Happy Birthday, Sweet Little Peewee!

 Happy Birthday, little Daisy Peewee Irwin! Our precious rescue dog, Peewee Daisy, is today now four years old, having been born on March 12th, 2022.  We picked her up at PetSmart's adoption fair on May  12th that year, two months later, at the same site in southwest Gainesville off Archer Road.  Little 7-pound Daisy at the same time was such a major-league crybaby that she would sadly and loudly whine when I was holding her for upwards to an hour, wanting me to place her back down among her litter-mates. She grew up fast and leveled off just at 50 pounds.  When I was in the hospital for brain surgery late last October, I expressed how much I was missing little PeeWee and wanted to see her again. Peewee is 100% complete dog, and I expect her to simply be herself, no more and no less.  My fervent intention is to sweet-talk and gently handle Daisy, encouraging affection from this genuine animal whose basic nature demands bonding and interaction.  I go back to the bedroom early in the morning and she goes haywire, erupting into a loud barking that can be heard down the street while vigorously wagging her tail and trying to speak to me.  May we enjoy many more sweet birthdays with Peewee...

We've Had Our Dog Daisy for Three Years Today

 

 

Daisy is a mix-breed rescue dog that Melissa and I picked up at a pet adoption fair held at a PetSmart store in southwest Gainesville on May 12, 2022...exactly three years ago.  Daisy was a tiny puppy back then at 7 lbs...but she had a loud, menacing bark even back then.  She's grown to full adult size for some time now, leveling off at 50 lbs.  She's a sweetie, for sure, and is sitting right now on my favorite recliner in the living room.  Even though Daisy is an adult dog, to me she is a big baby, especially whenever her "mommy" steps out of the room for a few minutes and Daisy starts her pathetic whimpering, just as she did on adoption day three years earlier when I was holding her and she wanted me to lay her back down next to her litter mates...

Skipped Today's Depot Parkrun Because of Mugginess and Heat

This morning I got up at six and took the dog out in the backyard to do her stuff, checking to see my cellphone confirm what I was already experiencing with the weather: it was 80 degrees with 93% humidity...ugh! I had intended to drive down to Depot Park just south of downtown Gainesville to participate in yet another of their free weekly 5K "parkruns", but experience has taught me that distance running over such a temperature/humidity combination is a formula for disaster. So, after I brought Daisy back into the house, I went back to bed...incidentally sleeping for another four hours. In retrospect, though, I probably should have gone anyway and just walked the course.  And walking is something I'd like to do more and more of, whether I'm just going around the neighborhood or doing a race.  Since it doesn't seem like it's going to get cooler around here anytime soon, I think that's a prudent move on my part...although I can still run within my nice, air-conditioned house or at my local gym until things get more tolerable outdoors.  Well, as far as the Depot Parkrun is concerned, there's always next week.  Yes, I really should get out there on Saturday mornings and make a habit of covering the distance, be it by running, walking...or crawling...

You Shoulda Heard This Joke

 

Looks like our little puppy Daisy is overcome with mirth...we're always joking around.  But no, I just caught her in mid-yawn on this recent lazy day loaded with bad weather, including heavy rain, keeping her inside...and curled up on the recliner.  When we first got her at a pet adoption fair at PetSmart in May of '22 she was only seven pounds...but we then believed that she could grow to be 60 or higher at full weight.  But Daisy Dewlop, as Melissa, her human mommy, likes to call her, stabilized at 41 lbs.  She's quite a vocal character who has a mission to fight squirrels, birds, bugs, lizards...and trucks.  Humans, dogs...and especially humans with dogs...are okay when she's looking out the window at home, though: they may pass! Yet she's still pretty skittish and tense while in the car or out in public, barking up a hysterical storm when she spots people and other dogs close by.  We are training her to overcome her anxiety, though, and respond more readily to our commands.  Daisy is definitely a great blessing to us.  Below is a shot of her, with her "cousin" Kairi (our daughter Rebecca's dog) on lookout duty at our front window...

