None of my dogs ever chases their own tails.

I'm going to end 2008 with a tale of yesterday's walk in the field. Like so many tales told all through this year. My last walk in Lighthouse Field for this Esteemed Year of 2008. Was a basic, quick morning walk before running off to work. Nice day just starting on West Cliff, sun was up and ocean so clear, walking into the sun. Decided to just skirt across the edge of the field on the way back, not even walking through it, exactly. The far edge, acre 32.9 of 33 of them. Along the fence where the boxy apartments are, with hula Christmas tinsel dangling off balconies in the breeze. As far from a ranger truck as you can possibly be. A tiny bit of freedom for a tiny run, then back on leashes to dash home through the neighborhood.

Had 'em off, dogs started to run a little, this way and that, only running they may have all day, when I see it. The truck. My nemesis, my albatross, the big white whale that follows me around instead of me chasing it. Why does it know when I'm there? I have a split second to decide, grab the dogs and leash 'em up or just keep going into certain ticketdom once again.

Call everyone in. Off yer leash, on yer leash. Ruby already right there, Otterpop comes right in, Gustavo meanders about and is farthest out and I crouch down and call for my good buddy and he comes running in and clip on his dirty, red leash.

So then, what to do? Make a run for it the way I came in, back towards the sea that's so glary and sparkly in my eyes that I have to squint to look that way, which, by the way, adds tiny little crows feet to your eyes and you are not supposed to squint if you are wanting to keep nice complected and away from the knife? Keep going the way we were headed, due North, the way to my house? Sit there and have a smoke and wait for that truck to just roll it's wide tires on up to me? That one would have been the obvious choice for dramatic flair, but being I don't smoke, and being I'm already running late-ish for work, it's head up and out we go towards National Street. The streets in the neighborhood are named for civic pride and noble American ideals. We could also walk up Liberty or Columbia. Decide perhaps best to make a run for it, in my jogger disguise of clogs and a big coat and jeans that are far too tight already thank you See's candy debacle of the previous weeks.

I'm running and I feel like I'm about to tear up all weepy face because I'm running like a criminal with a truck coming after me and I'm just trying to walk my dogs. Is that being a big fat baby with no other life than walking these dogs, some kind of hormone imbalance like everyone says is coming now that you're OVER FORTY, or just this moment of pure frustrated hatefulness of things not working like I want? And I get mad and I just start brisk walking instead and my head is up and I walk fast and I can hear it behind me coming up closer. I don't turn around, not once and I plan, then and there, to lie. I plan ahead and my plan is that I am going to look the ranger dead in the eye and lie that I ever had them off their leashes and that's my plan since now I've turned into a liar.

I keep going towards the street with civic pride name and I'm still not looking back. All I hear are rolling tires that make a quiet, rolling crunching noise on the sandy path and I step out of the park and into the street and then across the street and set foot on the sidewalk and I can hear it's not behind me anymore. It's paused at the edge of the field, where the sidewalk starts, idling by the sign that has the little stick man walking his great big stick dog on a stiff piece of string. I don't look back and I just keep walking along.

Walking up the sidewalk of National Street, I think, that's it. I guess that's the last time we walk out there in the year of 2008 and that's how it went and usually I'm not a big one for things must mean something else but then and there, I think they do. Not that 2008 was an all bad year. It's just a year and all of them, they have their ups and downs. Like a stapler, you know? Goes up and goes down and sometimes holds the paper together just like you wanted and sometimes sends a staple straight through your finger then off to the emergency room you go. Sometimes the damn thing doesn't work and sometimes you can't even find it. But it's still just a stapler.

Hey. At least I'm not giving you a Top 10 movie list. Top 10 goals for agility. Top 10 ways to influence Oprah into handing you the keys to her still standing Montecito estate. A stapler. Never said I knew how to philosophize.

This was a year where a lot of things went lost. That happens sometimes, happens to us all. Something about being chased out of the field by a truck, just makes me think about it while I'm walking by the houses I see every day. Lost Timmy. Jane. Lighthouse Field. A lot of lost happening elsewhere, in bigger pictures far wider than my little view. Lots of my friends, had their losts this year. And how do you handle it? You get mad. You compress into a shrinky ball of depressed. You fight or lay down or rollover on your back, or you can just try to keep going some other, new kind of way that you didn't know about yet. Something else that might be bigger or might be shinier and might be just so different that you didn't think to try it before.

Don't know how long that truck sat there. Don't know where it went. Never looked back to see. Just looked up and ahead and towards where we're going and I have all my dogs here and we just keep going, through the squirrels and under the trees, trying to stay in the sun and just keep on walking.

Am I missing something?

So the other day, we were driving home from XMAS and stopped in Santa Barbara to run the dogs on the beach and then grab a taco at a taqueria. I wander up to the counter of a taqueria at some strip mall, and the guy in front of me in line is taking a really, really long time to order. He is large-ish, and really sweaty. Wearing navy blue poly type work pants and thick black rubbery shoes and a navy jacket stretched tight over his back gut. Like a security guard maybe? Low budget rent-a-cop? But he's like going through EVERYTHING on the menu with the counter girl like every single item is some kind of rare disease with a 9 part Latin name and numerous side effects. And did I mention he's really sweaty? Because he's all hunched over the counter, and I can see his sweaty neck hairs and then I notice. He is wearing a wig. A sort of flowing, chestnut colored Ray Orbison wig. So I am sort of sidling over to try and peek at his hunched over face. Because I just have to. I see meaty, fleshy fingers, crumpling up the paper taco list, his running commentary on each thing just wacked out. It's tacos, buddy. But I can't quite peek at his face. I'm dying to know what his face is.

Finally, he selects some kind of burrito, and mentions that they don't have all these kind of burritos at home.

The counter girl says, "Oh, where are you from?"

There is a long, dramatic pause. And he straightens up, and announces, "Somewhere else."

Then he turns around and looks me dead in the eye. I glance away because he has freaky lips and the look of the insane. Plus he has sweaty neck hair and is wig wearing and just took like 4 hours to select a burrito from your basic tacqueria. And it's like, what is the etiquette on that?

I ordered my tacos, and we went to separate corners to wait for our orders. No one else in the joint. Every so often, I surreptitiously peek over because it's hard to tear my eyes away from his wig. Sort of a page boy cut, you know? But sometimes I can tell he is looking at me and I'm like, ew. Then I'm like, I'm a mean, shrewlike lady and what is the big deal and you could even just march over there and strike up a conversation, you know? I know people that would do that. You are so obsessed about his damn wig and you wanted to know who he was and now you are totally obsessed with him but you won't even go and talk to him.

So instead, I just dig through my purse and fish out my reporter's notebook and write down some incomprehensible scribble about his wig. But I glance up one more time and now his fleshy, shiny haired face is chomping into a foil wrapped burrito.

So I bring this up because I just learned the Facebook and honestly, the Facebook has me sort of baffled. I know you know how to use it because some of you have friended me. Befriended me? Friend collected me? Some of you are friend friends and some of you are internet friends and some of you are dog agility friends and some of you I didn't really know we were friends and some of you are maybe someone that lived down the street from us and I am honored that you have friended me.

I think. I think I am honored. To have 12 friends. Which in Facebook land is like you might as well be wearing sweatpants that say Juicy on the butt and walking your goldendoodle dog around with a choke chain. So not cool. In Facebook land, 112 friends is a border collie that never budges an inch in their down stay and if you're toting Louis Vuitton, it's a super rare obscure one. Although I don't know what I'm talking about. It could be ok to have 12 friends?

