Halloween

I woke up this morning to Los Angeles fog! Not really dense, but my first taste of it. And the weather turns chilly. But where the BSAC Players rehearse, in the theater, the air conditioning continues to chill the chill. During Zumba, I'm sure it feels good.

The BSAC Players' five short plays - skits, really - are not quite coming together yet. I recall the line from Another Open'n Another Show that says, "Five weeks, we rehearse and rehearse, four weeks, and it couldn't be worse." The title of the evening, as of now, is Varicose Variety. That might give you an idea. We're all more or less reading lines right now, but we actually got on stage tonight, where holding the scripts really holds us back. Not only do I have to learn my official part, that of a prosecutor in "Snobitude," but also Scarlett, in Gone with the Wind (revisited in 12 Aches Plantation, Home for the Incredibly Aged) which I've now read as often as the assigned actor. 

Drove to Glendale to the beautiful public health facility where I got a TB test, required for the mentoring project. Feeling slightly as if there's a cold in the back of my throat, so I stayed in instead of trick-or-treating with Ruby, Alwyn, Daniel. Hoping for pictures.

I did finish the Persecution of Mildred Dunlap and it was pretty good, enough so that I'm glad I didn't quit. Then I read a Richard Castle Derrick Storm short book - actually a third of a story - that's how they got me to pay $6 for the whole thing, by charging $2 for each third! Cheating, I call it. But it worked, and I bought the second third. Confession - I think I read the Brewing Storm before, but remembered only pieces as I came on them again. At this rate, I'll never have to get another book. I'll just read the old ones again and it'll be as if they're new!

The day between

The day between a hurricane and Halloween. A bright, just past full moon lightens our night, and I hope the night of all who are living the aftermath of the storm. And it will still be bright enough for the trick-or-treaters tomorrow. Ruby is wearing my hat and gloves. It'll be a whole new look! 

Alwyn came home yesterday and will be here for nine days before she takes off again. We all - Daniel, Alwyn, Ruby, and I - had dinner together tonight. I confessed to Daniel how badly I am eating and sleeping, and now he wants to feed me. Good, I say! 

The Persecution of Mildred seemed less daunting while I was reading it last night, so I will probably finish it. 

Even in Paradise . . .

Even here, one gets tired and I've spent a couple of days mostly sleeping. Except for the usual walks with Jenny Lind - who today got a compliment for her "fit condition." And for writing group today, where I am learning to be terse, with pleasure. 

Of course Hurricane Sandy is whirling around in my mind, and I am concerned about my sister. Last I talked to her, her power had gone out, and she was ready for a battery lit early bedtime. I hope her phone is working in the morning. She's not exactly on the coast, and is not in probably danger from flooding, but this storm is so huge that results are unpredictable. I worry about her being alone and cold. She's on the Town of Essex's call list, and I trust in them right now. 

We all know people in New York, and the most recent pictures of Manhattan are other-worldly. And how is my friend in Newton Corners? And my friend in South Portland? I hope I hear from them soon. 

I have been reading. Of course. Finished the World War II London Blitz, by Ruby Alice Side. Perhaps I already mentioned that. Very good diary/memoir. Then started reading The Persecution of Mildred, Paulette Mahurin, but was interrupted by a Google loan of The Secret Piano, by Zhu Xiao-Mei. I read it in two sittings, and was almost entranced. Perhaps it was the Chinese emotional stoicism that kept it from being a real gripping tale rather than a good page-turner. The Persecution of Mildred is a very dark story of two lesbians in the early days of settling the west. I think it's going to get darker, and maybe I won't read much more.

Halloween Ball

Light Shard 2

I was in the clubroom today, and glanced under the piano. I spied a light shard, and was able to capture it for you. 

Light Shard

I saw a hard of sun on the floor in the hallway.
My hand reached down towards it,
                            Came back,
                                      Told me,

"We can't pick up a shard of light."

I went back down the hallway
To pick the shard up with my camera.

But it was already gone.

Still unpacking?

I know there's no one out there who would have lived for five weeks out of boxes, but that's what I've been doing. I talked to someone the other day who told us that she'd spent the first month here "doing" her apartment, and didn't meet anyone or join anything until after that. Takes all kinds. My first month has been full of activity and meeting people and what's a "done" apartment anyway? Or at least, what's it to me? 