Quote of the Week...from Scut Farkus

What, you're gonna cry now?  Come on, crybaby! Cry for me, come on! CRY!     ---Scut Farkus

Scut Farkus was the big bad bully character in Jean Shepherd's immortal 1983 movie A Christmas Story, for which he compiled a number of already published short stories and wrapped them together within a holiday theme.  It's become a TV staple, with a couple of channels running nonstop marathons at Christmas.  I already knew Jean Shepherd in the mid-1970s for his late-night humorous monologue shows on my local talk radio station in Miami Beach, WKAT/1360, shows that originated from the mighty WOR/710, (50,000-watt clear channel) in New York City.  I also had read the short story he wrote to which the above quote pertains.  Little Ralphie, around eight I guess, is all excited as Christmas approaches...he desperately wants a Red Rider toy air rifle, but his mother says no, "You'll shoot your eye out".  And now his own teacher has just written the same thing on a homework assignment he wrote about it...and Ralphie is trudging home in the snow, tears falling from his eyes.  Suddenly Scut Farkus, the school bully...accompanied by his little, stocky toady Grover Dill...jumps in Ralphie's way, confronting him and ridiculing his crying.  And then our hero does something unexpected: he charges his adversary, pushing him to the ground, proceeding to beat him up.  The scene didn't look realistic to me and, besides, I knew from Shepherd's earlier short story that it was the more manageable Dill that Ralphie fought, not impossible Farkus.  I also had a problem with the bully in this story being a social outcast among the kids...where I grew up in South Florida during the sixties and seventies, it was the bully who was the popular kid on the block or at the bus stop.  I could take the above quote of an imaginary figure in different directions, but since I always remember this jeering taunt of Scut's, I decided to turn it on its head and make something sweet about it.  You see, we have a year-old mixed breed puppy dog named Daisy, and when Melissa ("Mommy" as far as Daisy is concerned) ever goes into another room in the house with the door closed, Daisy sidles up to the door and begins to whimper just like she did when she was very young and temporarily separated from her litter.  And every now and then when she does this, I go straight into my Scut Farkus routine, repeating almost verbatim the above quote...but with some good-natured affection thrown in...                                                                            

Miscellaneous Musings with Daisy This Morning

While Daisy the Wonder Dog stalwartly guards our home from squirrels, crows, other big birds...and FedEx trucks...I'm sitting here ruminating over a random assortment of stuff.  First of all, the 2022 general election came and went, yet six days later we still haven't confirmed that the Republicans will narrowly take control of the House of Representatives and several close elections are slow in determining the winners because of mail-in balloting.  Aside from this, Alaska and Georgia have runoff election provisions whenever no candidate achieves a majority in the general election...and that's just what happened there.  Yet the Democrats will remain in control of the Senate, helping President Biden with his various nominations for the next two years and offering a counterweight to whatever the House Republicans dish out on the other side of the Capitol building.  Our local area elections and referenda served up typically mixed results...I haven't gotten around to checking them all out yet.  As of this writing I haven't heard of anyone trying to overturn election results...I kind of have a feeling that this type of mischief is mainly a Donald Trump thing, and interest in doing it drops off precipitously when he isn't bullying people around for his own ambitions...we'll see what the future brings.  Yesterday, as a couch potato, I was treated to two great, close football games, Minnesota somehow managing to beat Buffalo in overtime (jettisoning the Dolphins into first place) and Green Bay socking it once again to Dallas in a nailbiter...the fact that I was rooting for both eventual winners didn't hurt, either.  As for my wavering running race plans for this upcoming Sunday morning, the long-range weather forecast doesn't bode well, with rain predicted for race time.  I'll wait a couple more days, but if it doesn't change, I think I'll just pass up on it...

Daisy in the Frame

 

We've had our little mixed-breed puppy for a little more than four months now...Daisy was only two months old back in May when we adopted her at PetSmart off Archer Road through a pet adoption non-profit group.  Then she weighed just seven pounds...click HERE for an earlier article (and picture).  Now she's 29 pounds but still a little puppy...I took the top picture above a couple of days ago while holding her in my right arm.  Melissa came up with the name, which I quickly took to, but didn't recognize the significance in "Toon World" as Daisy is also the Bumsteads' pet dog in their comic strip Blondie.  One thing tying the two together is that both Daisy's make it a point to make sure they're "in the frame"...check out an old one featuring Dagwood shirking his chores.  I've been walking Daisy around the block each morning in order to train her to follow me and not her own agenda...mixed results so far.  She loves standing on her hind legs and looking out the front window, watching alertly from the left to the right (and back) and huffing and puffing and growling...and occasionally barking at passing cars, people, and of course dogs.  She's very much bonded to both of us but much more so with Melissa...when she leaves the room for just a little bit Daisy turns into a big crybaby.  For a few weeks recently we took her to "puppy kindergarten" where she met up with fellow pups and practiced training Melissa and me to be better humans.  Her growth seems to have slowed down a bit, but maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.  We love Daisy and wish her a happy, well-behaved life...

