girl at large

Ruby's New Cousin

Quite possibly the cutest pictures I have ever seen! Welcome home Zepper! My brother Thomas has a dog, I couldn't be happier for him. Tom's lucky, he can bring him to work and his apartment building is very dog-friendly--he had no excuse not to have one. I don't know all of Zepper's story, he was rescued, but I'll post more when I learn more.

All I know is, I'm thrilled for my brother (he's going to have so much fun, and learn so much!) and can't wait to kiss that freckled tummy.

Back Again

I did my back in again this week. On Dad's advice, I got myself a "nifty little garment", aka a back brace. Soooo sexy. Just about as attractive as the grunting sounds I make when trying to pick up a pencil.

I can't bend, I can't turn, I can hardly walk--I'm doing the 'back pain' shuffle. I gave the dog her water this morning with a watering can because I can't reach her bowl. Good thing she's wired to eat anything, anywhere--I tossed a handful of dog food on the floor. She thinks it's a new game-Find the Kibble That Rolled Under the Fridge.

My doc gave me meds --Vicodin and Flexeral. The Flexeral works great, loosens it up so I can move and maybe try to walk it off a bit. But I'm in so much pain, I have to give in and take the Vicodin afterall--which gives me just a tiny window to get a few things done around the house before I fall into a drooling stupor. Kate + meds= snoozeville.

I got the meds by phone, but in desperation, I did go in to see her yesterday. I really strained it this time--there's a huge knot over my right hip, the muscles are in nearly continuous spasm. She advised having my "Husband, Boyfriend, Girlfriend or Partner" help work out the knot. Blank look. "Boyfriend?". "Partner?, Girlfriend?" Bless her, she was so focused on being 'pc' with the inclusion of a same-sex significant other that she didn't even consider there'd be a big fat Nobody.

And I thought the worse pain I would feel this month was the dental work last week. Oh, how I wish that were true.

Next Time I'll Pack a PB&J.

There's nothing quite like hitting the open road with your dog--sun in your face, wind in your hair...
steering wheel gripped with your knees as you struggle at 65 curvy miles per hour to open a jar of peanut butter so your dog can lick it off your fingers when climbing through the pass at 4000 ft elevation so she won't whine about the discomfort in her ears she doesn't understand but knows she doesn't like...holding the jar with your thighs, flinging the lid on the floor where it lands sticky-side down, then holding the wheel with one hand as you contort your other hand--wiggling a peanut butter-gobbed finger behind the seat at the general direction of the back seat where the only other passenger is looking back at you in the rear view mirror like the crazy woman that you are.

Haven't We Discussed This Before?

Mom: I picked up your dog's doodle today.
Me: "Doodle?"
Mom: Yes, her, you know...doodle.

A woman who rates her farts at night from the other room ("That was a TEN! Did you hear that one Kate?") has to use a euphamism for the dog's business?

Turkey Coma

It's the little things.

Mom: I just want you to know I picked up your dog's poop today. (grossed-out face, tongue sticking out).
Me: You walked her? That's great, thanks. Wait, haven't you always picked up after her?
Mom: No, I never told you that. I always left it, acted like I didn't see her doing it. It was France, no body cares.
Me: Well, this is Oregon, you have to pick up!
Mom: I know, so I did. It's in your kitchen garbage.
Me: What??! (grossed-out face, tongue sticking out)

Ruby of the Jungle

It's here.

Ruby smelled something in the air today--fall is definately here.

Summer Driving Season

Ruby and I spent our weekend in coastal Wheeler, then driving up and down the ocean-view 101, something we both love. Though it leaves only her panting and breathless.

Never Leave A Soup Bowl Unattended

Clinkety..clink, clink...silence.....clinkety clink. I stop typing in the den. The noise stops. I start writing again, there it is again! Clink, scrape, clink...

What is that sound coming from the living room?!? Tin-ier than the ping of the electric heater (yes, I still have the heat on), clearer than the muffled neighbors....

It's Ruby, standing on top of the end table, licking the last drops of Southwest Corn Chowder at the bottom of my bowl and moving the pesky spoon out of the way.

