Cora's Corner

Every family member needs her or his own space in the house. I have my little computer desk tucked between the kitchen and the laundry room, and woe betide the one who moves my stuff around on it. My Beloved has his home office, which he glories in trashing for six months until it is impossible to walk across, then moaning and groaning and sighing through two days of weeding, filing and, when he can finally see the carpet, vacuuming. We share the bedroom and bath where we watch TV, sleep, shower and dress.

When Cora arrived three days after last Christmas, she came in a rush - her foster mother had an older dog who was ill with cancer so she was eager to move Cora to us. I didn't have time to buy food bowls and a bed to welcome her to the family, so I threw a flannel sheet over the upholstered slipper chair in our bedroom and hauled out these two bowls until I could buy "real" ones. Somehow, I never did get around to finding others.

The pressed glass water bowl was a garage sale score and the colorful, heart-shaped food bowl was a gift from Cousin J-Yah who found it and thought of me. Tucked into the only corner of my tiny kitchen where they wouldn't be knocked over daily, they nestle between the fridge and My Beloved's antique ice box that we use for wine storage.

I did find a nice dog bed with a washable zip-off cover, which fit exactly under the hall table where Cora can keep an eye on all our comings and goings - she's of herding stock and it shows. She uses it sometimes but her real bed is still that sheet-covered slipper chair next to my side of the bed.

When she first came, she sneaked into it only after the lights were out at night and leaped off as soon as we stirred in the morning, apparently thinking she was sinning. Lately, however, she has learned that we won't scold her for sleeping there, so she even puts herself to bed while we are still brushing our teeth and opening the sliding door to the sound of the quiet waves on the beach below. She curls up into the curve of the chair, a surprisingly small black ball for such a large dog, gives a heavy, g'night sort of a sigh, and drifts off to dream of chasing turkeys or sniffing butts or whatever it is that pulls little yips and twitches from her sleeping form.

It's hard to believe she has only been with us for a year; we can't imagine life without her now. She has a corner in the kitchen, a corner in the bedroom and a very large corner in our hearts.

The Snack Police

I'm living with the Snack Police. BC (Before Cora), I used to snack fairly frequently on these little string cheese logs. I enjoyed pulling them into strips and prolonging their taste by eating them slowly. Then came Cora. Guess who else loves string cheese?

She loves cheese so much that giving her pills is a snap. While she was recovering from the pitbull attack, I'd just stuff her pills into a little cheese and down the hatch it went - no fuss, no struggles, just a happy dog and a satisfied nurse.

It is impossible for me to sneak one of these out of the fridge if she's anywhere in the house. Even if she misses the opening of the refrigerator door, she hears the zip of the package pulling apart from three rooms away. I swear she can hear it when she's outdoors with the door shut. She's there in a flash, skidding to a halt on the kitchen tile and sitting as if her butt is glued to the floor, ears perked forward hopefully. "See what a good dog I am?," she seems to be saying, "Don't I deserve a treat?" Well, shit, yes, she does. So, there goes my snack, string by string down her eager throat. She seems hardly to taste them - I really think her nose does the tasting before it ever hits her tongue. Sometimes, I sneak one of the strings for myself but her reproachful stare is more than my conscience can bear, so she usually gets the whole thing.

Yesterday, she was out in the car with My Beloved, which she loves to do more than just about anything. Yep, I stole into the kitchen and ate an entire one ounce portion all by myself, without the Snack Police drooling on my shoes.

Clown Cora

Nothing to do with food today, I just wanted to share this funny picture of Cora. Something about her goofy eyebrows, her trusting eyes and the way the camera angle exaggerates her nose just cracks me up.

Clown dog.

She's Keeping It!

Notice the slightly punk rocker look that Cora is sporting these days? Sort of a sideways mohawk.

The vet shaved the poor bitten ear in order to set the myriad of stitches he had to use to put it back together after the pitbull attack. There was serious doubt about whether or not the stitches would work or they'd have to amputate the fleshy part of her ear.

The hair is growing back slowly but the good news is that the vet's magic with the ear worked - when the stitches came out last week, he pronounced that she would keep it. We are thrilled and she seems happy, too. It may sit at a slightly rakish angle but we are pleased that she will still have two ears to fondle.

Happy ending, once the mohawk grows out.

She's Doing Okay

Ever since Cora arrived two days after Christmas, rain or shine every morning I put on my bathrobe, slip into my shoes and jacket, and my gentle Cora and I go out as the sky is lightening; I stand and admire the bay while she sniffs around (a friend calls it "picking up her pee mail"), wags tails with the neighbor's dog, and does her morning business. The lights are on in a few houses and sometimes we can hear stirrings but we have our tiny street pretty much to ourselves. Then, I bag her poop, we go back inside and she has breakfast while I read my email. We enjoy our ten minutes of peaceful morning ritual.

