Building A Wall

I realize that the title of this post seems to refer to a notorious project that is being trumpeted about by a recent occupier of the White House (that will cost billions and accomplish nothing other than to make many people's lives worse than they already are...). But in this instance, the title refers to various barricades that Bob and I now live with as a matter of course. These demi-walls are set up to temporarily block a certain young dog access to rooms in our house.(Hi Robin!)

As we all fondly remember, Lil' Robin the Good refused to be confined when she was a mere pup. She scaled barriers of every description and height, perhaps employing magical powers, as she seemed to miraculously appear on the other side of whatever wall was erected. It was impressive. We finally relented, and gave her the run of the house and so far we have suffered no disastrous consequence, excepting Robin's consumption (with no ill effect) of several pairs of reading glasses, sun glasses and Bob's prescription glasses and a passel of pens.
However, when we're not present, we do restrict her access to a few rooms with these temporary barriers. Inexplicably, these pieces of plywood and fiberboard work where more serious blockades never did. And you may ask, why not just close the doors to these rooms? Because Lil' Robin doesn't like closed doors and will scratch and whine vigorously until the door is opened.

My studio, the bedroom and the "office" are all off limits as they are beyond impossible to secure from her idiosyncratic quest for things to chew. (I call it "shopping": she cases a room, checking out all nose-height surfaces.) Robin seems content to roam the rest of the house, and in general, we have been lucky that furniture has been spared. And Robin was a pretty quick study in the house training department; we really didn't experience many "accidents" of the liquids and solids variety.

And look! There's Lil' Robin now, with an entertaining assortment of her preferred chewables: empty seltzer bottles and plastic perennial pots, with the occasional foray into more traditional things like balls. And below? The Magic Robin! (Looks sort of like she's saying "Who me? I didn't eat that!")

And Yet Another Puppy Post!

Robin lost two teeth today! She has a goofy gap-toothed grin as her two front lower baby teeth fell out. She probably swallowed them. But teething is a way serious issue for little dogs: wake up and let the chewing begin! Here's another action shot:

Yes, that's an actual, untouched photo of her mouth in action. But just when you exclaim, "What were we thinking?" and decide that little Robin was pick of the litter at Satan's Puppy Mill, she falls asleep on your stomach and has delicate puppy dreams and is all warm and squishy..

That all occurs in the space of three minutes. It does keep you on your toes. (Of course, an entire blog entry and inquiry could easily be devoted to considering just what a puppy dreams about. Robin has been alive a grand total of fifteen or sixteen weeks and would not seem to have a huge range of life experiences. But dream she does: howling and twitching and eyes rolling wildly. Curious!) But she is a grade a student when it comes to house training. Not one accident yesterday at all!
But I have a vet appointment today for puppy booster shots and an ear check (seems to be shaking her head and rubbing her ears). I realized that with the exception of the harrowing eight hour odyssey that she endured on her Pennsylvania to Connecticut adventure, she has no car experience. So I bundled her into the car, thinking to drive around the block and prepare her for Thursday's excursion. No sooner had I rounded the first bend than I thought, "Gee, she's awfully quiet" and I glanced into the rear view mirror to see her nose becoming visibly longer and pointier and well, greener (no mean trick for a black puppy!) and her tongue came out and she drooled prodigiously and the next thing I knew her lunch was on the seat along side her. Poor little Robin! We'll see how she fares today on a half hour journey...
But despite the puppy preoccupation, she's a good kid and has been helpful while I clean up the garden. She likes carrying sticks around and has done a fine job of jumping on the piles of leaves I've raked. She's been really good in my studio, too, where there is no end of excitement and danger. Bob and I are both preparing for a show upcoming at The Trailer Box Project in Danbury. I think Bob's pretty much on top of things, but I lost a month when mourning Jules and have a bit of catching up to do. (Mostly sewing backings on pieces and tweaking a book I hope to complete). Thank the stars that Robin has been mostly cooperative!

More Puppy Appearances and What to Eat for St. Patrick's Day

There have been repeated calls for more pictures of our charmer Robin. But she is in constant motion when awake and looks very much like a black blur. Once asleep, however, she presents a calmer study, although her penchant for sleeping on her back provides us with eccentric shots, like the one above. Crashed out indeed!
Robin has progressed nicely in the house training department. She had a single accident (liquid) yesterday but we have mastered the rapid evacuation out the door two seconds after she finishes eating so we seem to have the solids department under control. Bob maintains she's the smartest puppy we've ever had. She is a quick study but I am currently more aware of the sharpness of all those little puppy teeth.

This is the Noble Seated Robin. There is a quality about her that's mature. I mean, look at that face: she does present as a grown dog. That is, when she's not biting and chasing her tail and running around like the little banshee she really is...

