Kings Valley Keepsake

This morning I woke up gasping for oxygen with twists in my hair.
By evening, I was breathless for another reason. I cannot believe how much my heart has ached for a collie. I cannot believe how beautiful she is, how that elegant steady dog is going to be mine. It takes my breath away.

She already has a TT and an HC…three more titles and we can be a VCH. Therapy and obedience. For certain.

I am a little afraid that I will lose the story, but I think it will actually gel and clarify as I move a little away and start to capture it. The story of Watching her in Albany and thinking how calm, how downright bored she seemed. And steady. How I kept spotting Leslie in the crowd in her blue velvet suit with Lindsay beside her.

How the rain slicked the highway to Monmouth. The sign “KINGS VALLEY COLLIES” at the bottom of the road. The rain black gravel up the hill to the gate and the smell of wet trees and winter mud, the cold edges of stones, the small pieces of blue that appeared in the sky.

The echo of collies barking in the woods. The collies running the fence with muddy legs. Walking done the road where the huge tree with the bench had stood, where Mark had gone with Simon…walking down that road with Lindsay and my muck boots and feeling like I had waited so many many years for this feeling: the leather in my hand, the wide back, the full coat moving beside me…How my whole life has wrapped itself around this image…. and how this is about to become the fabric of my life. Truly a vision materializing out of the mist.

And the sharp concern watching little Sonny’s sweet face contorting n a snarl as she poked her long nose in towards him…and yet how easy her manner was. A little persistent…but manageable. And then Lindsay stretched out on the floor near me and Flynn and Sonny right there too. Seeing Mark kiss the top of her head, realizing that he too was going to fall so deeply in love with her.

drive into the valley in the morning

Tommorrow is another trip to KV to officially meet L and see how the papillons are with her and vice versa. I’m not sure how I will tell or what I will know; I just have to trust that I will know something. Flynnie will tell me. Now its’ very late, almost 2am. I have a desire for a cigarette.

I get these waves of fear that I will fall into fear, or numb depression, get overwhelmed. Think: what am I doing??? Quietly panic. Especially if it is dark and raining.
I want to plan for that . So what do I know?
Fear and doubt. Almost inevitable. When fear , if fear, laps at my shores, think: uncertainty instead. Unless something blazes DANGER! Then pay attention.

This is my vision. Here is the country in which all that I am was formed. A foggy green pasture with black trees rising out of the mist at dawn. Is it arbitrary? As likely not as yes. The mythic collie appeared in various places at various times for reasons. And always carried the same shield of gentle devotion and care for the small and weak.
Of all the moments when I have pictured doing this work, of going in to help, the picture of the collie has felt the most real. It is the one beyond language. It is the one I can experience the most clearly in my imagination.

There is always the “little” collie, if this doean;t work. We can start smaller. Or we can start smaller and stay small. The sheltie. The litter on the ground. The chance to train a puppy.

If the wave of despair hits..I can choose courage. Do not fall to paralysis. Listen for the bell. Be true to the sounds, but do not fall into that dark crevasse of no action for fear of the unknown.

Is it known or unknown? That is the question. Can you name the fear? Or is it the fear of fear?

Took M to meet Luke the EC this morning. I like him. He’s a lot of fun. When we left, M said he didn’t think the EC was right for the house or for me…the bounce, I think. The long parts that coud get caught. He is a swell dog, but admire him from here. I suppose. I just so enjoy his playfulness, his attempts to talk, his eyelashes, his eye contact. And then I got the photos that Kerrin W-C. took of the B&W litter in Ohio. Man, they’re sweet.

It’s like juggling three diamonds in the air, each with its own charms and advantages. I keep waiting for a clear path and choice forward. I suppose now it’s the dog more than the breed.

breed advantages disadvantages
collie calm, protective, gorgeous, mythical stature for me and for the work. Good source. Nice to train a bigger dog. Size: in house and with papillons. Amount of hair and shedding. Not invited to papillon affairs. MOST compelling
sheltie Best size. Beauty. Gentle, Smart. Litter with excellent bloodlines available Hair and shedding. May be flighty. Barky. Most practical
english cocker Fun. Good size. Happy all the time. Loves kids. Differnet and new temperament. Nice coat. Needs grooming. Bouncy and plays with feet. Hard to find a good one. Long ears.Active different. cheerful!!

FEBRUARY 24

This process has been so mighty intense. I have pulled in so many people along the way, maybe too many. Some nights when my mailbox is empty I imagine they are all talking to one another about how thin I have spread myself and how confused I am.
But I am not confused. After a brief flirtation with some terriers, I spun around into spaniels and the vision of the therapy work began to emerge more clearly.
I studied the English Cocker and the Field spaniel and met 2 friends there. But the cocker became so elusive, so hard to find and just meet. I’m sure I would love one.
Fidgteing over the size of the collie, I scaled down and went to check out the sheltie. It seems temperaments have improved and I was more impressed with them I thought I would be. And there I found another friend and a line who type I like very much.
Running in to LR at the breed ring and chatting, looking down at the big calm girl beside her…the idea bloomed. To walk into these corridors, not with the funny little cocker—although that has its charms and its strength—but with the dignified and steady collie, I would feel protected, I would feel ennobled and in that ennobling there is a split seed of generosity.
If she has an enormous heart and patience, I can hook up. We can go together.

