My Mom is in Love with Kirby

Hello Everyone,  Popcorn here...I think my Mom has gone a little batty since Gingi passed away.  I mean...I miss the fuzzy little stink bear...in my own way...but at least I haven't fallen in love with a vacuum.  Last night the doorbell rang...which I didn't hear...because...as you all know...I am deaf...but none-the-less I could tell excitement was imminent.  Both Diggity (Daddy Dan's brown dog who thinks she is the most perfect dog on the planet) and I could sense trouble...so together we tried to block Mom's passage to the door.  We failed.  She opened the door and there he was...not some tall, dark, handsome stranger as in a fairytale.  In fact, I'm not even sure remember what he looked like...and I am CERTAIN my Mom doesn't remember (of course...she doesn't remember ANYTHING...so this is not surprising.)  I didn't hear what they were talking about (deaf, remember?)  But my Mom's face lit up...like it was Christmas morning and the stocking was full of Starbucks coupons.  I got the gist, though.  The guy was coming back...and he was bringing something with him.  I had a strange feeling that I wouldn't like whatever this "thing" was...but my Mom's face was so bright...almost scary in it's joy...that I decided I would be a good girl and not scare the man with unknown item away.  Mom went outside to tell that new guy who lives here...and looks like her (only with a lot of Jerry Garcia hair) what was happening.  The Jerry Garcia guy's eyes got very large and his hands started to shake.  I saw his lips move into a rather frightening tight line...and then they opened and mumbled something.  Of course I couldn't hear it (deaf, remember?)...but my lip-reading to "dog" translator deciphered the movements into "there is going to be a strange man with a strange machine coming into our house at night to clean a carpet?"  There was much discussion after this...my Mom...her eyes bright...full of joy and laughter...her hands waving around and pointing in all kinds of directions.  The Jerry Garcia Guy started pacing around in circles and pointing at stuff too.  His eyes were not filled with joy and laughter.  Then the guy who looks and smells a lot like Daddy Dan popped out of Mom's old craft room.  His lips started moving too.  I got really nervous and leaned against my joyful Mom.  That stupid brown dog came upstairs too.  She was also trying to get close to my Mom.  We were all crammed in the upstairs hallway.  The humans were pointing and waving and moving their lips all around...and stupid brown dog, I, and that fat fluffy orange cat-like object were wandering around between all of their legs.  It was mayhem...and I didn't like it.  Finally...everyone went their separate ways.  A bit of time went by...and the doorbell rang again...(I couldn't hear it, deaf, remember?)  The stupid brown dog and I did our job and barked ferociously at the door.  Mom shoved us out of the way.  Her eyes were almost in a zombie-state.  They were glassy...and bright...and she was practically skipping.  The strange man brought a medium sized box through the door and carried it up the stairs into the hallway.  Mom followed.  The Jerry Garcia guy went into his room and shut the door...as did the guy who looks and smells like Daddy Dan.  It was just me, the stupid brown dog, Mom, and the stranger with the box.  I kept close to my Mom...the stupid brown dog, too.  Let me tell you (sidebar)...the upstairs hallway is NOT large enough for me...that stupid brown dog...and my Mom.  The stupid brown dog NEEDS TO GO.  The stranger opened the box and brought out a shiny, silvery thing.  It looked a bit like it was made of melted dog bowls that had been reshaped.  He then attached it to a long thing...and now it looked like that horrible monster that Mom and the Jerry Garcia guy drag over the floor sometimes.  Whenever that monster appears...I disappear...if you know what I mean.  But this time I overcame my fear...because the look on my Mom's face was just not right.  It was ominously perky.  It was DANGEROUS.  The stranger took a long thing attached to the monster-like object and stuck it in the wall.  He then moved the monster about two inches across the carpet...Mom clapped her hands...she was delighted!  She was staring into the stomach of the monster.  The monster was clearly starving...because it was eating whatever was beneath it like crazy.  The stranger showed Mom the contents of the monster's stomach...Mom clapped her hands again and jumped up and down.  I leaned closer to her.  I was afraid.  For the next little while the stranger and Mom repeated these actions.  The stranger would move the monster, the monster would eat, Mom would clap, the stranger would remove the contents of the monster's stomach, and so on.  The contents of the monster's stomach were placed on the edge of the stairway.  After awhile I thought they looked familiar.  I mean...some of the contents just looked like that stuff that the cat poops in...but the other stuff...it looked a lot like...um...it is on the tip of m tongue...GINGI.  It looked like Gingi.  In fact...I started wondering if Gingi would appear right before my eyes...right there!  I finally understood...Mom was clapping because the monster was bringing Gingi back!  Even though I didn't hang out with Gingi in the traditional "chase a ball together and nibble on each other's lips" kind of way...I felt content when she was around.  I would be happy to have her back.  More time went by...more of the same...and then I read Mom's lips as she spoke to the stranger, "what is it...like...$800 dollars or something...ha ha ha."  The stranger didn't provide an answer to the question...instead he said, "let's steam clean the carpet now."  The stranger brought out another stomach thing to put on the monster...and white bubbly stuff started coming out all over the carpet!  The monster was vomiting!  The monster vomited and vomited all over the carpet.  Mom reached down and rubbed the bile between her fingers...and then clapped again.  She was delighted.  I was completely grossed out.  The stupid brown dog just stared.  I endured another 10 minutes or so of the vomiting monster.  Finally the monster stopped...and the stranger started tearing it limb from limb!  He put it back in the box.  Mom was still smiling and laughing and clapping.  She was wandering across the carpet in her bare feet.  The Jerry Garcia guy came out of his room and stared at her blankly.  She laughed some more.  I looked up where Mom had put the stuff from the monster's stomach to see if Gingi had appeared...I mean...at least something good could come out of this home invasion.  It was then that I saw my Mom...grab all of the Gingi fluff...and put it in the GARBAGE.  If it weren't for the far away loving look in her eye...I would have despised her right then...but I could tell...she was acknowledging the fact that Gingi was NOT coming back...and remembering her with love.  I sniffed the air and noticed that not only was Gingi's fluff gone...but also the smell of her incontinence.  It was gone...and I knew I would miss that smell.  It was the smell of survival.  It was the smell of perseverance.  I know Mom got tired of cleaning it up every day...but she did it.  She wanted Gingi to decide when to move on...she wasn't going to help her get there just because of a soiled carpet.  She made Gingi more important than a carpet...but that carpet in it's own way, was a reminder.  A reminder of the only inconvenient thing about Gingi.  I finally understood why Mom let the stranger with the monster into our home.  The stranger with the monster helped my Mom move on.  I learned later that the monster's name is Kirby.  Mom really wants to adopt Kirby...just like she did with Gingi and me.  The adoption fee for Kirby is much more than Mom can afford though.  If Mom did decide to bring Kirby into our family, I wouldn't be angry or sad.  I would be happy, because Kirby would always be a reminder that the stupid brown dog, Bubba, Kim Kitty, and I...we are all much more important than a carpet.  Our Mom would spend her lunch money to ensure that we never had to leave our family no matter how old and crusty we get.  Until next time....woof.  

