Happy Anniversary

This is Pepper. She's happy because she has all of her toes.

(I would use a photo of Olive's current state, but Scott doesn't want to see her until her fur grows back.)

Last week was eventful. Poor Olive Dog had to have another toe removed (cancer scare). Last time it concerned her right front foot. That was two years ago already. At that rate I figure she's got enough toes left to serve her well through the end of her days. This time, it was an offending toe on her left hind leg. It had to go. Since we've had experience, we didn't hesitate. The sooner, the better.

The nice thing about dogs is that they don't behave like humans would if we were to lose a digit or two. Dogs don't realize that something like lopping off a toe could have their human catering to their every whim with homemade meatballs, sympathetic glances and lots of love and attention (more than usual, I mean). They don't worry that they'll be treated differently because they're suddenly less than perfect. They're not babies when it comes to surgery. Olive hopped into the car straight from the recovery room at the vet's (a little unsteady, but still enthusiastic) and looked at me as if to say, "I'm feeling better! Let's get outta here!"

Shortly after we got home, I injured my hip, I think due to a combination of schlepping boxes and hoisting my recovering Schnauzer (that's not a metaphor for anything). Olive went back home with Jillian, who provided excellent post-op care. I cancelled my plans to go to the island, since walking is a major activity for us there. The weekend was spent instead catching up on TV while the Aleve and bed rest did its thing. That strategy worked. I'm perfectly fine again and so grateful.

Last week we also celebrated our wedding anniversary. Scott and I were married on the island on Fall 1st (my favorite season) five years ago. Fall 1st is our official anniversary, instead of tying it to the specific date. The morning news mentions the changing of the seasons, so it's a built-in reminder of our wedding day. It's worked every year so far.

Since I'd cancelled my trip to the island, we spoke on the phone that night. "Five years," I say. "Yeah," Scott says, "I remember our wedding like it was yesterday. I can think of a million reasons why I'm so happy that we got married."

What a sweet thing to say. I remember our wedding too, but that's for another story. My female side prepares to hear some tender, thoughtful sentiments, but my logical side knows I'm in for some interesting and honest Aspergian insight. A million reasons? Really?

"Name seven," I say.

Without hesitation he says, "Well, it adds an extra layer that makes it harder for you to escape." That was unexpected and I laugh out loud...he's so honest in his innocent delivery of a line like that.

The next benefit he mentions is, "I've noticed that people figure that if I'm married, I must be more normal than I seem." "Stop there," I say. By now I'm certain all "million reasons" are along similar lines. That's sweet enough, really sweet, thank you. Romantic too...very nice.

Quickly sidetracked, we went on to discuss the government site he found online that, among other things, posts and discusses Obama's memos (the most recent detailing a collaborative, translucent government, which is another topic Scott writes quite a bit about). He's now joined their membership and enjoys the site as a valuable sounding board for his ideas. He's excited and happy, and I'm happy for him.

Though we've never really exchanged anniversary gifts, Scott asked about the traditional gifts for a fifth anniversary. I looked it up and read that wood, representing strength and a solidified relationship, and silverware, representing connectedness, are the traditional and modern gifts associated with the fifth wedding anniversary. We're more than covered since we're using plenty of wood on the incredible home we're building on the island.

Notice Scott's Grinch T-shirt. Notice all the wood.

As for connectedness, silverware isn't as modern or appropriate as the Internet in representing our connectedness, since that's not only where we met, but what keeps us connected to most everyone else in our world too.

Like you, for example. Thanks for dropping by. Come back again soon...

USMC ODB (Olive Dog Bryan)

I miss Olive, and it makes me happy when Jillian sends a smiling dog photo my way. A lot more dressing up of the doggies goes on at my daughter and son-in-law's house. Olive seems proud of her military status.

Olive Dog Sleepover

I've had painters at the mainland house all of last week and they're still finishing up. The house is also getting ready for new floors (the old ones yanked out), so it's a minefield of exposed nails, staples and the like, not very dog friendly.

Case in Point - This is a nail UNDERNEATH the step and it still grabbed a tuft of Schnauzer hair:

Olive has been staying with my daughter and son-in-law at their new home in Oceanside. There's a big backyard filled with a large expanse of green grass there, which is rare both on the island and in Laguna.