And the picture is always about that ruff and the puffing of the cheeks as she takes in smells and her wide back at finger level. The pace is steady, the pace is slow enough to make our way all the way down the hall.

What hall I do not know yet. DR talked to me about the need at OHSU and at the hospice down the street. The children. The Mad. The Sorrowful.

Names have been changed. When I read this letter, I felt like a radio had gone on in my body for a moment. Just imagine...

Dear Elizabeth, Good to hear from you! I've been giving our talk a lot of thought....E & I understand your feeling about a big male. How would you feel about a 2 yr. old (just turned 2) sable rough bitch? She weighs about 50-60 lbs. You may have met her at the show, I don't remember if she was with me when we talked. In light of your request, we feel she is better suited to the work you have in mind for her than she is for showing and breeding. I have exposed her to town trips (travel, meeting people in new settings) and children (whom she loves) and recently to shows. She is TOTALLY SOLID in temperament. She is loving, outgoing, stable & bright. Because she is the daughter of our beloved Finn it would be wonderful if you would consider training her and showing her in Rally or Obedience or Performance events. Would you be interested in that? We have always valued the versatility of the breed and in our family of collies specifically so obedience titles are very meaningful to us! You have the experience to train for competition and we feel she has the intelligence and temperament and eagerness to please that competition obedience requires :) I realize that the READ program is your first priority with your collie, but we thought we'd ask you about the idea of also training and competing for obedience, rally or performance titles. Hope you don't mind my asking! Let us know if you'd like to meet her. She is special, in her prime, and we wouldn't consider letting her go to someone without the experience to appreciate her quality and potential! I know shelties are smaller, but none could be as solid in temperament nor as loving to everyone as she is! It was nice to see you again! Best Regards, collie breeders

Promise

(top) Wintercreek's Luv on the Beach at 6 months. Dam of the litter. (she is 2 now)
(bottom) BPIS Ch Coastal Wintercreek Mas Tequila. He is the sire of the puppies born Friday 16 February.
From what we can tell so far, they both have solid, confident happy tempereaments and both love people. A puppy from this litter, relentlessy socialized and supported ,could be fabulous.

Backing Off again

Long day. A day of shaking out, tossing my head and owning the rattle in my gut. That kettle drum tattering. It went off to remind me of the bell I didn’t hear at Caledon. For whatever reason, without second-guessing myself and beyond reasoning. Something was missing. Maybe, maybe maybe doesn’t matter.

I had to reabsorb the letter asking for a trial run after reading it and seeing how full of conditions and hesitations it was. B saw it as well and I think it made her hesitate, as well it should. I stepped up and claimed the rattle and bowed out.

She was sweet. She was agreeable and pretty, but a certain spark, a joke, was missing. I think she is a serious dog and that’s fine…only not for me now right. Actually I don’t really know who she is. But not mine. I am little sad about it because she is so exquisite in so many ways.

So I backed off and decided to wait and see how the Buzz litter turns out. If the pups fulfill the parents’ promise of steady joyfulness, and I can socialize a young pup like mad …then it could be fabulous. Meantime I am free as Carmie grows and maybe grows too much, or flies her flag too high too often (that tail in the air like a wolf) and becomes available.

In any case. I have to pursue the English Cocker a bit further to some kind of conclusion. And I was just not ready. Although I did wash Olivia’s vari-kennel and the bed that goes in it in preparation.

I can breath and I can wait to get excited. I can read more about therapy work and find a name. Because if this dog doesn’t, for whatever reason, turn out to be a therapy dog, I have to still cherish and adore her/him.

Halfway up the Mountain, the Fog Clears

It’s 1 in the morning. I took a piece of atavan to try and relax my jaw, and so I ‘am a little sleepy. But every time I come to the page, there is the promise of clarifying my thinking. And that keeps me up these late nights. Sitting with the ragout that steams on the table of the banquet of my mind. !!

This morning we drove up the mountain to see little Beatrix. If she’s called Trixie, at least I can call her Beatrix, until we…and I did not anticipate saying this, find a better name for her. The fog along the Columbia was thick as smoke---the St Johns bridge was invisible-- and it wasn’t until we were half way up the mountain that it cleared and we could see the blue sky.

B was busy with the other folks who had come down earlier and we were a little late so we got to sit in the pen with the puppies. Beatrixie no…. sat in Mark’s lap…very trusting, calm and she looked lovely sitting there. And then she sat with me. She is so agreeable. She seems only to want to please and not kick up a fuss. We played a little. B said she loves to play….I figure the 2 mashers in the pen with her were making it hard for her to shine her light…

I stuck out the collar to put on her and she stuck her head right in, and then we went walking up and down the driveway. She kept her delicate nose at my knee, watching…what next boss? The explosion of barking, the strange man and car at the bottom of the hill made her hesitate…but there was no freaking out…and she looked to me for reassurance.

