Feeling heroic

Yesterday concluded my second week of the winter quarter's yoga classes. I've switched from two evening classes a week to one evening and one mid-morning class a week. I'm feeling heroic because I've actually made it to my 10 am yoga class two weeks in a row. Remember, I normally am barely out of bed yet at that hour and need a couple of hours to drink three cups of coffee, eat something, feed Charly, forget everybody's pills until noon at least, and then decide what to do that day. In class at 10 am, I feel like a statue that's in the early stages of coming to life, blinking, moving awkwardly, testing. Balancing poses are a cruel joke. Ardha chandrasana at 10:30 am? You have to be kidding! No? As for eating at least two hours before class... Well, I ate a banana on the way in the car. I was fine. Burp.

Oregon and Washington are drowning, washing away in spots. I can't recall the last time I saw the sun & am grateful to live atop a hill.

Here's Charly posing with her shoe. Yes, HER shoe, not mine. She knows the difference. She loves to stuff her nose inside, inhaling deeply over and over. I expect one day to be out walking her and see her leap upon the shoe's former owner who donated it to GoodWill. (Wait, she does that to everybody.) 

One of these days I'll have to learn how to arise at 6 am so that I can cope with grandson Henry spending the night. We are starting with him staying here a couple of hours this Saturday, progressing to overnights, and then him moving in for a few days when his new sister arrives. It will be weird and fun, possibly stressful at first, for both of us, adapting.

Doggy day care rocks!

Charly is spending a few hours with somebody besides me. Now I'm at home marveling in the peaceful solitude that has become so rare. I can practice on the whistle to my heart's content without distraction. However, I've spent the first part of my vacation watching Charly on the Dogs Dig It webcam. I am surprised there's not more running around playing. No, everybody's strolling around so calmly I'm a bit disappointed. Oh well. Practice!

"Whooooo-whoooooo!"

I woke up extra early this morning (three alarms set at 7:30, 7:45, and 8:00 am) so I could feed Charly, let her out, shower, maybe even nibble something, kennel Charly and leave by 9:00 am to get to J's house by 9:30. It was 29 F ('ing)! I almost called to say maybe it's too cold to be walking around outside at Saturday Market downtown and then go to see the steam engine (Oregon Pacific Railroad) puff and roar and toot, carrying a load of people up and down a small section of track. Henry is train obsessed, and his face said "Awesome!!!" I'm glad I soldiered up and wore many layers and didn't complain. It was fun, and I really have to stop being such a wuss about cold weather. It's perfect weather, i.e. NOT RAINING.

First obedience class

I came home so frazzled I ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream with a beer. There was good and bad. It's a small class, just four dogs & four people. That was good. I cannot imagine how jittery I'd have been with a crowd. The teacher was a substitute (thank god) who talked like a rushing babbling creek overflowing it's banks and running under tent flaps. I felt like a moron, frozen in place, waiting for a signal (okay we'll start the exercise now) that had apparently slipped by me unnoticed. I was not processing information. Right after hearing the instruction not to give a voice command more than once, I'd set about repeating one, couldn't stop myself. Charly did better than I did. Am I senile or what?

Her assistant, a tall young smiling soft-spoken guy, was a lot better at communicating. He was observant, unhurried, helpful, noticed my confusion, and cleared it up gracefully. I had trouble remembering sequences. They use methods a bit like circus tricks in the effort to avoid ever saying "no" to a dog, positive reinforcement only. It will probably be good for me to develop that skill, but I'll be slow at it.

We did a bunch of stuff Charly already knows (sit, down, stand, come) and "watch" (call her name & if she doesn't turn, put the treat at her nose and direct her nose by moving the treat), which we didn't know. The class was nearly over before we got to loose-leash walking. For the exercise on training the dog to walk on a loose leash, I was instructed to hold the leash at my left hip with my right hand, a treat in my left hand, and reward Charly any time she stood at my left on a loose leash, to move a step or two and reward her again if she was still there, not to move at all otherwise. First of all, I have short arms and am fat. My right hand just barely reaches to my left hip and the position kind of binds me up. Then, since my treats are always in my right pocket, I have to switch that around, which requires also switching my cell phone to the right pocket. She also has a favorite way to fold and grip the leash. By the time I have addressed all these issues and listened to the instructor's stream of chatter on sundry subjects, the exercise is basically over. Then we did a related one, having the dog sit for a treat about every two feet to keep his/her attention, constantly changing direction. By the time we got it almost figured out, it was over. Off we went, to practice from a homework sheet.

Gee, I can hardly wait 'til next Thursday :(

Today, more brilliant sunshine & blue sky! I took Charly to dog park using the leash & prong collar, and every time she pulled I just stopped & backed up & voiced a negative sound. When she didn't pull, I praised her. She was doing pretty well until we got almost to dog park & met a pup on a leash. The usual frenzy ensued, including the now almost standard outcome of me tangling with her rapidly spinning body and falling over. So embarrassing! And after all that, there was no one in dog park.

