Goggies! (That's "doggies" in LOLDog)

I've been transporting more dogs on their way to foster and forever homes since I first posted about doing this. And today was a treat because I got to meet my first German Shorthaired Pointers (GSPs) in person. Someone on the NBRAN volunteer list forwarded a call for drivers for a "GSP Express" run for National GSP Rescue carrying two 2-year-old GSP females; since it was coming right through our area, I volunteered. And I fell in *love*. If it weren't for the fact that Bullock *really* doesn't want a second dog and we're not sure Pippi would be happy to have a dog friend, I'd be signing up to adopt a GSP right now. And Bullock was pretty charmed, too -- I took him along because these were young and rambunctious dogs, and I knew I wouldn't be able to drive and manage them at the same time.

Anyway, let me give you a sense of how lovable they were. Meet Blue (the black and white dog on the left) and Cora (the liver and white dog on the right), two of the sweetest love-bugs I've ever met:


They look a little scared here (and wouldn't you be in their situation?), and Cora kept a kind of curious and serious demeanor most of the time, but they were also eager to be petted and to give kisses in return, and they settled into the car almost immediately. Blue even rolled over for a belly rub as soon as she got in the car, and Cora rested her head on the back of my seat, next to my head, for most of the ride as she watched where we were going. Blue, meanwhile, rested her head on the console in between the seats -- all the better to get ear-scritches from Bullock. And they were hilariously bi-polar: in the car they were mellow and calm (Blue even slept soundly for half the ride), but out of the car during the exchanges from one driver to another, they were insane balls of excitement and energy. Blue tried to crawl over my back to get out of the car as I untethered their leashes from the seatbelts because getting out of the car was SO EXCITING she just couldn't wait! But both in and out they were full of kisses and doggy affection. Adorable! And just look at Cora's eyes and reddish-brown fur. Wouldn't she look great with Pippi? And apparently Blue's coloring is rare -- it's likely she comes from a true *German* GSP pedigree since black and white isn't yet recognized by the AKC as part of the breed standard. Or maybe she's part English Pointer (which does come in black and white). Eh, who cares -- she was a doll. It was hard to hand either of them over, and now they're already half way through the next state in their journey. Sigh.

Btw, GSPs also come in a roan variation, like Pippi, and a roan GSP is the star of that Toyota "squeaky toy" ad you may have seen. ("Roan" in this context means the colors are blended together -- so liver and white are blended on GSPs and the orange and white is blended on Pippi. An American Brittany can also be liver and white, whether roan or not.) This also give you an idea of the crazy energy of a GSP. If you have a dog, you might want to play this video when the dog isn't around. Or, play it and watch your dog possibly go nuts looking for the toy:



Anyway, before Cora and Blue, I did two more Brittany runs. I promise not to post about *every* run I do -- I'll generally stick to notable dogs. But since I could never get Toby, on that first run, to face the camera, I thought I'd give you the opposite now. Meet Silas, who wanted to know, "What's that thing you're pointing at me? Can I eat it?"


Silas was a sweet, older gentleman, and a good copilot, as you can see here:


And before Silas, there was sweet, adorable Julio, a 10-month-old who wanted nothing more than to cuddle in my lap and get belly rubs. Luckily once he was getting said belly rubs, he was pretty calm -- a bit like the effect of a snake charmer's music on a cobra -- and so I was able to drive one-handed and rub Julio's belly with another. And oh, he was so, so soft. I often say that petting Pippi, who is also very soft, is like petting a bunny, but Julio was even softer. So I guess petting him was like petting a *baby* bunny. Heavenly! Unfortunately, what I wasn't able to get from Julio was a picture, because I was driving him after dark. But here are the small photos from the adoption site:



But don't fall in love with him -- turns out his foster already has and is adopting him. Hooray for Julio!

And what would a dog post be without a bonus picture of Pippi for all of her internet fans? Here's one of Bullock's 1,000+ photos of her (no, I'm not exaggerating!), this one from last summer:

Going to the dogs

Yesterday I drove 285 miles for two dogs named Toby and Brittany.

