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Archive for the ‘Dogs’ Category

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I love maps; I studied geography in college, not as part of my career goals, but just because it was interesting. 

When my friend and blogging buddy told me about ClustrMaps and I saw the link info on her site, it looked like fun. 
I like seeing where the people who visit my blog come from.  It makes me feel connected to the world, and chances are I will never visit some of the far flung places in the world that drop by my blog for a visit.  Welcome.  Stay and have a cup of tea while you read.   Someday I hope to get to Europe & stay in a castle, any castle will do.  (I know they are drafty…I will bring a sweater.) We have plans for an Alaskan cruise in 2010….but I’m afraid that my long desired trip to the Holy Land will have to wait.

When I was growing up, my family travelled cross-country…three times…from coast to coast…by car.  When we lived in the east, there were trips to Georgia, Florida and the east coast…New York, New England, Canada and our nation’s capital. 
I was always in charge of the AAA Trip-tick on these adventures.  I read aloud from the appropriate tour book that listed the hotels and points of interest along the way. 

I know what you’re thinking…..”Oh how romantic and fun that must have been!”…..traveling by car, learning about the United States, meeting interesting people…visiting national parks, monuments, historic cities…seeing America up close…Yes, that would have been fun. 
Let me clarify…
I would have enjoyed the maps, the traveling and the history much more, if my father was the kind of person that actually pulled over to enjoy the scenic outlooks that the tour books boasted about. 

Rather, our stops were fast…fill the car up with gas and a potty break for the occupants…including the dog.  Sometimes the stops were just to let the dog out for a quick pee and maybe  a poop.  Teddy got really good at holding it in for…..hours.  She was the only dog I have ever seen who could cross her legs.  Since she also had motion sickness, we had to give her Dramamine.  I still have a vivid memory of her vomiting on the edge of a mountain road on the way to Big Bear, CA.  Poodle puke is not pretty. 
Sad face. 

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Some of these cross country road trips also included my 70-ish year old grandmother.  
While having three generations trapped in a vehicle is great for family togetherness & bonding….one member of our family was not thrilled.  You see, my dog HATED the sound of my grandma’s voice. 
So we had to medicate her during the trips….the dog…not my grandmother.   

Fortunately for Teddy, the Dramamine helped her sleep…again, the dog slept…. not my grandmother.
Oh no!  Grandma did not sleep, maybe briefly doze off perhaps, but never a good long nap…filling the car with peaceful quiet….
Those brief ‘cat naps’ (sorry Teddy) gave Grandma the energy to talk, a lot.  Grandma had opinions to force upon you share; people to gossip talk about…

My grandmother did not approve of the music selections, restaurant choices (she wasn’t paying), conversation topics, or the level of the air conditioning.  She was not afraid of loudly voicing her opinions and Grandma’s opinions were many. 
During her lectures, Teddy would have her head buried in my mom’s armpit, even the Dramamine didn’t help. 
Sometimes she would whimper….(yes, the dog.) 
There were times during the trips that I’m sure my dad wished he could slip her a ‘little something’…in this case…his mother…not the dog.

As far as the music selections, don’t get excited.  We had approximately a dozen 8 Track tapes…remember those?  Montavanni & His Orchestra, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Doc Severinsen (from Tonight Show fame), Nat King Cole….(I heard Mona Lisa so many times that I could probably re-write an arrangement  of it today, myself – from memory.)  Then, there was the very jazzy 8 track tape that came with the car.  I can’t remember all the performers, but every time I hear Carlos Santana’s “Oye como va“, I am transported to a long stretch of deserted highway somewhere in the continental US. 
I actually have the music playing “as we speak”…it’s giving me, my inspiration.

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While Grandma claimed to not like the the uptempo numbers, she kept time by tapping on the passenger window….for miles……(she really liked the Carlos Santana piece.)  Sometimes we could get a smile out of Grandma by singing a chorus of “Sweet Hour of Prayer” along with Tennessee Ernie Ford in Donald Duck voices.  And they call this…talent. 
There were other artists, but I can’t remember the titles now…the tapes have long since been donated to the Smithsonian. 
(Although Manilow’s “Even Now ” 8 track is still around here somewhere.  Notice:  Any snotty anti-Barry Manilow comments will earn you an immediate place of dishonor in the Spam folder.)