Or more accurately, it WAS Ruby, because now my dinner is gone and she's standing very still on top of my furniture, in the firm belief that if she doesn't move, I can't see her.

Do Dogs Feel Disdain?

"What The Hell Are You Looking At?"

I photograph Ruby regularly--and this is one of only two expressions I can capture, the other being "Please Don't Beat Me".

Excuses, excuses, excusezzzzz......

I have become a lazy bastard, addicted to the comforts of a couch and fireplace. The room containing these luxuries does not contain the computer. My new couch arrived in December, just in time for dark nights that begin at 4pm and the launch of a new local tv station that airs Seinfeld twice each week night. Two different episodes.

It started with the fireplace. It started with having one--I never before have had a working fireplace. The dog presses herself up to the screen, risking bodily flammage to be as physically close to the warmth as possible, and snoozes for hours, days on end. I have learned to watch how the dog lives her life and follow her lead--she doesn't have stress zits or sleepless nights or an unidentified rash or hormone rage.

First the cord of wood, then came the couch. A couch may seem a triffling thing, but I have been without a proper one for five years. I didn't know I was suffering. I had Mom's cozy lounge chair, the armless cubes and for some time now my beloved new retro-armchairs. I had forgotten about the couch's dirtly little secret---sitting down, I am faced with all that luxurious space next to me. A leg sneaks up, then the other. Shortly, I am prone.

And then I am asleep.

I don't have time to blog, I am drooling on my toss pillow.

Snow Day!

Ruby makes a mad dash through the snow....no traffic to worry about, she can frolick leash-free all she likes, no one is making it up or down the neighborhood hills this morning, including me.

Call her Patch

Miss Ruby had surgery this Monday morning, to remove a tumor from her eye. I wish I could have had a procedure to surgically remove my guilt--I never realized that the little bump on her eyelid (there as long as I can remember) was actually the tip-end of a big, gross and bubbly growth under her eyelid, pressing down on her eye.
The vet removed it successfully, but said it looked "iffy"--test results pending the lab test due at the end of the week. Don't say 'iffy' and then ask me to write a big check, that's just a little bit guache, no?

The clinicians said she was the "happiest dog to have surgery we've ever seen!". My co-worker said," Well, that figures--just like her Mama, the perpetual Pollyanna!"

The irony of having a dog so like myself is not lost on me--will she have the big C too?

where are you going mr. sunshine?

Ruby scans the skies from our porch, saying her last goodbyes to the sun as the fall season begins...

Certainly, make yourself comfortable, by all means.

Can't decide which is cuter...the new chairs or Ruby! It's all so meant to be...I ordered these chairs two months ago, before I even dreamed of this new place....and they couldn't be a more perfect fit. Even the color is perfect--and I sweated that fabric decision. In my work, it's easy to make decisions for others, but when you know all the possibilities, well, 'the cobblers kids have no shoes' often applies. I couldn't be happier with how they turned out. Ruby, cuddled in one before the second was in place, seems to agree. Glad I could accommodate you, little dog.

movin' on up

Yippe me! I've just returned from a "dog interview" with my new landlord..and Ruby, despite her wiggly protestations to the short leash and insistance on eating the man's lovely grass, passed the test. I'm grateful that her barkless-ness; a feature that worried me the first six months I had her when I thought perhaps she was defective or ill in someway, this silent dog, has benefits. Landlords love this particular characteristic of the Rubes. And it's a good thing too, because if she were judged on sitting still, not jumping on a stranger and not digging in the sidewalk to get near the new person, well, she'd fail miserably.

So, I'm moving out of Chevron Heights. I'm so excited, I could spit. And I owe it all to "Dream Apartment". You know the game---clicking around real estate sites, haunting Craigslist in the evenings. "If I had $3900 a month to spend, I could enjoy the view from this penthouse as young shirt-less boys feed me frosting from a spoon", that kind of thing. It's one way to spend a Wednesday night.