Wishing All an Enjoyable Late July Weekend

I hope you have a good weekend, whether or not you're working and wherever you happen to be living.  Here in Gainesville, Melissa and I enjoy the convenience of having a reasonably short drive to "our" beach, which is a short stretch on the Atlantic coast connecting Ormond Beach to northern Daytona Beach.  Having relatives staying with us to watch our rapidly growing puppy Daisy while we're gone, we're making an overnight venture out there to relax and enjoy the surf, pool and other surroundings. Hopefully, Daytona won't have a theme going on like "Truckers" or "Bikers" week. Nothing wrong with that, per se, or those participating in those events...but I like things a little bit more in the "peace and quiet" zone...  

Taking in Daisy as Our Newest Family Addition

 

Back in 2019 our family dog Freckles, a mixed-breed rescue dog we adopted as a puppy, passed away after 14 years with us.  It's been a while, but the Saturday before last, PetSmart on Archer Road here in Gainesville was holding a pet adoption fair through one of the non-profits and we went...and little Daisy was the result.  She is also a mixed breed rescue dog, two months old and very motivated to bond with us while establishing her supremacy throughout the house.  Naturally, the first few weeks are a bit tedious, with us laying down the rules and (trying to) train her to wait to do her "business" outside...crate training seems to be helping with this although she tends to whine and howl sporadically as you would expect.  As for me personally, although everyone else in my childhood and adult nuclear families are very keen on pet ownership, I have never felt the inner urge to go out and get some critter to hang out with and give me some kind of psychological lift.  Not criticizing those who "have it"...just about everyone in my family is crazy about dogs and cats.  I like them, too, but in all the years I was single and on my own I never once had the remotest urge to take in one as a pet.  Still, I love other people and through them I bond with the pesky little animals.  Daisy is a real sweetie, no doubt about it... 

Freckles, 2005-2019

Our precious mixed-breed rescue dog, Freckles, passed away today from organ failure at the age of 14...we're all in a state of grief over her departure, but also remember with great fondness the span of her long life and time with us.  This has to have been one of the sweetest dogs in history, and how fortunate for us that she entered our lives in the summer of 2005.  Here is a reprint from an article I wrote on this blog about her eleven years ago...

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Freckles, Cuddles, and Taffy

Two summers ago, we adopted Freckles (above), a mixed-breed puppy, for my daughter as a advance-birthday present that year. Gainesville has a non-profit organization called Puppy Hill Farms that takes in abandoned animals, cares for them, and puts them up for adoption. Freckles was already spayed when we got her from them. We weren't too sure how big she would grow, but she finally slowed her growth down to where she is about 55 pounds. Freckles is a very high-spirited, lively dog who loves to play with tennis balls or sticks, as well as having her belly rubbed. At the beginning, we took her to obedience classes, where she learned a few commands. Freckles apparently had some traumas before Puppy Hills Farms took her in, because she becomes petrified at the sight of any truck or the sound of any running machinery. Freckles has an older "sister" in Cuddles, another mixed-breed dog that we've had since 1997 (as my son's dog). While Freckles seems to have some greyhound and Aussie shepherd in her, Cuddles is more like a dachshund/basset hound combo and is stocky and close to the ground (but very fast when she wants to be). We adore our dogs. A year ago, Taffy, our miniature poodle, passed on after nineteen happy years with us. I love dogs, and I am not particular about breeds, either. If you live in a place that allows pets, I recommend adopting a mixed breed dog from one of the adoption agencies. Our lives have been enormously enriched by ours! Last month, our veterinarian picked Freckles as the pet of the month (entitling her to a free bath and nail-clipping)! Here are pictures of Cuddles (left) and a very young Taffy (with me, right):

