Little Pup Lodge

We walk through white, wispy clouds of stuffing and study myriad holes chewed into each of the four doggie beds that lay about Little Pup Lodge. The Master of Disaster is back.


Dachshunds like Milo­–you can’t get mad at them no matter what they do. Even at their worst behavior, doxies are funny and adorable. Is it their personality? Their pointy noses? Long bodies anchored so close to the ground? I haven’t figured it out yet and probably never will.

Milo is still a kid, relatively speaking, not quite two years old. He has all the weenie-dog characteristics nailed: cocooning inside a blanket, or sliding out the door like a slippery fish just because he can.

We await the Master of Disaster’s return.

Found wandering the streets of Watsonville by animal control, the ancient Chihuahua finally found a warm bed and regular meals at the local shelter. The intake exam revealed that Moses (as the staff called him) was blind, had lost most of his teeth, had a very bad heart and some unknown bronchial infection that left him with a rather unpleasant smoker’s hack. He also seemed to suffer from neurological damage since he stumbled and swayed like a drunken sailor when he walked.
Moses. What kind of name is that?
 

Moses would get a week or so of TLC from the staff and volunteers before he was euthanized, since the list of potential adopters for staggering, blind, toothless, old Chihuahuas was unsurprisingly short. However, the old boy didn’t act like a dog ready to go quietly into the good night. Moses expected to be adopted. He perked up whenever he heard someone approach and would unsteadily stand to be lifted into someone’s arms. Two of those someone’s arms were mine. It was love at first sight. Little Pup Lodge has no more room for permanent residents, but we always keep a suite open for the needy.



 CAPE (Center for Animal Protection and Education) stepped in and deemed Moses a hospice case, so he could spend his final days with me. I’ve had other hospice dogs, but none quite this…perky. Mozzie (we hated the name Moses, so that was the first to go), loves his walks, loves his naps and really, really loves his food. And we, we love Valium though we don’t ingest it ourselves. Mozzie has the equivalent of what is known in Alzheimer’s patients as “Sundowner’s Syndrome.” As the day wears on, Mozzie gets more confused and anxious, snarling and lashing out at dangers only he can see. That five o’clock diazepam/peanut butter cocktail holds him (and us) over for another night.

Mozzie, post-cocktail.

With the holidays behind us and business in its January doldrums, remodel fever has gripped Little Pup Lodge. The first project: Replace the front door that imploded during winter rains.


Home remodeling projects will make you homicidal or will teach you new life lessons. Often, simultaneously. A handyman I know has extraordinary skills. He’s fast, thorough and a perfectionist. The only skill lacking for this man I have come to rely upon is, well, reliability. He may or may not show up when he swears he will. I know this about him, but like Charlie Brown, hope that our football of a commitment will remain in place this time.

The handyman took the measurements, I ordered the door and the football was jerked away again. He went MIA and I went into panic, rage and self-pity in short order. Thank God for big brothers. Jim swooped in, a little hurt I had not called him first. He was right. I may not have been the most qualified person to order doors in the first place. I thought “pre-hung” meant the door came with hinges. Imagine my surprise to discover it doesn't mean that at all.

My front door is now installed and looks beautiful. Just as important, I’ve got no beef with the handyman. There is a reason everyone relates to Charlie Brown’s eternal faith in Lucy’s reassuring promises, despite more than a half-century’s evidence to the contrary. We do indeed manufacture our own misery, whether it’s expecting people to change, magical thinking or desperate attempts to teach that pig to sing. As the old saying goes, it doesn’t work and it will only piss off the pig.

The next project? Ask me in January. 2014.

We be lovin’ that Phinney; he gets some doggie daycare at Little Pup Lodge Monday through Friday while his mom goes to work. A purebred cocker spaniel, the four-year-old has the typically mellow personality common to this breed. Unless a dog of that breed has inherited the unfortunate “Spaniel Rage.” This is a very real disorder and I have seen its destructiveness up close and personally. Seemingly serene and calm, the spaniel will suddenly snap and attack another dog, child or whomever is handy. Their eyes glaze over and when they snap out of it, appear to have no idea what they just did. Some behaviorists guess that it is a form of epilepsy.

  A very happy Phinney.

