One little, Two little, Three little Indians…or dogs…and not all are so little either.

A friend of Don’s that he works with told him in October, about her niece’s dog, Gustavo, who, now that her niece was in college, needed a new home.

We considered all the conceivable issues that adopting a large 9 month old Yellow Labrador Retriever mix could raise, and decided we should meet him before making up our minds. So, on November 4^th we went to Corona/Chino to meet Gustavo.

He did not bark at us when we arrived, but rather did allot of kissing and, by means of nudging us with soggy toys, engaged us in the game of “Fetch”. Fortunately, he only needed us to throw the toy, unlike Jasper and Simba who’ve got the rules of “Keep-away” and “Fetch” a little mixed up.

Shortly after our arrival we all decided Gustavo could come home with us.

It probably wasn’t intended to, but I worried that “Gustavo” sounded a little hostile. Remember that earlier I mentioned my fondness of the Merlyn story, and how it was part of the inspiration for Archimedes’ name? Want to take any guesses about our new dog’s new name?

...And Bunnies.....

In August of 2002 we bought a house in Running Springs (San Bernardino mountains), and as I look back at our history of acquiring pets, I guess its surprising that no new pets resulted in the purchase…unless you count the woodpecker in the attic or the squirrels in the pines that scamper across the balcony railing in their rush from one tree to the other. But they can’t really be counted considering that the woodpecker’s hole was sealed and the squirrel population has been fatigued by the large scary nearby fire of 2003 and the felling of trees succumbing to bark beetle infestation. But then Jasper and Simba enjoy going with us when we visit the mountain (Archimedes hates the ride) so we are never wanting for the comfort of creatures.

We’d thought that we might move to Running Springs eventually, but then the opportunity to purchase the Westminster house from Don’s Mom arose in 2004. So, we moved to Westminster, and sold the Santa Ana condo. Like the Running Springs house, the Westminster house came with it's own wildlife. Besides adopting the usual backyard residents; spiders, hornets, butterflies, dragonflies, ants, snails, lizards, possams and the like, we became the proud parents of two rabbits; Mr. and Mrs. Bunny. Mr. and Mrs. Bunny had lived free-ranging in the backyard for 8 to 10 years (those were the estimated ages of the bunnies, with Mrs. Bunny being the older of the two). Their only upkeep being pellets and a carrot each a day.

And then there were two...

Two months later found us at Vince and Sharon’s (brother/sister-in-law) for a Christmas breakfast. Not 30 minutes after we were there, his landlady-neighbor-friend, Lois, stopped in, to show Vince the cute puppies her daughters Chihuahua begat.

Everyone there cooed and awed at the tiny black and tan long-haired cute-sters that fit in the palm of a hand. Everyone there knows I love animals. Everyone there said, “Oh Don, you’ve got to let her have one. What’s one more dog?”

Don said, “If we do, YOU have to be the one to tell Louise.”

Jasper loved his new baby sister. We worried he was too big for her but it was apparent he understood the fragility of her size. He was so gentle and generous with her that she grew up believing she was the Alpha. She continues to believe that despite the evidence that Jasper is only letting her have her way within reason.

Archimedes? He calls that year “the year of the dogs”. He wasn’t happy about the two new intrusions in the beginning, but he’s come to tolerate them. In fact, while he could be free of them in the back of the house (a child gate in the threshold where hall meets living room allows his passage to and from dog land), most mornings I enter the living room at 5:00 a.m. (feeding time) to find Archimedes sprawled on the living room carpet not far from Jasper….up until three weeks ago anyway, but more on that later.

And then there was Dog . . .

I think it was January of 1998 that Don and I bought a condominium in Santa Ana and moved to it.

Again, I made certain to check the rules about animals before purchasing. The CC&R’s (covenants conditions and restrictions) for the co-op (like an association) stated that the allowance was one pet, no more than about 30 pounds, not to be walked in the central courtyard.

“Hmmmm. I guess we already meet the pet quota with Archimedes…but perhaps after we get to know our neighbors they’ll agree to let us have a dog too,” says I to myself.

After 10 months I got brave enough to ask our co-op’s president if she thought the neighbors would mind if Don and I got a dog. Unfairly, I pointed to her poodle, Josh, that she was walking as I said this. I meant to indicate that I intended to find one about Josh’s size if allowed, but it might have had the affect of looking like “if you can have one, I should be able to also.”

“Why would they mind?” she replied.

“Well, because we already have Archimedes.”

“Oh, they probably don’t even know you have a cat.”

“Ohhh, Louise, they must. He sits on the front balcony (that overlooks the busy sidewalk) and bellows when he spots a passer-by (yes, his old habit of trying to embarrass us by pretending to have been abandoned had remained intact when he arrived at his new balcony. Clearly he was delighted that there was more foot traffic below.)

“Does he? I’ve never noticed.”

Well, this was enough for me. No sense in requesting a co-op vote. If Louise said “try it” I was for that.