Puzzled About "Cat Found" Notices

I write this blog using social media...Google's Blogger...posting my articles on it as well as putting a link to them on another social media site, Facebook.  I also have a Twitter account, although my use of it is more to get information than to express myself.  A few months ago a co-worker told me of another social media site, NextDoor.com, in which the user can communicate over it with others in his or her own immediate neighborhood.  Although I've never posted anything on it, I receive regular postings from others on my cellphone app.  Among these are postings from folks who either lost a pet or found one.  I understand how someone would want to put neighbors on the watch for their lost dog or cat, and I can see a good Samaritan holding a stray dog and posting about it, in hopes of reuniting it with its owner.  But what about the posts I occasionally see about someone who has "found" a cat?

In my subdivision, cats are everywhere running free, in their own yards and others', crossing the street (or boldly lying in the middle of them), jumping fences...pretty much free spirits with their "territory" being the neighborhood itself.  On the other hand, if someone notices a dog walking around loose without its "human" in sight, then it's a major crisis that urgently needs rectification.  I understand the difference: cats, unless rabid, are not going to chase people down and attack them while many dogs will do just that.  If I were to pick up, retain, and advertise  "CAT FOUND" with every unrestrained cat I saw while driving or running through my neighborhood, I wouldn't have much time to do anything else...plus, I'm sure I'd end up with a lot of pissed-off neighbors!  So I ask, how does one see a stray cat and decide to advertise it as "found"?  Now I can see somebody reading another's plea about their own lost cat and, using the animal's description, find it on the streets or in their own yard...and then directly contact the owner.  But I'm not talking about this here.  I plead ignorance on this subject and am puzzled.  Oh ye who are more enlightened, please educate me...

The Pets of My Life

My life has been marked by the presence of pets, and these have been of the most familiar types to us here in America: cats and dogs.  In my early childhood, not long after my parents moved us into a house in  late 1960, they brought home a relatively old, gentle grey cat they named Tom.  Tom was the family pet until his death around 1963 or so.  Not long thereafter they took me and my sister to the humane society and we got two kittens, the grey/white-striped Tiger and the completely black Panther.  Although Tiger seemed to adjust well to life with us, Panther was a bit on the wild side...that one was eventually brought back.  Somewhere along the line, we picked up a giant of a cat we called Smoky...one day that cat just wandered off and never came back.  Tiger remained as our house pet through '64 and '65, but as we let our cats come and go as they pleased, Tiger became more and more estranged from us until we had given up on it coming back home.  In February 1966, my father brought home a cockapoo puppy we named Michelle, after the Beatles song that had been so popular the year before.  I think after that Tiger showed up once or twice more...and then never again.  Michelle began the era of pets we kept either indoors, in the fenced-in back yard, or on a leash.  She gradually became blind until the affliction was total.  But we all loved Michelle and she lived a long, happy life, born in 1965 and passing away in 1981...

It wasn't until after I was married a year when Melissa and I got our first pet together, a miniature poodle we named Taffy...after its color.  Taffy lived long, from 1987 to 2007, and it was sad at the end when she was finally put to sleep.  Cuddles, a dachshund/whatever mix, came along a little puppy in 1997 and also lived to 2007.  And then it was Freckles, another mixed-breed with some Australian shepherd in her, whom we got as a little puppy in 2005 and is still plodding along quite well.  Oh, I might as well also mention that our grown daughter has taken under her wings her own puppy...

In spite of the fact that I've had several pets in conjunction with the childhood and adult families I've been a part of, I have never decided, on my own initiative, that I myself needed or particularly wanted any of them.  It has always been others who seem to have desired the pets, and I was either a child without a say in the matter (although I liked the pets we got) or an adult who was accommodating others' feelings. That doesn't mean that I didn't bond to each cat or dog: I did, and loved them as members of the family, past and present.  But during those eight years when I was completely on my own as a single, I never once had the remotest desire to get a pet.  To me, they're nice to have in the context of a family, but I'm fine without them, too...