And we write on walls and network socially and then the Facebook people do what with our data? I guess it's sort of like blogs except no, it isn't. Blogs is like I go stand on my front porch in my underpants if I want but you can only go sit in your car out front and honk the horn. And if I want, I can drive over and sit in front of your house and stare at your porch and maybe I'll honk my horn or maybe I won't. Because mostly I spend a lot of time picking out my underpants and don't really care about seeing yours. Facebook is like we are all wandering around in our underpants and you can see everyone else's underpants and you tell one person about your problem with sweaty neck hair and then all the other kids in the cafeteria know about it too? But you still have to ask them if you can sit down at their table to eat your lunch and maybe it's just easier to just have an apple and go play with the dogs?

Or just wear your wig in a taqueria and sweat a lot?

So the moral of this story is what? Were we talking about running contacts, Susan Garrett? Uh. The answer is yes. I will be your friend. Super duper thanks! But I am not going to show you my underpants.

Holiday Dog Training Tips

I know. Some of you are out there shoveling trenches for your dogs in the snow so you don't interrupt your 2x2 weave pole training. De-icing your dogwalk with your blow dryer. Moved your jumps into the kitchen and burned the dining room table for heat to warm precious performance dog muscles.

Um. Agility? Hi, do I know you, my old friend? Not going to too many dog shows this month anyways because, ahem, no dog show monies due to no dog class teaching. And not big sales on the team small dog shwag for xmas shoppers. My economy, not stimulated enough. And it's been rainy or I've been sick or gone and so not even sure last time we did some agility. Santa Rosa dog show? Was that so long ago?

So for holiday traveling, we just worked on basic manners and general good dog training. Which is helpful, since I am the houseguest that shows up with 3 toothy, barky, and scratchy bundles of joy that may want to climb onto your counters and eat your Christmas Dinner then chase the UPS man off the front porch. Hypothetically speaking.

Holiday Training Tip No. 1:
The tennis ball is your friend. Every morning, we walked stealthily through abandoned suburbs, no other signs of life except for occassional ipodded and wicking fabric swaddled joggers padding by us on the most clean and sparkly streets. Past neutrally painted classic ranch style homes with stone facades and impeccable landscaping, to the deserted seaside elementary school. Where there is a giant grassy soccer field and baseball field and green grass as far as the eye can see. 2 tennis balls in hand. Which are thrown, over and over, and over again to the delight and frenzy of the small dogs until tongues sufficently hanging out and Otterpop laying on top of her ball, like a big fat goose sprawled over a lumpy golden egg.

Holiday Training Tip No. 2:
Playground equipment. Is sort of like agility but actually, sort of way insanely funner because it involves slides. Teach your dog to go down the slide. But be careful of the twisty tall one because maybe your dog will leap like an insane squirrel bat from the top. Luckily playgrounds are used to kids doing stuff like this all the time and have nice, cushy, manufactured surfaces for dogs to slam into. If your dog is Otterpop, can actually run up the slide the wrong way and down the ladder. No other small dogs mananged that feat. Everybody else, just holler "Climb!" and off they go, up the stairs, through the archway and flying down the big red slide. Hours of fun. Can be combined with Training Tip No. 1 tennis ball for even faster slide riding. Small children can use playground stuff at same time, it's ok. But small dogs totally kick their ass in fastness of sliding. Sorry kids. Take a tip from the team. Run!

Holiday Training Tip No. 3:
Wordless communication on the beach. Pretend you cannot utter a word because you have a wicked painful sore throat and maybe even a fever. Use a series of whistles and hand gestures to communicate things like Do Not Jump Off the Bluff or Get Out of the Cave or Step Away From the Picnic. Did you read the book Edgar Sawtelle? I did and I'll tell you how it ends if you want. Spoiler Alert right now! The dog dies. He cannot speak and Oprah bestowed all good things on this book and while I am reading it, I cannot speak due to laryngitis. Coincidence? I think not. I did not love this book but I did read it to the end and it was super long. I never read the real Hamlet but I saw the movie. I did like the part trekking through the forest. It's complicated. What was I talking about?

Holiday Training Tip No. 4:
Don't worry about the mud. A fine place to tire out dogs is the muddy trails above the baseball field. By the junior high. In the beautiful suburbs, no homeless people live under bushes. Bulemic cheerleaders may drink beer and scarf Arby's down by the drainage creek, under the palm tree, but they totally pack their trash out. Thanks Cheerleaders! You guys are rad! I take the dogs up to the trails and my shoes are within seconds enveloped in mud cocoons and the dogs run up and down and back and forth for an hour or so until tongues once again sufficiently hanging out. This is a fine place to go when it's raining outside. Carcass may be consumed here. Either the cheerleaders or natural death of suburban happiness kills small rodents up there and they are inserted here and there in the sticky mud. This training tip might cause dog barfing, fyi.

Holiday Training Tip No. 5:
Repeat training tips 1 through 4 frequently throughout your holiday visit. Because tired dogs are less likely to do stuff like climb onto the super high counter via the barstool and eat the plate of ham sandwiches. Attack the fragrant, juicy roast which is on the counter, resting. Did you know you need to rest roasts? I don't even eat roasts. But now I know you need to rest roasts and keep an eye on all dogs during the rest. Eating of these things, could also cause dog barfing. Or consumption of the mummified, used tampon one dog found on the smooth, manicured and weed free grass park strip one morning. The suburbs are just different.

Holiday Training Tip No. 6:
Every member of the miniature Christmas village that lives under the Christmas tree is a Leave It. Especially tiny ice skaters. And little bears in fuzzy costumes with hats. Contraband. Next dog that sneaks under there to gently select in their tiny little teeth any village members with intent of digesting village members gets Polar Express steam train turned on in their face which circles the village menacingly, over and over again, trapping dogs in the village forever until benevolent dog trainer turns train off. Ha, take THAT village rapers and pillagers.

Holiday Training Tip No. 7:
Squirrel tv. Do you have this channel? Just send a small child to dump loads of bird feeding seeds onto the bird feeder which also doubles as obese squirrel buffet. Everyone go inside for a second. Look out the window and here comes fast waddling bushy tails porking out on the buffet. You can leave this channel on a long time, and dogs will either be very, very quiet, or start making squeaky, whiney squirrel eating noises and quivering. This is a useful tv channel for teaching the words Ready-Steady-Go to your dogs. Just put on the channel. Put your hand on the door. Ready, Steady, and FLING open the door Go and see how fast those fat old squirrels can scurry with all the dogs chasing them every which a way.

Holiday Training Tip No. 8:
Sword proofing. Utilize short, tiny pirates for this. Not all dogs may be used to cutlasses, sabres, or swords being wielded in their faces at random intervals throughout the day. If you have small children who truly believe they are pirates, and have their own full pirate regalia including hook, skull and crossbones cloche, eye spyglass and whistle, then you are in luck. Because if they have all that stuff, you know they have a sword too. Is also useful for dog exercising if it happens to be raining out. Just have the shrimpy pirates chase them around with the sword ordering them to walk the plank a lot and rescue princess from the cage. Watch the dogs scatter under furniture! Run like scurvy varmits! Although when cornered, and threatened with a cutlass, not all dogs will react appropriately. Gustavo. Just saying. A good proofing exercise.

So that's 8 tips that should get you in tip top shape. For the next dog show. Oh wait. Or something. Are the holidays almost done yet?

What day is it today?

I know. I was gone a really long time. I was busy having a White Christmas.

We got snowed in.

That whole blizzard business. Brrrrr. Had to put on an actual sweater a couple times.

Was also just super busy. Can't even tell you.

There was just so much to do.

Everyone foraging for food all the time. And the internet was broken.

Luckily, there was good tv. It was about squirrels.

That show was on a lot.

Some days, we were so busy no one even took off their jammies. What with the blizzard and all.

Captain Hook, still in jammies.

Also, I was held prisoner on a pirate ship part of the week so how am I supposed to write a blog when I'm trapped in a cage by those scurvey poop decks?