Yesterday morning, just out of sight in the twilight, I heard Cora screeching in pain and charged over to find that she had been attacked by a pitbull who doesn't live in our neighborhood but was being babysat at a house nearby and was thoughtlessly let out unleashed. I won't go into all the details but I finally managed to make the dog let go of Cora's ear by a combination of shouting, swearing, hitting and choking it with its own collar. The babysitter arrived just in time for me to hand the pitbull to her and run after Cora, who fled home as soon as she was released. We rushed to the emergency vet with Cora's ear all torn and bleeding.

She's doing okay and she's glad to be home. The vet there took a careful, meticulous hour and a half to stitch together her ear while she was under anesthesia. She came home with pain meds, a drain in her neck and antibiotics, and we are hopeful that because she's young and strong, she will retain the ear, but we will love her even if she ends up lop-sided. The kind young vet even offered that with all the "feathers" Cora has around her ears it won't show much even if she does lose it.

I talked to the pitbull's babysitters and they are most apologetic and distressed; they also offered very responsibly to pay all the vet bills. I'm sure the pitbull had no track record of attacks, or they'd have been more careful. Nevertheless, I called the animal services department in my county and reported the incident in case there are ever any more involving this dog. The vet said I was damn lucky not to be bitten, myself, but I didn't think of that at the time and I'm glad I didn't.

I know that not all pitbulls are bad and this dog showed me no aggression, despite the beating it received at my hands, when I went to the house to tell them I was reporting the incident, but if you have a pitbull or one lives near you, please be careful and cautious. If you own one, don't let it out unleashed - you can never know if or when it will attack. They have been bred for centuries to bite and never, ever to let go. I am sad for my Cora, who is now timid about going outside and in a great deal of pain, but I am haunted by the thought that it might have happened to the aging yellow labrador who lives next door, or a child, or even a grownup.

Lovely Wine Country Day

When My Beloved's brother was in town from Cape Cod this past weekend, the weather was perfectly lovely so we decided to introduce him and his wife to our favorite winery, the elegant Ferrari-Carano in Dry Creek Valley near Healdsburg. Ted's wife, Kim, is an avid gardener, so we knew she'd love touring the beautifully tended grounds at Ferrari-Carano, complete with a waterfall and a pond with a serene bronze statue of a crane. It's a lovely setting for some of the best wines MB and I have found.

We took Cora along, since she counts any day out with us as an adventure not to be missed, and would rather wait patiently in the car than stay home alone. She was good as gold during our picnic in the square at Healdsburg. She waited under a shady tree at the first winery we visited. She's awfully good and she adds to our enjoyment.

Most of the time.

We arrived at Ferrari-Carano a few minutes before the carload of relatives so, armed with cleanup baggies, I took Cora on her retractable leash to stretch her legs until they arrived, noting a conspicuous sign that said no dogs were allowed into the grounds of the winery. No problem; I certainly understood that such carefully tended gardens deserved respect and appreciation without canine complications.

There was an amazingly beautiful, big rooster in full resplendent plumage posing on the lawn by the parking lot, looking as if he had enough testosterone and attitude to actually challenge me, so I gave him a wide berth. Cora, however, noticed him only when he moved, with which she lunged to the end of her leash, pulling it right out of my hand, and took off after the cocky cockerel! If she hadn't had the plastic housing of the retractable leash bouncing along around her legs, she'd have surely caught him - he was ahead by only the merest whisper.

She chased him around a tree, then off into the shrubbery with me shouting, "No! No! NO!" as I ran along behind, vainly trying to grab the leash again as they disappeared into the bushes where I couldn't follow. I tore around to the garden side and through the iron gate to find Cora completely immersed in the pond, thrashing back and forth under the waterfall.

The trailing leash caught on a rock in the pool and, as Cora tried another side of the pond to exit, it tangled around the elegant legs of the bronze crane and toppled it in slow, slow motion into the water as the enraged gardener glared from me to the dog and back at me.

Finally stopped by the tangled leash, Cora climbed out of the pool and submitted to being caught, but she promptly added insult to injury by shaking, spraying me and the furious gardener liberally with pond water. I returned to the car, subdued, mortified and dirty, with a panting, dripping dog to retrieve a beach towel just as the carload of relatives pulled up. They actually thought it was funny. Heaven only knows where the rooster ended up - I'm sure his heart rate still hasn't returned to normal!

I have never needed a glass of wine quite so much as I did that day. I bellied up to the elegant Enoteca bar, pond water and all, and as the other patrons edged away from my smelly self, thanked heaven for the generous tastings they pour at Ferrari-Carano.

If you click on this link, you will see where I borrowed the image of the rooster. My thanks to them.

Dog Day Morning

In the time Before Cora (BC), I used to go for walks at Point Isabel just to enjoy the scenery and the happy dogs running free, off-leash and loving life. I was a little envious of all the dog owners, who seemed to be having just as much fun as their dogs, but at the time, I had two cats at home and a full-time job. I'd enjoy the walk and a stop at the cleverly-named Sit and Stay Cafe, but always wished for a canine companion to enjoy fully the Point Isabel experience.