You see, we got Pippi from a national breed-specific rescue agency called National Brittany Rescue and Adoption Network (NBRAN), an organization run almost entirely by volunteers, and funded by donations, the good will of the volunteers who rescue, foster, and transport the dogs, and the $350 adoption fee you pay when you adopt a dog from them (which, when you think about it, doesn't really cover the expenses of a dog who's been fostered for any length of time). Anyway, Bullock and I can't really foster a dog -- Pippi doesn't get along with all dogs, and she seems well-suited to be an only dog; plus walking one of her is challenge enough -- but I wanted to help out with more than donations. So I put my name on the list for the transport drivers.

When a dog is pulled from a shelter and transferred to a foster home, or adopted into a "forever home," the dog might need to travel some distance to that home. When we adopted Pippi, she came from a foster home in our state, so her foster mom drove her to our house herself. But sometimes a Wisconsin dog might need to go to NY or a Texas dog might need to get to Pennsylvania, and so on. NBRAN will transport dogs up to about 1300 miles, and it's done with a chain of drivers who drive legs of about 60 miles each. Yesterday, on my first ever run, I drove two of them (and of course there and back again, accounting for the almost 300 miles), picking up two dogs along the way. I left the house at 7:15 am to get to the first meeting place and got back around 1pm.

First, I picked up Toby, a very handsome, mellow, sweet 5-year-old boy eager to meet new humans and dogs, but a little untrained and, sadly, deaf. But he was going to his "forever home," so his story already has a happy ending. Anyway, he was an affectionate love bug who wagged his tail and greeted me with a kiss right away. That's kind of novelty for me, as Pippi is deciding *not* the kissing kind. And when he got into my car, he decided that my lap was a great place to sit and look out the window:


Eventually I convinced him that he couldn't stay in my lap or else I wouldn't be able to drive, and he pouted:

He hid his face from me like this every time I tried to get a picture, and I didn't figure out until I dropped him off at my last meeting point that he was terrified of the camera! Poor boy! I didn't realize I was torturing him! But who would think that a dog would be terrified of a little point-and-shoot digital camera? But maybe he didn't know what it was or would do. And since he's deaf, when his head was turned, I couldn't soothe him with calming sounds or tell him he was a good boy.

Eventually he decided to move to the back seat, and at our first stopping point, we were joined by Brittany, a 9-year-old Brittany/Beagle mix. Brittany came with a crate, and I was planning to put Toby back in the front seat and Brittany in her crate in the back to keep them apart, but they got along quite well from the start. This kind of amazed me, as Pippi is such an alpha that she would have already claimed the car as her territory by this time and not wanted to share it. But here's Brittany posing for her portrait and Toby turning away, as usual:


In hindsight, I should've noticed that Toby's tail was tucked, but sometimes it hard to see that on a Brittany with a stub tail. When he wasn't hiding his face from me, he "dug" a little "hole" for himself (he scratched back the blankets and kept scratching at the upholstery until he was satisfied) and curled up and slept until we got to the next stop, where he'd excitedly greet the new people -- and the new dog -- just like he greeted me. Brittany was equally a great little traveler, settling down right away, just as in the picture (which I snapped as soon as we got in the car). It's amazing how resilient these animals can be. Occasionally she'd whine a little, but who can blame her: she was being transferred from stranger to stranger after having spent the first 9 years of her life with her family, who had to give her up because of financial disaster. Poor thing. Poor family!

I think, by the way, that's why I spend some time and money on helping companion animals -- it's as much about the people as it is about the animals. (The fact that it's NBRAN is just because we have a personal connection to them and the Brittany breed.) Anyone who has to give up their beloved pet wants to know it will find a nice home, and someone who adopts a dog (or any animal) is obviously getting something in return: love, joy, companionship, affection, and all the other benefits of pet ownership. So I'll probably do it again and again. I just hope the next dogs are just as easy as Toby and Brittany. And maybe I'll get better pictures of them!

What do Puritans and my dog have in common?

Answer: They both object to Nativity scenes.

Yesterday evening the neighbors set up their garish Nativity scene on their patio and plugged it in to glow its tacky plastic glow all evening. It's one of those molded plastic numbers that light up from inside, which brings new meaning to the Christmas song lyric, "...With their faces all aglow!" They used to put it out front, but the baby Jesus was stolen one year, so now they set it up in back. (Hmph. Serves them right for putting out baby Jesus *before* Christmas!) Last year they set it up around the concrete goose already back there -- you know those ones that you can dress up, that people often have on their front stoops? -- and gave the goose a Santa hat as it gazed upon the baby Jesus. Yeah, I know, it boggles the mind.