One lucky click and I landed on the perfect little gem---up the hill from my current place, on a dead-end street away from the noise and traffic of busy Burnside Street in my favorite little nieghborhood that reminds me of San Francisco, up above the city near Washington Park. The four-plex was built in 1950, complete with molding-free curved walls and refinished hardwood floors throughout. The rental market here is cut throat, as more and more old buildings in the nieghborhood and nearby Pearl District go condo and renters are pushed out of the market. I didn't dare get my hopes up, I've lost a dream apartment or two before. But the potential was invigorating, and it was a sleepless night.

I went to see it the very next morning and it was more than I could have hoped for. Ugly and communistic from the outside, it's a sweety on the inside. A view of the city from the living room window, shining floors, even a fireplace. And two bedrooms, though small, one would make a perfect study/studio...a place, at last, to set up the easel. And the kitchen, the kitchen! Every wall is paneled in knotty pine, the light fixture is so hideous it's fabulous. And a huge window, OVER THE KITCHEN SINK, with more of the view! And a dishwasher, what a luxury! It's light, bright and roomy (as roomy as 850 sq ft can be)...and the list goes on...all white tiled bathroom with natural light, a covered parking space just steps from the back door, a balcony for enjoying the view....

There was an applicant before me, but there was still a chance--his reference information was incomplete. In breathless excitement, I ran off to work, head full of decorating ideas, dinner parties to be had, evenings sipping wine overlooking the city...I shared my enthusiasm and hand-wringing hopes with my boss. All day, I warned myself against getting too caught up, it could very likely go to the previous applicant and I'd be crushed.

At the end of the day, unsolicited, was sitting on my desk the nicest reference letter I've ever seen. My boss has an alterior motive of course, a year's lease means I'm here another year....but it was moving just the same to read his faith in me. I made a copy, suitable for framing. It's not often that we are given heady praise in writing. And on letterhead no less.

I completed the application, added proof of income, the letter of reference and even a copy of Ruby's Obedience School Certificate--there's no way I was losing this Dream Apartment to incomplete documentation, not me! A silent prayer as I slide it in the landlord's mailbox: "Please God-who-likes-to-F**k-with-me, please let me get this place. If I have to spend another perpetual-midnight winter in this dreary place, I'll either hang myself or balloon back up to a size 22." I need to live up this hill, if only to keep my butt size in check.

So, another restless night....and today, the good news. A glowing reference from my current landlord, thank you thank you Bree...and I'm in. Ruby passed the test, I wrote a check, it's a done deal. I get the keys on Monday, move in starting July 15th.

It's a whole new life for us up on the hill. Yippee!

dog day road trip

It's all so sophisticated.

"Sorry, this seat's taken."

It's commonly understood that most dogs will eat most anything. Garbage, grass, their own poop, etc.

Yesterday, Ruby was not occupying her usual spot next to me on the sofa, where I was lounging and watching tv. "Come on Rubes, you're missing Law & Order SVU". I actually said this to my dog.

She was in the bedroom, the doorway of which is in view (heck, it's within arms length) of the sofa. In response to my call, Ruby poked her head around the door frame, blinked once and turned back to whatever was occupying her out of sight. Like a child being TOO quiet, something was up. Curiousity got me off the couch...what was so special in the bedroom? Had she squirreled away a chewy treat? A snack from the garbage can?

Nope...she was eating her own barf.

Easter Destruction

Ruby got a treat this Easter; a small stuffed fluffy yellow Duckie. It didn't last long, as these fuzzy action shots show...I'll spare you images of the real carnage--stuffing and fluff everywhere!

But you still love me best, right Mommie?

Ruby loves a playdate, particularly with energetic Very Lucky, but man, is she possesive and competetive. I don't think they'll ever be room for another pup in the household--she most certainly rules this roost.

four legged social life

Ruby and Very Lucky share a mid-playdate rest.

There's not enough Ivory Soap in the world.

Usually, though no graceful dancer type, I can bend and single-hand scoop on our morning and evening strolls just fine. Plastic baggy in hand, a quick flip and the deposits are swiftly dispatched.

Not this drizzly morning.

I dropped my keys in...in, in....the dooty.

