Sprightliness and Perserverence

Fips was voraciously cuddly last night, nudging my face and crawling over my head. He eventually settled down on a pillow.

This morning both dogs were on the perky side, and Fips showed none of his more usual morning creakiness and stumbles. It was overcast and damp but otherwise dry, and so after noon I decided to take them down to Alderpark for an end of year pad-about.

When we got there, Fips was back in creak-n-poke mode, but once we got onto the trail he gradually picked up his pace, building up to a run on the down slopes. Down by the second bridge I felt a few droplets and wondered if maybe we shouldn't turn back, but I forged on.

At the half way mark, Fips charged across the bridge, as some more drops fell. But now it made no difference and so we were locked into doing the full circuit.

Fips was doing pretty well, outpacing Rosco who was lagging behind. But after the rise in the trail, past the half way mark, Fips began to tire. He picked up his pace on the down slope. Again on the flat, he slowed down to a steady but otherwise unvivacious walk. Once we got to the creek and the lower parking lot, Fips was just plain dogged. Now it was Rosco who trotted up the hill as Fips came along slowly and I squealed encourgement.

We now know Fips' comfortable and outer limits; but we made it, once again! ending the year with perduring sprightliness and steady perserverence.

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Geronto-Champ

It was at last dry today and so we thought it would be a good time to make a mail run into "the Homeland". But when we got to the border there was a long, very slow line of cars and trucks inching along. I hadn't reacted quickly enough and almost immediately got locked into the line, where I idled and inched for almost 1o minutes before coming to a place in the road where I could U turn back. Who knows what security frenzy had gripped the other side, but Screw This. I doubled back a block and then headed east to Alder Mountin

This would be our sixth AlderWalk and each time (except for two pad-abouts around the entrance) we have ventured further down the trail. My concern has been how much "up" the trial the back would be and whether the Fipster could make it. The sign at the beginning said "4km" -- How far along would we make it today?

Fips started out pokey, as Rosco trotted impatiently ahead. But after a while Fips built up steam and flew down to Bridge Two...

Where there was a waterfall that interested me,

and a short ways on something very interesting to both pups

Fips was doing pretty well, but I began to notice that his right hind leg was increasingly wobbly and he ran with a bias as his spine arc'd to left. Eventually he stumbled into the ditch. I lifted him out and held him as I massaged his hips with my thumbs. This seemed to make him feel better and he took off again, somewhat straighter than before.

At 2.4 miles AlderMountin is a respectable hike. More wooded, it is not as wild and rocky as RedwoodMountin where Fips and I would climb up stoney ravines in the rain, many years agoI though back to those young pup days. Fips was so intrepid then -- alert, "tight" and full of sure footed bounce. AlderMountin is more genteel -- a softer trek for an older Fips. "Just like mountin, eh, guys?" I said

We made it down to the bottom, which wasn't that much farther -- two bridges more -- than where we had got before. But here, shaded by thickets of branches and sheltered by the encircling bluffs it was cooler and snow still lay on the ground

I kept an eye on Fips. He was doing pretty well and as the path corrected its slant and evened out, Fips seems to do a little better, picking up steam again and chasing over Bridge Four. No ... he is not a gymnastic puppy. His leg hurts, his vision is clouded, his breath shorts, but he is still intrepid... as much if not more so even than before.

After the last bridge, the trail rose up again. Fips doggedly and steadily made it to the top. But then as we headed back down, Fips began to visibly tire. I stopped to encourage him and to give him little hip massages as we went.

Fips had gamely sampered along, stopping and turning to sniff -- and sometimes "precision sniff" something invisibly fascinating. But now his scampers became fewer and he was slowing down. Still he persisted.

Back down at Level Zero we came on to more snow, which both doggies padded through, until we came to the lower level parking lot next to the creek.

By the time we got to the creekside pic nic area, Fips was visibly tired. At one point, just before the parking lot, he lost his bearing and got entangled in some twigs.