But now that my schedule is settling into place, except for changes and new opportunities that will arise, my nose is to the grindstone. Two boxes emptied today.

Burbank Senior Artists Colony

Which shall be referenced from here on out as BSAC. 

I love my laundry room. It's right down the hall, has two washers and two dryers, and I've not yet seen a traffic jam. The people I have run into there have been up for conversation, which makes folding clothes so much less of a chore. The room is clean and bright and now so are my clothes. One last load in the dryer now, and then I can go to bed early at 10.

Another housekeeping chore done today. I went to Kaiser Permanente in Glendale for a conference on their Senior Advantage program. The conference was thorough and informative and professional and, like so many things with this move, with this time in my life, the choice is an easy one and as plain as plain can be. I am in favor of Kaiser in principle, since they are the closest thing we have to socialized medicine. In fact, should we ever arrive at that (ahem) fine state, Kaiser will probably be at the front of the parade. Okay. Off my soap box.

Resident Writing Group this afternoon, and you, my readers, will be relieved that I was encouraged to be terser. I wrote a short story in 20 minutes that was well received. Then I read the story I finished from last week and after the initial burst, I managed to put everyone to sleep. Much as criticism is a jagged pill for me to swallow, I am grateful to my new friends for their feedback. I think I'm grateful. Who knows, they might be squashing the new Joyce James. Whose brother put all of us to sleep.

Then a lovely evening walk downtown and home again to laundry. 

I learned tonight - by my keen observation of city signs that had gone unnoticed for five weeks now - that this whole section of Burbank is a non smoking town, at least in public places, like on the street or in outdoor restaurants. 

This is all heavenly.

Now it's really Sunday!

My Sunday in Burbank yesterday should have been titled Saturday in Burbank, because that's when it happened.

Today, early supper at Hill Street Cafe, a hike, a swim, a walk, a quick trip to Trader Joe's for ice cream, and back to the Chandler Boulevard house of Ruby, Daniel, and Alwyn. 

The hike.

Sunday in Burbank

I got up early this morning. That's enough news for me! I haven't been able to get to anything before 1:30pm in weeks, but today, my pleas were answered. 

After I crawled to my feet (still sleeping on a futon on the floor), I dressed quickly to take Jenny Lind for a quick walk. The walk was shortened even further when I discovered that the fog was heavy enough to be called a drizzle, and in less than a block I was cold and damp. We in Southern California are always grateful for this problem. (Did you notice that "We"?) Came home, dried off, went to a 9:30am meeting, and then out to lunch or breakfast with my new friends. The blackboard in the entrance announced pumpkin cobbler and it sounded like breakfast to me! Not so to the cook. It wasn't ready yet, so I settled for a "senior" (meaning small and inexpensive) waffle with one perfectly cooked egg and two perfectly seasoned sausages. 

It was two o'clock, and I'd already had a perfect day, when Daniel called and we decided to go to a movie, he and Ruby and I. The plan was that I would walk down and meet them at the theater. They called after a few minutes, and said that parking was impossible, so they came to me, parked, and we three walked the half mile to a movie. By the time we got there, it was sold out, so we bought tickets for the next show, and in the festive courtyard, chose Chipotle Grill. Ruby was starving. Then to Cold Stone Creamery, next door. Then to the street, where there were two Halloween stores, and I bought my first ever, and I plan it to be my last ever, Halloween costume. (There will be pictures, but not until next week, after the Halloween Ball, where the BSAC Chorus is open the festivities.) 

Now it was time to get back to the theater. We saw a half hour of mostly commercials, including one for the movie we were about to see, then the movie started with the requisite 15 minutes of previews. I love previews. There are a lot of enticing movies coming up soon. The movie we saw was Seven Psychopaths. I give it two thumbs up, with one thumb wriggling with remnants of confusion. Violence, nudity, language, blood and gore, and a very funny script. I'd say very funny story, but I haven't quite figured the story out yet.

All this a half-mile walk from my apartment. Which is more like a hotel. I will sleep tonight with much gratitude.


A cultural note: The ticket for me cost $11.50. The same movie in Sonora would cost $7.50. But they well might not show it in Sonora. And then the gas to drive to Sonora from Murphys and bakc might make up for the lower cost!