Rumpled Bed Gives Birth to Chilly Dog

overnight guest

My little girl spent this past long weekend with a friend while I was in Chicago. Everyone hopes their charges are on their best behavior in someone else's home. Ruby is usually well-behaved, if you know the commands and how to make them stick (firm voice, say it only once and mean it).

Within the first hour she had peed on the other dog's bed (a territorial thing). The next day she barfed on the other person's bed! How embarrassing. Then, she gutted Squirrel, the other dog's beloved toy. And ignored her own previously favored Snake. Ruby, how could you shame me in this way?

As her caretaker said, "Well, if she wasn't so cute she wouldn't get away with it!"

vicious instrument

I have a roommate. Not just the dog, my companion Ruby, but another entity that is always here in the apartment with us.

Dog hair. Lots of it. Tufts, balls, floating wisps, clumps in the corner, stray sticklers in the upholstery, shadows on the sheets. No vacuum cleaner can keep up the battle, the shedding is unstoppable.

Until today. My new Bamboo Shedding Blade arrived. It's a wicked looking thing, styled to match its name; "Blade". The package recommended using outdoors because it removes copious amounts of dead hair, claiming to "reduce indoor shedding'. Ok, Blade, let's see what you can do.

Oh my god! I love this thing! Ruby, not so much, but she can suffer twenty minutes of grooming on the balcony once in awhile. A few minutes of trembling and mild discomfort (mostly mental)=oodles of peanut butter.

It is deeply satisfying to see volumes of fur removed quickly and contained on the balcony, rather than accumulating on my sofa. The "Blade" produced HALF A GROCERY BAG of dead fur! Four full dustpan loads that won't make their way into my pillowcase. Yippee!

sick puppy

A few nights ago I heard a rustling sound in my sleep. As it is summer (technically), the windows are open and various sounds make their way in through the night, so, I turned over and went back to sleep. That was my mistake.

In the morning, in my stumble to the kitchen towards the coffee pot, I stepped on something slimy. Click, lights on. Garbage-bag remnants everywhere. And yet, not enough remnants to account for the contents of what had been a full kitchen garbage can. Ruby? Ruby!!

She had eaten everything. Egg shells, cheese rinds, coffee grounds. Two days of puking and constant water-drinking (and a few accidents, alarming because that's so rare for her) and I think she's learned her lesson. Well, probably not, she's hard-wired for garbage-eating, but we can hope.

companions

Miss Ruby and her snake / Kisses from Rubes

Ruby's latest game: In the middle of the night, she ventures out from the warmth of the bed and locates her favorite toy--'Blue', the three-foot-long stuffed snake, dragging it back into the bed with her (with us I should say). The snake is sans-head and some stuffing, always slightly damp with drool. In other words, beloved.

It's one thing to wake each morning with a warm ball of pup at your hip, quite another to find a partly-chewed snake on your chest.

Why I Love My Dog

She accepts a Sunday of torture as just part of the deal. We skipped our usual Sunday morning pancake routine--I felt like having fruit instead, seeing as it's now actually summer here. So, no yummy Bisquik treat for her today. And that's just for starters.

Next, I trimmed her nails. Bye-bye tap shoes.

Then, I gave her a bath. Hello soap.

Then, I gave her a wicked good brushing with the evil wire brush. Ouch.

Lastly, I neglected to take her to the dog park tonight. Mean Mommie.

And where is she now? Sitting at my feet, her chin on my leg, tail stump wagging. Waiting patiently for a bedtime cuddle. Now that's devotion (and a bit of stupidity).

You don't know where that's been!

Strange things Ruby licks with intensity but for no obvious reason: her stuffed snake, the headboard, the corner of the wall, the balcony railing, the kitchen rug (well, the reason for that is obvious), the magazine stack (she favors the New Yorker), the corner of the coffee table, and the curtains.

I could understand one or two little licks, but she does this for ages at a time. I have no explaination. My dog is a freak.

Miss Ruby Retrospective

...especially for my friend in the same time zone...

can we go now? can we go now? can we go now?