Captain Hook looks like he's taking Gustavo prisoner. So I had to rescue him and all that and that really took up a lot of time.

No one even had time to take a nap.

Except him.

Hope everybody had as fun a Christmas as me!

Hi and Merry Christmas!

I know, I know. It's just that there was no internet and it was raining and there were pirates all over the place and I started reading this book and we had to walk the dogs and the photos can't get to the internet and then all of a sudden it was Christmas. And then a road trip back. And then you can hear about the mud and the relief of well behaved dogs except for maybe perhaps one that jumped on the counter and ate a ham sandwich. Otterpop. And I think the pirates are back and someone needs to guard the roast and have a good Christmas!

Christmas road trip day 1, a great day if great is sitting in a car jammed in a plastic box.

Dogs can be smart about the way they travel, or completely dumb. Ruby and Otterpop, super rocket scientists of travel. They get in their blue plastic crate in the back of the car, surrounded by Christmas gifts that they may have slobbered on during the wrapping of, and go to sleep. They have special dog ESP which does alert them to places that are nice places for dogs on the way to LA.

Not all dogs so smart about traveling. Gustavo, with his own private crate, newly renovated with a squishy blanket and taller roof, complains the whole way. Only does this when Gary is in the car. Sticks his nose out the metal cage door, hangs his upper lip over the wire mesh, and rolls his eyes back with his little guilty stink eye. Doesn't roll up and go to sleep, waiting for an ESP alert a beach or muddy field coming up. Stares whole way. Whines sometimes, until I out rocket scientisted everyone and thought to bring the most dreaded thing of all things in the car. Squirter bottle. One look from squirter bottle and there is no whining, just lip hanging and little white rolling eye pleading to make the car trip over. Or at least allow him to run free in the car dashing fore and aft and up and down while car rolling down the 101. As if.

But we try to make it enjoyable. First nice place for dogs, the McDonald's in Paso Robles. It's a faux diner-style McDonald's, bright white tile and a giant yellow arch. Bestedly, has an indoor bathroom for humans and is conveniently located next to a big muddy truck parking lot which is a nice place for dogs to run around for a few minutes. Look at giant semi truck cabs with sleeping guys in them. Good things dogs are good dogs. Because I lost my voice completely a couple days ago, and only way I can communicate with them is through a series of whistles and arm waving. Wave arms like this, good dogs. Wave arms like that, bad dogs. I know, you couldn't even tell because my TYPING IS EXACTLY THE SAME! Voice or no voice. Smart dogs climb right back in their boxes and go to sleep until next ESP alert.

Which is freakedly weird, how dogs can just KNOW that a freeway turn off is going to lead to a beach-Hendry's beach in Santa Barbara. We love Santa Barbara. If you took Santa Cruz and made it fancier and richer and more republican and made matching Patagnonia outfits mandatory uniforms and added 50% more palm trees, it would be Santa Barbara. And more warm. On a freezing cold day there, everyone still in flip flops and shorts. Hendry's is Santa Barbara's more improved equivalent of Lighthouse Field. They both have special names-Lighthouse Field Beach, real name Its. Hendry's, real name Arroyo Burro. Lighthouse Field has 33 acre field with rangers and dead trees, Hendry's has 77 acres of the bluffs above it, no rangers and dogs can run around in that mud and dead trees. Nice long beach, nice place for dogs when they're on a road trip. Same dead birds laying around, same sticks available, same assortment of big dogs chasing tennis balls. Smile and wave at well dressed dog walkers. Who ask me questions about my dogs and are answered with weird sign language and back away slowly.

Big difference of Hendry's vs. Its, nice sign at bottom of beach saying dogs off leash, go this way, on leash, other way. It is legal to run your dogs around here. Thanks Santa Barbara. I bet even Oprah comes down here. Or at least her dogs. The nice ones.

Ruby and Otterpop, sleep thru the new idea I had. Christmas music marathon. How much Christmas music can my friend Ipod hold and how far does it last driving to LA? Answer, probably all the way to Mexico except around Ventura I have total Christmas music meltdown and yank ipod from it's plug. Not my friend anymore. Will never, ever listen to another Christmas song again. Gustavo, magically quiet. Gary, so happy. Not sure what happened. Was the Kinks, singing about beating up Father Christmas, then all of a sudden some kind of Nutcrackery Peanuts Snoopy piano song and something snapped. Everybody nice and silent as we follow the non holiday, yet still festive in a rush hour kind of way, procession of lights through the Valley and down to the 405.

This is sort of like a book review except nothing ends up getting reviewed.

It's overwhelming, the amount of dog books that are displayed on bookshop shelves right now. I was wandering aimlessly around in the book store, being the completely suckass Christmas shopper that I am, and a book with a wide angle lens dog shot on the cover catches my eye. I like other things besides dogs. Taxidermied squirrels in Octoberfest costumes. Impeccably groomed hunters in raised bridles. Kurt Cobain in a stripey sweater surrounded by moldy, vintage Santa dolls. Those are things that would catch my eye on bookcovers too. But I always notice dog books. They were everywhere. Breeding like the labradoodles who have badly spray painted For Sale for Christmas signs all around right now. Apparently all these people write books about dogs and maybe because of the Marley book, they got published? Some of them, by already famous writers, who love their dogs and wrote a memoir. Some, not so famous but maybe with a special angle.

I used to read lots and lots of books. All the time. Then the words got blurry and I stopped reading because of that. Then I got glasses. Which helped. But also one problem was I kept ending up with books I didn't like. Of all those heaps of books that get published, seems like buckets of them are not to my liking. Picky that way. Or maybe my friends that pass their books on to me have different taste. Some too mystery. Some too high end literary. Some too self helpy. Some too chick litty. Too sci fi. I read a lot of first sections of books and toss 'em. Always looking for something that I can't find. Like I like the idea or the plot, but hate the way it's written. I like the way it's written, but don't like a character. Like the way the words sound but don't get it. Sort of like the book but hate the jacket design or the way the interior type is leaded. Too hard. Too easy. Too much snow describing in the first paragraph. I know. I'm super picky. It's hard to be me.

Tried to read some dog books. Usually get really weepy somewhere. Hate that. I'll tell you how most of them almost end. Spoiler coming right now. The dog dies. And then there's some writing after that and probably a new dog that needed a good home and it's not horribly sad when all said and done. Or might be kind of navel gazey. Hate that. Pot calling a kettle black but never said I wasn't a hypocrite, just have a hard time finding a book I like. I'll navel gaze on and on about my special relationship with Otterpop except my navel gazing might be more like I am shooting a squirter bottle with perfect aim at that tubby thing barking at me from the couch across the room. Kabam. Gotcha. Take that, barker. Navel gaze away. Maybe if I had unlimited funds and could buy all the ones that catch my eye. But don't really buy books anymore, sorry economy. Not stimulating you at the moment.

So, if you happen to have just read a book that has sort of a Jonathan Franzen or Dave Eggers vibe to it, and is about dogs or tattooing or the history of Disneyland or rockstars or global warming or Los Angeles heiresses and maybe even has hand drawn pictures and it could be a novel or it could be non fiction and have really impeccable jacket design that probably incorporates some old timey type and really fabulous typography inside, maybe you pack it up and send it to me when you're done? I keep working on writing these, but it's even harder to write a whole book than read one so you can imagine how far I get with that.

Classy holiday gift wrapping-a primer.

Martha once told me, beautiful gift wrapping sends a message of thoughtfulness that is as important as the gift itself. Especially if it's a gift from Oprah.


So, say you can't find the scissors, do not use a butter spreader to cut the paper you bought from the super discount bin a few years back. Use something sharper. Maybe a sheetrock screw.