If she will come out in bloom and be as steady as she seems, she could be fabulous. My worry is that there is a spark missing…she has a hard time with eye contact…but it may only be a matter of kicking up her confidence a bit…and I know how to do that.

M thinks she’s perfect. She’s small and mild enough to fit in with the papillons easily; she is steady and sweet and he thinks she’ll be a good therapy dog. And that almost instant trust making her a good candidate. MC of the Dalles says her small size could be a benefit to her work...making it easier for me to lift her up on a bed or a lap. She is invited up to try sheep and see if that boosts her confidence.

The consensus is to ask B for a trial run to see if she will hold up. I remember when I got Flynn JMcL held my check for like 2 months until we were all sure Flynnie was going to stay. (You’d have to pry her from my cold dead hands…. I said). And I just have to give her very chance and be honest about it. If she doesn’t work…there is the B/S litter born Friday. (Tuffe's birthday?)

Meantime, DG wrote and said that she was going to grow Miss C out because she is everything she wants. And MC wrote and said you need to try her and see if the spark is just hiding. I have a feeling it is.

I would get to name her and register it. And she needs a new name!

Walking the Edge/Witness a Real Miracle

Tonight I came perilously close to the edge. I felt that lump in my chest that signaled a wave from a dark and suspicious world overwhelming me. When we headed over on the highway to see the Wintercreek puppies, I thought I would fall into the hole and M was overtired and dramatic about coming along because that’s what men do, they say yes ….and I thought it would be so much easier if I were alone to gather myself and my thoughts in some semblance of integrity with boundaries. In stead I felt myself slipping out of myself and into some noir version where there was no way out but down.

Will I ever understand what it is that happens to me at these times? I become entirely vulnerable to visions of failure and despair; I lose all sense of confidence and direction. It’s like a motionless trembling.

I thought: I am trapped into making a decision I know nothing about. I’m making a wild guess that therapy work is going to work, and that I can find the right partner. I’m not sure how I got here and I don’t know how to feel or whether to bolt in or bolt out. As we drove up the driveway though it occurred to me that I didn’t have to give in to this…that I could let it wash away and go inside and see what happens.

And inside was a small miracle. The male puppy who was so poignantly withdrawn was friendly and loving; he had changed overnight. DG was giving me credit for showing him a way out…or a way in. and I suppose the turning point might have come on our first visit when he decided to just trust me. It was moving and I was so relived to think he might have a life after all.

In the corner, covered with blankets and towels was Sandy and her new litter of 6…5 boys and one girl, sired by the remarkable Buzz. We sat with Allie and the little brown pup and Flurry. I was introduced to Molly. A lovely but small 7 month old, as a possibility. She was lively and friendly and then I asked of Carm could come in and there she was in her clownish, bold glory. She is the one I thought…easy going, loving gentle. Her tail was a flag in the air and that’s not good. And she’s kind of lanky and MAYBE goes oversize….

I suggested they think about letting us have her and if she turns out well, I can show her but I wouldn’t want to breed her. She said she’d think on it, but I ‘m not sure the not breed part sunk in.

And then there’s T. (to be continued/SO tired!) I can’t seem to give her up and I can’t seem to say yes. If I were offered C free and clear or T…I’d take C. I just find T so poignant… She is under my skin….
I have to go see her and then sleep on it. Maybe I can spend some time alone with her.

Up to Caledonia

Drizzle and cool. Grey. I drove out along the Columbia to Scapoose and then up the Vernonia Road along a stream, under the trees on a rutted road. 7 miles up, I mile farther up, beyond the dead end, down the gravel road, over the wooden bridge. I was in another world. And in that world, I had changed my life. I was driving many such unknown roads in the rain, driving up into the coast range. I was not afraid, not anxious.

There is a frazzle in the spiral there; the blueberry swirled into vanilla. I try to practice restraint in word and deed and I unravel some evenings thinking I’ve given too much away. Like a dream in which you appear naked, only I’m not. It’s just that I can’t find an “off switch.”

Keeping company with myself on a mission.

Up to Caledon. It was like Kings Valley only everything was in miniature, even BA is small. But sturdy and elegant in an earthy way. She has a gentle face and a body that works hard. She walked me around in the rain. Everything was so green and charcoal grey.

I met the little girl she spoke of in the letter. The one in the photo. At first I was more taken by the 2 puppies out of Primo the Scotsman, a bit younger, in the pen with the Westar/Caledon daughter. They were energetic and the boy was sweet; the girl a little too much. B told me the WC girl was the steadiest, the others had a switch that could turn off, but she held. She is fat and fluffy and very feminine. Very pretty and turning a dark dark sable. Gentle. It took a moment to engage her (correct temperament) but then we were fine.

I thought she was a little dull at first. Maybe because the other 2 were edging her out and she let them, and because she was more focused on B, and not pushy.