I sure do miss her, so Jillian emailed me these photos today, showing how much my doggie enjoys the novelty of green grass...

As you might imagine, there's a happy "Wookie" sound that goes along with all that enthusiasm.

Here she is flipped back over, fluffed up from the exuberance!

It's difficult to get a good shot of a black dog...but apparently easier when they're encrusted with grassy bits. I love my happy Giant Schnauzer...and my kids.

Spring Break Benefits

This image sums up an experience available on Catalina Island that would be hard to find anywhere else on the planet! In most places, golf carts are filled with golfers in jaunty garb, expensive equipment and icy beverages.

Until the recent arrival of Neighborhood Electric Vehicles, Avalon was the only city in California where standard issue golf carts were considered "street legal." This one isn't just legal...it's so cute it should be mandatory!

Michele, one of Olive's favorite people, is the driver. She stopped the cart for some doggie love. The batch 'o cuties are her nieces (they must've just arrived, judging by the luggage and Hello Kitty backpacks). That cart was bursting with goodness...

O is for Olive

I've had big dogs for almost 30 years now. Not just any big dogs...always a Giant Schnauzer. They're so smart and can learn almost anything (besides teaching you a thing or two). They have a keen sense of humor, know when something is funny and how to make you laugh. I had more time to spend training Olive, since my daughter was an adult when Olive showed up. That initial training has paid off in ways you can't imagine. I recommend the book Don't Shoot the Dog, which explains "shaping behavior." It's how they teach chickens to dance, and dolphins to perform precision choreography. It also works on humans (its theories have definitely helped me with my Asperger husband)...but it's very counterintuitive. Just let go and lean in...it's worth it.

Once I read an article that said that the love for dogs stimulates an area in your brain that is very different from the area reserved for loving people. That makes so much sense to me. I like to keep both those areas lit up as much as possible, it feels so good. Everyone should encourage the enjoyable company of dogs to keep those synapses firing. Don't let that area of your brain dim out if you can help it.

Our island friend Katherine featured Olive (and my grand-dog Pepper) in her blog, and shows off her handiwork on Olive's behalf. She created a "faux paw" for Olive after she'd had the fur shaved off of her leg for some exploratory poking and prodding at the vet's. There's a photo of Olive's skinny, shaved version at the link.

For a close up of the "cure," click on the image above and see what a great illusion Katherine's creation is! You might wonder what prompted the inspiration of creating such a thing.

Olive is used to the island "PupPerazzi," which is what we call visitors to the island who miss the family dogs they've left behind. Understandably as we're spotted going on one of our daily walks with her by these animal lovers, they are dying to lavish their doggie affection on Olive. After all this time, though she's not what could be described as enthusiastic, she's calm, accommodating, and will tolerate a fair amount of attention without complaint. She'll offer a "high five," and have her photo taken with strangers holding her leash...she's the equivalent of a celebrity willing to take time for her fans, even in the middle of a favorite activity. However, because of her status as surrogate dog, Olive is used to hearing a very specific set of words from those who approach her, usually in this order:

Q: What kind of dog is it?

A: SHE's a Giant Schnauzer.

Q: What is her name?

A: Olive - Big Black Olive - All Love.

Q: How old is she?

A: Eight.

General exclamation (at any time in the process): WHAT A BEAUTIFUL _______ (Baby, Dog, Puppy)!!!

Comeback: Thanks, she thinks you're great too!

That's about it, and she hears that series of words over and over. She immediately knows she's in for some manhandling and that our walk is going to be interrupted whenever someone starts to fawn over her.

Enter the shaved leg/paw, and a new, very different set of words rush in, with a very different voice intonation. No longer is she beautiful...a Giant Schnauzer, eight, or Olive.

Exclamation: OHHHH....what happened to her paw/leg/foot?

Olive's response: She tucks her foot in, hangs her head....

Slip on the fuzzy noodle that is Katherine's carefully crafted "Faux Paw" and she's transformed:

Beautiful Olive, eight-year-old Giant Schnauzer!

(here with her friend Riley)