Fortunately, Phinney hasn’t a smidgen of spaniel- or any other kind of rage. He loves everything, especially if it appears edible. We have learned to never turn our back on a full dinner plate when Phinney is around.
Headed to the sofa.

 

Phinney also loves his hamburger stuffed toy, playtime at the beach and surprise, surprise—belly rubs!
I have a very distinguished mustache, do I not?

Another benefit to the slow season at Little Pup Lodge between now and the holidays is the opportunity to foster. The local shelter was once again filled beyond capacity (Spay and neuter, people, spay and neuter) and requested help from those of us who could take one into our homes. Last week Ella packed her bags and came to join us here at the Lodge. Weighing in at a hefty six pounds, the Chihuahua quickly acclimated to her new surroundings. She is gorgeous, house-trained and sweet beyond words–unless you happen to be a new guest checking in. Ella makes it clear she is deeply insulted sharing her vacation digs with another dog. This is an unfortunate trait, since all our guests must at least pretend to enjoy the company of others. (As one who has perfected this particular skill with humans, I explain to them that it just takes a little practice.) Therefore, we must find a home where she can fulfill her calling as an only child.
Miss Ella.
 

Patches.

We had a remarkable morning, Oliver and I. It was just the two of us at the beach. For the first time in months, Little Pup Lodge had no guests. One of the daycare guests, Phinney, was under the weather and the other, Aston, had not yet arrived. Harvey, whom (who?) often joins us just for the beach excursion, was at the vet for dental cleaning. No overnight guests, either; summer vacations are over and things will remain slow until the holidays.
I can have fun or I can stay clean. I'll take the former.
 

We manage to make Mommy and Me time every day when it’s busy. While Nickie watches the brood, Oliver and I will take a drive somewhere, maybe for frozen yogurt or a squirt of whipped cream from Peet’s. On special occasions we hit Marini's Candies for a hot fudge sundae. Oliver has stoically withstood the swirling mass of guests who arrive and leave each day. He sacrificed his only-child status for Little Pup Lodge so it’s important to reaffirm his top-dog status in my heart.
 

We ran and chased each other at the beach. We played “Find It,” where Oliver searches for treats I’ve hidden. I actually stopped and looked out at the bay, searching for dolphins. With five dogs in tow, I usually look at nothing but the five dogs and any others headed my way.
Life's a Beach.

I love it when it’s busy and I’m surrounded by my most favorite furry things in the world. I love it when it’s slow so I can have Oliver all to myself. In this business, there are no bad days.

For those who have not yet had the good fortune to visit, Little Pup Lodge is located in an area many would consider rural. In other words, it is more than five minutes from the nearest Starbucks. "Rural" also means that we are not on a city water system but rely on a well. That well committed seppuku Saturday, a problem that would have been a mere annoyance in a regular household. But for a guest lodge on Labor Day weekend, it rated somewhere between disaster and catastrophe.

  No, our well  looks nothing like this. We do not live in a Thomas Kinkade painting.

Though none of the staff (Nickie and I) suffer from OCD, we still must wash our hands a few dozen times a day. The Lodge’s kitchen would be termed “snug” by a generous real estate agent­. Since three or more dirty plates makes it look like a frat house on Sunday morning, we do dishes all day long. Then there’s the steady supply of dirty rags and towels that feed back-to-back laundry cycles. All that ground to an arid halt. Fortunately, the Lodge has a crack team of maintenance workers to keep it running when mechanical thingies go south. My brother Jim rounded up the two neighbors and tools were feverishly brandished. We have water again. I love my water.
Jim, Mike and John disagree about which tool the job requires.

Around 1995, Santa Cruz resident Greg Glassman created a strength and conditioning program that would appeal to, shall we say, a certain type of fitness buff. The type that thinks a nifty cocktail of Marine Corps punishment and Olympian weightlifting topped with a sprig of Navy SEAL survival exercises sounds downright yummy.
  Gunner & Midgee, CrossFit celebrities.
 

CrossFit, as Glassman called his program, was a hit. It’s not only spread across the country in the last couple decades, but has gone worldwide. I love CrossFit, but not because of the strenuous squats, lunges and reps it has become known for. I squat plenty to pick up poop bags, lunge often for a transgressor as he flies down the hall with one of my flip-flops and have lost count of how many reps I’ve completed around the local park’s half-mile loop. I love this company because of the staff members who board their little pups at Little Pup Lodge.