Carefully take out any wrinkles on reused paper that you saved by carefully unwrapping a candle or something and just sort of cover the tapey bits with some more tapey bits. Sometimes the tapey bits show through. But possibly you can find a plastic butterfly and just cram it over the tapey bits and maybe jam in a sheetrock screw to hold it there.


And if you are a parent of a small child that may be receiving stuffed animals from me this year, you won't care if there are a few teeth marks on it, right? Really. Just a couple. Maybe only one tooth mark. Very small toothmark. Teensy, tiny, shrimy little toothmark. No slobber. Still clean. Really! And it's not really a stuffed animal. It's a froggy backpack! How cute is that? Dogs CANNOT have one. Little backpack straps and you shove stuff in through it's froggy throat! Take that dogs. You get some dog food. No froggy backpacks for you. Fangs be gone!

How's the field feeling?

So people keep asking, do I still go to Lighthouse Field, even after the whole court thing?

As a matter of fact, was out there yesterday morning. Seemed like a safe bet, was raining, no one should be out there, right? Go let the dogs run around in the rain, like we always do when it rains. Always did. Wet and unpleasant and cold and muddy and usually, no one else there except for maybe one other nutcase, parka all a-flap, and their dogs. The team speeds through the grass, over the logs, through the bushes and across the mudhole ponds. While I try to keep my feet out of giant puddles and mud patches. Greased up with silty rain water, black dogs look like little missiles with nothing to hit, just sizzling around and around until I call them in. Plenty of room for dogs to get some speed out there and do some running when everybody else stays inside.

Everybody else except a Ranger. In the rain, that would be my friend, driving around a giant white 4wd truck. Slow driving, lights on. Big, heavy, foilage crunching tires. On their new truck roads where there used to be meadows. Maybe looking for campers. Maybe looking for dogs. Whatever they are getting paid to look for, spend a lot of time doing it. The sight of that behemoth vehicle, rolling my way, sends big icy stab of hate through me for the place I used to cross my heart hope to die Love. My whole reason for living where I do. Yeah, I can still go down to the beach, when there is one. Winter tides sometimes leave no beach for months on end. Rangers staying out of our hair there. But the field. This 33 acres of dead grass and bushes and old fallen cypress that I know so well, from visiting every single day, no more. Unless I want to blatantly get my behind another ticket.

Sitting next to a lying cop in court seems to have changed my perspective on walking around out there all ballsy and blatant. Don't want to go through that whole "I am a Crimnal" thing again if I don't have to. Some kind of activist I turned out to be. I just want to let my dogs run around and get tired and wet before having to spend the day huddled together in a plastic box on a cold and rainy deck watching me walk by with muddy horses and listening to my shreiky voice holler on and on about outside rein. Not have to be secret squirrel, agent with a dangerous mission, crouching behind bushes, peering out to see if they drive on. Is a little thing. A little part of my big day. I go do something else for 8 hours, then something else then I'm at home and no good reasons that this 45 minutes of my day should be making me so crazycakes. Plenty of other big picture, big ticket items could be jammed up this craw, trust me on that.

Uh, so I guess the answer would be, yeah, I still go out there. Cautiously, paranoidly, like a hunchy old, shifty eyed, creeper. Peer out from the tall grass, unclip those leashes, let 'em rip. For a little bit. Then fasten them back up, and hustle off to buffalo before the Bright White Dodge Ram Mega Cab Count on It hisses in through a vapor in the not so far off distance and sails up to make my day.

Is not sponsored by See's yet is powered by See's See's See's See's.

Thank you, my friends and customers. For the gift of See's and cookies and toffee and bark and muffins and brie and more See's and more See's and more See's. Did I mention the See's?

You all have See's, right? This is what I live on starting December 16, every year. Until it's gone. Sometime in January. Bordeaux. Maple Walnut. Mocha. Cocoanut. Lemon Truffle. Buttercream. Butterscotch. Brittle. Scotchmallow. Polar Bear. Divinity. Vanilla Nut. Butterchew. Nougat. Caramel. Caramel with Nuts. Molasses Chip. Pineapple. Strawberry.

I may also eat an occasional sandwich. But possibly not.

Gustavo's First Steeplechase.

She shoots in HD, so this even looks good if you zoom it up to full screen. Thanks Silvina! Too bad you don't get to see him run away from me when I go to put his leash on and try to run back into the ring. A little thing we have to work on. Amongst many others.

Oh yeah, they're really great with cats.

Here kitty, kitty.


Who was chasing the cat?


Life sucks, if you're our cat.

Secret courtroom sketches from the dog show.

I didn't take any pictures over the weekend. But I did get these.


Actual courtroom sketch of the moment Otterpop's brain just exploded. My brain just did this when I heard Snoop Dogg was going to be at the Catalyst, here in Santa Cruz, playing a 16 and over show on a Monday night. KAPLOOEY! KAPOW! GET OUT OF TOWN!


How you can tell if Ruby is going to have a weirdo run. Maybe I'm a bad owner. But she's done this for years now. I can't figure it out. She's been rested, drugged up, chiropracted, kept away from crowds, and honestly, I don't know what bugs Ruby. Mental or physical, it's a mystery. I don't even take it personal anymore. She is her own dog. She is a perfect citizen 99% of the time. This is how she rolls.


I think I might have totally crossed over the the world of dog agility lady. Sorry, my non agility friends. In hindsight, I guess it was inevitable. I am a freak for my dogs. And over the weekend, I actually talked to someone about my dog's poop for the first time. I know. That is so gross and so weird and so over the line. But I mean really. Sorry to expose this, Gustavo. But a dog that won't go to the bathroom because it's raining or because he is in a new place? I have gone to the dark side and I guess I'll never be back. Marilyn Manson, not coming to my art opening. My house, not featured in the December Ready Made Magazine. No museum show for me. Will just try to get Gambler's Q's and yack your ear off about it.


I am always happy to meet my new agility friends that I didn't even know I had. I need all of you now, you guys, since I have become a Genuine Dog Agility Lady. Thanks for coming and introducing yourselves to me. And not chastising me for my grammar. It is really easy to identify me, just look for Team Small Dog. I don't mean to be scowling. I can be a really nice lady. I am probably thinking about global warming and the auto industry bailout and whether Otterpop's brain is going to stay taped shut.

Why the leopard doesn't change it's stripes when the pot is calling a kettle black in the forest for the trees.

So the biggest highlight of our long weekend, visiting the dogs' best friend Cole down in Marin on Sunday night. He is short, same size as the small dogs. He is a very fast runner. He loves flashlights. Basically one of them. Cole spent the evening training them and feeding them about 20lbs of dogfood doing so. And running through the house for 2 hours. Dogs never wanted to leave. Want to go live with Cole now.

And on Saturday night, we all stayed in a Motel 6 that had 2 beds. With a moat between them. Filled with diseased indoor outdoor carpeting. Dual Bed Moat should be an agility obstacle some day, maybe NADAC has this one already? Because leaping back and forth between beds with tragically patterned bedspreads, never gets tiring. Kind of like a treadmill. You think dogs are tired from all day and into the night agility, but there is enough energy to leap back and forth and back and forth for hours. For 2 dogs. Ruby, sound asleep under the leaping.

So our long trial, various highlights and lowlights. Like Christina Aguilera's post partum hair. Lessons learned? One, Ruby and Otterpop love agility. They hate trials and the stress and strain holding together their personalities requires for extended periods of time. 2 days of dog show in tight quarters, only so much holding together they can do. Two, people that live in glass houses, not nice to throw rocks. Three, Gustavo is super cute until it's raining.

Let's observe.

Highlight-What a pleasant brisk and sunny Saturday!

Lowlight-Is this stuff ice? Are those my teeth chattering? Where are my fingers? Who is going to clean out the inside of my soaking wet and muddy car today?