Anyway, this was all done while Pippi was indoors and paying more attention to Bullock's pork roast* than anything outside. But when we let outside before bed time, she quickly spied the tacky ensemble, raced over to the neighbor's fence, raised her hackles and barked at it in her "I don't like you one bit -- back off!" bark, which she usually reserves for the poor UPS men, all of whom are terrified of her. (This bark is not to be confused with her "hey you cat/raccoon, get out of my yard!" bark of mild warning or her "squirrel! squirrel! omg, squirrel! must get the squirrel!" Technicolor whine of madness.)

She has since made her peace with the set in the daylight -- thank god, for us and the neighbors (whom I like, despite their lapses in taste) -- but she still occasionally gives it the stink eye when she sees it from the corner of her eye and momentarily mistakes it for a threatening intruder.

I think my dog may be a French Huguenot (well, she *is* a Brittany). Either that or she just has good taste.



*With no kids and no old people this Thanksgiving, we chucked the whole turkey tradition. Who wants turkey when you can have pork??

Weeeeee!!!!

That's Pippi running with a friend at "dog camp" while Bullock and I were in Paris last month. Our trainer/boarder took this picture and others, and gave them to us in an envelope on which was written, "What I did on my vacation..." Vacation is right! Doesn't Pippi look like she's having fun? Lisa, her trainer/boarder, has a 5-acre lot of land and the dog run is at least a full acre. I don't know the other dog, but in all the pictures s/he was either with Pippi or on her way over to Pippi. Clearly they made fast friends! And I have to say -- what a good idea to take pictures, especially for those of us who were boarding our furry family member for the first time!

Pippi's not the only department dog who goes to Camp Lisa, as we call it. We learned about it from our friend Victoria, and the department secretary -- whom I shall call Wonder Woman -- has also trained and boarded her dog there. It's a popular place -- with good reason.

Anyway, I offer this in lieu of a substantive posting, which I hope will return soon!

Three words for the Obama family on their search for the perfect dog

Breed

Rescue

Groups

(Links go to the AKC list of AKC recognized hypoallergenic breeds, the AKC's list of breed rescue groups, and the Portuguese Water Dog Club of America's rescue program -- just as one example of a hypoallergenic dog available through rescue.)

Weekend fluffy cuteness

Because Bardiac requested it and because I haven't posted since Monday and wanted to put *something* up, here's the best picture Bullock's taken of Pippi so far. If you're a digital photo freak and have your monitor calibrated for truest color, then this picture is the closest we've come to capturing Miss Pip's true color on digital film (although my amateur attempt that now resides permanently in the sidebar isn't bad). But what I like best about this picture is that he caught her in ears-up attentive mode -- I *love* it when she does that.

Bask in her cuteness!


As always, click to "enbiggen" if you wish to see her cuteness up close and personal.

The killer among us

Pippi has killed more than one baby robin since moving in with us in March. There's a pair of nesting robins in our maple in the back yard who don't seem to get it that if they want offspring, they really should change address.

But today, for the first time, I had to pry a baby robin from Pippi's mouth. Ew.

Here's what happened: I heard Pippi whining down in the family room, and realized she hadn't been out in a while, so I let her out. She made a bee-line for something, but I couldn't see what. Then two adult robins started dive-bombing her. She retreated and at that point I couldn't see anything in her mouth, nor, after looking around, any sign of a baby in our yard. But I must have missed it, because after another dash to the particular part of the yard where the adult birds were chirping madly, Pippi came back triumphantly with the baby in her mouth. Then, like a good bird dog, she dropped it at my feet.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that we're correct in our theory that Pippi first belonged to irresponsible hunters who didn't tag her or look for her when she somehow got lost.

Anyway, this is where I screwed up. I praised her for dropping it, but then noticed that the poor thing was still moving. Shit, I thought, I've got to put it out of its misery. And since she dropped it at the back door and seemed to want to go inside (which might have also meant that she'd scoop it up on the way inside), I needed to figure out how to get her in without her bringing the bird in.