An LA Story

Driving in LA is notoriously considered very difficult. There are freeways, impossible in themselves, that cut through towns, so streets are marked north, south, east, and west, depending on their relation to the nearest freeway. I think that's true. There has to be some logical explanation. The voter registration form has a box in the address section that is labeled "direction." I couldn't figure this out for a long time. I looked up the address of a place I was going to, and three places, online, paper, iPhone, used three different letters of the four directions.  Also dyscalculia, from which I'm sure I suffer, made it impossible to separate 1171 from 1711.  Small wonder that I got lost there.

So tonight, after a meeting, I sat in the car and looked up the address for the nearest Vons grocery store. I had my GPS ready, and looked up Vons in my (new) iPhone. On the iPhone, they gave me a map, but no directions, so I entered the address on the GPS, started up the engine and pulled out of my (beautifully parallel parked) parking space. The Australian gentleman said his usual opening sentence, which I haven't understood a word of yet, but he didn't tell me what to do when I got to the corner. The iPhone also was unclear to me as to which of those little pins was me, and where was Vons pin? Gathering my courage, I headed toward the intersection, three car lengths away from my parking place. I still had no idea of whether to turn right or left, and neither device was of any help. "You're on your own from here on," they were laughing at me. 

I inched to the intersection and luckily no one was behind me in a hurry (that's another story about LA cars - they have really mean horns). Checked GPS and iPhone. No help. About ready to turn left and go home, I glanced up, which is actually recommended at intersections. There in front of me, directly across the street from where I was, was Vons. 

These modern electronics really are amazing.

Thursday nights

Thursday nights are for Ruby and me - and I hope Alwyn too, when she gets back on land. One of the things we do is come back to my apartment and get Jenny Lind to take her for a walk, and then play catch in the parking garage.

They tired each other out! Note Jenny Lind's mouth with ball firmly gripped on one side, and tongue hanging out the other!

BSAC

Burbank Senior Artists Colony. Located at the corner of E. Verdugo and San Fernando. The bird of paradise in yesterday's blog was snapped at that corner, looking down San Fernando. Tonight, after BSAC Players, Jenny Lind and I walked the beautiful length of the village street - six blocks one way, or a half a mile. It is festive, with people smiling and shops glittering, and restaurants tempting. I could eat at a different place every night for at least a month, but I've only been to the Wild Carvery, since I can have Jenny Lind on the patio. And their food is very good. A little pricey, I think.

BSAC chorus today. I wish I could tape rehearsals. And then the rehearsal of the Players, which was hysterical as we read through a scene in a brothel where all the women play prostitutes, and our single male actor tonight faked an orgasm. Very well, too. It will bring down the house, I sure. It may bring us all down as well.

Today was a red letter day. I found the dumpster. There is a trash chute at the end of the hall, but I need to throw away some large items, like delivery boxes and an old cat box, which has been replaced by a Salle de Bain du Chat. Is that not elegant?

Last night I finished Elsie, and started World War II London Blitz Diary, another diary cum memoir. Reading other people's lives is fascinating, and I can only hope to emulate. This is another book from bookbub.com

Someday, far in the future, someone will stumble on the cloud, and there they will find a rich mine of blogged writings. 

Halloween

The birds of paradise

 

are putting on their scarecrow costumes.

Diary

I have not written for three days, and in that time have gotten two writing assignments. The first was from poetry class, and that was "write everyday." The second was today in resident's writing group, where I am assigned to finish the story I started in the group. They want to know how it ends. So do I.

Imagine a life where you get to do exactly what you want to do.

Recourse to diary form, then. Might be boring to readers, but is, I hope, informative to me. I am reading now a book titled Elsie - Adventures of an Arizona Schoolteacher 1913 - 1916, by Barbara Anne Waite. The book is based on letters from Elsie to her family, on research and interviews by the author, and by short diary entries. It is impressive how just a few words limn a life. (Please forgive the alliteration - I seem to have a bad case of it.)