I’d been researching dog breeds for about four years (when we had to give up Teddy, I’d started a search for a medium to toy size “apartment” dog), and had decided that an Italian Greyhound (AKA “IG”, or “Iggy”) met most of the criteria of what I wanted and didn’t want in a dog….(A Borzoi would have been my first choice if it weren’t for that pesky size restriction.) So I set about looking into the acquisition of an Italian Greyhound. The rescue society asked me if I was truly prepared for an Italian Greyhound. Did I know, for example, that their love of jumping often resulted in owners returning home to discover the dog had been on the kitchen counter and refrigerator top?

“No. ‘Didn’t know that. Seriously?”

“Yes, and they have extremely fragile legs as pups so you must restrain them from their love of jumping. At the very least they will be hopping from sofa to chair to any other furniture surface available.”

The breed was still so appealing to me in all other respects though, that I decided I’d just keep a look-out for one at the local animal shelters and it would just take as long as it was meant to take.

Don offered to be the one to make the rounds, “It’s really hard to leave an animal shelter without being able to help all those sad faces. I’ll do it so you don’t have to.”

On his first day of the intended IG vigil, I got a call at work: “Now, if you’re heart is really set on an Italian Greyhound, you won’t want to look at this dog I found…but he is very cute and I think you would like him.”

“No.” I said, “I’d better not look at him. I think I’m pretty set on an Iggy.”

“O.K.”

Ten minutes later, another call from Don: “He’s got a long nose.”

“OK, I’ll look at him after work.” I’d decided this because I could tell that Don had formed a little attachment, and I admit, I was curious about his cuteness.

I knew that I’d probably agree with Don about this dog he had found, but I wanted to make sure we weren’t missing any IG’s out there, so I stopped at two other animal shelters before visiting the one Don had. I’d not seen an IG anywhere, but I did see a couple of cute toy dogs. On I went to the final stop to look at the dog Don wanted me to see. Don was now at work so was not with me, but he’d told me just which kennel to look in.

The dog was being held in a separate area for the one or two dogs that have been retained longer than the usual 3 days before being “put down” because the animal shelter employees believe them to be particularly adoptable for their character and appearance. He’d been there four days and was living on borrowed time.

This particular animal shelter also provides veterinarian service, so our new part-Spaniel, part-who-knows-what, one-year (or so) old dog, arrived in his new home with all his shots.

Because I’d always thought it would be great fun to have a dog along on our many camping trips, my mind turned toward that vision when I began trying to think up a name for him. His coat is white and orange so I was trying to think of something in nature that might apply, and landed on “Jasper” (an opaque, semi-precious stone that is found in many colors, but the one I remembered having seen, was red). Don agreed, Jasper it was. When I told my Dad about our new dog and the conversation came around to his name, Dad laughed uproariously when I answered, “Jasper”. Apparently this recalled for him a character from some series (The Jasper series from the 1940s?) and envisioning a dog as that character was hilarious. That his name brought laughter right from the start has been appropriate for our little clown dog.

Jasper's crew-cut trim.




Jasper prefers his Haight-Ashbury look.

Archimedes

OK, let’s take a break from the backyard wildlife, and get to the real purpose of this particular blog….our cute adorable kids!

Most folks who know me have been subjected, willingly or otherwise, to photo albums of our “babies”, but since there are a few friends who live too far away to have been treated to said photos, and there is a remote chance that someone might stumble onto this page, who does not know me, I will start at the beginning.

In the beginning there was Archimedes…

I may have mentioned to Don a few times before we were married that I love animals and had missed having one during my college years and since. I hoped when we were married we could find a home that would accommodate a pet…in particular, a canine pet. I didn't mean to make it a condition of marriage, but I've never been certain if the poor fellow thought I had.

At any rate; when, in late December of 1991, we considered an apartment in Newport Beach, I did not forget to ask the owner if pets were allowed. “Probably. A small one, perhaps.” was her response.

Then, one day in 1993, when Don and I were meeting my brother and sister-in-law at a rented cabin in Big Bear for the weekend, Don went inside a grocery store for some firewood and a couple of vittles while I waited outside. He returned with said firewood and vittles and an announcement: “Someone just inside the weather protection area, is giving away a puppy.” Don was worried that the lady might give the pup to the pound, and that even if someone who lived on the mountain took the dog, they might not really be able to afford it. He thought, if I was willing to be the one to ask our landlady if we could keep him, that we should take this last pup of the litter, a Yellow Labrador/German Shorthair mix home. If our landlady rejected the pup, he reasoned, we would be more likely to find him a good home down in Orange County than the woman giving him away at the super market up on the mountain could. Who was I to argue?

Long story slightly shortened, our landlady repeated “Small. You can have a small pet. Get a little 15 pound dog. A dog as large as this is going to be, can not be happy in an apartment.” The verdict was in; Teddy Bear was out.

Tears were shed after handing him over to the nice young couple who had just learned they could not have children. But knowing they would consider Teddy their son helped. His name was changed, as Teddy the man did not want to share a name with Teddy the dog. (A sure sign it was meant to be, we’d given the dog his owner-to-be’s nick-name!)