Pippi must have taken my dithering as a sign that the bird was hers -- or else she wanted to play "tug" and "fetch" with it -- because she scooped it up, pranced away, and them came back to me, pleased as punch, but without dropping it again. She kept nosing me with the bird in her mouth (ew!) and then sitting in her alert, waiting-for-a-command/treat/reward kind of way. Maybe she was waiting for me to say "OK," which means she can eat it. But instead I kept saying "Drop it! No, Pippi, drop it!" and dancing away from her. This confused her, so she started to gnaw gingerly on the thing, but still kept approaching me with it. And every time she did, she seemed to gulp the thing further into her mouth, so that now all that was showing was a leg and the little head.

So I did what I did when I need to get a broken beef bone out of her mouth: I tried to pry her mouth open while saying "drop it!" But I don't mind touching gnawed beef bones; half dead or, by now, dead baby birds are another thing. So I wasn't getting my fingers in the back of her mouth, where it's most effective. At any rate, after some wrestling with her over it, Pippi gave up and dropped it in the driveway, away from the back door. All of this was going on, by the way, while two screeching adult robins were dive-bombing us both. I praised her -- though probably, at this point, in a somewhat hysterical voice -- and commanded her inside.

I gave her a Greenie, which probably rewarded her for behavior I *don't* want, but I saw it as a) rewarding her for dropping it and coming inside on command, and b) cleaning her mouth, which was now full of bird guts and feathers -- ew!! This also calmed her down somewhat and gave me the opportunity to go clean up the slaughter while she stayed inside.

It was indeed a slaughter now. Having given up on my wanting the thing when I didn't scoop it up the first time, Pippi stopped being the soft-mouthed bird dog who's supposed to give you a whole and unmarred bird and really dug into the poor thing. Blood and guts were everywhere. Well, at least it was now dead and not half-alive and suffering.

I really hope the robins get a clue and move their nest!

Costco muffins are dog crack

What the frak are they putting in those Costco muffins? Whatever it is, Pippi finds it abso-frakin-lutely irresistible.

Now that may not seem all that unusual, but you have to understand that Pippi is probably the best-behaved dog ever when it comes to food impulses and behavior: she doesn't beg and under normal circumstances doesn't counter-surf. I can sit on the couch and eat over my lap something as seemingly irresistible as a salmon burger, and she'll lie politely at her end of the couch without so much as sniffing my way. (And believe me, she absolutely loves salmon.) We can even set our dishes down on the coffee table, with food on them, and she won't disturb them. She sits to receive her own food and won't eat unless she has sat and then been told "OK." (We get some of the credit for this, but I think we lucked out in terms of her eager-to-please and quick-to-learn personality.)

But when it comes to the Costco muffins, we have to guard them with our lives. Her one instance of counter-surfing came in the first weeks we had her and involved a lemon-poppy seed muffin which she managed to get out of the still partially plastic-covered tray and then devoured in seconds. And then last night, Bullock left the mere wrapper from his just eaten blueberry muffin on his plate on the coffee table, and the second we got up from the couch, she snatched it from the plate. I had to pry her mouth open to fish it out. (We haven't worked on "drop it" yet, though I was repeating the phrase as I forced her mouth open, hoping she'd start to pick it up.) Thank god she's a gentle soul who lets me pry around in her mouth like that.

Seriously, what's in those things? Why does Pippi have such an uncontrollable impulse for them? It's a little troubling!

Designer dog

In the comments to the post below, Karl suggested that if I redesign the blog, then I might want to consider making Pippi part of the design element. Hm. There's a thought. In fact, maybe I should design the colors to match her. After all, she already matches my home decor:


No, I didn't get a Brittany to coordinate with my decor. Honest, I didn't. It just happened that way.

Dog tired

My two redheads, Bullock and Pippi, having fallen asleep
while watching TV(well, Bullock was watching anyway)

This is how we all feel around here these days. The last two weeks have been utterly exhausting and there's still more exhausting stuff to come, in addition to the usual end-of-the-semester / getting-ready-for-Kalamazoo craziness. And Bullock and I are particularly exhausted because Pippi has decided she's a morning dog. A very early morning dog. She wakes us up at 5:30 now. Anyone have any hints for getting a dog to sleep in later?

Distractions

The craziness at the university in the last week has made getting work done very difficult. Great management technique, don't you think?

Not.