Right now Gunner and Midgee are with us for a week. Mirka often comes to stay. Jasper recently checked in while his mom and dad attended the CrossFit Games. Not only are the dogs adorable, but their moms and dads are some of the most fit, healthy human beings I’ve seen in a while. Nice advertising.

Jasper,  gold medal winner in CrossFit's fly-catching competition.

Like clouds in the sky, some dogs can morph into very odd creatures if one stares at them long enough. With her slightly hunched back, short legs and long fur, Maya can pitch-hit for an anteater. Not to be confused with another Little Pup Lodge guest, Cavalier spaniel Maya, anteater Maya has another distinguishing feature: an underbite almost large enough to rival Wookie’s. With so many unique qualities having cascaded  from the canine gene pool into her life, Maya was able to pull together a look that only someone of her aplomb could.


 

Maya brought some odd habits with her. It took a few visits before she finally made us understand why she refused to budge when on a leash. She resents it. If we just drop the leash, she happily trots along by our side. I hate being told what to do by a small dog, but you think I’d be used to it by now.
  Maya's underbite.     Wookie's underbite.

Do this business long enough and Little Pup Lodge guests that we have grown to love will eventually die. One of our favorites passed away last week. Veerapam (which means “Brave Soul” in Sanskrit) was condemned to a short, miserable life if it weren’t for a lovely couple who rescued him in Calcutta, India. Bob and Sheela witnessed neighborhood children attempting to beat the starved and bedraggled young dog to death so they swooped in. Groomed and brought back to health, Veerapam appeared to be a purebred Lhasa Apso. Although Indians rarely kept dogs as pets back in 1994, monks who fled Tibet’s communist takeover sometimes brought theirs with them. The Lhasa Apsos originated in Tibet, where they were bred as watchdogs and companions for monasteries and temples.

  Veerapam, enjoying his beach strolls up until the end.

For the next 18 years, Veerapam lived the life he deserved, beloved and protected from harm. He and his family moved Santa Cruz in 2005 and by the time I met them, Veerapam had reached his twilight years. Bob and Sheila fought to keep their dog comfortable as more health problems cropped up in the last year. They finally lost the battle as the time came to mercifully release Veerapam from his worn out body.
  A memorial altar placed on Veerapam's bed.
 
According to Sheela, their brave soul is now with Kali (Hindu goddess of creation and destruction) and in peace. He will be missed.

This little girl just barely squeaked under our age cut-off. At nine months old, Lilly had the potential to be your basic puppy hurricane. But other than one slightly chewed cellphone-charger cord, she has kept the teething to stuffed toys (and a few of her playmates). This spaniel has perfected two specialties: melting hearts with those soulful eyes and keeping the other dogs occupied. Puppies play. A lot. If awake, she tortures other Little Pup Lodge guests to wrestle, chase or play tug-of-war with her and her very bedraggled squirrel. But, only when she’s awake and fortunately, puppies also sleep a lot.

  Little Lilly.

Before Lilly, I thought a Cavalier King Charles spaniel was the same as a King Charles spaniel. But, no, we are talking two separate breeds. Here’s the backstory. The King Charles (also known as an English Toy Spaniel), most likely got its start in the Far East and probably shares ancestors with the Pekingese. It migrated to the royal palaces of England in the 16^th century and really hit its stride during the reign of King Charles II, hence the name. Breeders being what they are decided to throw a little Pug in the genetic soup because everyone adored the squashed-nose look in the early 19^th century. Twentieth century breeders decided to bring back the original features. But with logic only the AKC could understand, breeders could no longer call the retro King Charles a King Charles. Hence, the Cavalier King Charles.

   Too cute, yes?

The King Charles breed is rare now that dog lovers have embraced the new, improved, old-fashioned, now-monikered Cavalier. Since her mom is not here, I can’t confirm which one Lilly is, but am leaning towards Cavalier. Other opinions?

The Bark (best dog magazine ever), recently featured a piece on why dogs hump each other (and their stuffed toys and your leg). Having read all four pages, I discovered the answer: no one knows. Maybe it’s to show dominance, but then again maybe it’s just play. Maybe they are over-stimulated; maybe it’s a way to reduce stress. Like most people, I am deeply dissatisfied with any informative article that ends with a shrug of the shoulders. But, aren’t all our theories about dog behavior just guesswork?

