That's not a Newfy it's a BEAR!

As you may have deducted from my earlier picture posts I was recently in Skagway, Alaska.

Skagway is a tourist town. Four cruise ships were in port on the early September morning I landed by Alaskan State Ferry. By eight o’clock I was enjoying a good sniff around the usual fudge shops and ice cream parlors. I particularly liked the train station that sold tickets on the narrow gage line to White Horse, YT.

Mom found a coffee joint and ordered up a couple of mighty fine smelling breakfast sandwiches. (Anything with cheddar equals mighty fine in my book.)

As we finished the ships began to release their holds—thousands of people.

And on the street, every third person would say, "I thought it was a bear." Now, as any newfy audience understands, this is nothing new.

Dad would mutter under his breath, “no you didn’t.”

My mom would just laugh and say “put another dollar in the newfy fund.”

But this day in Skagway was different. I'm no longer sure I approve of the comparison. For not even 24 hours had past since I had truly realized what a bear is. What a bear means.

It was in Haines up at Chilkoot Lake. A warm day, the kayak tourists pulling up to the boat ramp. Dad had the bumper and I was on my leash. The Salmon were jumping, as they entered the lake from the river which fed directly into the bay. Boiling would be a strong term, but it was with an amazing frequency that these salmon splashes would ripple the calm waters.

Dad thought I might go hot dog hunting like Nanook and Pooka, only for real salmon…he called it, "bear style." I was excited to go swimming…well, why not, just look at the place. Paradise!

Dad looked at his watch, then at mom: wet dog, small trailer(one bed), late afternoon—let’s not.

We walked back up to the car, and we just stared at the scenery. Until the man next to us woke us from our halcyon moment with his muted exclamation, “oh, there he is…”
…And, there, right under me, in the water, I saw this big brown Newfoundland!

Now what would you do? My mom is brown, all my sisters are brown…I love browns! My tail was wagging and I just couldn’t wait to see him. Maybe even go swimming with him…I like salmon, he likes salmon. He could teach me!

He rose a little further out of the water. I could barely contain myself with glee.

Then, I caught his sent on the breeze. It was immediate. I experienced the sudden spine tingling realization that what you know so intimately is not at all what you think. It is emotional, primal, an almost pain in the pit of your stomach…

…an adrenalin that demands every ounce of your being protect what is yours, to scream, to howl like only wolves can howl.

That is what I did on this day…and that is what I did on every other encounter I had with a bear. There were seven.

As for the cruise ship tourists in Skagway...they continued to call me bear, to pet my head, to ask if we lived there and express their shock that cars could reach such a place.

So many people pet me that my head floof smelled of stale perfume until I could get to the next bear-free lake.

Be well my dogster friends...it's good to be home.

I'm a happy dog

Today was an unexpected two parent day.

My dad finished celebrating the Grand Re-Opening of Museum of Contemporary Craft. It's been taking a lot of his time lately.

A movie about my dad's work They say I'm the unofficial mascot. Though there is another dog looking lovingly at that title.

So anyway, we went for a long walk down to the pool. I sat poolside and we watched the kids splash and play. Some day I'm going to get to be in there with 'em. Yep, someday. It looks so much cleaner than our river.

Off to go wag my tail some more.

Over & out,
Truman

Memories

Truman's Grandpa writes the letter from the publisher in the Milford Cabinet (A NH weekly newspaper)
Truman enjoyed this remembrance of Taffy, his beloved Viszla and asked me to share it with you all here.

This is how it was
Letter from the Publisher
(a link to the full article)

Published: Thursday, Jun. 7, 2007

By William B. Rotch, Publisher Emeritus

An excuse, if one is needed, for writing these weekly essays is that frequently I come across bits of prose that bring back memories of events half-forgotten, such as long walks in the woods with Taffy. Taffy was a vizsla, a breed of dog that runs exceedingly fast, that can be loyal and affectionate. Here are paragraphs that brought back a flood of memories. They appeared in the Cabinet just 25 years ago;

* * *

Taffy is a bird dog, not a beaver dog. She finds beaver boring. I found this out last weekend as Taffy and I walked around Tenney Pond, a secluded body of water near the western border of Hancock.

Now and then I would stop to cast a monofilament line with a hook baited with worms into the still waters, only to conclude each time that the pond is inhabited by millions of redfin shiners. Taffy has a disdain for fishing. It is almost as boring as watching me cut wood. She prefers a companion who is always on the move.

I thought she might change her mind when we saw the beaver. He was a big one and he swam straight toward us. He looked angry. He slapped his tail, kicked up his heels, and disappeared, only to emerge six feet nearer to where we stood. Taffy yawned. As we walked along the shore the beaver swam beside us, perhaps 20 feet away. Once he came near enough for me to touch him with my fishing rod. Every minute or so he would slap the water and dive. “Go away,” he seemed to say. “This is my pond.”

I could sympathize. It is a nice pond and it was a nice day. There was no way to explain to the beaver that Taffy and I were not the ones who left beer cans on the shore, that we were just interested in the wild azalea coming into bloom, in the banks of hobblebush, in the patches of white and lavender violets that bordered the muddy logging road.

We left the pond to the beaver and the redfin shiners. Taffy romped through the pale green fronds of young bracken, the clumps of ladyslipper and the highbush blueberry covered with white bells. Let the beaver have his pond! Then Taffy’s nose picked up a new scent. Here was something really exciting! I shouted to her — shouted at her would be more accurate — while the porcupine started up a tree.

The porky sat on a branch, well out of reach, while Taffy danced at the base of the tree. She could see it was no use.

