So it continues. Had I known how often James complained when I was but an innocent young puppy, I, well, I’m not sure what I would have done. After all, while he was training me, I was also training him. (James, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. What? You typed that? Silly human.)
Here we were in the sixth week of being together. I had already fallen in love with Trek, but he was gone now. It looked as if I had no choice but to direct my love towards James. I mean, he was being so loving towards me, and I had hardly given him the time of day what with my BFF Trek around.
(Ollie trying not to be depressed over losing his BFF Trek.)
I have to admit that I was a little depressed. Sure, so were James and Ron. It seemed we were all sleeping most of the time. At least I know Ron and I were getting shuteye as often as possible. James, on the other hand, hardly got any sleep. Of course, he only has himself to blame. I, on the other hand, was doing all I could not to weep openly whenever Trek’s name was mentioned.
Besides, I wasn’t yet four months old. James says that meant I had to go outside at least every three hours, and after playing, and after sleeping. If you remember, the water was still being rationed, so I’m not sure why James was being so conscientious about my pee.
Think about it for a moment. No one, not even us canines, want to do our business where we play and eat. Of course, I never wanted to excuse myself in the mudroom or stone hall, where I was now confined. Nevertheless, I was dependent upon James taking me outside so I could go. Even out there, he never left me alone. I like a little privacy, if you get my drift.
(Ollie refusing to go since he likes his privacy.)
Anyway, James wrote a poem about how he was so sleep deprived. I have to admit that he doesn’t actually blame me for losing sleep. However, he sure does imply it. You be the judge.
Here’s that poem:
SWEET SLEEP
Oh how I miss it embracing me within the down comforter’s warmth lulling my senses refreshing my mind conveying comfort releasing tension
Oh how I envy you at fifteen weeks lying on the floor in peaceful bliss awaiting your next phase not knowing what or when it will be but knowing it will come sooner than I’d like
Oh how handsome you look extending on the cool slate hugging one of your fluffy toys duck squirrel alligator while I longing to catnap sit on the steps
Oh I put my head back facing the ceiling relaxing I can feel the weight lifted ever so slightly and BOOM you are awake stretching raring to go
Oh to the door quickly outside in a flash distractions abound delaying the inevitable which comes when it comes but never fast enough
Oh back inside to play and learn and then for you to sleep but not me
No there is no sweet sleep for me for I must be ever alert for you for your benefit
Oh and for mine
What do you think? Is James saying I’m the reason he’s losing sleep? I have only one further comment to add about this: where was Ron? Enough said. (Wow! James gave me a special treat that tastes like bacon – yummm! I love James.)
We hope you’re enjoying hearing about my first year and reading the poems James wrote. In two weeks I’ll fill you in on some of the toys I had to play with. I have to admit, I had more toys than I knew what to do with, but they sure helped in more ways than one. Join us then to find out in what ways those were.
Also, let us know your opinion of these stories and the poems James wrote. I always like to hear from you, so please feel free to leave me a comment about this or anything else that’s on your mind.
Until next time,
Sir Oliver of Skygate Farm (you can call me Ollie)
I mentioned in my last post in a side note how gracious James can be sometimes. Well, I need to begin this week’s dissertation tactfully because it involves a most sensitive issue. It isn’t something I yet understand, so today, and not for the first time, I’m letting James take over my blog. You’ll see why as you read on.
Hi – this is James. I want to thank Sir Oliver of Skygate Farm (Yeah, I know, I can call him Ollie, but for this purpose, I felt a more formal approach was appropriate.) for handing over the reins of his blog to me today. It is a rather delicate topic he and I agreed to discuss at this juncture of his first-year story.
When Ollie arrived at Skygate Farm, we had a delightful, old, Dalmatian – Trek – living with us. We weren’t sure how such an old fellow would take to having a young whippersnapper join our family, but we needn’t have worried. Trek sniffed, licked, and welcomed the new little guy as if he were his own son. Then, like some fathers, he walked away, leaving the child alone. Ollie would have none of it. So long as they were in the same sphere, Trek was like a magnet to Ollie – he wouldn’t leave his side, or under his feet as was often the case.
Our old guy seemed to revert to his childhood. He became much more active and full of himself once Ollie arrived. It seemed as if he had taken on the role of teacher. Ollie has told me that it was the most rewarding part of joining our family – having Trek around. Well, Trek’s revisiting his youth included his going so far as to enjoy being in Ollie’s crate full of toys.
(Ollie sharing his crate and toys with his BFF Trek.)
Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last. Somewhere, someone has written that all good things must pass. I, for one, don’t like thinking about such things. Still, I have to admit that this one, vastly wonderful, thing did pass – and far too soon. Ron and I were told that a Dalmatian’s life span is on average only around nine years. Trek was four days shy of his fourteenth birthday on the day we were forced to say goodbye to our dearly beloved. We were blessed to have had him in our lives for so many years.
(Ron, Trek & James at Popplewood Farm.)
We are even more blessed to have Ollie with us, not only at the time of our lose, but today when we can look back on a wonderful life shared with a wonderful dog. We are once again sharing our joyous lives with a most spectacular dog – Ollie.
Several weeks after we lost Trek, I began a poem about him. It may not mean as much to anyone else, but it still brings tears to my eyes when I read it. Ollie was gracious to allow me to share this poem with you. I hope you enjoy it.