  It's true; dogs can now have their very own blow-up doll (bachelor party not included).




  Oliver.

Now that China has moved from communism to capitalism, perhaps we can all agree they won, we lost, in the world-domination sweepstakes. Back in the McCarthy era, we all feared this day, but expected it to come in the form of Soviets and Chinese swarming our shores and killing us all in our sleep. Instead, we are left to worry about tainted dog food and treats.

 

An astounding number of companies have issued recall notices for their pet foods, including some of the most highly touted (and highly priced) organic brands. Melamine was found in several types of kibble; most recently it’s been the chicken used for jerky treats. Plenty of other ingredients have raised concerns—wheat gluten, cornmeal, soy protein, etc.—but there is one common denominator: all have swarmed our shores from China.

 

No xenophobe, I just worry about edibles, dog or human, exported from a country that quickly learned corruption is the bread to capitalism’s butter. In their defense, I must commend China for executing corrupt officials (hear that, Bernie Madoff?), but the firing squads don’t seem to be slowing the onslaught of less-than-savory ingredients finding their way into our dogs’ munchies.
I would like to claim the high ground here and let all know that Little Pup Lodge guests do not eat any food or treats not made in the USA. It’s true, but so what? Just because the biscuit or bison jerky or peanut butter cookie is assembled here, that’s no guarantee that the added preservatives, minerals or vitamins didn’t come from the Far East.

In addition to laundry, housecleaning, dog walking and blogging, it now seems I need to add a couple more tasks on the to-do list: hunt buffalo and dig up a good recipe for jerky.

People often think the concierge of Little Pup Lodge just sits around all day watching tv with her guests. So, I thought I’d try it (after I laundered, poop-scooped, watered the garden, folded clothes, washed dishes and romped with the gang at the park). Who knew Law & Order could be so addictive? In my world, only a pathetic slug would sit in front of the boob tube when it is still light outside. Daytime is about work! Productivity! Frenetic activity!

  Dogs love Bobby Goren!

Problem is, the guests are not entertained by Work! Productivity! or Frenetic Activity! unless it’s their idea. What they really enjoy are long walks sometimes and lying around like slugs the rest of the time. Rather than use their downtime to focus on various projects, I began to join my little friends. We now play a drinking game. Every time Vincent D’Onofrio’s character Det. Goren tilts his head to indicate suspicion, everyone gets a round of kibble.
Cats? Not so much.

Ask any dog owner what their least favorite holiday is and chances are you’ll get a consensus for the 4^th of July. Like most mammals, dogs are hardwired to startle at loud noises. And, it doesn’t get much louder than Independence Day. A guest’s dad just called to report how terrified his little one was last night, even pumped full of tranquilizers.

 

Fortunately, Little Pup Lodge is in the country and while Sonny and millions more dogs suffered when dark settled over the urban areas, you could have heard a pin drop out here. Is it really too difficult for the country to quietly meditateon its birthday instead of setting off cherry bombs and M80s?

Like most people, I do not break the law unless I decide that particular law doesn’t apply to me. For example, the leash ordinance at our local parks and beaches. And, like most people, I do not flaunt any particular law as an act of protest or civil disobedience; I only do it when I think I can get away with it.

Some of the guests at Little Pup Lodge have their parents’ blessings to run off leash at the beach. We go very early, usually 7am, to avoid other dogs and humans, particularly those who wear badges. Imagine my surprise as I walked up from the beach this morning right after 8am, just as an animal control officer walked down with a big, shiny citation book clutched in his hand. Had he come 10 minutes earlier, I would have been several hundred dollars poorer.

We dog-activists often rant about how unfair the leash law is. Secretly, I think it’s only unfair to me. It’s more than fair for the yahoos who can’t control their dogs, the tourists who won’t clean up the poop and youthful offenders who find their unneutered pit bulls ever so much more entertaining than the rest of us.

‘Tis that time again, when all things dog-related congeal at Blue Balls Park here in Soquel. The Spring Dog Festival throws a big ol’ party with a parades, contests, agility trials, Frisbee tournaments and vendors like me. Misery ensued when Little Pup Lodge set up a booth at the Festival last year. Arctic winds and rain descended that summer weekend, which kept the crowds away and the rest of us brave souls freezing our butts off.

