“Princess, Garden Gnomes were a huge hit at the Chelsea Flower Show this year, but these garden gnomes sure are odd looking.”
“They aren’t garden gnomes, Daddy-O, they’re reproductions in metal, of one of your not-so-distant cousins.”

“Princess, I don’t see the resemblance! What could you mean?”
“Oh sure, you’re totally related Big Boy! Check it out . . .”

“Aside from the pea sized brain in the over sized skull, check out the size of those chompers! ”

“Yup, you’re definitely related to that dude.”
“Princess, what was that you said about a pea brain?”

That’s my Sibe. Always pickin’ on the pretty studly boy.  Ah, don’t worry Loki, we know Juno is just bustin’ your crank. She knows that although the ratio of brain size to body mass was small for the T-Rex, it was larger than other dinosaurs and that the T-Rex is understood to be one of the top 10 smartest dinosaurs. So relax Big Boy, she’s giving you a compliment. Really. 

It’s funny. I always thought you saw a lot more by bike than you could by car or by foot. But each has its own merits  I see more by foot sometimes, meandering around a flowerbed while the dogs  take their time taking in all the scents. 

Sometimes it allows you to get up close to some bad-ass wild life too, like this turkey vulture. The dogs were thisclose to it before I noticed it and was able to stop them from dragging me to the pavement as it took off to higher ground.

It’s easy to pedal quickly past some beautiful views or interesting landscapes, taking in only a few seconds of their brilliance.  Hiking allows you to drink in the surroundings slowly and savor the scene like a fine wine. I must have passed this vista hundreds of times by bike and never really noticed it.

And there are some places you can’t take your mountain bike, like this little hidden treasure. By now the grass has completely turned to foxtails and will be un-walkable for a while, but that’s the nature of the beast of living in a dry, wild area.

“Daddy-O, Mom’s always complaining about how much work we make for her but she doesn’t appreciate all the work we do so she can enjoy all this!”
“Princess, is this hike over yet?”

“Lead us not into temptation. We’ll find the way ourselves.”

Forgive me the duplicate photo from Facebook if you’ve already seen it.  I’m in the middle of a very long computer change over and have no real access to my camerra photos.

When we lived a bit further away from where we do now, I would ride my bike to this church which would serve as a nice water break after some steep hill climbs. Now that we live close, we rarely ride this area, so instead, it’s become a nice 4-6 mile hike for the cracker and criminal.  I can always tell when they like a particular hike. Loki will try to turn back if he’s not enjoying it and Juno will pull harder to get to a more interesting place. But on this particular hike, they can take in views and scents from a variety of farms that include orchards, vineyards, horses, goats, chickens, dogs and cats–all so farmilar to them by now. And they seem to enjoy it, hiking a reasonable pace but meandering at the perfect spots. And just like me, they find this pleasant community church a fine resting spot for their dogs. Not too eager to leave and happy to sit while I photograph them, they resist a multitude of wild life temptations surrounding them.

I see a lot of these little fellas hanging out in the dog garden and I wondered why they hung out there. So I did a little googling. Turns out, they like to feed on leaves, mushrooms and animal droppings (that’s a scientific term for dog poop) and recycle them into humus.  No, it’s not that creamy, tangy Middle Eastern delight, hummus (because if I was thinking it, then you were too), but that organic matter that contributes to the texture of soil with moisture and nutrient retention. Soil humus (one “m” not two) reaches such a state of stability that it can no longer break down and remains for centuries or a milennia.  Holy Humus that’s a long time!

In addition to soil humus, banana slugs also excrete nitrogen rich fertilizer.

“Yup, that’s right, I’m not just another pretty face. I may only move 6.5 inches per minute but I have a huge role in your ecological system.”

Slugs are not very family oriented. To start, they are hermaphrodites and reproduce by exchanging sperm with their mate. They mate several times per year laying up to 75 eggs per hatching, which are hidden in logs or leaves.  As soon as the eggs are laid, the adult takes off and abandons the eggs!  Harsh much?

