Owen's Maine Vacation

We had a lovely Maine vacation this year at my parents' house in Bristol.  Sean, Owen, Dorothy and I drove up together, and then after one week Sean and Dorothy returned to Pennsylvania while Owen and I stayed on for another week.  I'm not going to lie:  the ride up wasn't easy.  It took about ten hours, which isn't bad, but Owen fussed for a lot of those hours.  But once we were there, the fine weather, good company, beautiful scenery, and delicious food more than made up for the whining traveling hours.

Owen had a good time both inside and out.  Here he is enjoying the lighthouse at Pemaquid Point:

And here is the picture I took before the one above, with Owen exiting stage right:

As is the case with coastal Maine, as we went on many errands, walks or outings there was always the ocean to be seen and boats sailing upon it.  Owen soon learned where to look when we pointed and said "boat!"  Here he is by the water in Damariscotta, looking like a salty dog:

And here he is trying out a swing at the new Bristol Community Playground:

Since Owen is not walking yet, and since he is only one, we did spend a lot of time at home moseying about.  And although walking behind a crawling boy is not always the most scintillating of activities, it was fun for me to spend time with Owen during the day.  He really is quite a happy little fellow.  Here are some of his indoor Maine activities:

He liked to take everything out of the urn by the door, piece by piece, including all the bags that are there for when dogs get walked:

He very much enjoyed both playing Granny's piano, and looking at himself in the side of it:

Here he is enjoying Granny and Grandfather's computer:

And this was one of his favorite activities -- watching the clothes spin in the washer:

It turns out that you can change the settings of a load midway through.  Who knew?!

To come:  Owen at the beach!  And don't forget Dorothy!

The Moose Is Loose

We are in Maine for a bit, and hoping to see some moose, albeit not ones that are firetruck red.  Nonetheless, Owen prepared for his vacation with a bit of moose-riding practice:

Dorothy and Nellie

This is Nellie:

I finally got a picture of her in which she is not covered with or standing in snow, looking like a yeti.  She is a Tibetan Terrier, and, well...let's just say they do things differently in Tibet.

She's a great dog, don't get me wrong, but she has an independent streak that, having lived with a pug for 17 years, seems a bit odd to me.  For instance, sometimes she doesn't wake up and come downstairs until 10:00 a.m.  My parents will have been up for hours by this time, DOWNSTAIRS, doing their thing, and Nellie is perfectly content to be in a different room on a different floor of the house from them.  She walks several miles daily, but has always much preferred the walk home to the walk out.  She'll test her four brakes several times on the way out on a walk; and then when her parents turn around to walk home, she is all, as I put it, Queen Victoria on the prow of a ship, head held high, nose forward, hair bouncing in a stately fashion.

Nellie was pretty good with young Dorothy, on the whole.  Dorothy would have preferred it if Nellie had been a little more playful, but they did have several good chasing sessions in the back yard.  Here's the first few pictures of such a session, when I hadn't yet figured out how to get both of them in the picture at the same time:

And then a few grizzly bear, gnashing of teeth, shots:

And finally, a shot of them indoors, resting, with Dorothy in Nellie's old crate and Nellie lying companionably beside:

That'll do, girls, that'll do.

Dorothy and her Massachusetts Cousins

Dorothy loves children.  When she sees a kid who is about 12 or under, she will immediately crouch down on her stomach so that she does not appear threatening.  If this doesn't work to entice the child hither, she will often roll over on her back and show the boy or girl her pretty belly.  And when they do come over, although she will sometimes spring up suddenly, she is generally very gentle with them, her tail wagging overtime all the while.

I knew, then, that she would enjoy having her three Massachusetts cousins in the house, and she did!  After greeting them all with a down-stay, she proceeded to follow them about, and was very annoyed at me when I made her come into our room for the night.  The first thing next morning she was poised outside of their bedroom door, and when it was opened a crack, she was in and giving everyone a hearty good morning with her tongue!  What a good hostess, Dorothy!

Here is Dorothy running around in the back yard with Henry, Josie, and Georgia:

And then here she is resting with her Uncle Gordy:

I am glad that Dorothy likes children so much, since my two cats detest anyone under the age of 12.  Posy spent the weekend hiding under the bed, or desperately running as fast as her stumpy legs could carry her in the direction of the bed.  And when Plum finally got tired of skulking in the bedroom, he ventured out into the living room only to scratch anyone who deigned to pet him (even me!).  Rotten beast.  The kids were being very gentle with him, too -- they were just giving him a pet when he did not want to be petted.  As Josie told me, "I was petting Plum until he scratched me."  Oh well!

The cats will like these cousins once they are no longer teacup humans.  In the meantime, Dorothy will have to be my pet ambassador, solo.

It Must Be The Trail Mix

For the record, I am no closer to understanding what is going on in Dorothy's little pea-brain when she refuses to walk, especially since while on vacation in Maine, she walked like a dream daily.  Go figure.  I don't know if it was that there were three of us walking, or if it was that another dog was in the group, or if it was just the quiet of the Maine roads and forest trails.  But for some reason, Dorothy set off at a fast clip each time and did not even stop to sniff once.

On her first walk in Maine, she walked 2.5 miles:

She didn't stop or slow down, but when we got back in the car at the end of the walk, I noticed with horror that she had bleeding blisters on three of her four paws!!  We felt horrible about this, although Dorothy didn't pay any attention to the wounds whatsoever.  She also hadn't limped or shown any sign of distress while we were walking, so the blisters were a surprise.  We decided after that to give her a couple of days off and then to walk on dirt roads that would be a little softer on her feet.  Since all her walking in Philadelphia is done on pavement, I would have thought that her little paw pads would be calloused enough for a 2.5 mile walk.  After all, she doesn't seem to like walking in Philly, but she still goes on 5 or 6 walks per day.