During one rather eventful trip, my mom was seated behind my grandmother.  Mom was in the direct line air conditioning for hours;  she had a serious case of bronchitis/pneumonia by the time we reached our destination.  Luckily, hospitals are also listed in the AAA tour books.

I saw the Grand Canyon as a ‘tween.’  My father parked the car, we got out, walked to edge, stared out and took a photo.  I still have the pic of me and Teddy in a photo album…acid free of course.  My dad said “that’s the Grand Canyon.”  We got back in the car.  The little tour had taken away 10 minutes from our valuable drive time. 

Teddy was not without her colorful moments.  Once in Canada after the Olympics in Montreal, a lovely Canadian with a French accent asked if he could pet Teddy.   I did not understand, “Does she bite?  in French….fortunately he moved his hand before she tried to give him a nip.   She was an adorable dog, and the fact that she wore her security ‘blanket’ sweater even in the summer made her even cuter.  I apologized profusely for my dog, I must have had the gene for diplomacy even then.  The gentleman was very kind and accepted my regrets for the behavior of my medicated poodle.  Turned out he was some sort of Canadian diplomat….good thing Teddy did not start an international incident. 

My husband’s traveling experiences were similar to mine. 
His family made approximately 15 trips between CA and the Midwest during his childhood. 
My in-laws had two weeks vacation each year and they did not want to spend all of it driving.  Hubby’s father and mother would take turns at the wheel, stopping only for potty breaks until they reached their destination.  Hubby’s CA grandma would make sandwiches for the trip….
Hubby says they had to hope the food would last and not spoil….luckily Coleman coolers had been invented by then…..

His family would always begin their journeys late at night or in the wee morning hours…to get through the desert while it was cool. 
Of course this meant the first leg of the trip was in the dark….making it difficult to see the beautiful scenery. 
There were often conversations like the following –
“Hey Kids!  Here’s Yosemite….But Dad, it’s 3 am – it’s kinda dark!” 
“Oh look!  That was an indian reservation!…Really? Where?” 
It’s a wonder when we were growing up that neither one of us had whiplash from watching the scenery zoom past. 

Hubby is willing to share some personal anecdotes of travelling with his family: 
One trip all the children had coloring books.  They kept the new crayons in a coffee can…never put a coffee can filled with crayons in the back window of an Oldsmobile on a hot August morning…..

There was the time in Arizona….on a indian reservation…surprisingly enough during daylight hours…when Father-in-law bought fireworks.  “FIL” thought he was purchasing the tiny ‘lady fingers’ fireworks, when what he actually bought were full fledged firecrackers.  “FIL” thought it would be funny to light one off in the car…..I mean, light a firework in the car…don’t EVEN get me started on personal emissions.  After the blast rocked the station wagon, I’m surprised they all didn’t lose their hearing.  Could this be why sometimes Hubby says “Huh?” when I ask him a question?   

…Then there was the time that the brakes went out on the Oldsmobile, coming down out of Loveland Pass in Colorado…wheee…Rocky Mountain Higgggggggggh!  My mother-in-law nearly had a nervous breakdown from the joy ride down the mountain road. 

I don’t think I can tell you what happened in Yosemite…I’ll check to see if there’s a statute of limitations on flowers before my next post on Clustr Maps.  So – between hubby and I, we’d seen lots of the country by car…at 60 – 70  miles an hour or whatever….speed that our fathers could get by with…the speed limit allowed…often in the dark.

Coming in Part II – Stories from the Road when you take the time to stop and “Smell (Don’t pick) the Flowers!”
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This was originally entitled “Gaslighting: Doggy style. 2008_05_29-bertha7921

I was going to be able to use this great line:  “No, this is not going to be about sex.  Mind out of the gutter, please.”  But I thought if I had one more post about Gaslighting, my audience was probably going to go screaming off into the night. 

Really, this is going to be about being gaslighted by two canines. Specifically a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Treeing Walker Coon Hound.  While I can’t cite specifics re: the abuses from the N;
I can tell the you about two dogs that made my life miserable for 45 minutes while on vacation. I do like dogs, but I’m sorry, cats are never this cruel. 