Despite my knowledge that buying animals from pet stores is tantamount to condoning “Puppy mills”, the Teddy Bear experience was followed by a couple of episodes of my falling in love with pet store dogs, pleading with Don that we should take them home; Don having to remind me that the landlady doesn’t approve of puppies intent on becoming large dogs.

Several months later Don and I were in Lakeside (San Diego), visiting my Dad and step mother. Escape the August heat, we spent a couple of hours watching “Another Stakeout” with Richard Dreyfuss and Emilio Estevez, at a local movie theater. A primary character in the film, that figures later in this story, was a dog named Archie.

Before returning to Dad and Julie’s house we stopped for groceries.

This time it wasn’t a puppy that caught Don’s attention as we left the store, but a tiny bleating kitten in a cardboard box being tended by a young lady, no more than 8 years old.

Knowing I was in for a tough departure if I saw the kitten and left without it, I tried to walk the in the opposite direction. Don, however, seemed determined to look. Again, who was I to argue? (But I did attempt to harden my heart on the short trip to the box, because, if I got a cat, would that mean my pet quota had been met…would I ever again be able to get a dog?)

The child said her parents had told her if she couldn’t give the little four-week old kitten away it was going to the pound. She said it’s siblings were all bigger and were going to kill him. “He’s part Siamese [blue point] and part Calico,” she told us. She’d bathed him in flea shampoo and felt confident in declaring that, “he has no ticks or fleas.” She then held him out for one of us to take him. I stood with my arms folded, just looking, while Don urged me to go ahead and take him. I relented and reached out for him.

On the way to Dad’s house we discussed names. The huge ears on the little four-week old head reminded me of an owl for some reason. I recalled that in T.H. White’s “The Book of Merlyn” Merlyn’s very clever companion is an owl named Archimedes. Taken, no doubt, from the Archimedes of ancient times; a Sicilian of Greek decent—a famed mathematician and inventor. This was appropriate because this is how I think of Don (no, not as Sicilian! As inventive.), so I suggested the name, explaining my reasons, and concluding that we could call him Archie, like the dog in the movie we’d just seen, since he was probably going to be the closest thing to a dog I was going to get.

He was the cutest little kitten.

Four weeks is too early to take a kitten from it’s mother. It’s eyes aren’t fully open and it doesn’t know how to lap liquids yet. (And apparently, according to something I read in a book, this was also what caused the development of his strange mating behavior---namely, that he wanted to with anything and everything-animate or inanimate.)

We used an eye-dropper to feed him and were very pleased that even at only four weeks he knew what to do in kitty litter.

His eyes, when they finally opened, were a brilliant deep turquoise. I wasn’t sure if all cat’s had blue eyes as babies, so while I hoped they would stay this color, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t. They lightened, but are still pretty.

I’m a believer in the power of names, and it's true Archimedes is a very clever, inventive kitty. He's probably even good at math. What I didn’t know when we named Archimedes, was that the famed inventor was also a violent warrior. And what I didn’t think of when I thought it was cute that we could use the dog’s name in the movie as his nick-name (Archimedes scoffed at “Archie” so we didn’t use it after-all) was, that dog was a ROTTWEILER. But these things bore out in his little personality as his eyes began to focus and his claws and teeth found their marks.

He became our little guard dog….I mean cat. He answered the door whenever company came and attacked if he didn’t like the look or smell of the visitor. He sat on our upstairs balcony wall and bellowed at us as we parked our car below. The noise was so loud we joked that he was trying to embarrass us, imploring the entire neighborhood to call 911 to rescue him from our callous abandonment, never mind that we’d been at work slaving to feed his Little Furry Highness.

Archimedes was ruler of the house for four years…and then there were dogs.

I’m afraid all his kitten pics were on film. If I can find them I’ll try scanning. Meantime, here are more recent pics of Archimedes.

Look, I'm a Jack-o-lantern!

Westminster, July 10, 2006

Well, I guess you can't be squimish about bugs to enjoy this particular blog. I say this because my next images are of the beautiful (eye of the behoder, I realize) dragonfly I found one July morning on my bouganvillea.

And now for the pet page....

I’m feeling like there needs to be a "pet page" in my group of blogs. So, primarily that’s what this is, but since most of my pet photos are taken at home … well, one home or the other any way (Westminster or Running Springs), I figure if I call it a “home page” I can include the occasional flower, butterfly, or bird image as well. So, to start it off, we have these lovely spiders that started showing up in our Westminster backyard in July and hung around (literally) until just recently (October).
I know. Spiders are scary, harry, venomous things.... (in fact my poor kitty ate one and was quite ill for a week!) But they're amazing too. And the webs! Have you seen them in the moonlight; how they colorfully break up the light? Sadly I could only manage to overflash or blur the pictures I took of this guy (girl?) at night in his pretty web. So just these day shots are presentable at all.