The End of an Era

My sweet Gingi passed away today peacefully in my brother's arms.  She was 16 years old.  I am touched by profound sadness mixed with joy and relief.  I met Gingi nine years ago while volunteering for the Animal Adoption Center in Jackson, WY.  She decided immediately that I was to be her human.  I didn't catch on for more than a month and two trial adoptions later.  I fostered her every single night aside from the trial adoptions.  She would plant herself like a fat furry triangle at my feet and stare at me for hours.  One day, a little boy from Germany came in to the center to walk her...he wanted to take her back to Germany with him.  She planted more firmly than before and he literally had to drag her away from me.  An hour later I was signing the papers that gave my life to her permanently.  She became my constant companion.  We collected treats from bank tellers, went grocery shopping, floated the creek, Canoed the Snake River, walked all the dog-friendly trails in the area, when with me when cross country skiing, camped in the southwest, California, Wyoming, and Idaho.  We visited the beach in Washington.   I never attended a pot luck without her.  She would sit under the children and clean up the crumbs.  She would stand patiently by my side when I was struck momentarily paralyzed by Multiple Sclerosis while walking her in my neighborhood.  Gingi got me out of the house when I was down.  She made me laugh every day with her funny ways.  She was known as Gingerbear, Fuzzy Squeezy Bear, Bearzeldoo, Gingi Wingi, Thing Red...and other names.  One friend noted in her later years that he reminded her of the old lady at the end of the bar smoking cigarettes and drinking a martini.  Gingi was an individual...not a pack dog.  She marched to her own rhythm, did not like to play, and LOVED big handsome boy dogs.  They loved her back.  Six years ago in June, Gingi had to have one of her eyes removed.  Gingi was fine...I was terribly traumatized.  I had to leave for a two week fire dispatching detail on the Inyo National Forest in California...and couldn't bear to leave her...so I drove my own car...and Gingi...the one-eyed heeler with half of her face shaved and stitches poking out of her eye-hole came along with me.  She was an instant hit in the dispatch office.  At one point, deep into a major fire incident, she kept disappearing from my side for hours at a time.  I discovered that she was scoring sandwiches in the other room from the dispatch team.  When I walked in, they looked up guiltily...and there was Gingi...happily munching a roast beef sandwich.  When dispatched to a fire detail we are assigned codes.  On this particular fire I was both an IADP (Initial Attack Dispatcher) and an EDSD (Expanded Dispatch Support Dispatcher).  Gingi was labled the EDMB (Expanded Dispatch Morale Booster).  In the past several years...Gingi has shown her age...she became stiffer, thinner, and slept more.  On several occasions she would tip over and lay motionless...eyes fixed...and then spring to life again.  Just last week she was in my wedding.  She happily wove through the crowd of people, in the midst of everything, searching for snacks.  At times I thought perhaps she had passed a couple of years ago and was now a friendly ghost...like the ones in Harry Potter.  The thought made me happy...because maybe if this was true...she would stay with me forever.  She was a trooper.  A dog with an intense will to live (if dogs have such a thing).  Gingi was meant to be with me.  When my mom first met Ginger...she couldn't believe the intensity with which Ginger watched me.  "Just like a wild dog," my mom said.  I don't know what it was about Ginger.  I think that maybe she had just a touch of magic.  Even though she had the stinkiest breath, didn't play, and was fixated on her mom...people and dogs LOVED her.  The dogs at the dog park followed her around as if she were the Pied Piper.  People I met would often remember her name upon the next meeting, but not mine.  I am certain that memories of Gingi will flood me these next few days...perhaps weeks...and trickle into the rest of my life.  Memories of the scent of her fur, her intense stare, her mannerisms...I will never forget.  I was at work when she moved on from this existence.  Although I am feeling the sorrow of loss, I feel grateful and blessed for not only the many years with her, but also that she passed peacefully in the arms of someone who is gentle and appreciates the unique gift a special pet has to give; someone who loves me...my brother.  I can hardly find the words to describe my relief that he was there for her...and is here for me.  Opening my heart and committing to a relationship with a being that I knew I would outlive was scary at first.  I don't regret one single minute.  Rest in Peace, sweet Gingi.