At least someone's keeping their buns warm. (Photo courtesy of http://www.duncan-jan.com/)

Ever the optimist, we will be there again this Sunday. Vendoring ain’t cheap. Entry fees, canopy, table, decorations and eye candy to pull in the visitors adds up. This year there will be a lavish gift basket that folks can enter to win. No hidden strings! Maybe one tiny hidden string; I want email addresses.

    Humorous touches abound. (Photo courtesy of http://www.duncan-jan.com/)

The biggest expense? That happens when I’ve got someone to watch the booth so I can go spend money at everyone else’s. Do come and visit, won’t you? Get more info at Coastaldogs.com.
Run, Forrest, run! (Photo courtesy of http://www.duncan-jan.com/)

Not real vermicelli, of course. That is our nickname for the wiggly wiener-dog guests of Little Pup Lodge. Few breeds can match Dachshunds for sheer entertainment value. They don’t really have to do much, just stare at you down those impossibly long muzzles or waddle around with butts that swing this way and that. We have a couple at Little Pup Lodge now.
Lola on the left, Frank on the right.
 

Frank and Lola like to “burrito” for a nap. They will wind any available blanket around themselves until all that’s needed is a bit of cilantro and salsa to round out the dish. Frank has a particularly amusing gait, but it’s because of a less-than-amusing reason: back surgery. Breeders have paid more attention to appearance than health, leaving Doxies with spines much too easily injured. Back problems are endemic with this breed. The Little Pup Lodge personnel do what they can to prevent jumping and climbing, with ramps and little doggie-steps placed strategically around the house. My brother the carpenter rebuilt both the front and back porch and installed a ramp on each.

El burrito grandé!

Surgery left Frank with one other little problem. Every time he gets excited he gets a little incontinent. This has required us to practice zen-like calm around him at all times. Since Frank likes to sleep on my bed, waking up is an especially tricky process. Like all dogs, each morning he acts like I’ve just returned from several weeks’ absence. Tricky, very tricky.

As an aside, most breeds have inherited health problems along with their spiffy new looks. New York Times did an excellent article on this topic, "Can the Bulldog be Saved?"

 

A recent wardrobe inventory revealed that virtually every t-shirt and sweatshirt I own had something dog-related on it.

Yes, dogs are my business and I love them more than just about anything or anybody in the world. But. Do I really want the world to think my life has shrunk to one sad, little obsession ? Although it has stalled due to the Little Pup Lodge busy season, perhaps I should resume efforts to make it as a hip-hop artist.
Then again, I could always carve little dog figurines out of soap.

Once the bane of Little Pup Lodge, gophers have emerged (sorry), as the latest sport and entertainment source for our guests. What began as one suspicious hole in the back yard has metastasized into a veritable battlefield of craters and pockmarks. Partially, it is the relentless rodents’ fault. The terrier guests must take equal blame, however. That particular breed owes it’s name to the French, who called them Chiens Terrier, or “earth-dogs,” because they were bred to chase vermin down holes. Since most terriers can’t actually fit into the hole, the next logical step is to widen it. My part-terrier Oliver uses his teeth to tear chunks of lawn away when he’s convinced the claws aren’t doing it fast enough.
Orthodontia required.

Folks generally think of scruffy, wire-haired little guys and gals as terriers, but it helps to remember that the full name of one infamous type in that category is the American pit bull terrier. Pit bulls do not guest at Little Pup Lodge, but we do see more than our share of other terrier types. Oliver is more than happy to demonstrate for them what is expected of their breed. Eventually, we will be treated to a chorus line of doggy butts in the air as their front half gradually disappears from view.
Molly. A Min-Pin, but clearly a terrier at heart.
 

One might ask, and quite reasonably so, why the Little Pup Lodge concierge just stands and watches with amusement rather than trying to stop them. First of all, it’s the rock star v. Holiday Inn dilemma. The guests pay, after all, so what’s a few televisions thrown into the pool or drunken screams of laughter at 3am? Secondly, the gopher wars are over and the beady-eyed little bastards have long ago won. They may as well continue their scorched-earth path through yard. Finally, and this is the main reason, it makes my guests happy. If they want to believe that somehow, some way they will actually catch their very own gopher, more power to them.