Phony "Bad" Dog Videos

While waiting for the air conditioning installers to finish putting in our new system, I was channel surfing during a time of day when I usually wouldn't be watching television. I came across the Animal Planet channel.  On it was a show titled "Bad Dog".  It was one of those cutesy home video shows that pet lovers are supposed to watch and get bowled over by the adorable antics of other people's little animal possessions.  The particular episode I was watching showed dogs supposedly behaving very lazily.  But after seeing just a couple of the videos, I disgustedly switched channels...

One video showed a bulldog that was into watching TV.  Sitting on the sofa.  Like a person sits.  Wearing clothes.  With the remote by its side. Bad, lazy, silly dog.  Another video showed a different "lazy" dog lying on the floor, with dry dog food morsels spread around its head.  In this clip, the dog just moved its head around to snap up the nearest morsels while continuing to lie on its side.  Wow, what a bad, lazy, silly dog (too).

In the first video, the unbelievably compliant dog suffered through the indignity of being dressed and unnaturally set up for a contrived video.  The second was equally contrived.  The whole show, it seems, is an exercise in pet owners drumming up different angles of portraying their "property" in silly situations.  Ha-ha, what a blast...NOT.

Of course, I'm sure that the dog owners here really, truly love their animals and care well for them.  But seeing dogs presented this way still makes me sympathetic to a degree with PETA's often extreme objections to animals being used in shows for human entertainment.  Sure, there's no abuse here...but it sure as all ain't funny, at least where I'm coming from...

Meany Passes On

I don't quite know what to say, when someone I love tells me that a beloved pet of theirs has died...with my 86-year old father, it can be quite devastating, considering that it was the last surviving cat of his, which he lovingly cared for so many years...after the very untimely and traumatic passing of my mother in 2002.  But such was the case as I found out earlier today. "Meany", which was the name my father gave to this scrapping, "survivor" feline, was in heart a "sweety", who finally warmed up to me during my most recent visit.  She had been suffering from some unknown malady, but had been making a recovery when she suffered a fatal accident some time after I had left last Saturday.  I have a picture of Meany I took just before I left that day.  She was an old cat and had lived a full, eventful live.  My heart goes out to my father, and I hope that he will find some source of solace and peace after this wonderful animal's passing...

Freckles

Freckles is our five-year old mixed breed dog we picked up as a puppy from Puppy Hill Farms, a local sanctuary for abandoned dogs. And yes, the lawn needs mowing!

A Dog's Plea

[Author unknown; probably a pretty smart dog, though]Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for although I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps fall upon my waiting ear.

Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.

And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.
******************************************
Actually, the above "A Dog's Plea" adorned the wall at my local veterinarian, whom I visited yesterday. I found a copy on the Internet, and the author is apparently unknown. I thought the text really captured the essence of what it's like to have a wonderful, loving dog as a pet. Our household has two: Cuddles and Freckles (pictured).

Tetherball

Napoleon Dynamite is one of those movies that thoroughly cracks me up every time I see it. Basically a comedy about a gangly, awkward, and sensitive high school boy growing up in Idaho, this movie has a lot in it that reminds me of my youth. And I guess this appeal to people’s memories is one of the main reasons for its general popularity. In this age of sequels, I don’t know why they haven’t done one of this film, too.

The main character, naturally named Napoleon Dynamite, has one sport of which he is the master (at least in his own mind): tetherball. He’ll invite anyone he talks to for a game, and if they accept, watch out! Napoleon shows no mercy as he slams the ball around the pole, far out of his opponent’s reach.

Like Napoleon, I was a tetherball “master”, although I was much younger than him. Actually, I was in the third grade. My elementary school in West Hollywood, Florida had several tetherball poles on its playground, and I quickly learned how to outmaneuver others to victory. My parents even bought me my own tetherball pole, which we put up in my back yard. So I became quite unbeatable at something for a brief period in my life. But, alas, as is the case with Napoleon Dynamite, there really isn’t a future for tetherball jocks. There are no tetherball teams in high school that you can letter in or put on your school resume, you can’t get an athletic scholarship for college in tetherball, and there are no professional tetherball tournaments or leagues. I can’t hire myself out as someone’s personal tetherball trainer or coach. Shoot, there aren’t even any tetherball saloons in which I could hustle some unsuspecting suckers out of a few bucks!