Friday October 11, 2012
Writing from Life, with a wonderful teacher. The usual group was there. Then philosophy group, and the video sparked a good discussion on Can We Eliminate Evil? Ruby came to Happy Hour with me; long walk with Jenny Lind, then Scrabble, reading, until bedtime.
Saturday October 13, 2012
I believe I did nothing on Saturday! Except the usual Jenny Lind walks, reading, email.
Sunday October 14, 2012
Dan and Ruby came over and Dan put together my cat box cabinet. I hope XieXie is as pleased with it as I am. What a lovely piece of furniture in my bathroom, rather than a dusty plastic and obvious Litter Box. Tried to go to a meditation meeting at night, but it was in Los Feliz where parking is a challenge. A few turns around the surrounding blocks, and it was way to late to go to the meeting. I drove north on I-5 (known in Southern California as "the 5") to find out what exit I should tell my friends to take when they travel down to visit. Obscurely, it is called Verdugo. I live on Verdugo! I live only two blocks from the freeway, but hear nothing of it.
Monday October 15, 2012
Again I slept late. This is beginning to be worrisome. Resident's writers group in the afternoon, walks with Jenny Lind. What would I do without her?

Books and Reading

Still reading. Although I don't have a bed yet, my futon is a perfectly comfortable reading in bed bed. I trust that my new bed, when it appears, will be as good. 

I finished Frances Fitzgerald's Fire in the Lake. The book was about 82% over, when it suddenly ended. The rest of it was footnotes. I'm afraid I missed a lot not reading the footnotes. I didn't know if they were merely citations, which can be skipped, or expansions on and explanations of the text, and they were the latter. It would be worth going back to read them. There was an afterward, which was very helpful, to bring me up to date about the country. Frances' knowledge of and writing about the country, politics, people, times is deep and broad and it was a privilege to read the book.

Then I read JK Rowling's new book, written, I gather, for grownups - not that the Harry Potter was beneath us. This book, Casual Vacancy, is very odd. There is not one character in it that I wanted to root for. There were a few that showed promise, but that was soon dashed by some dastardly deed or vicious verbal attack. As an exercise in writing or reading a book people exclusively with characters I hate, it was a rousing success. It still gripped me, but I wouldn't recommend it without a warning. I must read the reviews.

Now I am reading a 13th Century mystery in a monastary - or nastiness in a nunnery - Wine of Violence by Priscilla Royal. I can't help but compare it to the Brother Cadfael and the Sister Frevisse series. I liked them both, and think I'll like this too. Who would have guessed that the medieval era would be a rich mine for characters and plots. Well, come to think of it, there is Chaucer. This is a book I got free through bookbub.com. It is tempting to get many more than I can imagine reading, so I do let days go by without adding to my electronic hoard.

Beautiful Downtown Burbank

You'll never guess what lies behind these doors. It's not a saloon, it's not a museum. It's the downtown Burbank Post Office - officially named by Congress in 2003 as the Bob Hope Post Office. It's a building decorated by the WPA (Works Progress Administration for trivia buffs and I had to look it up); the mural below was painted in 1940 by Barse Miller, and is "a reminder of the industry that made this community a boom town," according to the LA Times.

The day today included - in addition to my first trip to my new post office - a 5am trip to LAX with Alwyn, a poetry class, a chorus rehearsal and a drama class. A trip to Ralph's, the grocery store, made my day as I found they carry both the dog food, cat food, and kitty litter that are necessities for Jenny Lind and XieXie. As crowning glory, a new friend invited me to have supper with her after the drama rehearsal. She plays Ima Snoot, defendant, to my role as Prosecutor, in a trial that addresses charges of involuntary snobbitude and big mouthatry.

The box to the left is still there, but the box on top of it isn't! We're making progress. I found the kitty litter, which saves me a quick trip to Target. Those from Calaveras County will know the irony of a quick trip to Target. Today a wonderful group meditation led by Dolly, one of my new friends here at Bsac. Dinner with my family, and tomorrow I pick Alwyn up very early for another trip to the airport. So goodnight!

Catching my breath

My sister, Lucy, told me she knew I'd been busy because I haven't written since Wednesday! She is absolutely right. Also, I found that writing the Story of Jenny Lind was an emotional exercise as well as a writing one. (Spoiler: It's a happy ending. And the story hasn't ended yet.)