Went down and met her father, her grandmother, her grand aunt, her grandfather, a half sister. The father and grandfather were substantial handsome boys, but the father she said had been a kennel dog and thus he would not approach me. He circled and kept hi s attention on B, although the production of a toy riveted and focused him. I could touch him when she held him.

Went back up and sat with the puppies. The 2 red sables nipped and pulled at my clothes, the scamps. She was well behaved. I picked her up and she snuggled in and laid her head on my shoulder like Sonny does. I held and looked out into the woods listening to the creek and to B on the phone and I relaxed. She ---now that I think of it---has some magic.

And I could name her whatever I want with Caledon in there. And her birthday is the same as Cubby’s: Aug 17. And I met her on Valentines Day…and these things line up in the sky.

I like the TYPE of the Wintercreek shelties better…more collie-ish. And I connected with DG. But I also respect the wisdom B carries and the reputation for infallible temperaments she has earned among performance people I know about. Not to mention that the girl is gorgeous, a jewel that B is obviously smitten with.only problem is she’s probably not likely to go much over 13.5”. “Grow, grow!” she said she whispers to her.

If she comes off the mountain as solid as she is ON the mountain, she could be my R.E.A.D dog. She has Olivia and Sonny’s middle of the road temperament and sweet sweetness.

Or I could wait for a pup out of Buzz/Sandy and drag him/her around everywhere to socialize. Sheltie Assertiveness Training. Get a really outgoing and up up dog.

I have thought of her all day. Valentine’s day.

back and forth

I am in an interesting place. There is a lot to learn here. CR says, “spaniels are better.” KB says, “spaniels have more brains.” Both of them say, “shelties bark constantly and run around in circles.” I say, “shelties that do that are wacko.” CR says, “I would love for you to get an ec.”
So back and forth. The reprobation of these friends is strong. I am thrown back in the mix and swirled like a roan/merle shake. Blueberry.
I am also talking to a MC who does therapy with her shelties out the Gorge. CH. CD. NAJ. TDI…everything. It seems to me that a stable sheltie is a real thing of beauty.
PC says watch for sound sensitivity. Tell the breeder exactly what you want and trust her. Every puppy in a sheltie litter is different.
DG, the breeder whose shelties I love reveals herself slowly, and each time I see more intelligence and knowledge. Plus she’s fun. Well, they all are. The whole thing is fun.
I feel bad about losing AC though…and I hope that I represented myself truthfully all along. She was part of the process where it got a little out of hand. That embarrasses me.

So I get to see where the wind rocks me and where the earth holds me and find the atomic center where I am.
The choice is: the familiar and it seems developing the vision that I’ve always had. Sonnybank. Sunnybank. Sunebank. I know what that means.
OR trying something new. Something floppy and sweet and happy and different.
Which is which is obvious. I feel the answer is so close. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

Kirby died yesterday. He was a magnificent dog. Today was the toy group and BIS at WKC. Some have suspected publicity stunt. I can’t believe evil could be so bitter.

Late Sunday/ WINTERCREEK

Everything changes. So far all that is required of me is faith. I should stay true. I should quit scrubbing lines out of previous posts because I don’t like what I thought at that moment. Like somewhere I took out a line about knowing in my heart that the FS was not to be. But because I didn’t want that to be true a day later…I deleted it. Why? Because it might be wrong? But it was true when I said it, and there is no truth but this one.

So M came with over to Wintercreek to see the Flash daughter this evening. I didn’t expect much, thinking that Caledon was going to be better…. because I know someone in OB w/Caledon dogs, and because I have heard of BA. So what a surprise when we walked into the room where a pen was set up and 5 gorgeous 3-4month old puppies were standing up on the pen clambering to come out and meet us, and then dog after dog who came in took my breath away with possibility and with, really, a promise fulfilled. They were of the type I like; the collie like shelties who look like they could run and jump and trot. And they were very stable. I did not witness any spookiness, only one moment of cringe and dash. I had in my mind that the standard, that the character of the sheltie is one of reserve, but here were dogs as boisterously friendly as Buffy the Papillon.
There was one girl, Carmie, who flew right up on the couch with us, rubbing against like Gus does like a cat, like you can’t get close enough and then she draped herself over us utterly taken with her own good character and charm. I loved her instantly. (Brook x Chase)
The girl we went to see is about a week and ½ younger and held back for a few minutes. But soon she was my friend and by the end of the evening she was crawling into my lap to sleep and she had the most amazing eye contact. I liked her more and more. (Bridget x Flash)
There was a beautiful boy who was very very independent and shy…though steady and by the end of the evening, he was my friend too… (Brook x Chase)
And then we met Sandy who is going to have puppies any minute now. She was a deep red sable and she hopped up on the ottoman and we took turns getting kisses from her. She was lovely.
I asked to see the sire of the litter…and “are you ready for Buzz?” Debby asked several times…and in came Buzz, the male sheltie version of Buffy. GORGEOUS masculine DARK sable with a black saddle and so effusive and alive. Mark’s face just bloomed as they interacted…and it was hard to deny his energy. We loved him. Imagine a puppy out of those 2?!?!?! And I was thinking…hmmmm…maybe a boy.
Brook was cautious but steady. She warmed to Mark more quickly. Bridget was the MOST reserved…and that worried me a little about Ali….that hesitation…would it get more hesitant? Or could you counteract it with lots of socialization. I had to remember my purpose is to find a dog who appears a very good candidate for therapy.
Debby said that Ali was as social as Carmie. And maybe in a week, she will be more so. But really, its not like she wasn’t social…just not AS social as Carmie.
Flash was in Port Orchard, but we did get to meet Chase, who was calm and steady. I mostly remember him sitting in Mark’s lap, whereas Buzz was leaping around playfully and throwing kiss kiss kiss. Debby said nothing bothers him. Flash DID freak out at the National when a crowd of children ran up some echoey steps and they couldn’t get him back in time for the photo.
So the puppies on the ground were out of Chase or Flash and Brook, Bridgett or Splash. Flurry, the boy was Chase/Brook.
Carmie was Chase/Brook.
Ali was Flash/Bridget.
The other 2 adorable and younger ones were Splash /Chase.
Soon to be on the ground: Buzz/Sandy.