So basically, they mate, pop out the eggs and split. Talk about not having any strings.

“What do you take me for? A stay-at-home Mom to 75 slimy babies while the slug who knocked me up took off?”

Banana slugs are also low on the food chain, sometimes eaten by racoons, snakes, ducks, geese or salamanders. To make them go down easier, they roll the slug in soil to bind the slime. Now that’s fusion sushi!

Slugs are notoriously shy and retract their tentacles when threatened. The upper tentacles are their eyestalks which detect light and movement and the lower pair detect chemicals.

“Peek-a-boo!”

Slugs are also excellent character actors:

“Are you talkin’ to me? Are you talkin’ to me? Well, I’m the only one here.”

Slugs have it all: an important job, no parental responsibilities and talented personalities. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to come back in life as a slug. Except for the part about eating dog poop. Or the part about being rolled into a sushi ball just before a raccoon swallows you. I don’t think I’d like those parts.

Last month, Mr. Wild Dingo installed the on and off ramps to the tree house and raised their flag at full staff.  They were dismantled for safety reasons while we were living in Switzerland. Juno was pleased as punch. Lately she enjoys eating her raw bones up there after her morning runs. Both dogs are petitioning for club member collars.

I was 12 when Members Only brand became popular.  ”When you put it on, something happens,” was the advertising slogan. Exactly! You get warm. A clever slogan for a rather ordinary jacket. I never understood the appeal of the brand and it seemed neither did most of the world. The brand went out of style quickly in the 90′s only to come back as retro-dork in the early 2000′s as it made for comic relief in TV Shows like The O.C. and the Soprano’s and movies like Shallow Hal, The Love Guru, and my personal favorite, Zoolander.  Today the brand’s website takes on that retro-dork imagery with “famous members“, such as Zac Efron, Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson and Frank Sinatra, shown wearing the popular brand.

And now the cracker and the criminal are petitioning for its revival in dog wear. Maybe these two have just the hip this brand needs.

Members Only
No Katz! No Skwerulz! No Bathz!
May 2013

“What was that package that came in the mail today,” asked Mr. Wild Dingo.

“Oh that was Juno’s backpack. Her physical torturer therapist, Madam Jenny recommended she carry her own water for hikes.”

“Damn it Mrs. Wild Dingo, stop spending so much money on the dogs,” scolded Mr. Wild Dingo.

Well, Internet, you know I’m much too clever to let Mr. Wild Dingo get the last word on how much to spend on the dogs. So I put the back pack on Juno and marched her into the foyer where he was standing.

And he squealed like a little girl.

“Ooooohhhhh! She’s so cute in her backpack!”   And: “Oh isn’t she the cutest little working girl? She looks so pretty in her pack. Like a big strong girl!”

And with that, I didn’t hear another word about the cost of the Ruffwear back pack (it wasn’t cheap) nor the claim that I shouldn’t have bought it. Instead, the next day he took them for their “Poppy-N-Dogs-Only” walk and insisted Juno where her new pack.

“Yup, Pop is a push over for working girl needs.”

“Now hurry up! I’m carrying all the weight here and I’m still faster than you slow pokes!”

Handling Mr. Wild Dingo is so much easier than handling the cracker and the criminal.

I don’t say it often enough, but I love this dog more than words can say.

Last month, I lost the cracker and criminal on a forest run. Before you panic, I’ll just skip to the end and tell you both were found and everything is OK. And before readers claim “Never let a Sibe off-leash” note that I wrote that I lost both dogs, including my Velcro dog, Loki. And while that story is another post in itself, this one is purely about the gratitude I have for the cracker.

He and Juno didn’t pick each other but he looks out for her and stresses over the choices she makes every day on our walks. It’s as if he knows how important she is to me and Mr. Wild Dingo. I’ll go as far to say that he looks at her as our property and his actions, though they seem gruff toward her (he’ll chase her off other dogs), are pure sibling protection on his part. (Ok, sometimes it’s jealousy.)