Here's what I've done. Spent the afternoon and evening with Ruby on Thursday. First, we came back to my apartment to take Jenny Lind for a walk and as I was showing Ruby around, we stopped at the gym for some exercise. Got Jenny Lind, walked three blocks down to the Wild Carvery for supper. They have a pet friendly patio, and served Jenny Lind her own bowl of water. Then we walked two more blocks down the street (San Fernando Road) to Ben & Jerry's for - of course - ice cream. They even let Jenny Lind come in the shop! I got a new flavor and hits the spot - Chocolate Therapy. 

The big activity for Friday was picking Alwyn up at LAX. Daniel, Ruby and I drove to get her about 10pm, as she flew in from Honololu. She has a five-day break in her cruise; I'll take her to the airport at 6am on Wednesday! Imagine me on the LA freeways. Trust me - I cut my driving teeth in Boston.

Saturday, Alwyn and Ruby picked me up for a trip to the farmers' market. Or at least that's what I thought. Turns out Alwyn had texted me the invitation to go with them to Santa Barbara, not farmers' market! Alwyn was playing a wedding taking place on a farm in beautiful horse country. Ruby and I stopped to see the horses in the next paddock being exercised. It was a beautiful sight.




Then Ruby and I went for a hike in the hills near San Ysidro Ranch. We hiked uphill for about 45 minutes and came to this watering hole. The water, as you can see, is clear as crystal, and perfectly cold to our hot and sweaty faces and feet. There's a larger pool a little farther on, that you can swim in.

Sunday was Brett Banducci's recital for his doctorate in composition and the four of us drove to USC to be there to celebrate Brett, who Alwyn and I have known for 19 years, and to listen to his music. It was very modern, and I know so little about modern music - at least since Stravinsky! - that I was unable to comprehend a lot of it. It was a fascinating concert, thoroughly enjoyable. I've been coming to visit Alwyn for 20 years in southern California, and I've known her friends that long, and watched them as they've developed into fine and active musicians. It felt fitting that Brett's recital occurred just as I moved here. As we walked back to the car, we were escorted across the street by a young man playing a sousaphone! You just had to march. 

Then a trip to Trader Joe's, which in Burbank seems not like a big deal, but I'm still in the habit of buying ten of everything, to last me until the next trip to a city that has a Trader Joe's. The closest to me in Murphys was an hour and a half. Here, TJ's is a mere six blocks away. I need only buy a couple of yogurts and a little chocolate and one bistro salad! 

Home for a walk with Jenny Lind. Tonight we ran into a street acquaintance, a man in a wheelchair, with a small dog who travels in his basket. The other day, the man offered Jenny Lind a bacon treat, which she declined, and declined again when we got home. Tonight he offered it to her again, with the same response. Then he asked if she liked tennis balls. I said that they were her favorite, as well as her cat's favorite. He gave me two tennis balls. When Jenny Lind and I got into the garage in the basement of my apartment building, I let her off leash and threw the ball for her. She hasn't chased a ball in a long time, and it was a welcome playtime for both of us. 

Life is full and rich and stimulating and exciting. I am full of gratitude.

The Story of Jenny Lind 4

The first really bad incident was with one of the aforementioned enemies. I was walking Jenny Lind early one Sunday morning. By this time, I had resigned myself to the fact that she had to be on leash. We walked around our circle, and the neighborhood pack of dogs and people came down the street towards us. These dogs were off leash for the first few moments of their walk; another five minutes and they'd have been tethered. Jenny Lind's best enemy broke away from the pack and flashed towards us. She jumped Jenny Lind who immediately turned around and pinned her assailant. You know they say that the thing to do is to let go of the leash? I recommend it, because I didn't. I tried to pull Jenny Lind off of the by-now screaming and thoroughly bested attacker, but I wasn't strong enough. Jenny Lind is just under (or over, depending on how truthful we are about scales) 50 pounds, probably only three quarters of the weight of the other dog, but she is very strong, and in a frenzy, even stronger. The other dogs, including one of Jenny Lind's friends, joined the fray. As I continued to try to break up the fight, to no avail, Jenny Lind pulled me off my feet, of course into the gravel. Chuck, the dog's owner, was with us by this time, and succeeded in pulling Jenny Lind off. I don't recall any conversation, but there must have been. I was possibly in shock. I'd been bitten three times, twice by Jenny Lind, and perhaps the third one was her too. I recall clearly looking at my hand in Jenny Lind's teeth, and the look of brief confusion and astonishment that passed between us before she went back to the brawl. I walked home, bleeding and crying. I was hurt by my dog, someone I'd relied on, trusted, was friends with. I was more than bitten and scraped, my heart was hurt too. Jenny Lind was still in a fog of battle, and I'm sure had no idea of the havoc she'd caused. I missed the birthday party that I had been on my way to, and spent the day in the ER instead. How I wish I could find that picture of me, all in bandages, but smiling.

