My "Heart Dog"

Among dog folk there's the idea of your "heart dog," that one dog that captures your heart and ensorcells your spirit.

Walker at eight months.

Walker is that dog. I knew it when I met him, a gorgeous little tricolored hunk of Corgi puppy about five months old, the grandson of a Westminster Best in Show-winner named Carbon Blue. He came to us permanently at six months old, joining our brindle princess Rosey (née Pawcific Postit of Penrose) and adding a spark of spunk to our sedate household.

He's certainly not perfect, by any means—hyper vigilant, barky, dog reactive—but sometimes you just can't help who you love. As I said to a friend recently, "He may be a butthead, but he's our butthead."

Walker with Rosey.

At nine years old now, he was recently diagnosed with a malignant tumor called an adenocarcinoma, an aggressive cancer around his anal gland. It was only discovered by accident when I noticed that he'd been drinking lots of water, more than was normal even in the summer heat. Thinking it might be a urinary tract infection (UTI) or problems with his kidneys, I took him in to a vet new to us, Heartfelt Veterinary Hospital, to be tested.

Walker and Kitty.

In drawing the urine sample—non-dog owners can stop reading right here—they found a swelling around his anal gland and did a biopsy. It was, as noted above, a malignant tumor. X-rays were done that indicated no metastisis of the tumor to his lungs or lymph nodes and blood work showed the same, so surgery was done.

On the beach.

A large (2" by 2") tumor—in situ, with no rupture—was removed, and he's resting next to me on the couch as I write this. It'll take a couple of weeks for the healing process, with lots of pain relievers and ice on the wound, but with luck he'll live a full life and have many more squirrel chases, ball retrieving and walks on the beach to look forward to. None of that is guaranteed, of course, only fervently hoped for.

A House Guest Appears

As I've asked more than once, what's the point of having a blog if you can't post gratuitous photos of your dogs?

For the next few days we have a house guest of the furred variety, bringing the total canine population of the household to four: Rosey (our senior member at the venerable age of 15 years), then, in descending order of age, Walker, Kitty and Miss Thimble (left), our guest.

As a friend remarked, "I can't imagine being so thoroughly herded."

Word.

Photo at top, left to right: Walker, Thimble and Kitty. Rosey declined the photo opp, as she was napping soundly on her pillow.

Camp Stories: Containing the Corgis

Thank goodness Facebook and Twitter didn't exist when I was a young parent. (For the record, Al Gore hadn't thought up the internet yet, either.) I would have been one of those people posting photos of my kid in his wading pool, grinning after losing his front teeth or making the winning soccer goal.

Relaxing by the fire (l to r: Kitty, Walker, Jeff, Hank).

You know how I know? Because I can't help posting pictures of my dogs now that my kid is all grown up and doesn't appreciate any need I might have to share his life with the world. (What's up with that?)

Which brings us to the photo at the top of Walker (left), Kitty (right) and their new friend Thimble (center), who was recently adopted by friends. They're pictured tethered to a zip line, a thin rope tied between two trees on the edge of the campsite (and out of reach of any fire pits or tangling opportunities), with their leashes attached to the rope by carabiners. The carabiners slide along the rope, giving them more freedom of movement than they'd have if they were tied to a tree. Plus it's easy to unhook the leashes if (who am I kidding…when) the leashes get tangled.

It was a great solution for us (thanks, K!) and one we'll be using on future trips.

More Corgi Cuteness: Shady Character

At the ripe young age of six, Walker still loves to find places to hide and nap, like under the dishwasher or,  in this case, under the small table on our porch.

The Monster Under the Dishwasher

It's probably time to stop calling Walker a puppy. He is, after all, closing in on the five-year mark, even though he still acts like a doofy puppy much of the time.

For instance, ever since he was just a little guy, his favorite spot in the house has been underneath the dishwasher door. The moment he hears the hinges creak as we open it to stow the odd cup or plate, he comes scrambling from the other room to dive under it. Of course, it was a lot easier for him to get under there and half of him wasn't sticking out, but to him it still provides a nice dark cave to find refuge in.

So if you come over, don't be surprised to find the dishwasher door down. There's bound to be something more substantial than dust bunnies lurking beneath it.

Hook, Line and Sinker

It's like dangling a string in front of Otter, or reaching for Walker's favorite balls. Mention that a portion of my restaurant tab will benefit a good cause and I'm picking up the phone to make a reservation.

Oysters Apicius at Nostrana.

So all it took was hearing that during the month of May select Portland restaurants and New Seasons Markets will be donating 10% of the sales from designated menu items to The Wetlands Conservancy. Celebrating its 30th anniversary, the Conservancy's mission is to protect and preserve Oregon's greatest wetlands. And what better time to have that particular benefit than during American Wetlands Month?