On our hikes, runs or rides, both dogs are well-behaved on the trails, recalling and waiting on command regularly.  I’ll spare you the details, but to say, that day, my recall timing couldn’t have been worse. And just like that, they were gone.

My biggest fear wasn’t that the dogs would be lost forever—because I knew we’d find them—but that they would be separated while lost because it would be a huge risk for Juno.  Made of pure muscle and teeth, Loki would survive any wildlife threat. I don’t call him “the cracker” just because of his high working drive.  His defense drive can be off the scale.  With that loco-brain, his speed, muscular strength and teeth, he would not lose.  Juno, on the other hand, though she believes otherwise, is made of sugar and is much too fragile. The thought of them separating scared the bejeezuss out of me.

When Mr. Wild Dingo found them 3.5 hours later (he left work to help search), they were side-by-side, 18 inches apart, in a perfect heel position headed toward our starting location. Loki could have chosen to desert her at any moment and found me.  After all, he is stronger and faster than she is. At the end of our runs and rides he’s always leading us out while Juno is slowing down and taking more breaks for her hip needs.  Instead, he did the right thing and stayed right by her side.

When I finally caught up with the three of them from my search area, Loki went ballistic, hugging me with his arms, and herding me. He was clearly traumatized. Juno said her happy hellos in a much less dramatic way. She was unfazed but clearly so over the long adventure.

He puts up with a lot of mind games from her. To the rest of the world (and maybe to her), he seems like an obnoxious bully. But I’ve watched him with her long enough to know by now his real motivations are pure pack drive, loyalty and protection. And for that, I am eternally grateful to him.  I loves me my cracker!

The number of days before she can huff her displeasure at Mr. Wild Dingo once again. But who’s counting?

“When I walk in the spa, this is what I see. Everyone stops and they’re staring at me. I got passion in my jodhpurs and I ain’t afraid to show it.“

“What’s that Madam Jenny?  My jodhpurs bulked up from 43 to 45 cm on the right and from 45 to 46 cm on the left?”

“I’m sexy and I know it.”

Six weeks of water treadmill and deep tissue massage with measurable results!  Seeing is believing. It’s one thing to see her more perky and her stance straighter, it’s another when you have numbers to prove it. Thank you Jenny and SAGE Physical Rehab!

“Awe Pop! It’s so darn cute when you try to shoot me! O.K. I’ll play: Please don’t shoot Mister!”

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

I needed to hear and read this. Yesterday’s tragedy in Boston felt like the cherry on top of the pile of human and animal horrors posted daily on Facebook and other social networks. I’d been feeling blue lately, dragged down by all the negativity swirling around in cyberspace. When I first met Mr. Wild Dingo, I was shocked to learn that though he’s always up  to speed on every current event, he never watched the evening news. And now I know why. It drains you of hope, progress, productivity and just generally feeling good. The most successful people I know don’t have time for negativity or anger.  They move forward and stay focused on their goals.  The sooner we do that, the better.

Nothing bonds this team like a bag full of dried chicken.

“That’s right, Internet. I’m back in boot camp to plump up my booty.”

“After all, bikini season is just around the corner.”

For the time being, Juno is back in Physical Therapy every week to help build up muscle and release a lot of tight knots in her back end. Having Juno has made us realize that Physical Therapy is not a one time event for dogs with structural challenges. Instead it’s a healing service to use for a lifetime, on an as-need basis. For now, it’s weekly. When the time is right, we’ll ween down to monthly maintenance again. 

“Energy bars are an important part of training.”

“Some spas like this one, even have Jacuzzi jets in their water therapy tanks, which are an added benefit for fluffing the jodhpurs.”

“After the water workout, it’s time for some ultrasonic laser therapy to lightly massage my knots.”

“It doesn’t hurt but must she cross so many boundaries? Geesh. She should at least buy me a drink first.”

“It’s difficult being gorgeous.  Everyone wants a piece of my Jodhpurs.”