Jumps-a-lot

I finally got my little bucket lined with compostable bag for collection of dog poop for composting. It's already half full (2-gallon bucket) (maybe 5 days' worth). Princess Poops-a-lot is prolific. It's been well over a week without rain and with lots of sunshine. Phenomenal, but chilly, frosting the fallen leaves the LawnMasters guys forgot to collect. Cold dry dog poop is such a joy to pick up. It's the small things that really matter.

Tonight is our first dog obedience class. Today Charly joyfully knocked down a small girl (maybe 4 years old) in our local dog park. She wasn't hurt, just scared, crying. Stupid mothers. I shouted, scolded, then spanked Charly when she tried to jump on the girl again while she was down, and Charly looked all wide-eyed innocence at me. Can it be she can't distinguish a child her size from a dog her size? Charly and I packed our bags and left for home. She didn't get a walk yesterday and was even more wildly springy than usual. I've been lax on leash training lately, and preparing for obedience class by not using the prong collar lately (not permitted there), so she's taking advantage and wearing out my left arm. I keep thinking obedience classes are my savior, but it will probably take weeks to even get to training at that level. We'll see what happens tonight.

I went to a friend's place Tuesday night for dinner and some music practice (my first time in decades trying to play with anyone else). It (trying to play together) was stressful, but I loved it and want more. Next time we will delay the drinking of wine and whiskey until after practice, which should improve at least my whistling. She had also invited Charly, to my surprise & gratitude, and by golly the dog was perfectly sweet, polite, and responsive to behavior advice. Charly didn't even jump up on her. As she's in a wheelchair, maybe she was low enough already that Charly didn't feel the need to self-elevate. Contrasting this with her abominable behavior today, I'm confused. At home, she even jumps on me when I try to do a yoga pose, though we are working on that. Perhaps my friend just has a knowing way with dogs.

I'm trying to imagine Newt Gingrich as president, wondering if I will have to do what I've been threatening to do for years -- move to Canada.

Family time

Perfect turkey!

Son T flew in for a week's visit, and we gathered with son J & family & friends for the giant turkey extravaganza, awesome spread. It was a good week, good to feel family as a good thing -- a break with the past. A new baby is coming in April, a sister for Henry. Sweet!

There is still sunshine some days here in Portland, though the mud never gets a chance to dry. Only one thing is bothering me: I'm not writing (except here). No poems. So does that mean I'm over that, or is it just a hiatus. I had planned to apply to Lesley University's low residency MFA program. Am I getting scared, or do I no longer want to? I can't tell. I'm puzzled. I don't even remember when the next deadline for applications is... March?

My kitchen table is piled high with the type of mail that is not quite throwaway and should be filed away, but my filing system is only half-organized. It's been at least a month since I've been able to eat there. No problem. I eat at my computer desk, or out. How long can this go on? Am I hoping I'll die before I have to deal with stuff? No!

Actually I lied above. More than one thing bothers me. Mail and muddy paws lead the list. Even with the Paw Plunger I get fed up with washing paws. I also cringe at poop pickup (and the green pet compost place is slow to arrange pickup, had to call them and push)... AND their price has gone up from $4.95 to $6.45 per week! Today I went around the yard pushing dirt back into holes. Apparently Charly found that interesting, as much of it is out again.

I took Charly to a new (to us) dog park in North Clackamas Park. It's fully fenced and much larger than the close one we walk to and feels nicer as its woodsy all around. Charly played hard with three larger dogs near her age, but one of them, a doberman, had an aggressive mouth and bit at her legs, neck, etc., just hard enough to penetrate skin and start a tiny bit of blood seepage here and there. I was ambivalent at first, not sure where the boundary should be exactly, as Charly doesn't object but just goes at it harder (though without biting any holes), but the sight of blood did it for me. Next time I see that dog, we are leaving immediately. It may be a case of not staying with his litter long enough to learn bite inhibition.

Poop solution!

After my last post, it occurred to me to search the internet for a poop service. If it's anywhere, it's in Portland, and by golly it is! Green Pet Compost Co., hallelujah. For almost $5/week, they give you a bucket and some compostable bags and pick up the poop you've collected weekly. For significantly more $, they'll even come and pick up the poop from the yard themselves. I signed up and am awaiting a call. I'm too proud to pay somebody to pick it up from the yard, but yay for somebody driving it away. I just can't live with myself any longer (back of hand to forehead, lashes quivering) sending several pounds of dog poop a week to the landfill in plastic bags. I've read they can break open and squirt poop on the garbage collectors when they (the plastic bags) get smushed in the truck's gaping maw, and they don't get much chance to decompose while buried in a landfill.

I also found instructions for building your own poop composter at home, but really, as wet as it is all nine months of rainy season, I can't see how that would work very well re drainage into soil. Besides, I'm loath to dig a garbage-can size hole in the mud and could probably procrastinate on that for many months.

Gee, I'm sorry I have no poop photo to accompany this post. It's raining outside (and dark).