Bringing Dewey Home

Friday we went to pick up Dewey:

Closeup of Dewey.

I was a little sad because we had planned for a big party to pick him up from school.  We had thought we would get a small 9 week old puppy, but there was a surplus of older puppies that needed to be moved to homes.  We had planned a vacation, for next week, which would have precluded our getting a puppy, but because I would be in a crochet class for most of the day, Fred had wisely backed out of joining me when it came time to buy tickets.  So he would be at home next week.

Dewey is 15 weeks old now.  He would have been 17 weeks old when we picked him up if we had stuck to the original schedule.  So, when we needed to make the decision of do we take Dewey early, we were able to say yes even though it meant no party, because we didn't want to leave him in the kennels when he could be at home with us.

Fred is kissing Dewey on the top of his head.

Of course it was love it first sight.

Cheryl is holding Dewey in her arms.

 Dewey is a quiet, gentle dog.  He seems to have more in common with Willow than Jam.  However, that may just be the honeymoon phase and the true Dewey will peek his head out in a two weeks.

Tara, Cheryl and Fred smile for the camera. Cheryl is holding Dewey.

Tara matched us up with a good one (of course, they are all good ones! 8-).

The kennel staff surround Melisa as she holds Dewey.

 The kennel staff gave us our last bit of instructions about Dewey.  They were super nice.

Even though Dewey yawns before his big car ride, he didn't sleep on the way home!

 Then it was time for his first car ride. We got him to busy first, which he did right away. Then we got some kibble and tempted him to the car.  It is a little harder with the older pups (at least in our experience with Coach), they don't know about cars and are nervous about them.  Dewey was nervous as well.

Dewey is hanging back from the car.

Fred tempts him with some kibble.

Dewey is tempted and walks up to the car.

Dewey puts his front paws in the car.

Dewey gets most of his upper body into the car.

 At the point where most of his upper body was into the car, we popped the back end into the car and shut the door!  Mission accomplished.

Fred, Cheryl and Dewey at the Southeastern Guide Dogs sign.

Then we took our photo by the Southeastern sign and were on our way home!!

Nature Boy

We have a big puppy party coming up in December.  So we are busily trying to get our crazy yard to look ship shape.  This weekend that meant that we had to replant all of the beds under the windows of the garden room.  Since we have tried several different kinds of plants there (gingers, to name just one that comes to mind) and all of them have failed miserably, we thought we would go with a drought tolerant variety: succulents.

Coach is sitting by the left hand side of a large black rack of succulents.  There are three full shelves of plants.

We were rather pleased with our choice, but Coach wasn't.  As we approached the succulent stand, his tail drooped until it was practically tucked under.  He was not happy about succulents.  He didn't want to go near the stand or the plants.  

Of course, he doesn't get to make that choice.  As a Southeastern Guide Dog in training, he has to at least attempt to become acquainted with things he doesn't like.  I parked the cart and we did a right about and walked back to the succulents. 

"Look at those awesome plants, Coach. Aren't they great?"  I was talking in a cheery voice.  The man in the aisle next to me started to laugh.  I'm sure he thought I was crazy.  Coach looked at me like I was crazy.  His tail was still down, so I walked closer and he followed me willingly.  "These plants rock."

Coach was clearly doubtful.  He got close enough to sniff.  He sniffed a jade plant. His tail began a little wag.  I said nice things about his manhood and his tail wagged some more.  I think we were good here, so I began to load up the cart with succulents.

Coach is sitting on the left of the shopping cart and is looking up at the succulents in the cart.

Coach didn't mind them in the cart and sat rather close to them.  Perhaps it was the shelving instead that he didn't like.

Coach is in the side yard by the green wagon.  He is looking at the planting bed that has new succulents in it.

Just to make certain, Coach joined me for a gardening lesson and seemed very uninterested in the plants at all.  He certainly didn't fear them.

Coach is standing by the edge of the koi pond with his front feet a little splayed out.  A white water lily if in front of him in the water.

Later, we checked out the water lily that was blooming in the koi pond.

Coach leans into the lily to take a sniff.

He seemed able to stop and sniff the lilies, if you know what I mean.

Coach stands at the end of the pond looking into the camera.  The lily pads and flower are all in the foreground. He has his head tilted slightly to the left.

My little nature boy.  Not afraid of succulents after all.  Willing to lean out over ponds and sniff flowers.  Adventurous.  That's what he is!

