Gloomy Sunday

A threat of snow that will probably be rain dampens down the morning and I wake up finally vanquished by this cold that has been chasing me around with its burlap bag.
No wonder…Friday I spent 6 hours cleaning the house the effort of which induced muçh sweating and fatigue and yesterday, for M’s birthday, we went out twice in the cold rain, and both times I got chilled.

So now it’s Sunday in bed. Which means the 3 papillons are curled up in the quilt and Maudie is folded onto her bed n the corner. She groans and resettles. It’s not an unusual Sunday ritual, but this time I am here by edict and not by choice and the longer I can maintain the current state of restfulness and temperature, I am healing. We love when all of us are nested and still and they needn’t worry that I’ll go out without them; and I don’t have to. We are a tiny nation of nappers, of rolled up breathing, an industry of heat.

In one small boat, we float and bob over the hours as they follow one another into afternoon.

CBS News on R.E.A.D.

Can Dogs Teach Kids To Read?
A nice video on the READ program
(click title)
CBS News Online

The Library

January 15, 2008

We had our first hour working in the library! Two readers came, G, a boy around 11, very sweet --and T, a 5 year old girl with luminous clear eyes and sturdy presence. Her mom and newborn sister were there too. Mom sat on the floor with baby next to Maudie and Maudie was magical with the infant…. she floated her long nose just over the baby’s skin and ear very gently, and the baby showed nothing but delight.

People coming in and out of the library ignored us, or stopped and stared; some came over and made friends with her, smiling widely. Others, mostly immigrants with covered heads, looked at us askance…perhaps something in their cultural fiber just couldn’t place an animal in a library. She was hard to miss, large and lovely and composed, taking an interest in everything. At one point she got very interested in a man at the checkout I think she thought was M.

She did well, was friendly and calm, if a little uncertain about her role. She was very good with the kids and lay down near their chairs as they read. At one point, T jumped up to bring the book around to her face so Maudie could see the pictures and I think it startled her.

Her startle response is to turn away quickly..,.in it I see the seeds of a fear response…but she stops just short and I have always been able to turn her back with calm support. I asked T if she would like to give Maudie a treat and everything settled in a moment.

The more she does this, the easier it will be; children have not been a staple in her life yet she accepts them with a collie’s equanimity and generosity. Pretty soon, they will be friends.

Me. I am delighted by the kids and their relationship to books and words…the illustrations, the new narratives…

I wonder how it would be if we worked in a school with kids targeted as needing more reading practice…but then, who DOESN’t need, or benefit, by more reading practice?

The Bath

I spent 4 hours today grooming Maudie: dematting, untangling, combing, raking, wetting, soaping, rinsing, drying, brushing. M helped me, lifted her up onto the table, held up her tail while I cleaned, gingerly cut out the mats under her arms, took turns with me working on her pants, broke up the dry stuff stuck there, and then loosed the ropey streams of water over her while I soaped, and worked the dryer hose over her while I brushed. The whole time, she rocked back and forth on the grooming table, toying with the idea of launching herself, and pushing her bulk up against the wall where the comb couldn’t go. Miraculously, when we did finally get to the bath part, she jumped right in…last time I had to heave 60 lbs of No I Don’t Want To up into the tub.

I don’t know why I held the notion that it would be easy. Maybe I have a sentimental attachment to the idea that this is a coat for the hard weather and thistle of the Highlands. It was a massive job to get it into form. When I was done cleaning out the tools, spitting the stray hair out of my mouth, and standing back to look at her I didn’t even dare try the comb test. That’s the one in which you put a comb anywhere in the coat and pray it slides through without hitting a snag. No sir. What I don’t know today won’t get me until next week…

Winter. Her crowning glory, her mahogany sable is thick, dense with wooly undercoat that sticks together like a sweater. The mats that worked themselves into the overlooked places.…inside the thighs, under her arms, deep in her culottes, like papillon mats times 500, are either knitted or felted. The knit ones can be combed out; you hold them in your fingers between the comb and the skin so as not to hurt your dog by pulling on her fur and gently try to work the knot out, moving from the end of the hair inwards. The felted masses, the thick airless mats, have to be cut. Carefully. Nothing looks worse than lopsided chopped off pants.