Highlight-Nice covered place to park and let dogs sleep away the day in their comfortable car crates, instead of in the loud and freezing and cramped covered arena. Much exercise for me running to the arena and to the car, to the arena and to the car. Much like Motel 6 bed leaping game, except farther and wetter.

Lowlight-Ruby, first thing on Saturday morning, climbed out of her Susan Garrett Crate Games™ warm bed, dug through my purse, and ate a ziploc bag full of all their treats for the weekend. 2 days x 3 dogs worth of delicious treats.

Highlight-Seemed to make her pretty fast Saturday morning.

Lowlight-Sugary, carby treat high seemed to not keep working as the weekend wore on.

Highlight-Otterpop's Saturday Team events. She was fast and holding it together and the sun was out and she could spend some time out of the crowds running around on a big field. Which always helps keep her sane. Which helps her knock out speedy runs, getting lots of points. Always right up there in her placings.

Lowlight-No Team Q for Saturday. Teammates, various degrees of success. That's how it goes on Team. Mary did a fine job! Other teammate, some big weave pole issues, mainly that she couldn't do them, so some big E's there.

Highlight-Ruby's Saturday Team member. Ruby on a "Special" Team, for Special dogs. Her teammate Tazz, stayed consistent and steady and was a huge contributor to their Team Q. Thanks Tazz!

Lowlight-Ruby wasn't so much bad, we just didn't really have it together. She ran fine. Just a little erratic. 5 faulty. Some bars, some weirdnesses, when she was good, I would pull a bad handling thing causing a snooker issue. That kind of day. Nothing bad, just nothing great.

Highlight-Gustavo! Beautful jumpers run, beautiful Steeplechase. Incredible times, and just incredible to run with him. He was trying his absolute hardest, and gave those runs everything he had. Because he just loves it so much. Having a dog like him, who tries so hard, who runs so fast, and who is so sweet and kind, I can't believe how lucky I am to have found him. I will remember that I wrote that down next time he is screaming his head off at feral cats at work and border collies running in the ring.

Highlight yet Lowlight-In Steeplechase, fast a-frame to poles. He missed the entry, entered at the second pole, then flew through them. Usually in Steeplechase you would pull them out and restart the poles. He had plenty of time, he ended up with the fastest time of all the little dogs. But I just couldn't do it to him because I could tell he was trying his hardest to get in those poles and do a good job. So just went on and he didn't qualify for the finals. So was a letdown to not have all 3 of them in the finals. I really wanted him to make it there with them on his first time in Steeplechase. I know. He's a baby. I compare him to my friends' baby dogs who have super stars and that's a lot of pressure and expectation. Sorry Gustavo. You do your best and I am SO HAPPY with that.

Lowlight-Gustavo's Gamblers. Felt like the honeymoon, done. Oh my god. I think I may have a video of this. Broke start. Hit the contact but not in a trained way on the dogwalk. Freaked out at something at the end of the arena, spooked like a naughty pony, came running across the ring. Did do weave poles. Did get the gamble. Just felt like I was running a completely untrained dog around out there. He was really different in that arena and unfocused. Otterpop had problems out there too, which you will learn about. Don't know. If they were ponies, I would for sure say it was some tents selling stuff like dog sweaters and lamb livers and sweatshirts with poodles. Always get the horses. The dogs, I dunno what they're freaking out about. But definitely deer in the headlights moment with a bolt. Poor little buddy. Just wasn't a confident and beautiful run like his others have been.

Highlight-Ruby and Otterpop with their nice Steeplechase runs. Ruby, even with a bar, had a great time and made the finals. She loves Steeplechase Round 1. Otterpop, great speedy time! She loves Steeplechase Round 1. I wish there was Sunday Steeplechase more often because it's all of our favorite thing to run. So fast!

Lowlight-You know we are cursed in Steeplechase Finals. Unless I'm running Hobbes, who ran with his actual owner all weekend. I just gave him treats. Maybe was a highlight that Gustavo not exposed to the curse? Ruby, I just scratched. The pressure of 2 days of agility just seemed to have unraveled her. Pulled her out of Grand Prix already that day due to unspeakably bad flinging herself over jumps, sniffing dirt and refusing an a-frame. Steeplechase, was very end of the day. She didn't have to run. Let her sleep it off.

Otterpop. Oh boy. I can see her just losing it on Sunday. Raining. Can't be away from other dogs and the dreaded People Wearing Raincoats With Hoods EVERYWHERE. She is on edge all day. Weird things like slamming on brakes mid weave poles when at scary end of arena, deer in headlights. Big spooky moments. A judge barking moment, but in pairs so I didn't pull her because of poor innocent pairs partner. Most places, she kept it together and kept running which I know she does for me and only me when she's like that. Love of agility has worn thin by the stress of it all.

Before Steeplechase finals, she seemed a little manic and unglued. Not a good thing to have building up in an Otterpop.

But our agility friend is the judge! Wow! A plus, someone she knows out there in the ring. She needed something though, and it was a big truck speeding by the ring almost at the end of her run. Oh man. Off she goes, tearing across the ring towards the truck, barking her head off, just completely reverting back to Otterpop From the Side of the Road the Evil Truck Chaser dog. Reverting to her roots. Leopard doesn't change spots. Stress does that. At least didn't actually run out of ring to road and all the way to Eureka after the truck. I wasn't very sympathetic. I think yelled at her and marched her out of there. Not a nice moment for either of us.

So there you go. Some Q's, some not Q's. Some good runs, some bad runs. And one car full of wet and dirt and mud just sitting there in the driveway with my name on it.

Team Portrait.

So while you are your Christmas parties this weekend, or the beach, we will be at a dog show. In Santa Rosa, where the dog show is in a loud and freezing covered arena that drips when it rains. And the internet says it's gonna rain. So we're gonna be dripped on. And freezed. Yet still brimming with excitement over this information!

Because this is actually a super festive and fun dog show, my non agility friends. My agility friends, many of you will be there! You know. Festivus! Because it is Team, and Team means a lot of hanging out hoping other Teams crash and burn and you can huddle together, trying to stay warm, and look for Teams getting E's. Which might be your own team, in which case you go to the ladies room and weep. But not for long because it's cold! And I don't think it's heated in there. Buck up, get over it, and look to the future is what you do in that case, a future where you can go back and time and remember that once upon a time you did a good job and didn't get an E and it's highly unlikely anyone has ever been killed by Teammates over an E. Unless a really tense moment in the big finale of 3 Dog Relay Race of Stress. Possibly people have lost lives over this but not trying to spread any rumors or anything, just conjecturing.

E=Eliminate. BTW. On Teams, this is a very bad thing. See above.

Is Team Small Dog a Team? They just play one on the internet. Different people need to run different dogs in real life dog shows. We could be a team somday. Ruby will run for anyone that gives her a treat at some point in her life. Just have to be a fast runner. Would be quite an event, running her at 16" again. Otterpop? Maybe runs with me. Gustavo? Suspect he would run for anyone too, someone ready to run the Goo. He's still like running a little ziplock of crazy. One day though, with the help of my friends, Team Small Dog could be a DAM Team

For freezing/dripping, Ruby on a team with my friend Vici and her sheltie who has been known to do weirdo things here and there. Their team, the Bi-Polar Express. Christmasy, yet borderline personality disordery. Perfect!

Otterpop's on a team with my friend Mary and a lady named Jennifer we don't know. What if she doesn't like us? She has a border terrier. Those are those scruffy little brown dogs, always very cute yet always seem to look alike? Sorry, border terriers. Start the hate mail. Our team is called Ariel and the Dreamsicles for reasons I don't remember anymore, mostly because we could not think of a name. No one usually likes my team names. Offered up lame, obscure punk rock references and outdated feminist cliches. Festive! Yet poor branding for a dog team.