At any rate, we did a few dirt road walks, and then one walk on a forest trail which Dorothy loved!  I want to take her on more woodsy hikes, since she zoomed up and down the trails at a fast and sure-footed pace, stopping every now and then to pick up a pinecone and carry it like a cigar clenched between her teeth.

Dorothy, resting after one of her Maine excursions:

I had optimistically hoped that once we returned home Dorothy would continue with the good walking she did in Maine, but this has not really been the case.  She's perhaps a little better than she was, but she still has moments where she performs a little strike on the sidewalk, gathering the sympathetic attention of the passers-by.  I was wondering if perhaps the over-stimulation of the city streets could be the culprit, but I have a feeling that Dorothy just wants what she wants -- and sometimes what she wants is to sit.

Plum and Posy in Bristol

I am no photographer.  I don't have the patience, the eye, or the aptitude with gadgets.  I can read a manual, but the little simple camera I have (which I got primarily because it was pink) came with a web address for a web manual (webual?), and needless to say I have not gone to that address, nor read that on-line manual.

What I do, then, is just aim the camera in the general direction of what I want to take a picture of and click and hope for the best.  And sometimes I get lucky.  I like photographing my cats in Maine, because there is so much sunlight in the house that I can take pictures in which their eyes are normal and not glinty little devilish pinholes.

So here are a few pictures of Plum looking dapper, and Posy beautiful, or at least very self-satisfied:

And a few more of them on surfaces which their grandparents would really prefer they stay off of.  This piece of furniture in particular usually has violets and other houseplants on it; they had to be removed for the duration of our visit, since Plum is a houseplant and flower and cut-flower gourmand.  Oops:

And in case you didn't realize it, having never tried it yourself, it is very hard work lounging and looking cute on an armchair:

When Are We Going To Get There?

It is a 10-hour car ride from Philadelphia to Damariscotta, Maine, for all intents and purposes.  It should take around nine, but there is always traffic at some point (I'm talking about you, Hartford, and you, NH tolls, and even you, Wiscasset).  I was not really looking forward to the trip, as I didn't know how Dorothy would behave for such a long journey.  She'd only been in a car twice since I brought her to Philly, and both trips ended up with Dorothy either car-sick or way too nervous, and therefore regurgitating her dinner.

To try to make sure that there was no nausea on this trip, I gave Dorothy some Cerenia, a miracle car-sick drug that is made for dogs, but that my cats have successfully been taking for a couple of years.  It's a drug that takes away the nausea, but does not cause any kind of sleepiness or dopiness.  I was nervous as to how Dorothy would respond, but for the most part it all went quite well.  About two hours after Dorothy took the meds each time, she drooled a bit.  But she didn't get sick, and she also behaved like an angel -- sleeping for the ten hours of the journey each way, while also happily getting out to stretch her legs and do her business each time we stopped.

Here is Dorothy on the trip from Philadelphia to Maine, eyeing what Posy is doing in the top bunk of the carriers, and then snoozing all relaxed:

While in Maine, Dorothy also went on lots of shorter car rides to get to good walking routes and hiking trails.  She did well on these trips too, although the minute we got to our destination each time she would basically void her bowels, to be blunt.  (Ahem, TMI, I know.)  I'm hoping that these many shorter rides that ended in a fun activity did a lot towards making Dorothy realize that Car Rides Are Her Friend.  However, her willingness to relax a bit could also be that on these trips she was sitting in the back with her Granny, and with her fellow dog, Aunt Nellie.

Nellie has always been great in the car--she just jumps on the seat or on the floor and curls up and goes to sleep immediately.  I'm hoping that Dorothy has learned that a car ride is no big deal from watching the behavior of Nellie.

I also think that on the first car ride we go on now that we are back in the city, I might sit in the back with her and keep her calm company.  Sean asked if this meant that he should wear a uniform as he sits alone in the front and drives us, but I said no need.  I have a sinking suspicion that once Dorothy is nonchalant about the car in general, she will become quite the backseat driver, barking out commands like a sergeant.

Gardening With Grandparents

Like her cousins, Dorothy enjoyed gardening with her grandparents on her vacation.  I think this is primarily because while they focused their attentions on their crop, Dorothy could sneak in a few mouthfuls of grass salad.  But what's not to like about a pretty garden on a Maine's summer day?

Dorothy particularly liked helping her Granny dead-head the petunias:

And here is her Maine Garden portrait:

Pretty girl, Dorothy!

Surveying Her Domain

At eight months old, Dorothy is still finding her voice.  She has a play bark which I know well and hear often.  She has a protest bark, which she'll use on occasion -- and it is not a mellifluous sound.  And she has a guard growl and bark that I've heard her use a few times when she hears a strange sound outside of our apartment door.

When we were in Maine, however, she debuted a new bark:  a There Is A Critter On My Property and I Don't Much Like It bark.  And dare I say it?  Each time she used that bark, it was very hard not to giggle.  Her critter bark is 2/3rds woo-woo-woo with 1/3rd ruff.  It is a bark with an essence of howl to it.

Dorothy liked to use this bark while looking out from the sunporch to the back yard and hills.  Occasionally the bark was directed towards a bird (there is a colony of doves who like to bicker below the bird feeder), but she usually reserved the bark for a fat squirrel which would hop forth to the feeder and back.  Here is Dorothy surveying her domain and using her critter bark:

And here she is with her feelings a bit hurt when we all laughed:

Sorry, Dorothy!  You are indeed a very fierce bulldogge!