Good Bye Photo

Tuesday was our last official day in the library, so we took our annual last photo with our guide dog puppy.  We thought it would be a breeze as HRH and Bingo hadn't put up much of a fuss.

Jan, Christina and I are posing facing the camera as Jam has turned his back to look at Jan.

Jam, however, proved obstreperous.

Jam is still looking at Jan and now Jan is talking with Jam and not posing for the camera.

Every time we tried to take a photo with the timer, he would wait and watch Jan instead of looking at the camera.

Jam is bored and licking himself, I'm trying to stop this activity and Jan and Christina are posing.

 Then he got bored and started looking for other things to do, like lick himself, which always makes for a great photo.

Jam has a cute thoughtful expression on his face and I am thinking and looking off to the side.

Jan snapped a shot of me thinking about what we should do, but I was at a loss.

Everyone is smiling, looking at the camera and Jam is front and center looking handsome.

Finally, we gave up.  It just wasn't going to work.  Then Christina remembered that Jyl in the Business Office is a photographer and actually knows what she is doing.  So here we are on the final day of the 2011-2012 school year with our handsome boy Jam!

Thank Jyl!  We couldn't have done it without you.

Joseph A. Merluzzi (JAM) has left the building.

Baker's Secret

Jam was only a little bit bad.  It was only one little paw on the seat.  What did one paw mean in the grand 

Jam in the front seat with one paw on the seat.

scheme of things? Really? OK.  One paw is the start of a long slide into juvenile delinquency.  I know, I know.  It must be stopped.

So, Jam was not allowed to leave that little paw up on the seat.

It's all about consistency and as you may remember, Jam is nothing if not stubborn.  The paw and front seat fight is a silent battle we have been fighting for months.  He will get in and turn around and then right as I am about to sit down, sneak a paw up on the chair.

There!  One paw.  One small paw.  It's not even comfortable.  But he's touching it.  Look, he's touching it.

He's just waiting for me to cave and say, "Fine, leave your paw up there.  Just sit up there, I don't care. Whatever."  But I never do."  Poor Jam.  I'm just as stubborn.

On Sunday, after I got back from graduation, Fred asked me if I would do him a favor.  I was reading, so this favor asking was a bit of an annoyance, but I knew that Fred was working upstairs on the door to the bathroom and that I was basically sitting on my butt doing nothing and saying no was not very nice.  I said I would help.

Fred was baking bread and he is REALLY into baking bread.  He started to tell me about to what temperature the oven needed to be preheated and that he had the timer started and that it needed to go to 450 degrees and then I needed to remove the wax paper (the dough was rising) and put it in the oven.

I waited and the timer went off.  340 degrees.  Poo.  I set the timer again.

Ding.  370 degrees.  Double poo.  This new oven is a sloth.  It takes forever to heat up.  I checked the loaf of bread.  It was rising.  I put the wax paper back down.  I considered just putting it in the oven.  But NO, that would be wrong.  So, I set the timer again, and I ran upstairs to change into shorts and a t-shirt. Now, usually when I run upstairs for anything, I have a shadow.  But this time, I ran and I didn't have a shadow.  But I also had 2 and a half minutes to change and get back downstairs.  What could possibly go wrong?

I came back down and the oven was at 450 degrees.  Hooray!  Finally.  I could put the rotten loaf in the oven.  Then I noticed the wax paper.  It was twisted off the loaf.  That's odd.

Then I looked at the loaf.

Horrors!  Someone had shoved their big fat nose right into the loaf!

The loaf with a big fat caved in spot on the right hand side where someone's nose was shoved in.

Who would do such a heinous thing?

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

Well, who has the biggest nose?  Jam. That's a Jam-sized nose print.

The nose bread in the oven baking.

 "Uh.  Fred!"

"What?"

"Jam stuck his nose in the bread!"

"What?!"

"Jam stuck his nose in the bread!"

"How did that happen?"

"Uh. I went to get some shorts and a t-shirt and he just shoved his nose in the bread?"

Silence.  It was kind of a mad silence.

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

I decided that I should put the bread in the oven anyway. The other half was fine.  It didn't have a nose print in it at all!

Nose bread baked!

Fred ate some of the bread and he liked it.  He doesn't stay irritated very long.  After all, how many people have a Labrador for a baker's assistant?

Close up of Jam and his big nose.

A Safe Place

We have found a safe place for Jam to settle when we need him to be at home while we are out and about.  He will tolerate the crate, going it without any fuss, but he is not happy.  You can tell.  And we feel bad about leaving him.