“WTF are you doing back there Madam Jenny? Remember, my Jodhpurs are sacred!”

“I can ignore the myofascial release torturer behind me for the price of that chicken treat.”

“Suddenly, I feel vewey, vewey, sweepy. I have no idea why.”

NB: This is the effect of the myofascial release. Just before it releases or at the moment it releases, the patient stops fidgeting and protesting and before you know it . . .

Plop! Relaxation is inevitable. Juno always lets out a huge sigh as she plops. It’s like magic!

“My Jodhpurs are cooked for the day!”
I wish I treated myself as well as well as I treat Juno.

“It’s important to show gratitude to your physical torturer therapist,  no matter how  many times she ignored your orders to stop man-handling your Jodhpurs!”

A good physical therapist, dog or human, is invaluable. We’re all loving how Juno is feeling these days!

I have no idea why I keep getting poison oak outbreaks all over my arms and neck. Nope. No idea at all.

Every now and then, Mr. Wild Dingo and I will put on an old play list and this song by Tom Waits will play.  Every time without fail, one of us will always say, “Maggie’s song.”  It was very clear how seasons affected Maggie, especially later in life. In January, her mood and energy would drop but by March and April, it was as if the weight of the world were lifted. She had bounce in her step and was as playful as a puppy at times. And I swear she seemed to smile every time we played this Waits song.

We’re huge fans of Tom Waits and sometimes will play a mix of his albums straight through. His distinctive low growl voice juxtaposed with some of the most poetic lyrics makes for music that captivates the ear. And this is one of our favorite songs. Some say it was indirectly influenced by the writer Pablo Neruda, who once said, “You can cut all the flowers but you won’t keep spring from coming.” Indirectly in that Waits was actually heavily influenced by poet Charles Bukowski who was influenced by Neruda.  Waits (along with other musical artists such as U2 and Red Hot Chilli Peppers) have used Bukowski’s work in their own music. It was hard to read Neruda’s and Bukowsi’s online biographies. Their lives were train wrecks. The best poets’ lives always are.

Either way, we can’t agree more with the song or its meaning.

You Can Never Hold Back Spring
April 2013

“WTF did woo do to my Princess Juno?”

“Relax Big Boy, it’s only a surface wound on my Teddy bear ear.”

“Besides, if you just keep your stupid Clooneys* behind a closed yapper then I wouldn’t be wearing this ridiculous contraption.”
“I’m so sorry Princepessa! I know not the power or the length of my Clooneys.”

Fear not readers. These guys are great pals.  It was just a stupid accident where Juno’s ear found the wrong side of the cracker’s tooth.  She didn’t even need stitches, just some glue to hold the piece of skin together on her ear. Rest assured, Loki has apologized many times and not only is avoiding Juno like the plague but is allowing her into his bed with the cone on.   It’s hard to be mad at the cracker when he’s that sorry.

*Clooneys=Loki’s teeth, sparkling as white as George Clooney’s teeth.

“Princess, this crate’s not big enough for two dogs.”

About a  month or two ago, Loki suddenly developed a deep fear of his crate. He’s gone through highs and lows with his crate but for the most part, he loves his crate, because we played tons and tons of crate games before moving to Switzerland. He loves his crate so much, he will seek it out if it’s around and will go into it when he’s worried or stressed, like in a busy airport.  But something happened one day as he jumped into the car and straight into his crate: the bed moved.

You all know how Loki feels about things that move, such as ocean or lake waves and flowing rivers. So for a long time, he refused to go into his crate on his own. I tried installing in a soggy doggy floor mat, which has a rubber gripping bottom and soft micro fiber top. He adores that mat, and I showed him that it was stable, but no go. I put the crate on the floor out of the car and tried the old crate games. He’d just stare at me with fear in his eyes and would run further and further away from his crate.