I’ll go back next week. I said over and over that I liked all the puppies, but had to keep in mind that I was looking for someone extraordinarily stable, confident outgoing.
They all seemed stable. Ali was the most intense. Carmie the most vibrant and outgoing.

We’ll see. On Wednesday I go see Caledon dogs…and then it will be both more complicated and clearer. I must promise myself not to dodge…..but to simply acknowledge the truth as it appears.

Late Saturday/ ALBANY

This morning, I packed Sonny up and we drove to Albany. It was a long drive through the valley, which opens up just past Salem, into wide flat fields, all green and grey and ochre under the sunless sky. The mountains rim the distance like a plate. In some crop fields the legs of those irrigation walkers stretch like wire on wheels; from above they must look like pinwheels. We passed the halfway point between the equator ND THE NORTH POLE, AND THE SIGN THAT DELCALRED ALBANY THE GRASS SEED CAPITOL OF THE WORLD. It rained on and off and at one point I felt so tired, I wanted to turn around and go home to sleep. I had ideas of finding a place to pull of and take a nap, but I did neither and in about an hour we arrived at the Linn County Fairgrounds.
I wanted to get there by 1100 so we could see the Fields, and 12 so we could see the collies, but it was past noon when I paid the parking toll. I resigned myself to the single pleasure of the sheltie ring. And yet, as soon as shook off the rain and entered the hall, I spotted a large black spaniel in a snood. I pushed through the crowd to find the two FS entered in the show and was quite surprised to see how small the bitch was. Pretty brown girl. The owners were friendly, but on their way out, the dogs distracted, but not shy.
Shelties were in the program for 1230 so I headed over, bought a catalog and was about to find a chair when I spotted a sable collie, and on the other end of the lead, was Leslie Rappaport in a trademark velour sweat suit. I excused myself from the introductions with a woman who has a puppy I want to look at and went over. It took but a moment for her to recognize me. I told her I was looking for a dog to do the R.E.A.D program with, which rather excited her. She told me about Truly, who just had a litter of roughs a little while back, and her temperament that was rock solid and gentle. I voiced my concern about the safety of the papillons. Her opinion was that a collie would adopt the paps and care for them, and I don’t doubt it. But is this real, or another literary conceit???
She wanted me to fill out the application and mention a Truly puppy; I reiterated my idea about a half grown, beyond obnoxious puppy and after she thought a while, She mentioned that she had a fabulous BIG sable male named Winston who she would love to see do a program like that. I promised to write her this week.
I spotted her several more times over the course of the day and as we walked back out to the car park, and every time, there was a buzz. Collie buzz. Buzz.
After that, I almost felt I could leave, but I did really want to watch the Shelties, which we did, Sonny camped out on my lap insisting that as long as I scratched his chest, he would be OK and calm.
I was a little dismayed at how overdone some of the SS were, too much coat, not enough neck, straight shoulders and minpin movement. I saw a few dogs though I liked…and mostly they moved easily and with reach, were moderate in coat and waged thier tails.
The sire of one of the puppies I’m going to look at was there, Wintercreek. Flash. he did win WD. a solid looking little dog.
The Caledon bitch, Scotia Rose had nice movement and actually looked quite a bit to me like the puppy in the photo Barb sent me. I wished I’d stayed for BOB, realizing later that another Caledon dog was entered for BOB, but instead we trotted over to the OB ring where I introduced myself to Shelly Gilliland, whose orange cocker was in the Utility ring just as I entered the arena. I said hey to Marvin W and to Robin of the Goldens…. and then I had to go. I was tired, it was raining and Sonny doesn’t have a driver’s license.
So I saw them all today, including a pack of Bedlingtons.
-KV collie
-a liver FS bitch of moderate size
-a ring full of shelties including one from each of the 2 breeders I’m talking with.
-the EC in the Utility ring.
It was worth the trip.