But never mind that for the moment. Here's my other, more pleasant but nevertheless work-defeating distraction:

There will be blood

This is what Pippi's early morning routine has started to look like (prior to her "walkies"):

1) Rattles her crate to wake us up, usually around 6:30 am; gets ignored for awhile and only let out when she's quiet (so as not to teach her to give *us* commands).
2) Gets let out in back yard to do her business
3) Gobbles her breakfast
4) "Kills" one of her toys by violently shaking, whipping, and tossing it around the room.

I've never known a creature to wake up with such blood lust. Should I be worried? Or should I be thankful that if she does manage to catch a squirrel or chipmunk in our backyard, that she'll finish it off handily, instead of leaving us to put it out of its misery?

And speaking of our own little wild kingdom, on our walkies this morning I saw one of the campus falcons kill and carry off a robin. It was both disturbing -- the robin tried to get away and nearly did -- and also kind of cool. Pippi wasn't the least bit interested. Some bird dog. She'd rather get all the squirrels.

My dog is a circus freak!

Bullock and I don't celebrate Easter, so we took the opportunity of fewer people in the city parks today to take Pippi on her first fun outing other than her daily walkies. (We also went to the vet on Thursday, but I don't think that counts, even though she enjoys meeting new people and doesn't seem to have vet anxieties.) It's important for her to meet other people and dogs, too, but it's also nice to have a park largely to ourselves and to be able to observe how Pippi reacts to a handful of runners, cross-country skiers, and dogs with their walkers, rather than whole hordes.

Anywho, I took along my camera to record the event, especially since it was a pretty, snowy day. I took a lot of pictures of Bullock with Pippi walking along, from a distance and from behind, to try to capture the solitude we had. In the midst of taking those pictures, I serendipitously captured this one:

No, you're not seeing things. Pippi is standing completely upright like a soldier at attention (minus the salute), and her leash is totally slack, so Bullock isn't helping her balance at all. And what's more amazing is that she stayed like that for at least 30 seconds. She stood up just as I was snapping the picture, although I didn't quite realize it. I heard Bullock laugh in wonder, looked at the image I'd captured, and then looked up to see Pippi still standing and watched her continue to do so for a little while longer.

This is what she does all the time to look out the windows in the house, but we'd never realized until now that she stands up first and then puts one paw delicately on the sill to hold herself there longer. Bullock now wants to teach her to do it on command as a party trick.

So what inspired this little freakish display? These creatures, of course:


We figure she stood up to get a closer look, since they were on slightly higher ground. For awhile they were just standing there, too, but by the time I got the camera on them, they took off. Oh well -- can't get every shot.




Btw, substantive, non-dog-related posts will return to this blog, I promise. But in the last week, all of my free time has been spent with Pippi, so I've been a little dog-obsessed lately.

Also, I really wanted to call this post "She is risen," but that was too much of a groaner even for me. Plus, I didn't want to mislead people to think I was then going to do a Carolyn Bynum-esque thing on the feminine Jesus or anything. But clearly I had to tell you anyway, for those of you who like your humor with bad puns and blasphemy.

Pippi settles in

We've finally got some good pictures of Pippi at home with us now, and I thought I'd share them. None of them quite does justice to the color of her fur, but they're close.

Day 1: checking all the perimeters and discovering good windows to look out of. So exciting! --


Day 2: getting some snuggles (her belly's still shaved from her spaying operation) --


Day 3: sacked out in Dr. V's study -- must have been all that excitement! --


Btw, note the framed X-Files trading cards in the background of that last photo. My roommate from my first two years in grad school bought that for me at a sci fi convention years ago. Hey, why didn't we think of naming the dog Scully? Oh well.

Tra la la la la, you'll love her too!

Freckles on her nose
Diddle diddle dee
A girl came riding
Into town one day
Diddle diddle
She was quite a sight!
It's Pippi Longstocking, hey ho ho, hee ha ha ha!
It's Pippi Longstocking - there's no one like her!

Yes, we named the doggy Pippi, despite the fact that that wasn't your collective first choice. (Last I checked, Poppy was on top. Close, but no cigar.)

And it fits. In person her fur is as orange as Pippi's red hair in the books and movies. And like the Swedish Pippi, our Pippi also has freckles on her nose, fluffy red ears that don't quite stick out like the storybook Pippi's braids but which approximate the look, and an impish personality.