So in order to go places in the car, I had to put his leash on him and physically heel him into the crate. For whatever reason, if the leash is attached, Loki always complies. I don’t have to drag or pull  him. It doesn’t even take any sort of collar correction.  I just have to attach the leash and hold it. When we’re connected, he gains confidence. Then one day, without his leash on, he leaped into the car on the empty side, next to his crate. I held the crate door open (it stupidly only opens from the left and the crate sits on the right of the car for my best vision), and he slowly walked under my arm and around the door and calmly into his crate. On his own. Gladly. Getting Loki over fears takes patience and letting him come to terms with it on his own timeline and in his own way. And usually, it has to be his idea. Not mine. I’m lucky that leashing him gives him enough confidence to override his fear, because frankly 70 lbs of pure muscle is too much for me to lift into the Xterra. Otherwise we wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time.

Six weeks later, Loki is back to jumping straight into his crate inside the car. We still continue to play crate games. I vary it up with going further and further away from the crate, recalling and sending back to the crate and even sending him to the crate in the garage from the house. I play with both dogs and each takes their turn. But sometimes Juno gets a little impatient. And while it was Loki’s turn she couldn’t help herself. She jumped up from her down-stay on her mat and bolted to the crate, pushing her fluffy self inside, right next to Loki. Loki, confused as ever, allowed the interloper to stay.

“I’m here and I’m stayin’ Big Boy. Deal with it.”

She may be uninvited, but she’s much too cute to kick out. Even Loki can’t argue that.

“It’s a shame that Mother Nature did not provide humans with the superior dirt-repelling qualities enjoyed by all Siberians.”

As usual, Juno has a point. It’s quite amazing—shocking if you will—how clean she stays for the amount of dirt she gets her furry self into. Siberians may be long furred but they stay unusually clean and rarely need baths. Unfortunately the dirt repelled by a Siberian doesn’t just disappear. In fact, it must go somewhere, and that somewhere happens to be in the Xterra after muddy forest hikes.

Luckily, I’m married to a man who’s passionately ruled by The Economy of Motion.  Mr. Wild Dingo will go to great lengths to make his life easier, even if it means duplicating, nay, replicating multiple times, tools stored in various locations around the house, rather than move them from room to room.  Contractors are in heaven when they work here or are permitted to use the workshops.  Thanks to Mr. Wild Dingo’s obsession passion, after each car trip with the dogs, I can quickly pull over one of his many shop vacuums, this one located next to our cars, conveniently plugged in and ready to go, and effortlessly vacuum the car.  Seriously, it is nothing but a thing to unload the car, drag it over and in 10 minutes my car is nearly perfect again. No longer will my wool coats and yoga pants be adorned with Siberian fur.

“No Siberian fur to remind you of the guilt for leaving me home while you are out having all the fun? I won’t have it.”

Fortunately for Mr. Wild Dingo, I am an attentive student.  Last month, when I needed a new house vacuum, I didn’t buy just one vacuum, but two: a Miele canister style vacuum for the big weekly cleaning jobs and a cordless, battery operated Hoover Wind Tunnel for quick pick ups around the house.  He could utter no words as I showed him both my purchases. I took his silence as proud reverence for such logical thinking.

“Princess, I don’t think destroying that hose will keep Mom from cleaning the Xterra each time. Did woo see the back up vacuums in Pop’s collection?”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way Big Boy.”

I seriously love the convenience of having handily placed vacuums. Next week, I’m going to totally surprise him with a third vacuum, just for the master bedroom. I can’t wait to hear him praise me.

Juno has a way of letting everyone know that it’s time for a rest. She’s very good at asking politely. Who could refuse that face? And who could refuse such a great idea?

“Princess, gambling is a sure way of getting nothing for something.”  
“Big Boy, it’s not gambling when you never lose!”

We’ve had a strange week and lady luck has not been on our side.  The criminal tried to have herself a solo adventure (thankfully the cracker stuck to her like glue) and the cracker had his own, um,  indiscretion.  So now all bets are off. It’s time to double down and go for broke: an upgrade in training and technology. Then hedge my bet that neither will ever happen again.