Squid ink tonnarelli with shrimp at Nostrana.

Called the Aqua Plate Special and featuring seafood whose habitat is dependent upon the health of Oregon’s estuaries, it's not only designed to raise money for the Conservancy's efforts, but to build an awareness of the connection between healthy wetlands and a healthy food system.

Even better, at least as far as I'm concerned, is that the fishy friends to be featured include Oregon oysters, Dungeness crab and pink shrimp, as well as Pacific NW wild-caught salmon. See what I mean? Dangle that hook and I'll bite!

Details: Aqua Plate Special benefit for The Wetlands Conservancy. List of participating restaurants and markets.

Top photo from The Wetlands Conservancy. Oysters and tonnarelli from Aqua Plate introductory media dinner at Nostrana.

More Corgi Cuteness

You see, it's like this: I have these two dogs, both Cardigan Corgis. They're the original breed of Welsh herding dogs; the ones the Queen of England has are Pembroke Corgis, which came from breeding the Cardigans with Schipperkes, a type of spitz or sheepdog (the debate rages). Cardigans are generally heavier and are considered the "taller" of the two types.

Walker at his post.

Anyway, when I weary of telling my dogs that, no, it's not necessary to alert me every time there's someone walking by two blocks away, I pile the couch pillows on the chair by the window where Walker (the younger of the two) likes to perch while "on duty."

Yesterday I walked in and he had burrowed into the pillows, and I was so charmed I couldn't even yell at him. Dang!

Ready for Santa

Or or is he thinking, "You've got to sleep sometime, pal, and then it's payback time."

But really, when your neighbors bring over the Christmas reindeer antlers, what can you do but strap 'em on and start snappin'? Photos, that is. Happy holidays!

Falling into Winter

Playing in the leaves while we're trying to rake them isn't the most helpful activity, but who can resist a Corgi's exuberance in the moment? (Walker did eventually settle down long enough to catch this.)

Wacky Weather!

What would seem normal, even expected, in many parts of the country this time of year has many Portlanders reeling.

Walker with a frozen tennis ball. Fun!

But they're also enjoying themselves, skiing to the store, sledding down the myriad hills and slopes around town or, like us, making stews or soups or cocoa.

What are you doing to stay cozy in this wintry weather?

Corgi Death Match

I have to apologize for the lack of posts in the last few days. No, I haven't been standing in line to get a (non-existant) Wii for the big guy for Christmas, nor have I been indulging in too much pre-Christmas cheer of the liquid variety. Suffice it to say that between having a puppy trying out to be a new member of the family and moving my mother into her new garden apartment, it's been just a little wacky around here.

For those of you who have yet to venture into the land of double-dog-dom, be aware that it's not just twice the work, especially if one of them is a puppy. Albeit a very sweet and happy one who's (almost) house-trained (and no, you're not going to get the blow-by-blow on that one). It just means that you can't leave the house for more than three hours at a time and you've got to know where the little guy is at all times unless you feel like risking the aforementioned house-training incident, or a shoe-disembowelment, mentioned below.

The good parts, though, are so far outweighing the frustrating ones, though Dave's lawn-mowing shoes are looking a little the worse for gumming. Any others have been moved up out of prowling range. And Chester still rules the roost, having done a little intimidation of the glare-and-cuff variety.

So, how are they two canines getting along? Judge for yourself:

A Bad Case

There are some things I have to avoid completely. Otherwise, I get sucked into the vortex and end up having to claw my way out every time. Certain food groups fit in this category (see oysters, below). Certain people, too. And there was that time I had my first vodka martini. But that was long ago and the lesson was learned.

But the one thing that gets me every time (and I haven't figured out how to avoid it) is puppies. And you have to say it like the Wicked Witch of the West. "Puuuuuuuuuuuuppies." Dangerously cute. Frighteningly cuddly. So infectious that I have only to see them at a distance to catch the disease known as puppy-itis.

This time it's little guy named Walker, a Cardigan Corgi about four months old. He has huge front paws, big wobbly ears and meltingly big brown eyes. "And he's house-trained, and Rosey likes him," I say to Dave, who just shakes his head, knowing I'm deeply in thrall with another canine infection.

The good news is that I've progressed enough at this point in my life to know that it's just going to take a few days (and nights) of togetherness for the magic to wear off and reality to set in. So before I jump into the vortex this time, he's going to be coming for a few days over Christmas to see how he does with Rosey and Chester, not to mention our shoes, since he's going to be at that chewing stage. I'm hoping that'll be the cure and the fever will pass.

But then again, if the honeymoon isn't over when it's time for him to go back? Well, I'll just have to keep you posted.