That was the first bad incident. I don't recall thinking that I'd have to do something horrible about her yet. I would just keep her under my watch. We didn't go for walks very often after that, and when we did, I was on the alert every moment. I tried to avoid the times that the neighborhood pack was on their regular walks. Of course Jenny Lind knew I was tense, but she had no idea I was tense about her. I observed her from time to time interacting with loose dogs that would run near my quite isolated house. When I wasn't around, she was a normal dog. Maybe a little on guard, but not aggressive. This gave me hope that the problem would be resolved with time and very little dog social life. I was willing to keep her away from other dogs, if that's what it took for us to be safe.

A couple of years later, I was walking her, again around the circle, again on leash, when a woman walked towards us, with her dog on a leash. I'd never seen either of them before and was completely taken off guard when Jenny Lind attacked. Again, I didn't let go of the leash. Perhaps it's mistaken instincts for taking charge in a dangerous event, perhaps it's pride that I didn't want that woman to think I had a vicious dog, which, in fact, I did, but I was trying hard to not face that. Once more, Jenny Lind pulled me off my feet, and this time, in her attempt to get across the street to that dog, with my not letting go of the leash, she dragged me through the gravel. I'd heard of road rash before, but had never experienced it anywhere near this extent. This time, I was angry. I was lying on the ground, and I pulled Jenny Lind down on top of me. The poor woman was concerned for me, but there was nothing she could do, since she had to hold her dog. I asked her to wait for a moment to make sure I could get up, which I was soon able to do. I walked home, and once more spent the rest of the day in the ER. In fact, that time, I spent the night in the hospital, since the heartache that I suffered manifested manifested itself in my physical heart, and they wanted to observe me.

The Story of Jenny Lind 3

Still no luck finding old pictures of her, but I did unearth the computer they might be in. Now I recall moving all the pictures from that computer to the joint hard drive, which, like everything joint except taxes, split asunder. As in "Let no man put asunder." A sad moment, and that's why I've lost all the pictures.

In her first year, Jenny Lind and I went to puppy training class. It was put on by the local community College, Columbia College. Columbia is across the Stanislaus River, in Tuolumne County, and the college is shared by the two counties, Calaveras and Tuolumne. The obedience training was a community class, and I think they are all gone now, because of the budget. It met in Murphys in Calaveras County, and the town I just moved from. The teacher was Karen, who runs Aloha Training and Boarding, also in Murphys. It was a group class, not all puppies, and Jenny Lind was among the younger dogs. She did quite well in her training, even with her distractedness, and her love of Karen, which led her to run to her whenever possible. She passed the course, and received an American Kennel Club Canine Good Citizen certification. This is more than just a piece of paper; some hotels require it if you want to bring your dog to stay. Out of that class, we formed a dog marching team for the Murphys Irish Days Parade in March. The music we marched to was "Who let the dogs out," and for years, Jenny Lind perked her ears up with she heard that song. We did a little dancing with our dogs, just some simple steps adapted to their being on leash, and we were on the front page of the local newsletter!

I signed up for the next session of the class, as much for socialization as training, but at one of the first classes, there was an incident between Jenny Lind and a German Shepherd. The Shepherd was a bit volatile, but Jenny Lind's reaction was a bit over the top. This was the first sign of trouble. The next sign was when she met her brother. She was in the car, and I opened the back hatch to let her out to greet him, and was astounded at the ferocity. I pushed her back in the car, and all was well, but still, it was odd. Very unlike her usual sunny nature.