Ode to Trek
you pranced into our lives over a holiday weekend during snowy degrees born outside when your mom was let out to pee
you experienced the first night of your life lonesome and frosty under a star lighted sky wondrously surviving to come into our lives
you won us over with your solid-black right ear your white face with one black freckle and your watery cinnamon eyes were special
you were initially called Journey but we christened you with the moniker of Trek to which you came running to our call and beck
you whined during the trip to the city in a plastic crate borrowed from the breeders as we raced into town as if we were speeders
the cause of a neighbor’s first night visit when she got you to sit we were in awe knowing instantly you were a superstar
you were twelve weeks and potty trained yet the vet said no walking on the city streets until you had your final shots at sixteen weeks
you were relegated to the front bathroom with daily newspapers on the shower floor causing confusion to abound even more
you were a trooper as we walked to puppy kindergarten the twenty-six blocks uptown – entertaining to say the least – so you could cavort with other dogs off leash
you were then enrolled in an obedience class where you as the prize pupil suggesting you take the next training level – quadruple
you had limited interest in the agility class to the treats you could earn – but no matter for everyone loved you – so says the chatter
you had a signature mark – “Look, a Dalmatian dog!” – appended by every child in a stroller as they passed us on the street before it got colder
you were skilled at socializing with other dogs all a part of your indomitable style and it made us happy that they made you smile
you’d beam at us as well each time we came home a wagging tail greeted us at the door making us wonder how could we ask for more
you loved the people who came to dinner for they always greeted you with kibble for the street people all you did was dribble
you would always saunter off to your special place whenever we sat down to dine with our guests which left every single one exceedingly impressed
you went off leash each weekend at Prospect Park after you’d stood by the door as if lined up on deck and been driven over in a car with license plates 4-TREK
you slipped into the elevator with leash in and out while with friends we partied at quite an affair you were hung and knocked out giving us a scare
you were given mouth-to-mouth CPR by an angel who then cleaned up the elevator mess while we grabbed a cab and raced to the vets
you survived yet again to tell the tale and although you were temporarily paralyzed everywhere you went you were still recognized
you were a foodie so the paralysis didn’t prevent your eating as away from food you were not known to cower food put in front of you took no time to devour
you regained your full movement while on holiday in Vermont and adventured out to discover the neighbor’s horses and delightful excrement of which they were the sources
you ran free which gave both of us such a scare as we’d stand there and watch helplessly while you’d run into the woods in reckless glee
one particular time you ran into the forest only to return to the back door in a pace whining from porcupine quills – another death menace
you were rushed to the vets after we tried to remove them imagining there were perhaps only a dozen more yet to our horror we learned there were forty still as sores
you were once observed during the month of November a hunter spied a white and black-spotted fawn one day running under his blind ever so gay
you could bound freely at the place we found to call home for at Popplewood Farm we installed an invisible fence which helped to suspend and end all suspense
you were left behind while we flew west to ski into canine camp with your friends you stayed where you were frolicking and making hay
you had blood in your urine we were informed from kidney stones that were anything but mush which we were ensured from afar were flushed
you needed a special dog food after this latest fright devoured as if it were your favorite treat – liverwurst we could agreed that it wasn’t the worst
you were such a contented companion while in our home you were always relaxed yet while outside you were curious and enthusiastic to the max
you welcomed Pip our Old English Sheepdog rescue who loved you as if you had always been brothers who would have been with us longer had we had our druthers
you acquiesced to our bringing home Oliver even though you had reached the ripe old age of thirteen you yielded to his puppyness and never was mean
you put up with us these fourteen years for which you should receive a posthumous medal even though we know it’s part of your breed’s creedal
you constantly shed your fir throughout the house appearing on everything like tumbleweeds yet never thought of as a delinquency
you seemed to dislike my brushing you to try and remove all the lose hairs while outside yet it was ever so sweet when brushing your backside
you will always be the best friend I ever had and I’ll miss you terribly till we meet again on that you can count I will forever yen
you were so independent which was a challenge yet it is something we will always relish even if there were times we were jealous
I wish I could call out to you one more time I wish I could be happy that you’d survived again I wish we could be back at the park if for only a minute I wish I could see you attack your food with gusto once more I wish we hadn’t held you back from the joy of running so easily I wish to see you pulling ahead – your muzzle sniffing the ground I wish I could ensure you would forgive me for the things I did wrong I wish I wish I wish so many things
as I sit in our white Adirondack chairs daydreaming of how our lives once used to be I envision you running over the dam cavorting freely
and as I lean forward in my seat I can still see you so handsome and smart as I fancy you running straight back into my heart
Well, if that didn’t bring tears to your eyes, then you’re someone who has no feelings. Yeah, it’s me, Ollie, closing out this blog. Wait. I need to blow my nose.
Okay. That’s better.
In two weeks I’ll be back. I’ll let you know how James felt once I was – drum roll please – finally housetrained. I have to laugh, because it still wasn’t easy for him. Sure, I mean, I was only closing in on four months of age – not even. If you know anything about dogs, we need to be taken outside on the hour of our monthly age.
I’ll clue you in during the next post should you still not understand. I don’t think you’ll want to miss it.
Also, let us know your opinion of these stories and the poems James wrote. I always like to hear from you, so please feel free to leave me a comment about this or anything else that’s on your mind.
Until next time, Sir Oliver of Skygate Farm (you can call me Ollie)