Just by happenstance, though, we came upon the idea of babygating him into the kitchen with Willow.  What's not to like about that?  They have free reign of the kitchen, which is relatively large, and he has a buddy.

The first time we tried it for 30 minutes when we went grocery shopping.  Success!  No wild barking or panicky breathing when we returned.  There was the sneaking suspicion that perhaps one or both of them had searched the counters for something to eat, but nothing could be proven.

So we tried it again.  For a longer period of time.  Again, it was a success.  So on Friday, when we went to Bern's, we were pretty comfortable with leaving Jam in the kitchen.  We checked all the counters and left them both safe and happy.

Jam and Willow lying down in front of one of the kitchen babygates.

The good news.  He was so happy and relaxed that when we got home, he had actually fallen asleep!

Woot!  Sleepy Jam.  Separation anxiety, I am the boss of you!

Saved by the Bounce

Today was a calm day for Jam.  He seemed to have less than the normal amount of testosterone racing through his system resulting in a calm and steady, dare I say it, guide dog like presence today.

Apart from the small incident of leash tug of war (I won by virtue of taking him upstairs and making him do obedience for 10 minutes, which the kids reading up there found incredibly amusing), he was very good on the leash except for one incident on the way back to the library.

As we were walking through the mall to the library, a freshman boy in front of us started to bounce his tennis ball as he was walking.

Bounce.

Bounce.

Bouncey, bounce. Bounce.

Jam stopped and seemed to quiver all over.  Every hair seemed to stand on end like he was electrified.  I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen next.  Would he explode?  Or would he leap at the ball?

So before anything bad could happen I called out, "Hey, could you stop bouncing the ball until he can't see  you?"

The boy turned and saw that Jam was very nearly ready to pop.

"Yes, ma'am," he said cheerfully and walked away clutching his tennis ball.

Jam watched him out of the corner of his eye until we were headed off in another direction.

"Good boy Jam.  What a good boy you are."  I patted his head marveling that all of his hair was now flat against his skin.  "What a good boy you are."

Destroyer of Souls

You might wonder by the title of this post whether I am talking about Jam or myself.  Well, rest assured, the sweet little Jam boy is not the destroyer of souls.  No, that designation goes to me.  I alone carry the power to crush joy from the hearts of men, women and small, little blonde girls.

Take last night for instance...

Michele and I were planning on attending the regional finals game of the boys baseball team (we ended up losing 6-1, boo! but it wasn't a shut out!).  We decided to go to dinner together to Seasons 52 before the game started.  I've started the South Beach diet and I'm in that irritating two week beginner phase where you can't have anything that tastes good or has a starch or sugar calorie in it.  I might as well have tasty veggies if veggies are all I can have!  So Seasons 52 it is. 

It was a little bit tense as Jam had his dinner at 4 and still hadn't had a poo and Seasons 52 is a little posh.    I was pretty confident that he wouldn't hunch over in the restaurant as we gave him ample opportunity outside to go.

Inside the hostess said there was a regular customer who has a Southeastern puppy who was much smaller/younger than Jam and they loved the puppies there.  (Yea!) We've taken Jam there several times and they've always been super nice.  

Jam's new thing is to position himself at the very front of the booth so that he can watch the traffic back and forth.  Sort of a watchdog thing.  He's checking everyone out.  So, he was the one to first see the lady approach our table, but he didn't get up.  He did move his head, which alerted me that something was up and I turned to see her making her way gingerly towards us.

Now there are generally two sorts of people who approach you with intent:

1. Zombie hands: These are the people who are not going to ask, they just have their hands and arms outstretched like lifeless zombies lurching towards you ready to grab your guide dog puppy in training and pat him no matter what the rules are.
2. Blurters or Oversharers: They are the ones who are approaching you, but not sure, might turn away, don't want to bother you, but are so drawn to the puppy that they ultimately can't help themselves and finally, just come out and share with you things that may or may not relate to the puppy, but occured to them and they had to share it with you.

This nice lady was an oversharer.  She approached as if walking a tightrope with her hands held out for balance and said, "He's working isn't he?  I can't pet him."

Then she looked up at me.  She had been staring at Jam the whole walk over.  Jam was looking back at her calmly.  I smiled, kindly (I hoped), "No.  I'm so sorry, but when the coat is on he is on duty and can't be petted."