Gustavo, no team. It's a big committment. He's only run in 4 USDAA classes ever! Not going to expose him to potential heartbreak yet. Or teeters in a freezing, loud, clanging metal building. He is doing Steeplechase, of which I am more excited than anything. Kind of forgot about all the Team stuff, thinking about running Gustavo. This will be his first time doing 3 whole runs, though, spread out over a period of 2 whole days. Big stuff for him.

2 whole days of dog show? I think I've done that like 5 times exactly my whole dog agility career. I have a small business which is small enough that I need to micro manage every speck of it and it is just too hard to leave it on Saturdays. But thought we would be having bad weather this time of year and it was my holiday special thing to come to Team. Ho ho ho. No Christmas tree but I'm going to a dog show! And spend all my stinkin' money. My dog agility friends, who regularly go to 2 days of dog shows, OUCH! Even with Ruby only running a few classes, and Gustavo only running a few classes, only Otterpop running a buncha classes, youch. A lot of dinero goes into taking 3 dogs to the dog show. This has Steeplechase and Grand Prix , besides Team, which we don't get to run a lot, and those cost extra to enter. So we dumped out the money pot into this dog show this month.

See you there!

Ipod related Christmas activities you might enjoy.

First of all. The news just sucks. I drive far to where my work is every day. I used to listen to the radio then the news started giving me heart palpitations because I can do basic math and when you add up the numbers of all the people laid off from jobs or about to be laid off from jobs, frightening. Then cheery news about foreclosures and auto industry bailouts and the local swimming pool and surf museum closing. There they go. Palpiations. Commence yoga breathing.

So here's what I do. This week, we switched over to the Chrstimas songs when in the car. All Christmas, all the time. I have a million of them in my friend ipod. The dogs know all the words. Blissfully burying head in the sand if your sand is angel background singers to Andy Williams and dancing Nutcracker fairies. I have decided someday I will have a border collie and his name will be Bing. I have the classics, I have non classics, I have a sort of obsessive Christmas music list. Which actually I listen to year round, but that's another story for another day.

Here's some new stuff I put in it this year that helps keep the heart palpitations away.

Sufjan Stevens Christmas stuff-just buy the whole box set. You will not be sorry. Love.
Badly Drawn Boy and Flaming Lips Christmas stuff-just get it
Holly Golightly-Christmas Tree on Fire. She's sort of rockabilly. Peppy.
Wesley Willis-Merry Christmas. Do you have other Wesley Willis songs? I can listen to his songs all day.
Christmas is Going to the Dogs-the Eels. Here's a nice dog song except the Eels guy renders it listenable.

I could go on and on. And you wouldn't be reading anymore.

Also, you can add religious songs that mention Jesus to your Christmas stuff. That isn't cheating. Vaselines. Niravana. Velvet Underground. Brian Jonestown Massacre.

So there's a better, jollier mood for you now. Screw the news. Ho ho ho. So now, how about some dog games? Does your neighborhood sport crude, midi playing, animatronic polar bears and deer amidst tawdry, mismatched light displays, hung askew and not blinking right since purchased out of the dollar section at Target? Yoga breathing lets me say sentences like that on a regular basis. Take the dogs to visit the robot bears and reindeer every night. If you have a dog like Gustavo, this doesn't ever get old. They can stick their little dog heads through neighbors' fences and groove along to tinny versions of Frosty the Snowman. If by groove, you mean bark. Wear your friend ipod and listen to your Christmas music. Block out the bark. You should have a bunch of Frosty versions. You have the Jackson 5 one, right?

Then make your dinner and you can make some tamales. Just make 'em for dinner every night. Buy 'em buy the bundle in December. Maybe listen to Aimee Mann depressing Christmas while they're heating up, have your friend ipod plugged into the dock stereo. You could decorate your house while they're heating up too. If you were organized enough to get the Christmas box out of the garage, formerly known as artist studio. If you're not that organized, just screw it. Crack open a nice cerveza instead. Who needs the Christmas decorations anyways. Tree? Ha. We still have the damn pumpkins on the porch.

Christmas shopping. Are you doing it online? Purchasing fine items from Team Small Dog? Hey, I didn't teach dog agility the month of December. Class went on break. What do you think pays for dog show entries? Actual work work? Hell no. Send the team to some dog shows in January. Buy some shwag. Listen to your itunes while you do, and then every so often click around and find a new Christmas song. Like you might be sitting there, thinking you don't have any Tiny Tim Christmas songs. And you can go click around and there you go. No presents purchased, but some Tiny Tim for the ipod. Ukelele rendition of "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."

Maybe I need some friends who's name isn't ipod?

Just in case, and also mini cat training tutorial.

Just in case we all fail miserably this weekend, let the record show:

Set up a bunch of super fast, mini Steeplechase-esque sequences into weave poles yesterday morning at the practice field. Also some super fast running a-frame sequences. I invented these myself. Course design strategy? Basically just dragged stuff around so I could keep making new versions of stuff like FAST FAST FAST FLY INTO POLES FAST FAST FAST. And then FAST FAST FAST FLY OVER A-FRAME FAST FAST FAST. Then would move the jumps and drag the tunnel and then try a new version of FAST FAST FAST FLY INTO POLES FAST FAST FAST and then FAST FAST FAST FLY OVER A-FRAME FAST FAST FAST.


Guess who did not miss a pole, not once, not twice, not ever? Hoo Goo, that's Who!

The girl dogs were on-it too. Worked on them getting into a frenzied fast place where accuracy still counted. But really, today's practice was for Goo. I think having our friend frisbee around makes a big difference. And super jackpot award of of insane dog frisbee helps for extra good speed or poles or whatever was looking gooood at the time.

Here. I'm going to put this here, in case it's a weepy trial of sad. You never know. It's team. The dreaded spectre of E looms. And weave pole expectations in Puppy's First Steeplechase.


Pretend you're in the future now. Like time travel but way cheaper!

Hey, remember last Tuesday and everyone practiced so super fast and weave pole getting and not bar knocking and perfect focus and drive and everyone was a CHAMPION!

Just in case.

Welcome back to driveway weave poles.

It's been a while. But Gustavo runs Steeplechase for his first time this weekend, and boy oh boy oh boy oh boy do I want him to get his poles. They've been great every time I practice, aside from last time we had our lesson from Jim and Gustavo couldn't do the poles at all. Ahem.


He's only every done them once in a trial, his first time in Gamblers. Took 2 tries to make it through. Other than that, just done some Jumpers. Moves up to Advanced this weekend in that. He's entered in something else but I forget what. Was too scared of poles and teeters to put him on a DAM team. Not sure what's going to happen in that Steeplechase run. Wouldn't it be cool if he just DID THEM?


Moved the car. So we can start all the way out in the street and run REALLY FAST up the driveway and make the entrance.


Except in Steeplechase, no driveway. No sheep watching through the fence. No tupperware waiting at the end.


Wouldn't it be cool if he just DID THEM?

Sunday is for walking in the forest and defining some verbs.

Sundays with no agility are for walking in the forest. If by walking, you mean the humans walking and the dogs flat out running their asses off. This fella, was just standing there where we parked the car. He's a brave little bambi. Because his fan club, locked securely in cages until I unleashed the hurricanes within, really wanted to get a piece of him. Like office ladies on a shirtless Brad Pitt. And Angelina nowhere in site.


Once we made it out of bambi's parking lot, across the busy road and down the path through the giant meadow, to the chagrin of my two deerchasers (not naming names unless your names are Gustavo with the help of Otterpop), no more deer the whole walk. Bambi clearly sent out the memo licketdy split and the deer all hid in secret deer hiding caves. Makes my life as a dog trainer that can't train 2 dogs not to chase deer way easier.


