A friend said he's going in February and invited me to join him. This is my answer:
Bless your heart, Tom, but I don't like dog shows. Can't stand to see chunky women with big calves wearing short skirts and trotting way too fast around a ring with their over-groomed dogs who, frankly, look gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
When I first got Buddy 9 years ago he'd been owned by a hairdresser and had a blue bow on top of his manly little head, with hair spouting out of it like an insane fountain. The fur on his back fell to the ground like Oscar Wilde's cape. As soon as his owner was safely out of the apartment I stood him on the dining room table and chopped off most of that offensive 'Do' until he looked right, like Oscar in the garbage can from Sesame Street.
He never stopped thanking me for that.
He always attacked every dog he ever saw and did it with his head held high, which he never could have done with that blue bow. And if anybody laughed because he was tiny, he pretty much signaled to them that they could kiss his fine little ass. I had his back on that every time.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Friday, December 8, 2006
Why Is Small Buddy?
My 3-year old son, Leo, lives in Corfu. Though he speaks a lot of English, he sometimes uses Greek syntax, which is why this little book is called 'Why Is Small Buddy?" Each evening at bedtime, with Buddy in my lap, he would ask me to answer the question, Why is small Buddy? and I'd tell him this story. On arriving home, a few days after I lost Buddy, I hurriedly put the story into a book.
Be sure to double-click on the pix to see the larger version and see the details and maybe even be able to read my handwriting:
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Be sure to double-click on the pix to see the larger version and see the details and maybe even be able to read my handwriting:
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Friday, November 24, 2006
Why Is Small Buddy?
A story about my beloved late Yorkie Buddy for my grandson Leo:
Page 1:
(double-click on drawing to enlarge)
Page 2:
Page 1:
(double-click on drawing to enlarge)
Page 2:
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Buddy in L.A.
This is The Bud getting ready for a bathe. He's not sure how serious we are.
Look at those two arms a little closer and you'll see they belong to two people: Danny and Nettie. Both are ready to rescue Buddy in case I'm really serious.
Ah, you're so handsome. I still miss you way too much, little tiny guy.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
When you love a little dog
For eight years I had the companionship of the funniest, cutest, neediest, bossiest and tiniest dog I ever knew. He was eight years old when I got him, so he died at around sixteen, on October 31, 2006, just a couple of weeks ago, and I'm having a very hard time of it.
I've loved all my dogs, and they clearly loved me and my boys, too, so losing each one was deeply painful. But I've never experienced anything as hard as losing little 4.5 pound Buddy, my first and, so far, my only small dog. I knew it would be very bad to part with him, because he was always right next to me. He was rarely on the floor or out somewhere doing his own thing like my other dogs. Buddy slept on my bed (under the blankets during the winter) and rested on my arm most of the time for eight years. Friends who didn't love dogs got irritated though I paid no attention to him in public, I just held him. Pretty much all the time. Buddy was a rescued dog. I was his 5th or 6th owner and he was always checking to make sure I wasn't about to give him away. Unless we were at home, he always wanted to be picked up, and it was just fine with me. He often leaned his head against my chest for warmth or to hear my heartbeat, and it always made me smile.
I knew he was waking inside me the same loving feelings I had when I was holding my newborn babies. And I'm too much of a Darwinist to worry that someone might think I was just silly or over-sentimental. But I just stumbled on these passages in a book called Animals In Translation by Temple Grandin (p 107-108) and found them enlightening. The author is discussing the hormones that make males possessive and females receptive, and she continues by saying the following:
"...oxytocin [isn't] just [a] sex hormone...oxycotin is essential to social memory...Oxytocin is the maternal hormone..." She goes on to say that while some animals could care less about their offspring, dogs are very attached to them, and probably have fairly high oxytocin levels. And then she writes this:
"A dog's oxytocin levels rise when his owner pets him, and petting his dog raises the owners oxytocin, too. I'm sure that's why so many people have dogs in the first place. I don't think anyone has researched this yet, but I expect we'll find that dogs make humans into nicer people...[They clearly do. Look at the television series called 'Cell Dogs.' I'll try to find it]...
and better parents. Oxytocin is definitely important in humans. When women have babies their oxtocin levels shoot up right before the birth, and research shows that those high levels spark maternal warmth and care. Oxytocin produces 'maternal' behavior in men, too. So for parents, owning and petting a dog is probably like getting a 'good parent' shot every day..."