"I knew that." She stared at Jam.  Then began to share: "We have a yellow lab.  They are such wonderful dogs."

"Yes, they are.  They are the best dogs."  I think this puppy raiser gig is part counselor to the public sometimes.

She sighed.  "He's beautiful."

We all returned to dinner and about five minutes later, Michele said, "Uh, oh.  Husband approaching."

I turned to find myself staring at a cellphone with the photo of a yellow lab who looked remarkably like Jam sitting by the side of a pool. "Wow.  That dog does look like Jam." I said.  The man beamed at me.

"I know!"  Then, having shared his photo, he went back to his dinner.

Jam sitting on the seatwell of the golfcart with Michele in the driver's seat.

 When we got to school, we decided to take the golf cart to the baseball field.  Jam got to experience Michele's driving. It made him a little nervous, but he got over it and settled down.
 Once we got to the game I put his jacket back on as I didn't want people coming up and petting him all night.  That's when I had to destroy a soul or two.

 For Jam was the only dog at the game.  And he was mighty attractive.  And just like at the Tampa Prep baseball game we went to, there were lots of small children running around.  Only this time, their parents seemed to have run off and left them to fend for themselves.  So when a small, blonde 4-5 year old girl ran up out of the blue and patted Jam on the head both Jam and I were a little taken aback.  Where did this small child come from?  Who did she belong to?  Where were her parents?

I'm thinking: Can I give them the "Look at the coat" look and then I don't have to be the destroyer of souls or am I actually going to have to do it?  Will she come back?  Perhaps it was a one off.

Jam looking at the Bucs standing out on the pitcher's mound getting instructions.

But no.  Here she comes.  She rushes up and she's a zombie hand.  I take her hand and say in my nicest voice, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry, but did you know, that when this puppy is wearing his blue coat, no one can pet him?  He's working?"

And her adorable little face just falls into despair.  I am officially the worst person in the world.  She says nothing but turns and runs away and never comes back.

Is there a counselor out there for me? Destroyer of souls is a heavy burden to bear.

A Very Observant Puppy

Sometimes I forget that Jam is a lab.  That he has a history of hunting and chasing in his genes.  Some things will just come naturally to him.

So the other day when I was down in the lower division library in a meeting I was surprised to find Jam staring very intently at something.  But we couldn't figure out what it was. We followed his line of sight.

This year's theme for reading in lower division is Soar Into Reading and they have bird houses all over the library.  Bird houses with fake birds living in them.  Bird houses with fluffy fake birds all around them.  Most of the faux birds are very small, but there were these two owls...

Out of the entire library, Jam had found the two big owls and he stared at them.  He still followed commands and even went over to pose by them.  But he was aware of them and what they were.

I thought he showed enormous restraint.  Good boy, Jam.

Orchid Thief

By Fred

An ordinary life examined closely reveals itself to be exquisite and complicated and exceptional...
The Orchid Thief

Jam doesn't actually steal the orchids; he just knocks them over on his way from here to there. I noticed today, however, that he seemed more curious about them, and maybe just a little more gentle than in the past.

We've had the orchids on the porch for years, and we never really expected much from them, but this year they've bloomed all at once (all except two plants), mostly white blooms with splotches.

It has been difficult to teach Jam about the orchids. Fortunately, dogs don't require wordy explanations (and I really don't have any). They eventually just want to be good, if only for a while, like today.

Jam: Not Being Helpful

Some days there are themes.  Today's theme was Unhelpfulness. Really, Word dictionary? Unhelpfulness isn't a word and helpfulness is?  Yet there is an unhelpful.  You, Jam were unhelpful today.

Take for example, when I got up and left Jam sleeping.  Snoring actually, during the full study hall this morning.  Sure, I had hooked his leash to my chair instead of the table, but that was such a small mistake.   What harm could there be in that?  And after all, he had been so good in his stays.  Letting me go into the workroom and grab a bottle of water or pick up some paper.

I stepped over the sleeping guide dog puppy and walked into the library workroom to ask my question.  Unfortunately, that led to another question and then another.  

BAM!

I ran out into the library to see the table next to mine, which had been filled with freshman boys all standing but one.  The one was laid out with his legs extended to my former chair where he was pressing down with all his leg strength. Jam was on a tie down to that chair and was at the end of it.