Jenny Lind had a particular dog friend in the neighborhood, Annie. Annie had a bad reputation for roaming, destruction, other unnamed antisocial behaviour. Since I was used to having my dogs run free, I let Jenny Lind and Annie roam and play, and now I know that that was a mistake. Unfortunate though it is, in this society dogs need to be leashed. It's just a fact. The downside of this is that they aren't able to run their own dog society and socialization programs. They are attached to us by an umbilical cord that makes them an extension of us, of our moods, desires, and fears. Because I wasn't really leash trained, as owners need to be, Jenny Lind never felt the security that she needed. 

We usually walked in the forest, and she had many dog friends there, and they were all off leash. It was a joy to seem them bounding through the underbrush, tumbling together, chasing each other, running together. There were also street dogs, a pack of them with their pack of owners. Two of these dogs were highly strung, and aggressive towards Jenny Lind, who responded in kind.

The Story of Jenny Lind 2

I did look for a picture from her puppyhood, and they weren't in the fairly easy place I'd hoped to find them. The only other possibility now is an old computer, buried in the bottom of a box, buried under more boxes, in my new apartment. Perhaps they will surface, but for now, you will just have to imagine. When I got her, she was maybe five pounds, and very very wriggly. She stayed wriggly for many years. The slightest touch would send her into paroxysms of delight. To confess, I was disappointed that she wasn't as cuddly as her cuteness and size led me to believe. One evening, I was sitting in the backseat of a crowded car, and she had to sit on my lap. It was the first and only time she was cuddleable.

What she lacked in cuddleability, she made up for in playful and joyous energy. I immediately got a crate/kennel for her, and then soon got a large playpen that stood in the center of the house, with the crate inside. It was in the center of the house because that made sense, kept the cats separated from her but close by, and was the only space without carpeting. My method of bathroom training was to take her out often, hourly if I could. At night she slept in the crate with the door closed, and with a blanket covering to make it cosy. I got the idea that for a year, she would not be loose in the house unless I was with her, and she would sleep at night in the crate. After a year, we would see. For that year, she went almost everywhere with me, to work one day a week, in the car, on walks. She never ever chewed on anything that wasn't hers. She had a lot of toys. I'd read that if you get twenty toys, and rotate them ten at a time, it will help a dog be amused and non-destructive. (When I moved to Burbank, I brought her large basket of toys, but I did throw away the small bits of almost unidentifiable pieces of her collection.) After a few months, the playpen was packed away, and she was sleeping in her crate, with her bed, at night. At the end of the year, the crate too was packed away, and she (and the cats) had the run of the house, with never an incident or disaster. My guess is that it wasn't my expert training at all, but Jenny Lind's close connection to what her people did, and her natural emulation of us. She never (oh, well, rarely) begged at table. She sits before she eats. She never takes anything that isn't hers. She's really a wonderful dog, and it is her natural self. What a gift. Not that she doesn't have a fatal flaw. She does, and more about that another time.

A toy story. Her second Christmas was one in a houseful of family. Perhaps not all at the same time, but over the course of a day or two, there were, I count in my memory, sixteen of us. The floor under the tree was piled with presents, almost as if everyone gave everyone else a present. That would be sixteen times fifteen, I think, or 240 wrapped packages! It wasn't quite like that, but I think 240 packages is close. For one reason or another, including playing in the snow a lot, we didn't open presents for a day or two after everyone arrived, so the packages stayed in a pile in the living room. I might have said something the first time she sniffed at the tower of temptation, but that was all. She was much more interested in playing with the children, and going from person to person for attention than she was in those inert packages. On the second of this, I was sitting by the fireside, and I noticed her carefully and delicately searching the gifts. After a long time, she chose one, and carried it in to me. We opened it together, and it was hers! It was a big Jolly Ball, made for horses to play with. It's hard rubber, and cannot be deflated - well, almost cannot.

This was her favorite toy. It could be thrown, she could carry it in her jaws and swing it back and forth. it could be kicked. She worked for over a year on getting her teeth into it and although she couldn't puncture it, she did manage to flatten it. And still it was her favorite toy, and a suggestion, "Go get your ball," would always produce this. At the end of ten years, it was filthy, the handle had been broken in a few places, and it was a ball in name only. With a somewhat sad sigh, I threw it away. The end of a time of our lives.