Ruby is addicted to the leash-free area of the park now--if I don't take her each evening to play with her friends, I have one mopey, whiney dog on my hands. As long as it's not a downpour, that's where you'll find us each night---she does an 'ape shit' run that the crowds adore, it's mildly embarrassing for 'mommy'---ears back, flat-out running in circles as fast as she can, just round and round for a full five minutes before collapsing in a little doggie-spasm on her back, preferably in a pile of ants. Dogs.

open letter to my roommate

Miss Ruby and her playdate, Monsieur Oscar

I love you RoobieDoobie, but there is dog hair IN the keyboard of my brand new lovely computer. DOG HAIR. In the keyboard.

I can deal with it on the bathroom floor (on every floor truthfully), on the sofa, woven into the handtowels, floating in bunches under the chair legs, lingering on the curtain edges (by the way, why exactly do you sit under the window with the curtain wrapped around your head?), on the bed, and on every piece of clothing I own, but... the computer keyboard?? The brand new shiny computer?!?! What gives little dog?

What exactly is it that you do when I'm away?

see? i don't always need the 'self-portrait' setting!

Ruby and I (and friends both human and canine, not pictured) take a stroll on the Eastbank Esplanade, enjoying the early spring sunshine (not enough for me!).

howdy!

I'm back! What a journey (!), and it's really just begining...

The huge suitcases (2) met the wieght limit (70 lbs each) by just a hair--after I removed a few things at the counter into an impromptu carry-on. Ruby was boxed and loaded, tagged and transfered, customs checked, off-loaded and re-loaded, lugged and finally, let loose. To pee on our keeper's carpet. Oops.

Flying over the eastern seaboard at night---an unexpected pleasure--the lights of the city grids, harbors and highways were gorgeous ---orange,white and blue designs on black out into the horizon. If only my seat mate had been so attractive.

Everything----everything!----is so LARGE. Cars, sandwiches, roads, buildings, --all of it, the scale--I'm thrown. Don't even ask me about the frightening muffins.

dog: what do you mean i'm not the center of the universe?

No sooner did I finish the big blanket than Miss Ruby thought it was for her!

Bert's perch

with the boat out in the harbor, Bert's been crashing here. On the balcony to be exact. Ruby loves it. She also digs the long 7am walks. Now she's gonna be all spoiled.

someone has a crush

kisses!

Miss Ruby has really taken to Ryan...a new and currently still-willing victim for her licking obsession and spinning/dancing/leaping displays of affection...

tease me all you like, but don't mess with my dog...

Dog Camp is not for losers! i'm looking forward to going sometime when Ruby and i are stateside again next year, no matter what Ryan says!

at least it's not Manners Camp. or maybe it is..Manners for Dogs anyway.

geez, maybe i do need another hobby. or a job. or a boyfriend. or all of the above. come on Ruby, time for our walk...

mistaken identity, again

something always gets lost in the translation when frenchie folks ask about Ruby---i speak french to them, english to her of course ("Elle ne parle pas francais." always gets a smile)..and after a few affectionate pats they leave believing her name is either 'Heel' or in today's example 'Sit'...

doggy-doppelganger

Derek and Chewy, 7.5" x 7.5" oil on panel by Leslie Enders Lee, 2000
Ryan and Ruby, 2002

my newest copy of Bark magazine arrived today--i'm in doggy heaven. ugh, horrible pun. but look at this! a painting by Leslie Enders Lee so like this snap of Ryan and Ruby napping back in December of 2002.

sloppy kisses

Miss Ruby--what other Valentine's Day kisses could a girl want? i adopted her two years ago this week. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, shame I have to pick up my Valentine's Poo.

she's so popular

i got scolded again today for not bringing Miss Ruby with me to the Tabac. i scored smiles and laughs (so rare!) when i said, in french, that she's trying to quit! yeah me.

chien billet

as if it isn't hassle enough to get fearful Miss Ruby on and off the train--today i got stopped for not having a ticket for her! i use the machines to buy my tickets, but of course the machines don't issue dog tickets. so, i missed the earlier train to stand in line to BUY A TICKET FOR THE DOG. "01chien"=1.30 euro. for a ten minute ride, standing up the both of us. i don't mind, it's fair really and i'm happy that i'm allowed to take her on at all--what i don't get is that i've walked by the same ticket inspectors four times a week with the same dog and the same one PERSON ticket for the last four months without a word. a beaurocrat must have recently decided that all this free dog-travel must stop! imagine.