But what's most Pippi-like about our Pippi is her uncanny strength for such a little girl. Oh. My. God. Pippi is a 34-pound dog who thinks she's a Bull Mastiff or Bernese Mountain Dog. This dog could pull a cart loaded with hay all by herself, I swear. The first time Foster Mom gave me the leash yesterday afternoon, Pippi nearly pulled me off my feet. From that moment, we knew Pippi had to be the name. (There was a brief period last night when I thought we should change it to a Hobbit name -- either Rosie or Poppy -- because she has furrier than furry toes, with these adorable "feathers" sticking up out of them, but then I decided Pippi had already stuck, and we could perhaps see it as a feminine version of Pippin.)

Plus, she responded to it immediately. The first time might have been coincidental, but she's already learned it in less than 24 hours and comes when she's called. We could probably change it to any of the other names if we wanted and she'd learn that, too -- this girl is smart, just like Swedish Pippi. Foster Mom told us she didn't know "sit." It took me one lesson to teach it to her and now she sits on command instantly.

I have to admit I wouldn't say the Swedish Pippi is beautiful (though I might say she's cute!) and our Pippi definitely is. The pictures didn't do her justice. The one that's most accurate is the top one in this post, but there she's clearly just had her hair clipped there, and now it has grown out with characteristic Brittany feathering on the legs. She's so gorgeous in fact that people stop us to tell us so and ask what kind of dog she is.

And what a personality! I'm totally in love. Yes, she's very, very active, but right now it's amusing the hell out of us. She's not nearly as serious as in the pictures -- she's rather clownish, actually. Neither of us have ever known a dog like this. First of all, if something is in her way, she is just as likely to climb over as she is to walk around it -- person sitting on the floor, bed, sofa, whatever. And there will be no keeping her off the sofas and chairs, especially since a couple of them are her means of getting to the window to look out. In some ways she seems more cat than dog. We've gated her out of the really nice rooms for the time being -- the living room and the newly finished dining room -- until we figure out if we can teach her what furniture is "hers" and what's off limits. Thank god the family room sofas are microfiber -- dried dog slobber and hair brush right off. And we've already moved some things around so that she has some benches under windows to sit and lay on so that the sofas aren't her only options.

And she is so incredibly affectionate. It's pretty easy to turn her "off" just by inviting her into your lap, where she'll happily loll for some time. In fact, she prefers laps to just about anything (except maybe sofas), but we're already teaching her some boundaries -- no lap sitting at the dinner table or our computer desks -- and she's learning quickly. And she just loves Bullock. She likes me, too, but she's completely fallen for him, it's clear. Her Foster Dad spent a little more time with her than her Foster Mom, so I think that's the main reason, but Bullock is also one of those people that all animals gravitate towards. And who can blame them? He *is* a lovable man after all!

And you should see her run -- she prances or trots! It's so cute the way she picks up her feet! Whenever she's in the back yard, she races around the perimeter making sure birds and squirrels know this is her yard, and then she runs back to us for petting and cuddles, because, after all, she's just showing us what a good bird dog she is, pointing out all the birds to us. And then she runs some more.

Yup, I'm totally in love. As the Pippi theme song goes (in English, anyway): Tra la la la la, you'll love her too!

The Brittany is coming! The Brittany is coming!

She's coming by car, so should that be one lantern or two? Hee.

We're arranging with Foster Dad for the delivery of the delightful Dog Currently Known as Rowan. His schedule depending, we'll be welcoming her over the next three days. We've bought the supplies will need right away -- crate, leash, bowls, food, treats, etc. -- and we're making things ready for her.

But we still don't have a name for her. So I've created a quiz and posted it below. I think it should show the results after you've taken it, but I've never done this before, so I may come back here and edit this post if it doesn't work.

The names we're thinking of include: Rosie, Poppy, Pippi, Birdie, Hildy, Gertie, Ruby, and Lucy. (Almost all pets in my family and Bullock's have had people names, btw.)

Anyway, before you vote, there are a few things you should know. First of all, here are two more pictures of Rowan (from the rescue agency website -- we don't have our own yet):




As you can see, she's a roan Brittany -- hence her name. And in these pictures she has the stance and alertness of the bird dog that she was bred to be.