In front of Jam were two upper classmen (Alison and Caleb) who told me that Jam and the chair, which, by the 47th law of physics that states that things tied to you will follow if you are strong enough to drag them, had woken up and tried to find me.  Alison and Caleb it should be noted were surrounding Jam but more importantly they were not touching Jam BECAUSE HE HAD HIS COAT ON.

So, my unhelpful guide dog puppy in training had put in action several students who had followed all the rules and been supremely successful in stopping Jam and holding him steady where he was and not violating the sanctity of the coat. 8-)

I love my students.  They are so wonderful.  I quickly relieved the freshman boy as he seemed close to expiring.  Then Jam and I took a walk.

Later, Christina and I started a weeding project.  We were trying to determine whether we had 90 feet of shelving weeded or if we still needed more books to weed.  So we were measuring with ribbon.

Jam at my feet licking the ribbon.

As we were walking around the shelves measuring and letting the ribbon flutter behind us, Jam would wait for a big curl to fall and then he would go to sleep on it as if it were a treasure to be protected with his body.  Soon enough we would come to a screeching halt as his body weight would hold us in place.

"Jam!"

Jam at my feet while Christina and I measure out the ribbon.

Sleepy, blurry, doe eyes looking up at us.  So if unhelpful isn't a word and if Jam wasn't particularly helpful, then what happened?

Wait a minute.  Wasn't there some old trope about letting sleeping dogs lie? But didn't I do that this morning? Maybe, for Jam, it's more about, sure, let the sleeping dogs lie, but make darn sure you are there when they wake up!

Puppies and Babies

By Fred

There may be a lack of consensus about which is cuter: a puppy or a baby. Parents with new-born children cannot be trusted to give an honest opinion--they suffer from a lack of sleep. On the other hand, a small puppy is more like to receive praise and attention from total strangers, and puppy-raisers believe every word.

Sometimes these opposing camps come together, and the cuteness quotient can reach a dangerous level. We saw such an encounter at the Symphony Under the Stars this weekend, when Stephanie's puppy, Coastie, met up with a baby challenger in the crowd. Which one is cuter? Here's a picture of the winner consoling the runner-up.

Of course, Jam used to be one of these very small and cute puppies--there was a time when we couldn't eat at restaurants because people would stop by to stare at him--but now he is often ignored by the general public, especially when babies and small puppies are present, and we worry about his self-esteem. Here he is, being consoled by Cheryl.

Earlier in the day, we had a good time and a good meal at a tail-gate party in the parking lot. Like always, these are some of the nicest people in the world.

Several of the guide dogs puppies were there, including Mars, a new chocolate lab being raised by John. I believe Mars is the most sincere looking creature I've ever seen.

Yes, puppies are cuter than babies.

A Model of Perfection

Jam was a different dog on Friday.  Of course we had our walk! And we had a more casual day as it was the Senior-kindergartner picnic and all school convo, which is always exciting.

  

Jam relaxing on the gym floor during the all school convo.

Jam was very well behaved during the convo.  Except for that one moment when he flipped over on his back and waved his legs in the air like a drunken octopus.  Oh, yeah, was that during the lower division choir's song?  Was that when the headmaster looked over in our general direction?  

I quickly captured what seemed to be Jam's 23 legs and shoved him under my legs and next to the bleachers where he stayed in a down position for the remainder of the convo.

Jam at a Bonefish Grill high top table.  He's underneath looking out at the public.

That evening we decided that we would go out for dinner to celebrate the weekend and we headed over to Bonefish Grill, which seems to be the only restaurant capable of making mussels.  We sat outside at a high top table, which would be a new experience for Jam.

At first he was a little fussy, but he is really great out at restaurants and he settled down quickly.  What should have been disturbing to an intact 12 month old puppy was the silly Pomeranian dog that another customer had brought to the restaurant and was feeding at her chair.  Yes, she was taking food off her plate and putting it on a smaller plate for her dog and feeding him right there in front of my dog.

Jams head is that the lower right of the photo.  There is a small Pomeranian at the top left of the photo.  There is also a lady sitting on a chair giving Jam the stink eye.  She owns the pom.  

Jam didn't care.  The more that lady gave Jam the stink eye, the more he turned his classic lab profile slightly to the left and did a Brad Pitt.  Meaning everyone who walked by immediately saw Jam and said, "OOOOOH how beautiful!" (He is quite striking.) And no one paid her little dog any attention.

That's it Jam.  When faced with evil, small dogs who are being fed from the table, take relief in the zen of your inner beauty.