The giant meadow, looks like it stretches all the way to the sea. This is maybe my favorite spot in the whole world. Would love to bring in a giant bulldozer and build my house with a porch and nice big arena and barn and then do a bunch of grading for the dog agility section and I'd build my very own road out there. And fences to keep the deer out and the horses and dogs in. And I would never ever leave. And only nice people could come visit. You guys could come. Oh wait. I'm talking about a nice nature walk here. Sorry, nature. Sorry for talking about backhoes and grading and adding baserock. I really mean just want to sit and gaze here and smell wildflowers. Yeah, right.


For sure his favorite spot. Gustavo is sort of a freak. Little creature never stops. Not like the other dogs are lazy or slow, but he's just so...in motion...at all times. Other dogs might bring you a stick, pause to roll in shit, come say hi. Not him. Checks in at top speed then off again like a flash. Vertical wall of cliff nearby? Perfect for running up and down, up and down, while the humans are just, uh, walking. Otterpop keeps up, but wants to do other things such as gather up all the sticks. In the whole forest. Ruby, works on baffling projects or trots next to me. The Goo, never stops running.


We went down to the dark and creepy part of the forest so they could swim around. If by swimming, you mean trying to get whatever that foul stink that was all over Otterpop 5 minutes into the forest walk by throwing branches in the creek for her. Otterpop wants bigger and bigger branches the more you throw 'em in and eventually short circuits herself trying to drag half trees out of the water. She'd do that all day. Ottepop needs therapy. Eventually we stop throwing them, and she just starts crazy whining and dragging branches down the creek bed herself. Where they sink. And she has to dive under to pull them out. While Gustavo runs. And Ruby does her little projects.Ruby's a good dog. Unless she's building bombs or something. Not really sure what she's working on, but she always stays busy and always stays close.


We just walk and throw logs and whistle for them until it seems like they should be tired. Gustavo never slows down, so it's hard to tell. I think actually in this picture, he had redwood tree stuff stuck in all his fur and was just sitting at the top of the hill waiting for me to come and pull it out. For a forest creature, he has neurotic grooming issues that even the Fab Five would have had a hard time solving. Might not be totally self sufficient out in the wild. Sorry, little buddy. He waits for me and I pull out the stickers. And then he starts running again til we're done. Lots to do on one walk in the forest.

In this episode, the Team visits a Christmas party, although they stay in the car the whole time.

So first Christmas party of the Christmas season happened last night. Ho ho ho and all that. Different than the Christmas parties from back in the day. No one injured, or dragged out, no screaming that I noticed. No shady activity happening in dark nooks. No police involved, no one crashed through anything. In a well lit, spacious home with a tv the size of a refrigerator and shiny brass chandelier, school pictures of kids in the hallway and a bathroom with soap, at the top of a sweeping canyon. Instead of a dark warehouse on Valencia Street with stuff dragged in out of dumpsters for furniture. People in patterny sweaters with some of those patterns being Christmas trees, and one very sweet white haired man whipped out a trombone to play a Christmas song. To go along with a desert you light up with a match and watch burn. On purpose. With 19th century singing. A lot of talk about dogs and putting on dog shows. Better dog shows and even more dog shows.

Had the same kind of gift exchange though, the staple of all Christmas parties, where you can steal the present someone else gets and everyone keeps stealing because that's what Chrstimas is all about. Getting the best present at all costs. Used to start fistfights, back in the day. Because in a party full of drunk artists, everyone wanted the art presents. For the future potential and the immediate wall satisfaction. This party, most precious item seemed to be a stuffed border collie. And a plushie quail that makes real bird sounds. A lot of presents involving giant pig femurs and braided pieces of colorful polarfleece. Someone (Hi Mary!) did commission an original Team Small Dog drawing by yo to give as her gift. To be a refrigerator magnet. I've never made refrigerator magnet art, so did a festive, agility themed drawing of the team in a tire, used her requested copy, and dressed it up like a fancy tattoo flash. With cross hatching. And flourishy Latino scriptface. Not just refrgerator art when finished, hell, you could tattoo it on your ass, if you were so inclined. Or just stick on refrigerator. Laura Hartwick drawing for your refrigerator? Right!

So at the old Christmas parties, I do believe a minor brawl could have broke out over getting a pen drawing. A major brawl over a cast cement item or painting. Even if some little thing knocked out in the hour when you're already late for the party. Which is going to go on til 3am so doesn't really matter how late you get there. Any brawl break out over my commissioned drawing? Anyone try to steal it and end up with stitches? Let's just say I am pretty sure the new owner thought that the value in her gift in the large magnet on the back of the little frame. Likely will end up on her refrigerator with the drawing somewhere in the trash. Maybe recycled for writing down phone numbers of guys coming over to kill your rats. Or trim your hedges. Then tossed after they do a bad job and kill the hedges and trim the rats.

Was OK though. Nice to be at a party where you don't have to sleep on some coats in a corner on a sticky floor because you, uh, fall asleep on some coats in a corner on a sticky floor. Nice to have a cup of coffee and talk something about dog this or dog that and then go out and visit some dogs locked in the car for like all day, and everyone drive home safe and sound by 9pm. And guess who owns a new plushie quail and super big dog chewing bone that already proving extremely popular? Just saying. You never quite know where you're gonna end up in life. Sometimes things and places take you little bit by surprise. But when you think about it, maybe driving a long drive home listening to Christmas music in the ipod, this kind of Christmas party, pretty darn cool. Hella fun. Except maybe for the plushie quail, who lost eyes and beak within minutes but still has the quail soundbox still intact. For now.

Try to leave the office at the office.

If my dogs were white with spots and long tails, and didn't have to stay in their pen all day, and I wore a red jacket, and we cut our horses tails off, and I didn't hate cantering down hills, and it was cloudy out, I guess that's like a picture of what I do at work all day.

Canine Freestyle, aka teaching dogs to dance-a primer.

So you know there's this dog thing called canine freestyle, right? You heard of this? Agility sort of a fringe sport, canine freestyle totally fringey. Really good dog trainers teach their dogs to dance around with them, sort of peppy, strictly ballroom-like. To show tunes or boogie woogie or country music hits. Or I dunno what else. Maybe stuff not found in my ipod. Dogs sort of scoot around behind you, backwards, forwards, in and out your legs. It's bouncy. Spinny. With very unfortunate people costumes. And hair. Think sequin vests left over from the jazz dance recital in 1989. Think spirit fingers with a top hat and a spiffy magician cane. Soft black leather shoes doing a shuffle off to buffalo. Lady tuxes. A little weirdo actually, and a little ho hum.

So not our cup of poison. It actually sort of gives me the queesies to watch a whole video of a canine freestyle. Just something about it, a little bit creepy in a beasty sort of way. Sorry freestylers out there. Who am I to judge? Kiss dogs all the time. Wear weird costumes all the time. Currently wearing a fluffy brown cap with pink and lime squares on it and leopard lounge pants and a polarfleece jacket in the house flinging a soggy squirrel duck that keeps ending up in my lap across the room. You would think I'd be lining up for the freestyle, but I'm not feeling the love, puppies.

Maybe just not relating to the genre. I don't do Dancing with the Stars. But I do like my hip hop videos. And the old school stuff. Zombies and Jacko. Had this idea, could I teach the dogs the zombie part of Thriller? You guys all know this one, right? You learned it a long time ago, hitting pause, hitting pause, hitting pause. How else you learn your Michael J moves? I think I learned it from my old friend G, who passed away this time last year. Since I dropped out of the dance universe because of all the time spent with the dogs, I think G would be happy, wherever he is now, that I'm back, teaching the dogs the zombie part.