Eventually, I lost interest in tetherball, seeing that no one could beat me in it, as well as the fact that the new school I went to the next year, five miles down the road, never played it. The pole in my backyard came down, but the ball and its tether remained. It became the favorite toy of our long-lived cockapoo dog Michelle (named after the Beatles song), who would grab the tether in her mouth, clamp her teeth down on it, and then slam the ball back and forth on the floor. And sometimes one of us would grab the tetherball and have a playful tug-of-war with Michelle (always letting her win in the end, of course).

It’s nice to know that there’s still tetherball being played somewhere. It did help my self-esteem quite a bit back in the “good ol’ days” of 1964-1965.

Cats and Dogs

As I run down the residential streets in my neighborhood, I notice the outdoor pets, which naturally are divided between cats and dogs. The dogs, which are (hopefully) safely behind restraining fences, take a keen interest in my passing. They ferociously bark and snarl at me. Some jump at the fences that they are behind in a gesture meant to convince me that they would otherwise come after me and tear me from limb to limb. Even the dinky little pseudo-dogs with their high-pitched “yips” are “brave” in this way. Cats, on the other hand, see me running by with a completely different attitude. Their sense of territory is reserved just for other cats. I have never experienced a cat viciously meowing at me as I passed or chasing me down the street. Cats are cool that way: they have a clear idea of what it means to mind your own business!

As a young child, my family had cats for pets. Ever since I was about nine, though, all of my pets have been dogs. Cats and dogs, as individuals, have their own distinctive personalities, and most are pretty interactive with their owners. But dogs, with their emotional bonding, can sometimes take things to extremes. With a dog, I sometimes feel that I am with someone whose entire sense of happiness is based on my second-to-second interaction with them. There is this continual eye contact thing going on between dogs and their owners. Cats do that, too. But nowhere near to the degree that dogs cling to people.

Cats and dogs, to me, seem like human children in different stages of development. Dogs are like toddlers who have a deep emotional dependency on their parents. Cats, on the other hand, are like teenagers who, although still with that emotional connection (albeit in reduced intensity), are relatively assertive with their sense of autonomy.

I like both cats and dogs. Dogs, due to their territorial nature and their propensity to chase and bite people (and run away from home), need to be confined and looked after more than their feline counterparts. But on the positive side, I usually get a strong feeling of mutual empathy with a dog, even if it’s a dog that I’ve just happened to come across for the first time. Back on the negative side, though, I do appreciate an animal that knows when it needs to just shut up and mind its own business (like when I’m out running)! As a matter of fact, once when I was recently running past the assorted cats and dogs in my neighborhood, I suddenly had a strong urge to shout out a line I heard in an great old Walt Disney movie titled Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (featuring two talking dogs and a chatty cat): “Cats rule and dogs drool!” Guess which character said that!

Freckles, Cuddles, and Taffy

Two summers ago, we adopted Freckles (above), a mixed-breed puppy, for my daughter as a advance-birthday present that year. Gainesville has a non-profit organization called Puppy Hill Farms that takes in abandoned animals, cares for them, and puts them up for adoption. Freckles was already spayed when we got her from them. We weren't too sure how big she would grow, but she finally slowed her growth down to where she is about 55 pounds. Freckles is a very high-spirited, lively dog who loves to play with tennis balls or sticks, as well as having her belly rubbed. At the beginning, we took her to obedience classes, where she learned a few commands. Freckles apparently had some traumas before Puppy Hills Farms took her in, because she becomes petrified at the sight of any truck or the sound of any running machinery. Freckles has an older "sister" in Cuddles, another mixed-breed dog that we've had since 1997 (as my son's dog). While Freckles seems to have some greyhound and Aussie shepherd in her, Cuddles is more like a dachshund/basset hound combo and is stocky and close to the ground (but very fast when she wants to be). We adore our dogs. A year ago, Taffy, our miniature poodle, passed on after nineteen happy years with us. I love dogs, and I am not particular about breeds, either. If you live in a place that allows pets, I recommend adopting a mixed breed dog from one of the adoption agencies. Our lives have been enormously enriched by ours! Last month, our veterinarian picked Freckles as the pet of the month (entitling her to a free bath and nail-clipping)! Here are pictures of Cuddles (left) and a very young Taffy (with me, right):