On the way home, I only had thoughts for Winston, who I renamed Wallace in my head, and sometimes I veered back onto the sheltie when I imagined an 80lb rough collie in my house. And then back again when I imagined walking outside beside a lion for protection.

Oh the complications KV aroused last time we went there…the conflict of desire and livability. Is the sheltie a compromise? A logical choice? Or could it catch fire…
I need to sleep on this one.

the word is agile

I wonder if A will write and what she will say…

Late Friday 2/10

Last night I didn’t write at all. I was hot on a new trail and it kept me going until 4. Two ideas converged in one and I had a small brainstorm.
#1
On our walk last night, as we turned to head back, papillons dancing like sled dogs, M asked if all this spaniel talk was a compromise, if I really still wanted a collie, but because he is too big, I thought I should compromise. Let the record show that in previous documentation, the same thought had surfaced on these pages.
#2
The good DR D.S. who moved from WA to Wi and that CRR suggested I contact, plainly voiced concern about the active feet of the young English cocker--large, strong active feet --and that she would worry about injury to the papillons. If you were to get an older, calmer dog, you could avoid that boisterousness. She said.

¸Take them one at a time. #1
I planted myself and stood in the echoey grooming hall behind the Lochlaren crew as they groomed collies. Three enormously coated collies on tables, lined up, facing where I stood so that the backs of the groomers were to me, thus allowing me an unabashed stare. I stood and just waited to feel something. My mind elbowed its way to the front of my consciousness, knocking my mid chakra on its keister, and said things like “Cheesh, that ‘a lot of hair on a really big dog.” And that’s just a dog, not a Greek god.”
When I pivoted to the left and walked towards where I was to meet an EC breeder, I felt as if I had divested myself of a spell. I was more interested in the weight and silk of the little spaniel whose tail was like a wind up toy with an endless loop for a spring. I wanted the heavy thick jowls, the enormous eyelashes and big dark eyes; the fat black feet at the end of those well boned legs. I thought I was free, having placed the descendants of Sunnybank back into the pages of a book I could push onto the shelf. And in a way I was. There was another book, a whole new world to visit.

#2
What if the 4th dog were not so heavy and boisterous as a baby spaniel, but was a smaller version of the icon that lingers on the spine of that book. “The look of eagles” Was it possible that the reserved little Shetland sheepdog could make a therapy career? How much easier on the mind and the conscience and the access between rooms and dogs that would be. Why, they were like big papillons who looked like small collies...could this be an overlooked corner of shiny perfection? Or an idealogical compromise? There were, after all, a hefty handful of Shelties I have seen who were quite shiny themselves. Not dull and hidden, or frantic. Some I’ve seen in pictures. One I remember meeting a long time ago in W.Mass, at Kassank Kennels, when I had NO dog and wanted a sheltie. (I have wanted a sheltie on and off my entire dog wanting career. And every time I start to want one, it comes as a kind of revelation. One such time is so vivid, every time I hear the Rolling Stones Ruby Tuesday, I materialize in the back room on Cotswold Road, a scratchy 45 on the player, the door to the veranda half open, all my cousins away. I stood at the window and looked down at the corner where the enormous houses with there even bigger and more ancient trees hulked in the grey evening and thought...a sheltie. I want a sheltie. How could they possibly object to such a perfect dog...?)

These 2 thoughts converged and became one in which I shifted down and looked for an older puppy, a sheltie or an EC...and then I would divert the worry. As far as the FS goes, I would need her to grow out a little, make herself clear, declare herself in terms of size and vigor, while A fidgets wanting to be sure each baby has a secure future wrapped up. So I had to write that letter and send it off. And try not to think that I will disappoint her, or that she will feel I have mis represented myself. I simply did not evaluate the idea of an older outed dog as highly as I might have. I had a kind of puppy fever...and who wouldn’t. Just look at those faces.

And there is the arc, the banner that waves above it all, which suggests a breath of faith that the right dog at the right time will appear.

Into the Hills

This morning I went over to meet Luke, the EC. He lives in NW. A blue roan about a year and a half old. He was so charming, and had eyelashes about inch and a half long. I was mesmerized by them, honestly. He was a happy, sweet loving dog. Loves his mouth and what he can do with it. Motors along by the propellar that is his tail. Easily distracted, but very compliant when she (Lois) had his attention. She is training him in obedience and I can tell they have a lot of fun.
I like him a lot; I liked his size, his impish expression, his joy, his shaggy paws.

Afterwards I was on my way to the bank to finally deposit my check from PDX , leaving messages for Mark to be sure he meant it when he said he’d back me up when Arlene called. She wants to know. She wants to know. We must’ve talked for over an hour while I wound through the west hills and down to the credit union where I sat in the car watching the gas station and the line of cars at the light.