How I love him, my buddha lab.

A Lesson Learned

Thursday was one of those busy days.  A day you just can't predict.  You think you have it all prepared, but then it goes INSANE.  

Usually, Jammy and I walk into school, past the speeding students and their sometimes equally speed demon parents and I was thinking about the morning's schedule.  MUN (Model United Nations club) had a Frosty sale at lunch.  We had never attempted this before and it was uncharted territory.  I needed to leave right before lunch and go with one of the senior students to Wendy's to pick 200 frosties and then get them back on campus in time to sell before the kids got out for lunch at 12:30.  And I had a lunch meeting to review student library proctor candidates with my head and assistant head student library proctors at 12:35.

But first I had a ton of grading to do.  That meant sitting on the main floor of the library and grading the works cited as I also kept an eye on what was going on around me.  They call it multitasking. Librarians are whizzes at it.  Usually Jam and I have our morning walk at 10 when we go to convocation, but we didn't go to convocation on Thursday for some reason.  I don't know why.  Perhaps I got caught up in my grading.  For whatever reason, we had a pee break, went back to work and about the time I needed to fly out to the Wendy's, I left Jammy with Christina.

Jammy is sitting in front of Christina in the library workroom with his head tilted to the right.

 He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew something was up.  I was a bit stressed about the whole deal.  Alex and I drove to Wendy's and when we got there, we found only one person working the cash register.  All I needed to do was go up and ask for Charlie, but since there were three people ahead of me in line, I could very well barge up and say, "I just need Charlie, now, get outta my way!" and have them get all up in my face about cutting in line and being there first.  Especially when I had a student with me.

So, I patiently stood in line.  Right.  I stood in line, but NOT patiently.  I was toe tapping and looking around and trying to figure out which person back there was Charlie, because the minute I identified him, I was going to laser beam him over to me.  Seriously, what was he thinking putting only one person on the counter at lunchtime?

And then the VERY WORST THING HAPPENS: coupon lady appears.  I was next in line.  I was so close.  There was this blonde in front of me and she had just started to order when her friend comes out of the bathroom and steps up next to her.  (Oh yes, she did, and her purse was big and filled with coupons.) The blonde turns to her friend and says, "What do you want?"

Well, I wanted to poke her friend's eyes out.  But that was before her friend pulled out the ginormous wad of coupons. The old lady behind the register, who you know is on her third day at Wendy's, lets out a little moan.  "I don't know how to do coupons!"

"Oh. My. Freaking. God." But I say this inside my head where a little mini me is screaming and pulling out big tufts of hair.  "I just need to talk to Charlie!  I don't even need any food!!!!  Where the hell is Charlie?!!!"

So, three-day-old cashier says, "Charlie, I need some help!  I don't know how to do coupons."  And this tall man comes over and I try to laser beam him with my eyes, but it doesn't work.  The coupon lady has him in her talons.  She is throwing all this coupons on the counter and talking in coupon gibberish.  It's like Klingon for Trekkies only you get food as a reward.

Sure enough, Charlie starts punching buttons and things beep and three-day-old cashier watches with her big eyes as it goes in one ear and out the other.  Charlie looks up and I laser beam him again.

"Hi, I'm from Berkeley.  I have the 200 frosties."

"Oh yeah. They are out back.  Have you paid yet?"  I look at coupon lady.  She looks back at me and offers me a coupon.  "No thank you. No, I haven't yet."

"Well, let's do that and get you out back to get your frosties."

So we pay and go out back and he has 7 boxes of frosties to go in my Honda fit.  Mind you, we brought 3 coolers to put the frosties in, because we were told to bring coolers.  But the Honda Fit will fit a full size llama in it, I kid you not!

Photo of a Honda fit with a llama in the back seat.  The head is poked out the window.

And you didn't believe me.  I think sometimes, dear reader, you think I drift into hyperbole!

Anyway, back to the story, we here we have three coolers and 7 boxes of frosties and the frosties are melting and they are all very precariously placed in the boxes, not tightly placed or snugly placed, but loosely placed with room to move and dance around.  And did I mention that the tops are pretty open?  So they can slosh out if they feel like it?  Yea.  Great.

I'm really relaxed about this whole thing.  Oh, and Alex.  He's about 6'5".  No worries.  We'll make it.  You know how I drive right?  I can handle this.  I can drive really slow and take turns in a calm manner.

Quit laughing.