At 1am she is still damp in places near the skin. And fluffy.

There is something so dog like, so large and beastly about a collie that I hadn’t checked under her tail as often as I should, at least as often as I check the paps; I will not make that mistake again. My fingers ache, my hands are dry…and I can still hear the ping of the comb teeth as they caught on a snag that would not untie.


Whereas the paps look their best in the 24 hours--make that 12--- hours after a bath, I found the corgis, and now the collie, to look best after 24 hours. I brush A LOT in those hours, to bring the oils back into the coat, but until then they have unruly fluff. I’m certain someone can tell me a secret about getting it right without waiting…and I will have to investigate because The Bath will be a monthly ritual now that we are about to start our therapy work. Certainly I will be staying more current on the affairs of the undercoat, under the tail and in all those nooks and crannies where fur goes feral…

My friend DW and I were once talking about AP Terhune’s stories. She thought it was hilarious that the collies who found their way into the wilderness through misfortune or escape always came out of the woods one day in glorious coat, burnished by the wind, clean from the snow and clear rivers, thick and full over muscles developed through hunting and senses honed by survival. I suspend disbelief for Terhune, and take the stories as mythical, metaphoric…in the wild we are made whole… But today, praising the creator of the Little Dog Without an Undercoat Who Can Be Washed in the Sink…. I saw her point.

Anyway. Yes…Our first gig is in the library for an hour, once a month in the evening as a R.E.A.D team…Starting this week, we’re in the schedule through April.
As we move towards Spring..and the challenge becomes wrestling that sweater of an undercoat off…and making bags and bags of That Which Could Be Spun on the Wheel, I’m sure the ritualization of cleaning will become easier. It was easier in the fall.

Maudie just glided into the room where I am writing, shuffling her back feet like my grandfather in his leather slippers. When she lies down I listen for the groan of pleasure that always comes from lying down. She’s tired. She had a long day. And I can get back to wondering what our first visit will be like.

Papillons

My sister is due home in Boston with her new papillon today. He has been in foster care through Pap Haven in Florida. 9 months old and from the sound of it, full of intelligence, fun and beans….
She spent last night in a grungy hotel in Gainesville with the little guy who was eager to make friends but confused and a little worried about where his foster mom was. My sister didn’t sleep at all well, as he barked whenever he heard a sound in the hallway and kept running to the door to see if it was Judy come back for him. I am so freaked out, she said to me on the phone at 1am EST…Funny, you don’t sound freaked out…I said. She sounded like she was in love…and the freaked out part was just an old habit, the expected response in such a situation. They should be home about now and I’m anxious to hear how it all unfolds…. I’m happy for them and for Maggie, her other papillon (that's Maggie's picture above) …because even if she’s got her little culottes in a twist over this teenage invader…he will give her more to think about and to do and I have no doubt that they will become friends. In my experience, papillons truly enjoy the company of other papillons and incidents are rare.
It is such an exciting time…these days when you bring a new dog into your life, full of possibility and promise. And for some, I think the anxiety and fear are just as high.
I remember the day I went to get Flynn as the first time I was singularly joyful. Utterly happy. Absolutely positive. It remains one of the great days of my life, especially paired with the day 2 weeks prior when Debbie Wood and I drove up to LaRen to see who might be available to be my first papillon. Turned out Cinnamon, the girl I had met in January and felt a special affinity for (see Aug 07) felt similarly and so became Flynn with very little to-do. She remains my familiar, my soul mate, the most enchanting creature I know.
I think in the midst of all this collie magic I have neglected to say how much papillons mean to me. If collies are, for me, the mythic Ur dogs, then papillons are the 7 dwarfs to my Snow White, little space aliens in dog suits, silky angels with tiny feet and teeth, gremlins, ancient jesters that can sing like monkeys and imitate the sound of wolves howling from very far away. Toy border collies, cats in dog bodies. I adore them and cannot imagine ever not living with them.
Right now the three of them form little sprawls scattered across the quilt. One is snoring, inviting me to come back into sleep, to curl up with them in the little dream box and sigh contentedly…just to be here with them in the world.