“Come on, Taf,” I said, and started along the path. The dog jumped at the trunk one more time, then started on ahead, sniffing for more excitement.

I looked up at that ball of fur and quills sitting on a high branch. “Thanks, porcupine,” I said aloud. “I’m so glad you got up that tree in time.”

Ooh, got tagged...it's like graffiti with love mixed with a- chain letter. HQ, is this your idea?

Here are the rules:

Each player starts with seven random facts about themselves. Dogs who are tagged, need to post in their Diary the rules & their 7 pawsome facts. Then choose 7 dogs to tag and list their names. Don’t forget to bark them a pmail that they have been tagged and to read your Diary, or, send them a fun Rosette announcing they've been Tagged!

1) I am not named after a President, a philanthropist, a writer, nor the old guy who wouldn't leave Mt. St. Helens before it blew in 1980.

2) My mom is a brown

3) I heart culture-yep, yogurt!

4) I enjoy sustainable agriculture. I find that farmers are better at dropping treats for us newfies. Mmm, carrots! And their farms generally have ponds for swimming.

5) I've only been to two states. That will change.

6) Spiders bites are not for wimps. Still recovering after 8 weeks. Vet says I'm doing well...as he flipped me the frequent flyer discount. Thanks! On the positive side, I'm not a wimp!

7) I really enjoy my newfy friends I've made on Dogster!

PS I know I'm it...i'm just havin' a tough time wishin' this on 7 friends.

Here goes some that are gettin' tagged...

a. Nanook & Pooka
b. Zoe, Marin, Floyd & Neptune
c. Blossom would have gotten it, but got me first (woof)
Hey that's 7 the way I count.

Tulips!

While the east was being beaten silly by a Nor Eastah, Mom, Dad and I went to Woodburn to tip-toe through the tulips!

Obviously, I'm on the mend. My leg is much better, thank you to all my pals who sent me good wishes.

Life is swell and we're beginning to plan weekend trips again. It was tough being a home body for so many weeks. I'm ready now. And mom has a fresh package of benedryl (actually the generics-cheaper don't you know).

Be well,

~Truman

SAD EYES ~Trick~ Still gets you fed!

Guess what! Doc says I look great. Tissue is good and the big hole will begin to close in a couple of days.

Mom and Dad are supposed to carry an epi-pen for me. And keep benedryl around at all times. Doc also said he'd seen 4 spider bites this year. Crazy. (A goat, a horse, Rotti and me) What a club.

Sneakin' Treats,

Truman!

Happy Easter!

Whew, what a day.

I went outside into the back yard and enjoyed a few moments of summersault exaltation. See these Elizabethan Collars really can get a puppy up in arms (a virtual itchy and scratchy show). Since the back leg is still~well, let's say healing~I can't use it to scratch so I drag my neck along the ground and throw myself over my head onto my back and roll in the grass. Dad chuckles, mom says "how sad."

Nontheless, easter eggs abound...blue cheese treats...and lots of love.

Love to all my pals!

~Truman

P.S. As the seasons change, don't let the lawn gnomes get away.

Dazed & Confused

Not a bad movie.

I've become sloth. My leg appears clean, shaved and operating as it should. The swelling is down. But these drugs they give me wooee, they are something...mom says she wanted couch potato, but really, this is a bit much.

Today on my walk (I did two blocks as opposed to just one...pulling the whole way). I practiced front summersaults. Then I'd itch my back. The drugs? Probably.

My sponge bath went ok this evening. A full 10 minutes and only a little screaming. Tomorrow I may visit the doc again...apparently today was farm visit day for him. We'll see if he thinks I'm doing better. I think the visit is more for my mom than me. She worries, don't you know.

Healing is slow. Dreaming of beaches and swimming, 75 degrees in Pdx today.

~Truman

a turn for the downhill

Things got bad night before last...of course only after vets close. My leg started to... well it wasn't pretty. Dove Lewis provided a collar the size of a satellite dish and said I was stable enough for the regular vet in the morning.

Surgery. TWICE IN ONE WEEK! Drain the leg. @#%^#$@%*&#^%@ Spiders! I ripped the tube out of my leg the second I woke up...that landed me a nice prescription of tranquilizers. The doctor said Mom and Dad could use a warm compress every day. Which sounded ok to me. Tubes shouldn't be in dogs.

That was until i understood that compress meant they had to touch the holes in my leg for 15 minutes.

"Truman, we haven't come close to 15 minutes the way you kick and carry on. And, boy are you a two-person job."

I scream! I kick! I leak. And then, I sleep all day. Cut me some slack, I'm hurtin' here. Only three more days and then back to the vet to make sure I'm healing ok. He says I'm on the mend. At least my leg is normal sized again...and I can walk no problem...other than having a sattelite dish around my neck. Which, by the way, obstructs all good smelling and makes my parents sound funny.

My mom and dad's eyes droop as much as mine, and they say its really hard to hear me in pain. I think I believe them. My dad doesn't think I'll ever wag my tail again. I will though. I love them.

Slowly gettin' better and looking forward to a swim!

~Truman

One YEAR Anniversary ~APRIL FOOLS~and SOX!

Today's the official day to play tricks on Mom & Dad! As if that matters. I trick them all the time.

More importantly, today marks the one year anniversary of my coming home. That means I'm one year old and 12 weeks! I've gotten a little bigger...ha!

"Hey, let's go get breakfast and then go for a walk!"

"OK, Truman. You know, just because its your anniversary--well, we still call the shots."

"I know, but the sun's out. The flowers are out...and my leg feels a little better. You heard the Doctor...long walks. Let's Go!"

"Sox, truman...I need to look for my sox."

"GO SOX! It's Opening DAY!" ~Truman