For a good Thriller, you need really a LOT of zombies. Maybe all you guys teach your dogs, too? There's about a million videos on youtube to learn Thriller from. Not totally like what else you see in the canine freestyle thing, but way more my style. Old school grooves and something for the whole Team to do as a family. I'm not the most talented dog trainer. Going to take years to get this going. You know how long it took to get Gustavo doing weave poles? Ruby and Otterpop doing a moonwalk and werewolf and swim claw at the same time? This could be our lifetime project.

So everyone going to teach along with me, this is a good place to start. Let me know how your progress goes.

Here is a total plug for Richard Todd.

Hey. These are not my photos. That's right. Special guest photographer today. Because?


Let's say I was brain dead when I would normally be writing you some kind of Fascinating Little Story about something like, say, prairie dresses or running contacts or cooking yams or going to court.


And being totally and completely and utterly devoted to all you shwag buyers readers who are paying for January's dog show entry fees showing your love by buying shwag making me exactly 4 centavos, I'm like, must post on blog. Note-read that back to yourself in zombie voice. Muuuuussstt poooossst ooonn bbbblloooooggg. Like that.


And did I mention I'm like, uh, brain dead. Long day.


Sunset Magazine? Those remodel-ly types, never brain dead. Just slave on with their hand glazed Mexican tile laying. Assholes. I want to lay down on the floor and never get up, just to get back at you, tireless home remodeler with your palm trees in vintage pots. I know. You think I live the life of Oprah and frolick around with my dogs all day. But ha ha! I FOOL you! I go to work and keep it secret from you all the time. And sometimes I am TIRED!


Uh, genius strikes?


Richard's photos!


Richard Todd, photographer in an artsy way of stuff that moves fast.


He took like 14 million pictures of Team Small Dog. Maybe you want to have him take pictures of your dogs. Or kids or horses or whatever. Here's how you find him. View this random selection of 8 of his photos. I'll just be laying over here on the floor.

Signs of Armageddon?

Photo credit: Richard Todd Photography. Mark of the Beast

So, not sure. But don't you think it's a little weird and creepy, in a prairie dress and mile high bangs kind of way, that yesterday, we presented Ed Ruscha words. On a big towel. Sold by Target. As reported by a dog agility blog?

Also. Happy Birthday Otterpop. I guess you're about 5 years old now.

Team Small Dog Gift Guide

Start Your shopping engines. The Team Small Dog Gift Guide has arrived, to help everyone who has to buy presents and has NO IDEA what to buy.

I don't really know what I'm doing about holidays either, but I saw some stuff that you might want to buy people on your lists. This is not paid advertising. It's viral advertising, marketing people love unsponsored blogs who do this. You are welcome, retail giants and dwarves alike, who are experiencing poor sales this year and hopefully this little blip in your economy trickles down to me.

So first of all. Since a lot of people really screwed this holiday season, let's make sure you are taking Toys for Tots toys in, and food bank collection donations, and whatever they do in your neighborhood, every time you buy a present. One for you, one for someone having a bad day. At my work, we adopt a whole family for Christmas time. Something to think about.

So, assuming you are still going to drop some dollar on your beloveds this month, here's some ideas that don't suck. And that you can just buy right now without budging your ass out of your chair. (You need to shop local? Santa Cruz friends, make sure to buy things from my friend Dawn next weekend at her sale at the building at Depot Park.) Everyone else? Shop away.

Super coolest Art Basel beach towels by some of my favorite artists. OK. How weird is it that you can buy a giant beach towel by Ed Ruscha, Raymond Pettibone or Karen Kilimnik at Target? Also Julian Schnabel who's art I do enjoy but doesn't go in my favorite stack by those artists? Too bad Team Small Dog has a plethora of towels already with no place to put them. Or we would so purchase. Raymond Pettibone, you guys!!! Ed Ruscha, you guys!!! I think these are good gifts for all yer beloveds.

A ruby and jewel flower ring. It is very expensive. But that is one nice looking ring. I saw this on Garnet Hill-someone bought me a pillowcase or something there a hundred years ago and they are in my email box all the time. Sale! Sale! Sale! They say. I think you could buy this on sale. This would be a helluva special, high end gift.

Reusable spray art stencils for those who are afraid to draw/andor/cut!

Custom drawings. For a limited time only, like next 10 days only until December 10, $25.75 custom drawing. The centavos for shipping and handling. No, you don't get a proof. It's a risk, puppies. You email me your dog photo, paypal me the dough, and your dog gets included in a pen and ink drawing of Team Small Dog. No guarantees that you are gonna like it. Or your beloved you are pawning it off on. It will included text. Written by me. Not you. Total drawing nazi here. Called Artistic License. Order now, while I'm not cranky and my hand doesn't hurt. You can send me an email at laurah at plasticdisaster dot com for more info.

Team Small Dog Shwag Shop. It's cafepress. Some people like logo wear. Me, not in particular. But I never did new screenprinted shirts, so here's some you can order with basic TSD logo. Also on stickers and a mug. And a dog shirt. Not that MY dogs would wear a dogshirt, but it's been brought to my attention I may have readers that, uh, dress their dogs in costumes. Not judging here. Just trying to keep it real. Buy some shwag. Won't kill any of us.

Rescue Dog Agility Calendar. Was brought to my attention the 2 Miss January's happen to be Ruby and Otterpop. In agility splendor. Made by a dog photographer with questionable design sense. Will I be ordering one? You guys. The title is in allcaps italic. I just can't do it. My sensitive design aesthetic prevents bad typography from hanging on my walls. You buy it, and enjoy viewing a bunch of motley mutts like mine doing agility. Bunch of friends of Team Small Dog also featured in this calendar.

Handspun yarn or books about it from Pluckyfluff. This is my friend Lexi and as I understand it, she is like the queen of punk rock handspun yarn for nouveau hippie chix. If one of your beloveds is a knitter, something from Lexi is a fine gift.

The gift of high quality typefaces. Burgues script from Veer is a stunner. Anything from Emigre makes good presents for your designer beloveds. In the wrong hands, this stuff is a stinker. Right hands, we eliminate some of the design problems that our world faces. Yes, we need to fight global warming with bats and clubs and hard combat. But bad design needs to be stomped squarely in the gut as well.

TrueFit DogCoats. This is the one I got Black Beauty. Dexter Black and Red Plaid. If your dogs have to hang out at the barn all day in the cold and raining, they might need these. Unless they are Gustavo. He's too tough. They're like little horse blankets. I like the polar fleece ones for cold getting dogs like Ruby. She is always freezing. These fit good, your dogs will look like little ponies, and they're not ugly or chintzy.

Other people's stuff on Etsy. Like these wallpapered faux taxidermy deerheads. E.Soule's horse photos. Good handmade bags galore. I mean, just about anyone would want something like this.

Slip On Vans from Zappo's shoes. I know. They give me nothing, my friends at Zappo's where I buy my shoes. Pretty much all I wear are navy blue slip on Vans. Sometimes clogs. Paddock boots. My old frye boots. Look at all the colors you can pick from in Vans though, my friends. Surely those are a good good gift for someone if you know what size shoes they wear? Everyone needs slip on Vans. Maybe I switch to plaid some day. I've been feeling a lot of plaid coming on in my life. I think 2009 is Plaid.

The gift of face stuff. Kiehls and Bigelow lemon stuff. It is pricey. Love it. Get the skin stuff for dog agility ladies. Maybe it don't make the wrinkles go away, but I spread this crap on my skin all the time and I am only inside ever long enough to type stuff like this out and my skin looks ok. Also the packaging does not offend my sensitive design sensibilities and that is hard to do. It is hard to be me.

Subscription to Sunset Magazine. You don't get this? You want to die of jealousy of nice houses and food photos? All the writers sound like they are your nicest neighbor? Once has featured 2 paragraphs written by yo? My mom gets me this and your mom would like it you think? We are clearly at the bottom of the barrel of the gift guide. Hope this helped.