It goes both ways, of course, because dogs are bred to never really grow up. "A dog's attachment to his owner is like a baby animal's attachment to his mom or dad. Pet dogs act the exact same way children do in the strange situation test...[only secure enough to explore when the the mother or owner is nearby] When humans say dogs are like children, they're right."
How to explain people who are culturally trained to dislike dogs or see them as dirty, as outdoor animals? Well, training is stronger than body chemistry, I guess, but it might come with a price. I've noticed that in environments that don't welcome and touch dogs, the women seem to be very obssessive about cleanliness and exhaust themselves with washing, cleaning, ironing, especially when it comes to their children. I wonder if they hug them --or if they hug anybody-- as much as dog lovers do, or if they're replacing the physical-affection connection with a protective impulse, the war against the dangers of dirt. Curious.
But I digress. I miss my little dog in a way I never missed even my most beloved big dogs, and I missed them a whole lot, too. And if petting a dog raises the 'good parent' hormone, holding a little, helpless one probably shoots it through the roof. I guess I'd better not expect to heal up quite as fast as I've done in the past.
I've loved all my dogs, and they clearly loved me and my boys, too, so losing each one was deeply painful. But I've never experienced anything as hard as losing little 4.5 pound Buddy, my first and, so far, my only small dog. I knew it would be very bad to part with him, because he was always right next to me. He was rarely on the floor or out somewhere doing his own thing like my other dogs. Buddy slept on my bed (under the blankets during the winter) and rested on my arm most of the time for eight years. Friends who didn't love dogs got irritated though I paid no attention to him in public, I just held him. Pretty much all the time. Buddy was a rescued dog. I was his 5th or 6th owner and he was always checking to make sure I wasn't about to give him away. Unless we were at home, he always wanted to be picked up, and it was just fine with me. He often leaned his head against my chest for warmth or to hear my heartbeat, and it always made me smile.
I knew he was waking inside me the same loving feelings I had when I was holding my newborn babies. And I'm too much of a Darwinist to worry that someone might think I was just silly or over-sentimental. But I just stumbled on these passages in a book called Animals In Translation by Temple Grandin (p 107-108) and found them enlightening. The author is discussing the hormones that make males possessive and females receptive, and she continues by saying the following:
"...oxytocin [isn't] just [a] sex hormone...oxycotin is essential to social memory...Oxytocin is the maternal hormone..." She goes on to say that while some animals could care less about their offspring, dogs are very attached to them, and probably have fairly high oxytocin levels. And then she writes this:
"A dog's oxytocin levels rise when his owner pets him, and petting his dog raises the owners oxytocin, too. I'm sure that's why so many people have dogs in the first place. I don't think anyone has researched this yet, but I expect we'll find that dogs make humans into nicer people...[They clearly do. Look at the television series called 'Cell Dogs.' I'll try to find it]...
and better parents. Oxytocin is definitely important in humans. When women have babies their oxtocin levels shoot up right before the birth, and research shows that those high levels spark maternal warmth and care. Oxytocin produces 'maternal' behavior in men, too. So for parents, owning and petting a dog is probably like getting a 'good parent' shot every day..."
It goes both ways, of course, because dogs are bred to never really grow up. "A dog's attachment to his owner is like a baby animal's attachment to his mom or dad. Pet dogs act the exact same way children do in the strange situation test...[only secure enough to explore when the the mother or owner is nearby] When humans say dogs are like children, they're right."
How to explain people who are culturally trained to dislike dogs or see them as dirty, as outdoor animals? Well, training is stronger than body chemistry, I guess, but it might come with a price. I've noticed that in environments that don't welcome and touch dogs, the women seem to be very obssessive about cleanliness and exhaust themselves with washing, cleaning, ironing, especially when it comes to their children. I wonder if they hug them --or if they hug anybody-- as much as dog lovers do, or if they're replacing the physical-affection connection with a protective impulse, the war against the dangers of dirt. Curious.
But I digress. I miss my little dog in a way I never missed even my most beloved big dogs, and I missed them a whole lot, too. And if petting a dog raises the 'good parent' hormone, holding a little, helpless one probably shoots it through the roof. I guess I'd better not expect to heal up quite as fast as I've done in the past.
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