sometimes it also hurts. The other moms tell me that’s normal.




On the first day of school, Waits skipped into his classroom and bellowed, “Hi Miss Anne! I’m Waits Rebhal: W-A-I-T-S R-E-B-H-A-L. This is my class!” and sat down on the circle rug to make new friends.

And I just couldn’t be any prouder of him. I just couldn’t be any prouder.

♥

Without further ado, may I please present:


Harley the Happy Dragon

A younger, svelter Harley. Circa 2005.

I rescued Harley in 2003, after the unexpected and untimely death of my first baby boydog, Killer. I hadn’t planned on adopting again so soon. I was still grieving. But I missed canine companionship, and I’d taken to visiting local pounds on a pretty regular basis. Okay, very regularly. I knew all the dogs by name.

On Halloween weekend my boyfriend and I drove from southern California up to the Bay Area. On the way home, cranked up and hung over, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, we stopped to stretch our legs at some random animal shelter. It was a total whim.




I entered to the familiar sad sounds of a kennel – endless and desperate barking. Meandering through the maze of cages, admiring each sweet beast . . . and then I saw him. This quiet fellow. A big bully head on his muscular body, his appearance was tough but his eyes were nothing but tender. A gentle giant.

I walked up to the fencing and stuck my hand through the wire. He lifted his paw, placed it in my hand, and sighed. We hung out like that for 15 minutes or so, just holding hands. There was no denying he was my dog.

Damian and Harley go way back. This was taken ages before D and I got together.

3 days later we drove round-trip from soCal to noCal, 5 hours each way, to fetch my Harley. The poor boy vomited the whole way home (it took us years of patience to tame his carsickness). But with a little bit of time and a whole lot of loving (he had been abused) Harley was happy and healthy and totally assimilated into my life.

He is, seriously, the sweetest guy. And handsome too, the combination of which has prompted many (many!) people to offer to buy him from me. Weird, right? Who does that!?

But I understand – he’s just that awesome.

Harley celebrates Waits’ 1-week birthday. Is that a look or what, ha!

These days Harley is officially an old man. His hips give him trouble and he’s grumpy with the young pups. But he still follows me from room to room, all day, every day. I’ve never known a more loyal soul. And he still loves nothing more than to just sit quietly, holding hands.

Crash Bang Boom

Don’t be taken in by his cuteness. He’s scheming!

Ahhh, Crash. Where to begin with our accidental addition . . .

I do believe that some people come into your life when you have a particular lesson to learn. Crash has taught me more than a few lessons, and has been a constant catalyst for my own self reflection. He is truly my teacher and ever my vexer, and I love him unconditionally.

Crash was a pound puppy, adopted young by a family who lived with my grandmother. Granny lived upstairs with her two cats, and the family lived downstairs with this sloppy spotted mess of a mutt, probably a Dalmatian/hound mix. They named him Splash.







Fast forward 9 months and the tenants were moving. My grandma mentioned their plan to return the dog to the pound. Um, no way! “Let me put my feelers out,” I told her, “Before they do anything.”

A simple mass email confirmed at least 5 friends would be ‘interested’ in adopting a puppy. I told my grandma, “Let me take him. I can get him a good home, no problem.”

Damian drove the hour-long trek with me, though we were still just pals at the time. He hung with the dog in the back seat, all the way home, and stayed to play late into night as we tried to get this CRAZY dog acclimated. See, ‘Splash’ was 11 months old with no training at all. Abso. Lutely. None. Within minutes we had dubbed him ‘Crash’, a rhyme that was a much more appropriate moniker.

A rare moment of calm amidst the storm that is Crash Bang Boom

This dog was completely deranged, chaos on 4 legs. Beautiful, yes. And super sweet. But also a total nightmare. All my ‘interested’ friends backed out. Finally, one unlikely person decided to take the plunge – Damian! He’d never had or planned to have a dog, but why not? They’d bonded and it seemed a significant opportunity.

So off they went and the demon doggie was out of my hands. Can you see where this story goes? Within weeks Damian and I were a couple, and within months we were living together.

So Crash was once again my responsibility. And I took on the challenge with gusto, though I won’t lie and say I navigated gracefully. It took us months just to leash train him (years before he’d stop pulling completely). We worked endlessly on simple commands, trying to establish a basis of communication. Crash is hands down the most stubborn dog I’ve ever dealt with. But, with my insistent diligence, with Damian’s infinite patience, and with an early morning energy-burn, he slowly began to normalize. What an ordeal!

Wrasslin’

Crash is still a work in progress. But aren’t we all? That’s the greatest of many, many insights that this small spotted hurricane has gifted unto me.

~~~

And what about you, do you have canine companions? Please tell us about them!

I’ve gotta admit: I’m a total tech-head.  My husband is a web designer and Apple specialist (we call him the iDoctor), and he’s quite the technophile.  Here at HQ, computers control the show: multiple synced wireless devices integrate with airport speakers on three floors, a Mac Mini runs the television, and there are hourly, automated backups.  We’ve got the gizmos and the whiz-bangs and the purty matching iphones.  Even our incomes are intimately tied to, and ultimately reliant upon, our laptops.  

And I’m happily high-tech in so many ways, but I’ve got to be honest: when I can successfully implement something like this – the lowest of low-tech solutions – it gets me giddier than geek at Macworld.

The Problem:

Enthusiastic pooches, in hot pursuit of city kitties (who in turn are stalking backyard hens) barrel through my raised beds and unwittingly trample my precious veggies.   I need to keep the canine crusaders at bay, without restricting my own access or corrupting my garden’s aesthetic. 

The Solution:

Hot pink string.

I love my boy-dogs dearly, but they’re not the brightest little bulbs.  The mere illusion of a barrier is quite enough to stop them dead in their tracks, and protect my delicate seedlings from certain doggy destruction.  See? 

I built a sort of ‘web wall’ here, but you could just as easily wrap the string around the corner posts of the planter box itself, containing just the bed.  There’s a ton of applications, and I think this technique could address all sorts of garden mischief.  Ahh, simplicity.  Who needs all them whiz-bang gizmos, anyway?!    (I do!, I do!)