Other things you should know: I've read that dogs are more likely to respond to two-syllable names, and that they particularly respond to the the "ee" sound. I don't know how true this is, but I've used it as a guide in picking names. I don't know if Rowan already responds to her current name, which she has had for only about 2 months. If she does and we still really want to change it, that makes "Rosie" the best option.

Bullock is a red-head himself, and he's Swedish-American on both sides of his family -- hence Pippi. Bullock and I are both fans of Lord of the Rings, especially Bullock, and Rosie, Poppy, and Hildy are all Hobbit names -- appropriate for a small fuzzy creature. (Rosie was the beloved of Sam Gamgee and Poppy and Hildy were in the family trees in the appendices.) Also, we have a weird running joke about the actress Poppy Montgomery. Then again, poppies are the flower of memorials to the war dead in Britain, so maybe it's not the right name for a dog, even a reddish colored one.

Birdie is a variant of Brigid/Brigit, and so it has medieval connections, as well as a Gaelic language origin (suitable for a Brittany). And, of course, she's a bird dog. Hildy is both a Hobbit name and potentially a reference to Hildegard von Bingen.

Ruby and Lucy have red associations (as in the jewel and I Love Lucy).

And Gertie was one of the original names I thought of when thinking of dog names in general, long before Rowan was the dog of choice. (If we'd gotten a boy dog, Gus was Bullock's name of choice.)

So enter you opinion below, or make other suggestions in the comments (and also vote for "none of the above"). I can't say that we'll use the name that wins the most votes, but I'm still interested in what you think! (ETA: I voted once just to see it work, but it still showed all choices as 0%. Hm. Well, if that happens to you, feel free to express your opinion in the comments!)

ETA 2: Stand by while I replace the currently crappy Quibblo poll with one from Poll Daddy and see if that works better....Ah, much better.

Doggie! Part Deux (because I don't know Breton for 'two')

Anubis works in mysterious ways.

Betty Boop didn't work out for us, but that just opened the door for the Dog Currently Known as Rowan (pictured above with loldog additions courtesy of moi).

Our home visit went well -- it lasted all of 5 minutes and consisted primarily of the regional coordinator making sure we weren't lying about our fenced-in yard. (Apparently people do, which is weird to me, since there's always a home visit!) She'll send us the contract by e-mail, and then once we fill out that and pay the adoption fee, then we coordinate with the foster dad to make arrangements for Rowan to be delivered to us.

We've already talked to Foster Dad about Rowan and she sounds *awesome*. She's high energy, but I'm looking for a running companion, so that's fine with me. And other than that, he says she's been the easiest foster he's had -- eager to please, easy to train, and already knows and always obeys a number of commands. She's a two-year-old who came to her foster home with bordatella and parasites, as well as matted fur that had to be nearly shaved, but she's been treated for all of those and was a stellar patient and grooming client according to Foster Dad. She's spayed, house-trained, crate-trained, and good on a leash, and though she's an alpha who makes sure the other dogs know she's boss, she's not aggressive. She's also apparently a "great napper" according to Foster Dad. This cracks me up, but I guess it's Foster Dad's way of saying once she's had her exercise she's a calm house dog, which is good.

And there was no other applicant interested in her, thank god! And as soon as I told the regional coordinator that my conversation with Foster Dad was great and that we wanted Rowan, her website bio was updated with "adoption pending."

So, unless Rowan exhibits some previously-unknown fear of red-headed men or curly-haired brunette women, or some other weird and hard-to-overcome trait when we meet her, it looks like she'll be ours. (Knock wood, knock wood, knock wood!!!) We're even running through possible new names, and there's a strong favorite, but we'll wait until we meet the wee beastie (she's only 34 pounds -- she's pretty wee, even for a Brittany). The name Rowan just doesn't do it for us, despite the appropriateness of being Gaelic and meaning red -- it's too masculine, for one thing, and I like dog names that end in -ie or -y. I'll keep you posted on possibilities or decisions made when/if she's truly ours. (I'm sure you just can't wait!)

I am a sad puppy

We didn't get Betty Boop. I have no idea why, but I hope the home she did find is in fact, truly, the best home for her.