We were on vacation in the Emerald City; actually on an island, but close enough for this tale.  We had spent 3 wonderful weeks in the Pacific Northwest.  My husband and older sons returned home; leaving myself and our youngest son to follow a few days later.

I had carefully packed two memory cards for my camera in my carry on luggage.  I put them in a Ziploc bag with a few other small soft items.  I knew exactly where they were.  After three weeks I was re-packing, getting ready to go home.  I hate re-packing.  How is it that you can never get the same suitcase to close as easily as you did on the way up?  It’s like an old TV show where the heroine tries to wiggle into a girdle. 

One evening before we left, our friends and I were going to swap photos.  I had filled one memory card, with about 700 photos.  I sat down with my friend and we went through photos from our joint vacation the previous summer. There were close to 500 photos; I decided it would be easier to down load all of the photos from his lap top.  “Go get your memory cards,” he said.  I went into one of the guest rooms that my husband and I share when we visit……….

Moose and Petunia are very curious dogs.  (Hey, I didn’t name them, the kids did.)  The moment we arrived with our luggage they were in the guest room.  Sniffing the suitcases….”Hey, I smell cat!”  Climbing on the bed and laying on the comforter…”Hey, we’ll sleep with you guys tonight…”  It took five minutes to move 80 and 65 pounds of dog from the room. 

Early in the trip, the 1/2 pound of fudge from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, “disappeared” plastic wrapping and all.  Our friends never did find any ‘remnants.’  After that we were always careful to close the bedroom door so that we did not have a raid from any furry commandos.

……My carry on bag was sitting on the bed right where I had left it…except the door was ajar.  I reached in to get the Ziploc bag with the memory cards; the bag was gone.  I went back out to the main level….where could I have left it?  I retraced my steps, 4 or 5 times.  I looked in the bag again.  My friend called me from the living room…”Are you going to bring the memory card?”  The dogs were strangely absent. 

If I hadn’t felt like I had stepped back in time, standing my office, hunting for something that the N had taken, I might thought to see where the dogs were. Instead I kept searching the main floor of the house.  My friends joined in the hunt.  They both assured me that the dogs would have never taken a Ziploc bag from my bedroom.  My girlfriend started wondering, out loud, whether I had actually brought it with me on vacation. I had that horrible panicked feeling of thinking: Did I really bring the memory cards?  Am I imagining this?  I  was having flash backs to when the N was gaslighting me on a daily basis.  I had that same off centered feeling. 

I should have paid more attention to the dogs as they nonchalantly sat on the living room floor.  Petunia had THE most guilty look on her face.  She’d look at me and then look away.  To those of you who have dogs, you know “the look.”

After 45 minutes, it seemed like longer, of walking through the house, running my hands through my hair, looking under everything…we found about 30 dog bones or portions of them…my friend took the flashlight and went out into the darkness.  I stood on the porch, not wanting to commune with the raccoons, skunks and other furry woodland creatures.  “Is this it?” he called.  He found the bag at the edge of the wetlands.  Yes, the Ziploc bag that carefully held 2 2 GB memory cards the size of my thumbnail, was returned to the kitchen for inspection.  The cards were fine.  They were still in their individual cases.  I can’t say the same for the Ziploc bag or the tea bags; they were quite spitty.  Sorry Petunia, it wasn’t more fudge. 

Moose couldn’t look me in the eye, and went to his kennel.  Petunia was found upstairs in our friend’s bedroom, hiding under the covers.  The next day, I surprised Petunia by coming into the room from another direction, she took one look at me, and her back legs couldn’t move fast enough. She raced out the doggie door and ‘hid’ outside under the tire swing.

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When I got home and started unpacking, the cats were very curious.  They kept sniffing the luggage, mouths open, with disgusted looks on their furry faces.  “Ewwwww!  Have you been around a Dog?!”  “How could you!!  Traitor!!!!”  I took another dirty load of laundry to the washer; when I returned to the family room, the cats were standing over something white on the floor.  It was a dog bone.  I guess Moose and Petunia were trying to apologize.

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