We make it to the school.  We sell the frosties.  I make my meeting.  We select SLPs.  The upshot is that Jammy is without a walk for a long time.  I am bushed and completely stressed and drained.  So when I take him back, I just go into my office with him.  I go into my office, because there is a speaker in the library who is currently speaking to 65 fifth graders on how her family emigrated from Cuba to America, which is a serious subject.

I sit in my chair and I lean over to Jam and I reach down and start to remove his coat.  This signals to Jam that play time as started.  And since he has been cooped up ALL DAY in the office, why should he spend one minute more in MY OFFICE?  So, he takes off. And because he is a big boy and doesn't run off, I didn't have him on a tie down.

SO HE CAN.

AND HE DOES.

Do you know about the puppy crazies?  Labs are particularly infected with them.  They will kick up their heels and then it's like their back legs spin in circles they move so fast.  Jam was GONE.  He was naked and gone.  I leaped up and was out in the library and every high schooler was staring out towards where the speaker was because of course, that's where Jam went.

He ran right to the back of the library.  Past all the high school kids and the tables, past the books.  Into the second study area and there was the big open space with 65 fifth graders.  Here was the big open space for Jam to do some wheelies.

And so he did.

Several of them.  To the delight of every one of the 65 fifth graders who had turned around to watch him pop a wheelie.

By this time, I had made it back to where he was and he saw me.  Jam blew past me to the left and went through the Spanish teacher's legs (his wife, a professor at USF was our speaker).  Jam danced around the tables and weaved in and out of the chairs as students and library personnel tried to reach out and grab him.  All us not saying a word, in deference to the speaker, who was still speaking.

It all came to an end for Jammy when he got close to Clay, a junior, who knows all of Jam's tricks.  Clay reached out and grabbed him and caught him.

There was a huge sigh of relief.

And a lesson learned.  No matter what.  Never skip the morning walk!!!

Oh, My Poor Ego!

I was so excited today.  As I was walking to convocation, the head of admissions stopped me and said that she wanted to take a photo of me and Jam after convo.  They had a photographer out and were taking photos for admissions materials.

"We should be here (by the benches), but if we aren't we will stop by the library." She said.

I was so excited.  I had never been in any admissions photos, I don't think any of the library staff had been.  This was so exciting!  They always chose other teachers for that kind of thing. I was thinking about my outfit and that my hair actually came out nice and curly today.  Convo went by in a blur.  Such is the curse of a huge head of celebrity.

As I walked to where they were taking photos, Jam saw Mrs. Iglehart and her ambassador dog Jessie in the distance and started to bark.  We waited until he calmed down before walking any closer to the photographer.  

"Hi, I'm CD."  I extended my hand to the photographer.  

"Hi, I'm..." I wasn't listening because Jam pulled and I turned to get him under control again.  I smiled back at the photographer.  "Can you have the dog sit right over here with his back to the students?  Not too much in the sun though."

"Oh."  I paused and looked down at Jam.  He was resplendent in his labrador glory. So handsome. "Of course I can.  He sits beautifully."

Jam, sitting on Stephanie's rug when she was puppy sitting him.

I had Jam do a sit stay, which he did perfectly and of course he was a handsome boy.  I remained off to the side with my hand out saying, "Stay. Stay."  

Inside my head I was saying, "Fool, fool."

Great Expectations, Final Chapter

Final Chapter

Years passed, and Willow suffered through more puppies, though with a mindset always pointed to the future and to a greater purpose, always preparing them for the tough life ahead while remembering one central point: like children, all puppies deserve to be happy.

On more than one occasion she wondered about her old friend Jam and how he was doing as a guide dog. She allowed herself to swell up with pride, knowing that his success was her success, even if no one else would ever know.

Then one day, while resting in her favorite spot, a warm set of stones near the fish ponds, eyes closed and dreaming of things past, she felt a slight tickle on her nose. There was her old friend Jam, ready to tour the yard as though he had never left.

Great Expectations, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Nothing was more familiar, more welcome, than that rush of adrenaline, and nothing was better than sharing the moment with your best friend, sniffing in that common scent, twitching and bracing to jump up together and run when the time was right to best surprise the squirrel and provide for him the most terrifying moment of his existence.

But Willow realized, in just that instant, that this game could not continue as before, not if she hoped to ever prepare Jam for his future of great expectations. With a sigh she turned away and slumped to the ground, feeling the full weight and dispair of her decision and leaving Jam perplexed as to what to do next.