Here's the other side. I think she was watching Maggie- everything that Maggie does is fascinating to Robin. The other night, Maggie decided to play Rodeo Girl and run, bucking and snorting ferociously
from one end of her pasture to the other. Robin was terrified but couldn't look away. Robin is fascinated by everything; she's only 14 weeks old, so everything is new.
But lest I forget, it IS St. Patrick's Day and Bob and I are in a quandary about what to eat. Many vegetables are green but we don't eat beef so corned beef is out of the question. Pea soup? If anyone has any ideas, send them along. In the meantime, Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Liquids and Solids

Yes, I stole the title for this post from a book someone else wrote ages ago, about their dog and (you can guess) the excitement involved in house training. Get it? It's all about liquids and solids. Bob and have had more discussions in the past week about canine bodily functions than most people have in an entire life. I have taken to keeping a note pad, complete with time and location of puppy byproducts. It certainly makes for fascinating reading!
Robin- despite having arrived at our house 100% NOT house trained- is doing remarkably well. She sleeps most of the night and it is me that rouses her at 2:30 or 3:00 to make a little trip outside to eliminate so no surprises happen on the bedroom floor. She is smart and doing a good job.
But she has been most unhappy when we attempt to leave her alone, an unacceptable state to a young dog! Let's face it: her entire thirteen week existence has been in the presence of her mother and litter mates and the other adult dogs at the breeder's house. So she has had zero experience on her own and has protested in all kinds of inventive ways. She sings, she howls, she leaves the above mentioned liquids and solids, obviously signalling her displeasure.
And she has proven to be quite the escape artist! Bob and I barricaded her in the kitchen (with plenty of toys ad blankets and reading material appropriate to her age and interests) but she pushed through a three foot high plywood partition blocked by kitchen chairs with ease. We then made a four foot high barrier on the stairway, with a board wedging the barrier tight. Somehow our little Robin- in an imitation of Spider Man- scaled or flew over this obstruction, and Bob found her upstairs. He sent an incredulous email to me at work. I dreaded coming home, and we both worried she'd hurt herself trying to escape the stockade that our house now resembled.

(The pictures, by the way, are of the very end of Robin's very funny tail. It looks like an etch-a-sketch drawing of a dog's tail, except at the end where there is this eccentric little twizzle. Totally endearing!) In any event, today we debated crate training (I've always been opposed) and Thunder Shirts (supposed to wrap the dog in a snug embrace and relieve anxiety) but decided to live dangerously and just leave her with the run of the kitchen and the upstairs hallway. We went out to run errands, hoping that she'd be happier with more room to situate herself where she felt secure and comfortable.
We came home and she was okay: at the top of the stairway squeaking and looking a bit perturbed, but happier than she had been. I went out again this afternoon, and Bob was in his studio, leaving Robin on her own once more. And do you know, she was once again better off with more run of the house... and no surprises in the form of the famous liquids and solids to clean up! Maybe we've found the charm.

On Not Sleeping

Last night, in yet another failed attempt to sleep, I got up and accomplished quite a bit on the above piece. I sewed around all the inner edges of the letters, where the intersect and overlap the insert of horizontal fabric. I'm glad I had something to do, but I sure would rather have been asleep, leaving the artwork for day time.
Do I need to tell you that not sleeping sucks? Of course not. I'm tired, I'm not thinking clearly, I've lost some of the edge of my sense of humor, I'm probably not making a whole lot of sense and hell, I worry that my judgement has gone out the window. (Someone stop me if I consider voting for Ted Cruz. That's what lack of sleep can do to you. Snark, snark, snark.

That mug would wake the dead!! My eyes! As Robert Reich cogently pointed out in a 4 point presentation, Ted is even scarier than The Donald.)
So here I am again, at 3:21 in the a.m. wide awake and posting a blog that leaps from my latest art work to weirdo republicans in a single bound. But I guess this beats lying in bed, debating the (un) merits of getting up versus restlessly turning from side to side, trying to convince yourself that you're almost a sleep. Surprise! You're not!
There is that mysterious moment when you feel immersed in pool of almost not-consciousness and you just let go and slip into sleep, if it's going to happen. The "if it's going to happen" is crucial because if it's not happening, you spring back up like, "Hello! I'm actually wide awake!!" I've become really good at that part. Contemplating that moment of suspension and surrender is not helpful because if your twitching monkey brain is busy analyzing the threshold of sleep instead of simply crossing it, you're not sleeping.
So here I am, the only being awake for miles around, hoping to finish up this blog posting so that I can go back to the bedroom and drift off. I know that since Jules the Dog died, my sleep patterns have gone to hell. In the past if I occasionally couldn't sleep, Jules saw it as his duty to keep my company. Now, even not sleeping makes me miss Jules...
I am hoping that the impending (some time mid week?!?!?) arrival of our latest bundle of canine joy will assist in recovering the ability to sleep soundly. But I do need to take into consideration the fact that small puppies who are not house trained need to be taken outside every two or three hours. That'll do wonders for my not sleeping!