I feel like world has turned upside-down and inside-out and *I'm* the dog in the kennel in the shelter in that Pedigree commercial who keeps getting passed up even though I'm so clearly very awesome. (You know the one -- the one with David Duchovny's voice-over that makes me want to give the dog the lines, "David Duchovny, why won't you love me?!" I keep trying to post it here from YouTube but it's not showing up for some reason.)

I feel like baying a sad song, "Ar-roo-roo-roo."

But, there's still hope. There are other doggies we're interested in who need homes. And tomorrow the regional coordinator woman is going to visit our home with one of her dogs, and when she sees that I have the perfect Brittany-sized arm chair in my study, where I spend all of my time, and where a Brittany can happily hang out and watch the birdies in the tree outside, and when she meets Bullock -- whom she hasn't talked to -- and finds out he's gentle and kind and adorable around dogs, she'll know we're the *perfect* Brittany home!

Ack! I can't take the suspense!

There's another applicant interested in Betty Boop. The coordinator says she'll let me know what the foster mother's decision is as soon as she knows. In the meantime, Betty has been labeled "adoption pending" on the rescue organization's web site. Ack! I can't take it! Pick us! Pick us!

Doggie!

Bullock and I have started the dog adoption process with an area rescue organization that specializes in the Brittany, a bird dog bred for hunting, and thus, for better or worse, plentiful around here. We're currently considering this cute 3-year-old girl, whom the rescuers have named Betty Boop:


Squeeeee! How can you not love that face?!

Betty has some house-training issues still to deal with, because it seems she came from a home where they didn't follow up on such things or else kept her somewhere where it didn't matter (her story isn't clear, except that she had several litters of puppies, and yet through it all is still sweet, social with humans and furry creatures alike, and gentle in nature). And so Bullock and I are trying to figure out if we can handle the extra training. Originally we were interested in adult dogs so we wouldn't have to house-break them, but Betty seems so good in so many other ways, that we're still considering her. We still have the house visit by the regional coordinator, and we may go meet Betty or she may come visit us. So keep your fingers crossed for us that whether Betty is our girl, or some other dog becomes part of our pack, that we end up with the right dog for us, and the dog ends up with the right people for her (or him, as the case may be).

Btw, if you're wondering how we ended up looking for a Brittany, this is how it happened. After lots and lots of research about various breeds, as well as obsessive watching of both the AKC/Eukenuba and Westminster Kennel Club dog shows (at least on my part), we came back again and again to the Brittany. For awhile there, as you may recall, I was infatuated with Portuguese Water Dogs, but I decided that the breed wasn't right for us. Working dogs are too clever and willful for me. The Brittany, as a breed, is affectionate, eager to please, not generally willful, smart enough to learn but not deviously clever, and people-oriented. They're an active breed that needs lots of exercise, but I'm looking for a running partner, so that's a good thing in my book. Plus, they're a medium sized breed, which means that in case of an emergency I can pick the dog up myself. After Wiley's ear infection last year, when he was too dizzy to get down from our second floor on his own, I was adamant about getting a dog I can pick up myself. But neither Bullock and I wanted a very small dog; I figured it wouldn't be a great running companion and Bullock just didn't want something too, well, foofy. So that's how we ended up interested in the Brittany. And the fact that the rescue organizations are over-populated with them around here -- this is a big hunting area, and sometimes hunters surrender the dogs who turn out gun shy or don't bird well, or whatever -- made me feel like they were a breed in need.

The regional coordinator was so excited to read in our application that we'd done our research, btw. One of the main reasons dogs end up in shelters and rescue organizations is that people get a dog because it's cute and don't know anything about the breed's general qualities and needs. There's a Boxer down the street who's suffering because of that. Poor thing is left out in the back yard by himself all day and he's clearly bored out of his mind. He barks all day -- and I know it's him because of that characteristic Boxer bark that sounds more like a baby crying than a dog -- and frequently jumps the fence. And I *never* see his owners walking him. Poor thing.

Anyway, not only did the rescue coordinator *tell* me she was impressed that we'd done our research, but the fact that she called at 8:30am this morning after I'd submitted the adoption application around 11pm last night told me something! I suppose the fact that we *weren't* asking for the one puppy they have right now (actually, Betty's pup) made her leap at the chance to give us a call. She was definitely very excited to talk to me this morning!

This is all proceeding much faster than I thought it would. Who knows -- we may have a new addition to the household pretty soon!