Ever since Cora arrived in our lives, I've been thinking of treating her to a morning with her brethren. She gets mightily excited when other dogs are around and her herding genes come to the fore - she always tries to get any and all dogs (and people) into a bunch, and will run and bark tirelessly until she is satisfied. I had my doubts about how she'd react to hundreds of dogs at a time.

This morning being sunny and crisp, the lure was irresistible; after a hearty breakfast of Cheese Dreams, I bundled her into the car and headed for the park. Point Isabel has 23 joyous acres of grass, water, fields and sidewalks and ever so many dogs of all descriptions, from mincing Chihuahuas with attitude to lumbering Newfoundlands without - Cora was on overwhelm from the first minute. She ran, she chased, she sniffed, she barked, she waded up to her watchit in the puddles - in short, she had a whale of a good time and would still be there running if a kind stranger hadn't stepped on her trailing leash for me to bring her to a panting halt.

Then, off to the aptly-named Mudpuppy's, a facility where one can either bathe one's own dog or have the kind staff do it for you. I opted for the latter and went to Sit and Stay for the best cup of coffee I've had in the Bay area while they rinsed all the mud of the morning from her coat. The dog I got back 15 minutes later was sweet smelling, fluffy and ready to go again! This girl has stamina!

We came home, however, as I had had enough walking for one day and as I write she is flat out in the sunshine, yipping in her sleep, reliving in her dreams a fine dog day morning.

Yes, Please!

Each new dog who enters my life teaches me about her preferences for food. What was heaven for one dog is so-so to another but, as my sister says, dogs will usually eat anything when they are truly hungry. When I ask if they want some dinner, they answer, "Yes, please!" with wagging tails and happy grins.

I have always fed my dogs Science Diet dog food, having gotten a tip about it from my friend Wenirs when as an adult I got my first puppy, Daisy, a Springer spaniel. Daisy loved Science Diet and wolfed her portions so fast that we ended up having to put rocks in her bowl just to slow her down - otherwise, she would whoops on the carpet (always on the carpet, never on the easily cleaned bare floor) shortly after.

My next dog Tillie, also a Springer, was very fond of poultry (she was a bird dog, after all, and "pointed" the Thanksgiving turkey each year). Chica, a lovable mutt who strayed into my heart one day was thrilled with any food I gave her, almost pathetically grateful for having found a good home. They both got mostly Science Diet and they ate it with gusto.

Then came Cora. She did me the courtesy of sniffing her bowl of dry Science Diet before turning away.

No, thank you.

So, I added a little water, something that worked like a champ with all my other dogs.

Well, acceptable, perhaps, but not great. After two days of lackluster appetite, she turned resolutely away from that, too. Cousin J-Yah has a yellow lab, Mia, and J-Yah mixes just a little chicken broth with the dog food to whet Mia's appetite. So, I went to my cupboard and tried that:

"Now you're talking!"

She happily crunches her way through SD, but only when mixed with chicken broth.

This evening, looking for a quick and easy dinner after a day of errands, chores and catering to My Beloved who has wrenched his knee, I decided to fry some bacon for fried egg sandwiches. Guess who showed up the instant the bacon package came out of the fridge? She hung around all during the cooking, gazing hopefully from the pan to me and back to the pan. I've been wondering what mix of breeds I have gotten in Cora. Clearly, there's border collie or perhaps Australian shepherd in there, with a bit of some bird dog (she intently watches all birds she encounters) but now I see clearly that what I have is an American Bacon Hound, not a particularly rare breed, but very lovable.

A Puppy for Christmas

I have had five important dogs in my life but I've never gotten a puppy for Christmas, one of my longest-standing wishes. This year, my wish came true, or at least pretty close. It wasn't quite Christmas and she's not a puppy any more, but you get the idea. Two days after Christmas, we were approved for adoption and Cora was delivered to our house.

I heard about Smiley Dog Rescue from my friend the Evil Empress who has fostered dogs for them and even adopted one of her fosterees, the delightfully goofy Dell. Smiley Dog is a good organization, staffed with caring volunteers who take animals out of kill shelters and keep them until the right home comes along.

I had seen Cora's picture three months before on the Smiley Dog Rescue web site (www.smileydogrescue.org, if you are looking for a dog to love), but two emergency trips to Connecticut and a vacation to Hawaii intervened, so I wasn't at all sure she'd end up with us. I filled out the adoption application and hoped for the best, keeping in touch with Smiley Dog all that time, letting them know what was happening and, while they didn't make any promises, they kindly kept her a little longer.

Initially, I thought I'd probably change her name, as Cora seemed like an old lady who smells of lavender but now that she's been with us for less than a day, I think we'll keep it. She is very ladylike in the house, very gentle when she takes food from your hand, quiet (except when the leash appears and there's a chance of a walk - then, she becomes a whirling dervish of delighted excitability) and sweet-natured. At the dog park, she's all Border Collie (although there are clearly some other genes in there, too), running like the wind, herding the other dogs and playing boisterously, but at home she's refined, calm and peaceful, as if she had crocheted doilies on her end tables.

Cora. Corazon. Perfect.