Ginger Smells DELICIOUS

Hello,

My name is Diggity Dog and I am an extended member of Holly's furry family.  My dad asked Holly to marry him in January so soon we will all be official and therefore am now able to post to Holly's blog and call her "mom."  I have been given the very important job of ring bearer for the wedding.  I was chosen because Gingi would probably get lost on the way to the altar...or more likely...be distracted by the pig roast.  Popcorn can't hear anything and in my opinion is rather a dummy so although she is softest of all of us...she did not win the honor.  Bubbies the cat is missing...so he is out.  I can only guess that my mom will make me wear some kind of outfit...which I'm not super psyched about.  All in all though...I am very happy about the new arrangement.  My mom's house in Montana is very close the the most awesome dog park EVER.  My dad takes me there every day while mom is working.  Here is what happens at the dog park....first...whilst en route to this doggie paradise...I start to  get really excited.  Sometimes I put my large nose next to whomever is driving and start to shove it in their face.  Usually I am then shoved into the back seat.  Once we cross the train tracks in Whitefish, MT I start to make squeaking noises.  I just can't help it.  I can see the dogs running and playing.  Before we went to Montana to visit mom...I had never set paw in a dog park.  Sometimes I would cross paths with random dogs while walking along the roads in Driggs, Idaho...but I didn't understand the concept of "playing."  I am part heeler...and we have more of a herding agenda.  I was timid at first...and it was a bit of a junk show for mom and dad to herd all three of us (Gingi, Pcorn, and Myself) through the entrance gate.  Mom had to carry Gingi across the icy spots and basically drag Popcorn through the gate.  Popcorn (being somewhat of a dummy in my opinion...as stated above) doesn't really get the concept of the dog park.  she often just leans on the mommy and tries to herd anything with curly fur.  I mean seriously...that silly dog doesn't understand the difference between a poodle and a sheep.  She has improved with my help.  I am not the best at playing yet because I do have that heeler thing going on...but the shepherd in me can get into chasing balls and jumping around with the other dogs.  Gingi is the darling of the dog park.  Everyone wants to meet Gingi.  All the people look at her with "eyes of love" and concern.  She totters around the park oblivious to all the activity around her.  Sometimes she totters over to the corner of the fence and gets stuck and Mommy has to go and point her in the right direction.  You see...Gingi is geriatric to say the least...and she looks like a furry red fox.  Everyone...and I mean EVERYONE thinks she is adorable...even with her pasty weasel flaps (see previous blog post), missing eye, and general state of confusion.  They all want to pet her and seem to find her fascinating.  Most notable is how all the dogs in the park relate to Gingi.  Now...I'm not sure how many of you watch the TV series "True Blood" but I am privy to the story because mom and dad watch it.  In the story...fairies are creatures that vampires are intensely attracted to.  Whenever a vampire is in the vicinity of a fairy they are uncontrollably compelled to drink their blood because they smell so good.  They sniff the air and become obsessed.  Now we all know that dogs love all things stinky.  Gingi is stinky.  Her fur isn't stinky...but I believe that all exit and entry points on Gingi are intensely odorific.  When she enters the dog park...all dogs gather round her.  She is often followed on her totterings by several dogs that are uncontrollably compelled by her scent.  Of course Gingi herself is oblivious to the attention.  Mom and dad now refer to her as "Fae" or "the Dog Park Fairy."  All in all...I love the dog park.  Most importantly...the dog park makes my mom and dad laugh.  It is a happy place for dogs and people.