after some online research, i see that she needs a ticket (though why randomly Messieurdames Ticket Inspectors?) because she is over 6kilos (13lbs). hmm--diet time!

the fast train, ferocious dogs and finger food

Miss Ruby is afraid of the trains, in fact she fears the entire train experience--the train station, getting on and off the train, watching the high-speed train bullet by, riding the slower regional train, even the loudspeaker announcements through her off-balance. going back and forth from Cannes to Antibes by train is still a snap--provided i pick her up and carry her and don't mind de-furring my clothes upon arrival.

the other night, she was showing marked improvement--walking into the station herself, though haultingly. as we turned the corner on to the platform, she froze. a few yards away was the most terrifying looking dog we've ever seen. it was a giant pitbull-rotweiler-albino-demon cross, complete with intimidating chain, muzzle and security officers. Ruby understandably hit the pavement, trembling. first the train, now this! one security officer was amused--"Regardez--l'aperitif!" he said to the drooling beast.

speaking of aperitives, amuse-bouches, appetizers---i'm amused myself to know the french use so many ways of saying hors d'oeurves, without ever once in my experience using the word hors d'oeurves.

(though to be accurate, l'aperitif is usually a starter drink, not a food...wonder why he choose that word? or maybe i misheard..wouldn't be the first time).

my own personal Discovery Channel

Miss Jack the cat went on heat yesterday..not fun. Miss Ruby seems to think she can do the duty. great--i have a cross-species lesbian dog. did i mention she's fixed? good grief.

motoring to Menton

Christmas Day, sunny, in Menton

Mom and Bert sailed (motored) to Menton for lunch with Aunt Peg and Uncle Natale...Ruby and i took the warmer (though slower!) train over.

holiday spirit, French style

i was walking Ruby out along the ramparts the other day in Antibes, though there was a nip in the air the sun was out, when i paused to let Miss Ruby do her sniffing thing. From behind me came a person on a bicycle--you can sense these things--always fond of bicyclists (next painting subject maybe?) i turned to get a better look. this is what i saw: an older lady, probably over 60 with that blonde-white hair all French ladies of a certain age seem to have, wearing a bright red wool coat--the kind with princess puff sleeves, a nipped in waist with brass buttons and a big swirl of a drop to the ankles--this volume of red fabric was caught up in the wind behind her. Her bike was an old-school type with big white wall tires, cruising handlebars and wicker baskets front and rear. and in the back basket? wrapped Christmas presents and a bunch of evergreens.

did i just see Madame St. Nick?!? of all times not to have my camera.

a few days previous, again in Antibes, i was walking through the square--now complete with Christmas train ride for the kiddies and various vendors selling various kitsch--and noticed a rather tall, thin man selling animal shaped mylar balloons. he'd made an attempt to dress festively, but i must say it was the worst Santa costume i've ever seen--too short for his long arms and legs, he was much in need of padding for that 'jolly fat' look and he'd given up on the cottonball beard by just letting it hang down round his neck on his chest. just when i was thinking this was amusing enough-- a little boy, 3 or 4 years old, spotted "Santa", pointed, smiled and exclaimed "Ho! Ho! Ho!". only this kid was French so it came out "Heau! Heau! Heau!"

i had to struggle to keep from laughing out loud, you should have been there, it was so funny.

my favorites!

homemade German Chocolate Birthday Cake from Mom (and a lovely chocolate brown leather handbag, not pictured because it's lost somewhere under the mountain that is our coat tree)! a gooorgeous ring from Miss Maria! a Guide to French Cheeses book from Miss Liz! kisses from Miss Ruby! what more could a girl want?!

doggy daycare

Miss Ruby is in creche (with Miss Jill) today...on my way to pick her up, wonder what kind of trouble she got into...

i stayed out of trouble today--just a little digging around in pottery group. good stuff.

Thanksgiving shindig

sweet potatoes...gone.

sunset sailing

what am i thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend? one word: DRAMAMINE.