From out first exploration into this park, I knew we were close to the upper level entrance. I thought it best to head up the smooth road back to the truck, but Fips instead wanted to go up via the parallel trail. But then he started lagging.

So we headed returned to the road. It was slow going... step by step but Fips never faltered, as Rosco chased ahead, stopping every now and then to impatiently look back. A grounds-keeper was picking getting into his cart across the road. Fips spotted him, and walked on over slowly to say hello. Even now, Fips keeps his social graces. A little ways on and we reached to crest.

We made it!! The full Alder Loop. I am so proud of Fips. He is such a champ. "You're such a champ, Fips, such a champ! ...and Rosco Too" I said as I patted l'il bro on his head. Does Fips understand? Is he proud he made it? If he is proud that would mean he is also conscious of his failing strengths ... not as a present moment experienced but as a condition . I have no doubt that Fips feels joy-in-strength -- the exhiliration of the moment lived. But that pride which flows from an awareness of overcoming requires objectification and comparison. I don't doubt that Fips, who definitely understands otherness, might have a sense of overcoming others -- that is what tuggies are all about. But overcoming self is a complex and paradoxical abstraction which requires a sense of delimited or diminishing self. I am not so sure I want Fips to be proud of that, but I am.

We returned to the border. There were only a few cars in queue, as a long white car with a blue flag followed by an SUV with tinted windows sped across the highway. We crossed into the "Homeland" where I picked up my mail.

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First Snow

We had our first snow. It began on Friday evening with light sugar-like grains. It was silent and still at night and in the morning we awoke to a fuzz of snow on the ground.

The doggies were not so sure about going out. But eventually they made the jump and chased about in this soft, cold substance. [Stay tuned for movie]

All Saturday and into Sunday, the snow kept falling until a thick snow pillow lay on the land, and it was chillingly cold.


Except for the briefest of pauses, the doggies preferred to stay inside.

Although Rosco ventured a little further.

While Fips wondered ....if and .... when....

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A Curious & Appreciative Audience

The other day I was practicing the "Twanger" -- the thing that passes for a piano around here -- when I looked down and saw Fipsie looking up at me with that inquiring look that ask, "How do you do that?"

"Yes Fipsie...music..." I said, as Fips moved closer and poked his nose to where the sound was coming from.

I played some Hanon as Fips continued to listen with a sort of tranquil intensity.

It has been too long without a piano. In the early days it was Rudy mostly who would curl up next to me on the bench as I played; on rare occasion Hobbs. I don't think Fips was all that interested in the piano-sounds until we moved to Middletown, where on one fascinating evening I showed him how he too could make these sonorous noises.

These days, when I start to play, Fips will usually come over, sit on his haunchies and stare up at me. Sometimes he will poke close toward the piano as if examining or analyzing the sounds coming from the box. He knows that I make the sounds, but he distinguishes where the sounds themselves come from. Almost alwas, he will eventually curl up nearby allowing himself to be lulled by the music.

Lord only knows what depth and complexity of tones he hears but at least someone appreciates my playing !

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Blinking in the Landscape of Smells

Quickly enough, Roski has figured out that the blinkie allows him greater leeway to roam. While Fips appears to prefers the security of being leashed, Rosco patiently lets me attach this new object to his collar knowing that it means he can impatiently chase off into the dark.

Rosco truly loves the farm. One can only the imagine the landscape of smells -- intriguing and delightful -- that it presents to him. While he always enjoyed our cool night walks, the farm has brought out in him a new briskness of spirit.

So tonight, while Fips rests in bed, he puts nose to door and, once the blinkie is fastened, hops out into the freezing night air. He starts down the path, looks back to make sure we are all alright with this and then races down toward the warren of corrals.

I catch up with him and for a ways we walk side by side, but when he wants to explore into a corral or down into some gulley I stay put and let him follow his nose whither wherever.