I told her. If “bitty” this available girl turns out to show real promise in temperament for a therapy dog…then I’m in. She wants to know what she’ll do if some nice couple calls who want a dog to hang out with and they want a little girl…Tell them to wait until they’re temperment tested. Lots of litters are unknown for a while. Aren’t they keeping anybody? I know one girl is going up to Canada, orange girl I guess. The other could be mine. Its your litter, I don’t want to tell you what to do, I said, and if she goes, I’ll be OK…but why not give us the chance. It could be a real team. But I don’t want to lose a great home…if it’s the right home, they’ll wait a little bit and yes, I’ll fly out when they’re 6 7 8 weeks old.

I heard myself talking. I heard how calm I was, how much sense I made, how strong I sounded, even as I was whispering really loudly to myself: what the hell are you doing!! If I gotta trust one of those voices, I’ll trust the one that showed up on the outside….becasue I’m no good at faking when my mouth opens.

Tonight I’m reading English cocker stuff, learning what slabsided means, and how a forechest looks…I am studying the outline I’d have one. A jolly, merry little dog.

Although what sold me on the FS is a breed standard that reads::

The Field Spaniel is a combination of beauty and utility. It is a well balanced, substantial hunter-companion of medium size, built for activity and endurance in a heavy cover and water. It has a noble carriage; a proud but docile attitude; is sound and free moving. Symmetry, gait, attitude and purpose are more important than any one part.
expression: Grave, gentle and intelligent.

Now let’s look at the EC standard:
he English Cocker Spaniel is an active, merry sporting dog, standing well up at the withers and compactly built. He is alive with energy; his gait is powerful and frictionless, capable both of covering ground effortlessly and penetrating dense cover to flush and retrieve game. His enthusiasm in the field and the incessant action of his tail while at work indicate how much he enjoys the hunting for which he was bred. His head is especially characteristic. He is, above all, a dog of balance, both standing and moving, without exaggeration in any part, the whole worth more than the sum of its parts.

expression: Soft, melting, yet dignified, alert, and intelligent.

So you have:
noble, gentle intelligent vs
soft, , merry intelligent

The description of the FS is a description of a dog I could adore.

Now I need to keep the papillons safe from a dog of substance, and myself moving to the beat of the rest of my life.

I myself move through the hills. Up, , around, taking sharp curves coasting without the brakes. One minute I have clarity so clear, it rings like crystal in my solar plexus. An hour later, a monkey fist rolls around under my ribs, making the lining of my stomach ache.

Oddly, the people in my life who I count on for support seem to vacillate as well…one moment exciteted about what Ive found..the next shaking their heads in perplexity. Why a bigger dog? Why another dog? Why this?

Why. Because the elements of my life that make me who I am --at my best --are lining up like constellations in this 50th year. They draw a map of the night sky and in it, I travel, up out of the chair, up from the long nap, away from the endless www history and out into the world. Walking. Moving. Sharing the gifts I have found along the way.
Doing good.

the books I write. the dogs I partner with. the man I fly this spaceship with. the

versus

The EC is a great size. Would fit in the corgi crates. Blue Roans have those fabulous big black paws and maps in their coats.

The FS standard calls for: a noble carriage. grave, gentle intelligent expression.

So.....

what DID happen to the collie?

A Dip

Today I feel overwhelmed and pressured.
The H/E litter came up on me so fast... and when I talk to A, I vacillate, hem & haw, stall. She must think I'm so confused! Well actually, I bet she doesn't. She knows exactly how this is, being a thorough investigator herself.

Grooming. Activity. Size. Temperament. I look at my papillons and think how perfect they are.
But for the next step, my vision of the next work...they aren't the right ones. I want something more Newfy-like...Big, slow, sweet. Wait. Not big. Bigger.

Meeting the Field

Drove through a cold drizzle up to Ridgefield, to an agility trial to meet a single FS from No. Washington. M and Gus came along for company. It is a familiar venue, one in which I think I first met DW. A huge drafty horse arena at the edge of the broken down fairgrounds; mud and piles of wood, gravel roads that need replenishing, barns that need whitewashing. Still. It hums with dogs and those who love them.

If ease is part of the criteria, well, this is qualifying. The ease with which I contacted A and then she called me. The trust she puts in my endeavor. The response from Laird about the BD/LD question. The impeccable pedigree of the current litter. The fact that as soon as I got out the car and was putting on my muck boots, I spotted the Field in her snood going for a hurry up.

I thought she was very pretty and shiny, black, with a soulful sweet, moderate head and face. She weighed about 35lbs-- a very manageable size. Smaller, in fact, than I imagined. But then H was the other FS I met, and he’s on the big side…and a boy.

She was quite aloof. She accepted—quite happily---treats, but she eyed me coolly.. and I heard the story of how far she has come out of her misanthropy. She LOVES her mom though, and was very sweet, the way she lay aginst her, head on her bosom.

This was not therapy dog material. The standard does mention the reticence of the Field with strangers. Reticence not to be confused with shyness. Still, in her it ran a little too deep. Her mom said she was scocialized as a puppy, but she also said that she snapped at a man who came at her too straight and she never quite came out of her shell unless she knew you for awhile.