Pasty Weasel Flaps

Hello everyone...Gingi here.  So as some of you know...I am ancient.  Depending on who you ask...I might be 16 or 20.  Several things about me attest to the reality of my age.  First, my remaining eye has a large cataract.  I really can't see anything beyond a shadow here and there.  My ears don't really work, either.  My legs and back are stiff from arthritis and sometimes I fall asleep en route to my dog bed...see photo.  Every day my daddy gets up and makes me an egg souffle because crunchy food just doesn't agree with me anymore.  Sometimes at the dog park I confused other people's legs for my mom's...and follow them.  At times I end up stuck in the corner and can't find my way out.  I swim in circles...in the direction of the eye that works.  Despite all of these life changes...I am relatively spry.  My yellowing, cracking, stinky teeth have been fondly referred to as "weasel" teeth because they are still sharp...and when a treat is in the vicinity of my face...I blindly try to grab it with said weasel teeth.  This involves a snapping motion that may sometimes be alarming to the hand holding the treat.  When I wake up in the morning I make smacking noises as I clean the paste from the inside of my mouth.  This noise acts as a alarm for my mom and dad and reminds them that it is time for doggie breakfast.  Because of this practice my mom and dad now refer to my mouth area as "pasty weasel flaps."  I'm not certain if I appreciate this name.

Where is Mondo?...and other disappointments in Denver

Holly here.  I arrived in Denver yesterday evening only to find that I had been booked for the wrong shuttle (to the hotel).  I spent an extra two hours at the airport waiting for the correct shuttle.  This wait would have been so much better had I replicated the experience of one Molly McSwain who had the fortune of meeting Mondo Guerra in the Denver airport a couple of months ago in baggage claim.  Mondo was tiny and colorful as expected.  Molly immediately texted me despite the late hour.  She knew that I was perhaps her only friend who would share in her joy.  Most, in fact, responded to her Facebook post about this encounter with a resounding "who is Mondo?"  I, on the other hand, was overcome with joy.  Mondo is one of my VERY FAVORITE Project Runway designers.  Molly seriously disappointed me when she neglected to have her picture taken with Mondo.  Now I am doubly disappointed because he was not in the baggage claim of the Denver airport on MY trip.  How dare he not hang out there all the time to say hello to his fans!

So...Denver airport...no shuttle...no Mondo...sigh.  However, I was somewhat consoled when the shuttle arrived and on the way to Lakewood, took a detour into downtown Denver where I enjoyed the city lights.  My favorite sight?  The very strange enormous bear statue outside the convention center.  Instead of facing away from the building as most, if not all statues do...this bear faces INTO the building...so that once inside...you feel as if it is staring at you.  VERY COOL.

Pcorns Harness

Popcorn wearing the original Red Dog Harness.

Custom Dog Harnesses

Well...after several years of silence, my mom has decided to start posting again.  First, we...meaning mom, Gingi, Bubbies, and I moved to Columbia Falls, Montana.  We love it here.  So many wonderful places to explore and run.  The dog park in Whitefish is pretty cool...although my mom had to drag me through the gate the first several visits we had there.  More on the dog park in future posts.  Most important...for dogs everywhere...my mom has created a new line of custom dog harnesses.  They are super sporty, pretty much indestructible, and come in all kinds of cool colors including safety cone orange.  I like mine because not only to I look really pretty in it...but it doesn't choke me like my collars do.  Mom put a cool little pocket on the top near the tag ring.  She tucks the tag inside the pocket and it doesn't jingle around and bother me.  Picture to come soon!