Eventually "wherever" takes him under the fence into a corral where there is a huge pile of manure. Bon bon time. The blinkie disappears behind the pile as Rosco chomps. After one or two gobbles, I call him back. Left to his own devices he'd gulp down the whole pile.

Okay Roski, komm now

. . . .

Rosssskii, komm!

. . . .

Rosco!

. . . .

The litte coot. He knows something is stopping me from reaching him, else I would have been on top of him by now; and taking advantage of my embarrassment he chomps away.

Rosssssscoh!!

. . . .

Damn little beast. There's no alternative. I get down on all fours, crawl under the fence, reach for his collar and drag him away from his pile of delights.

Well the going was good while the going was good. Rosco cheerfully comes along before chasing back up the road toward the cabin as I follow the blinkie home

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Blinkies

Fips was ferociously snuggly this morning. At about 4 am he moved from my thigh area and restlessly began poking and hugging my side. Then he climbed on to the pillow and nudged my face. Eventually, he snuggled into my arm pit, resting his head on my shoulder and then on my chest.

Meanwhile, Rosco go the notion too. What was it, doggie-pathy? At any rate he moved up from my left leg and snuggled into my left side under my arm. So there I lay with left and right arms draped around warm fuzzy bodies hugging into me and Fips’ chin resting on my chest.

I derived as much enfolding comfort from the doggies as they did from me, and the three of us snoozed in late snuggling in animal warmth.

When we got up it was a crisp, bright late Fall day. The doggies could sense that the rains had stopped and by 11.oo o'clock were wrestless and champing to go out.

Once outside, Rosco headed down the side of the barn, but Fipsie started his hemming and hawing routine in the courtyard. Eventually he made up his mind, brought up the rear and then began to run along the raised riding circuit before heading back down toward the house.

A couple of hours later, I got ready to take the truck to the garage to have its misbehaving tire fixed yet again. The dogs were alert to the prospects and started their "out-dance," to-ing and fro-ing around the house. I lifted them into the truck. Rosco climbed up onto the doggie lounger and Fips lifted himself to look out the window.

After the tire was put onto a new wheel, I headed over to the township's large playing fields. It was still bright and clear and I thought the dogs would like padding about on smooth grass. But when we got there, I noticed an "Animal Protection" vehicle parked in the lot. "Protection, my ass," I thought. Here, as much as anywhere, the State's offer of "protection" means nothing but trouble. The dogs had been eager to put paw to ground, but I turned around and drove down to AlderMountin instead.

Once there, Rosco chased over to the trail we had walked the other day. Fips followed in pokey fashion. Once on the trail, Fips picked up steam, following after me as I followed Rosco in the lead. Once again, at a bend in the trail, Fips lost his bearings. I looked back and saw him staring off to the side, so I stepped into his line of vision and called after him. Fips turned toward my voice and scampered toward me. I petted him as he ran by and watched him as he ran ahead.

All of a sudden, Fips veered off the trail and started running down a slope into the ravine, as I yelled after him to stop. But he kept on going, jumping over a fallen branch before himself falling into a depression and crashing into a jumble of twigs and dead leaves. Fortunately the slope at this point was not steep and Fips had a more or less gentle crash landing. He seemed dazed, as if wondering why this had happened. I picked him up and placed back on the road, where he continued walking quite normally.

We followed the path longer than the previous outing. It did decline, but I calculated that it might not be too much of a trudge up for Fips. It wasn't. Rosco wanted to forge on, and if it were just him I would have but, at this point, we'll have to explore the trail bit by bit.

When we returned home, I found to red-light blinkies taped to the front door. I have been meaning to follow up on the landlady's suggestion to get a blinker or flashing collar so I could see the pals in the dark, but I hadn't gotten around to it. So tonight, the dogs' got their blinkies hooked onto their collars.

They really do work... as dark fuzzies got lost in murky shadows of green and black and brown, a little blinking red light can be seen bouncing here and there in the dark. The doggies sniff edhere and there around the barn as off in the shadows by the fence under the soft glow of a full moon a mama-cow licked her calf.
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