I loved her head. I loved the solid silkiness of her. I went to feel Field spaniel presence, and I liked it. Maybe not this girl, but I was hooked. She seemed quite calm too.

Interesting breed. Very calm, watchful. Soulful. Good. 8 out of 10

I talked to Joan and Q for a bit. Q, the blue merle Aussie is so handsome. I saw Nikki. I thought I might have seen an EC, but I think it was an AC…a roan headed into a crate. Jill J with her corgis. Everyone was cold and damp. I went out to the car to get Gussie a quilt. M wrapped him up in it and held him in his lap on the bleachers. I was really happy I had that quilt for him….one I made coming in so useful.

I got home to some EC letters. Finally got the email addys of the woman up in Seattle who do therapy & obedience with ECs. And the number of a woman who lives quite close by who has an EC from the contact for the Cascade ECSC. Eclipse. Very warm letters, BTW. I know nothing about the dogs. Oh! and some new photos of the H/E puppies.

BigDog/LittleDog

That tide. It rolls up and falls back. I chase it back and forth. I stand in it and feel it rise and fall. It pulls all the water in my brain with it so that sometimes I bubble over with joy; other times the sand is so dry it hurts. Which is to say that I have a lot of feelings and they change by the hour.

And yet I feel all shiny. I feel all bright eyed. There is a lot of energy in this project. I really like this spaniel tribe. It’s kind of like embroidery. If you told me 15 years ago I would be jonesin’ for a flushing spaniel, I’d have laughed in disbelief.

I asked the people on the Papillon list to write me with stories of their experience with keeping Papillons with larger breeds. 10 to 1, the stories are positive. When they go bad, they are tragic. I am trying to map the course of those tragedies.

Here is what I learned:
-Avoid extremes of size difference
-Teach the big dog impeccable door manners.
-Never leave them out alone together or let them run in the yard together.
-Honestly assess the temperaments of your dogs. Little dogs who taunt big dogs are a tragedy waiting to happen, no matter how good-natured the big dog. yet:
-Allow the little dogs to rule
-Learn to read dog.
(Patricia McConnell’s For the Love of a Dog is an excellent book on the body language and expressions of dogs.)

All of the tragedies I heard of involved either tiny papillons or puppies and much larger dogs OR power struggles between males OR the big dog aging and or in some discomfort so that what didn’t bother him before, bothers him now.

AC wrote me that another FS breeder’s mother has 10 FS and a 4lb papillon.

I think they are going to use the new neuro programming with the puppies. I’ll talk more about that later. I want them to temperment test and pay attention to defensivenss and pain thresholds. The less defensive and pain sensitive, the more likely the potential for a therapy dog.

SM said she thought the one who would test best would be a male…There are 4 boys and 2 girls. I think one of the girls and the liver/tan boy are spoken for.

The Return of the Field Spaniel

The tide comes in and goes out. Who knows what it carries? I thought the Field spaniel had gone out with the tide…until AC called this afternoon trying to suss out my current intentions. We talked about size…she said, “You’re gonna get an English Cocker.” And I thought she was making a prediction.but I think she was asking a question.

I really have fallen for the breed. I love that the standard calls for a noble carriage and gentle grave intelligent eyes. I love that they will carry their own ear in their mouth if they can’t find anything else to carry around. And there’s this other thing, they remind me of a well worn leather jacket that fits perfectly. One you always want to put on.

Then I was all nudgey…I can’t let the balloon go, so I called my vet and asked him about big dog little dog households and he said not to give it a second thought; if anything, the little dogs pick on the big one. Go for it, was his answer. How cool that you found your dream dog. (My dream dogS. I have already 3.)

Then I was nudgey all evening when we were sitting in the theater watching William Hurt as Dr Astroff in Vanya. When we came home, M and I talked about it again. The conversation does not go well. Plus he’s tired. I should NEVER talk to Mark at night. The morning is a much better bet. In any case:

He thinks it would be irresponsible to bring a new dog in. Mainly because he thinks the parrots don’t get enough attention. And it would complicate things. It’s true about the parrots, about whom I am at a loss. I find it difficult to engage with them, and they won’t really just hang out. Well She won’t. She wants interaction. I need to address this more vigorously.

I don’t mind complications. Sometimes they are irritating and overwhelming…but in this arena they are always interesting.

The tide also brought in a piece of the bowl I had only subconsciously recognized…which is that M is not charmed by the spaniels. He still thinks corgi, collie papillon. Not a bad way to think…but I believe he’s kind of taken aback by my fervor. He’s very loyal, he is, to what he knows and loves. I find that moving.

It has to be a joint venture. And he’s right. But that doesn’t make the idea go away, nor does it make it a “bad idea.” He has reason to stand on. Practicality, reasonableness. There is no argument. But it leaves a flat plane in my heart where there were tall noisy grasses on mountains that hurry down to the sea.