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April 11, 2018

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Katastrophes (and wagging tales)

April 17, 2017

 Clearly, a person who blogs needs to have a purpose, and clearly, at this point, I have none.  However, I love animals and have a few stories to share about them, so there's my focus for the moment.Where do animals fit into my life?  I write a weekly newsletter for our county animal shelter and I sell my pottery and some dog treats at the local farmer's market once a month. I have owned or been owned by 8 dogs and 4 cats in my lifetime so far.  Currently, my children are two wonderful Goldendoodles, Farley and Feebie.  They are 12 and 10, respectively, and every day I make a wish for just one more day to share with them.  


So, Goldendoodles.  If I never had them groomed, they would look exactly like Chewbacca.  But I do have them groomed, and they look like large, goofy stuffed animals, as you can see.

They are a cross between a Golden Retriever mom and a standard poodle dad.  Okay, so you might say you don't want a dog this big.  That's ok, because smaller versions are also created using in vitro methods with smaller poodles.  Since this cross isn't yet considered a breed, many people refer to them as "designer dogs."  I'd say they are designed to be the perfect companion.  They are super smart (ours ring a bell to be let out), they follow us around like shadows, and they are only sad when we leave the house without them.  Another fact that seems to really thrill the housekeeping crew out there: they don't really shed.  Feebie leaves her hair on my black pants, but when I pet her there's no hair loss.  Farley keeps his hair completely to himself. 


Ok, I promised a story.  Farley has become increasingly nervous about thunder storms.  He pants, tries to climb into the bookcase above our bed, wedges himself between the toilet and wall in our bathroom, and generally tries to make it go away.  During one late night/early morning gully washer, I met Farley in our living room.  He was panting away, and frankly I wasn't sleeping through it either.  I put my hand on his big head and asked "well, big guy, what do you think we should do?"  Without a pause, Farley walked to the door leading downstairs to the basement and stopped.  If he could speak, it would not have been made more clear.  We spent the next hours on the basement couch, watching old movies together.  Oh, and Feebie too.  She wasn't afraid, but she never wants to miss out. 




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