Spring is in the air!

14 March 2014

Spring is in the air!

Once again I must step in and take up the slack!  My Alpha is jet-lagged and not sleeping so she has asked me if I could kindly take over the writing today.  “No problem”, I said,  “just as long as I get an extra bit of chicken from your plate tonight!” 

Spring has finally come to southeast England and I, for one, am very happy.  This means that the ground is not muddy and I don’t get all muddy, which eliminates the need to get the water hose turned on me when I get home.  Do you know how much I LOATHE that water hose??? Especially in the winter, when it is cold!!! In the winter, there are days that I don’t want to go for a walk simply because I don’t want to get hosed down when we come back home!  You feel sorry for me, don’t you??  

Another beautiful thing about the arrival of spring is that the sunroom, in which I pass many a lazy hour or three, is now full of sunshine most of the day. This means I can seek repose in the sun and work on my tan before the bikini season starts.  Just kidding.  I don’t wear a bikini. I’m a bloke.  Anyway, when was the last time you lay down on the ground or  on the floor of your house and just let the sun spill over you?  It is, simply, delicious.  We, dogs, are the best at it and can teach you, humans, a thing or two when it comes to chillin’ on a sunny day.  I rejoice in the day the Lord has made by taking a siesta in the sun.  Can’t recommend it enough.

With just a hint of spring in the air, my gardener human, Melanie, waxes lyrically about the new tender shoots that valiantly push their way through the ground.  She chats about renewal of plants that were once dead in the ground, coming back to life year after year after year.  She sings, with the songbirds, of the wonders of nature and the creativity of God and the provision of seeds and nuts and worms for those little, seemingly insignificant birdies.  As she tends the garden, I tend to lie there, on the ground, in the sun, with one eye on her pocket where she keeps the dog treats she brings just for me because I’m so special. 

Spring, also, reminds me that, even when the winter seems interminable, she will come when you least expect her.  One minute it’s still frosty and muddy and yucky outside and the next minute, it’s no longer dark at 7:30 am and you don’t have to wear your wellies (if you’re human) or have the hose turned on you! God’s timing is perfect and spring arrives just when you think you can’t take another second of horizontal rain or wind or dark mornings or blasted water hoses.   It’s a beautiful thang to witness, really, and in all of my 12 and ½ years, I never tire of spring's arrival.

I would like to thank the following humans for taking care of me when my Alpha was off on her travels.  Thank you -

1. Mihaela, for taking me on long walks and for thinking I’m the grandest, cutest, loveliest dog you’ve ever seen.  I recall your saying that, right??
2. Annalise, for liking me (or my Alpha) enough to make sure I got a walk on the days you didn’t have to work early and for feeding me so I didn’t starve!
3. Susanne, for walking me in the mornings when Annalise couldn’t and for letting me be friends with Jimmy and Dougie, the cutest labs in town.
4. Jonathan, for giving me enough cuddles and treats to last me until the end of the year.  You’re welcomed anytime you like at chez moi! 

Last but not least, I want to give a special mention to my friend, Jack, of #jackonhisbike fame. You’re one of the coolest teenager I know and I think your bike rocks!!!! Have fun at school and hope to see you soon on the Nickey Line. 

                                                               JACK AND DIGGER

MIHAELA AND DIGGER

   

Disco Digs (in which Digger gets his groove on!)

21 Janurary 2014

I took my husband to the train station today.  He’s off to London to make his daily crust and couldn’t possibly have walked the 20 minutes or so from our house to catch the train.  It’s too foggy/damp/yukky/dark, etc, etc.  Besides, he had to bring me my morning coffee at 6:45 am so I would be able to function enough to drive him to the station.

 

It was still dark when we left the house and, because of this, Digger donned his disco collar.  I call it a disco collar because it’s neon yellow with bright red flashing lights all around it.  It enables me to see him in the dark, since Digger’s the colour of the mud that is currently engulfing the nation!  My husband was appalled and asked why Digger was being subjected to such humiliation! ‘His new disco collar is cool and besides, everyone has his/her disco phase!’ said I, with great conviction.

 

So Digger, with his immensely coveted (amongst dogs, anyway) disco collar, ventured out into the wilds of Rothamsted Park (http://www.rothamsted.ac.uk/) with his mates Jimmy and Dougy (who sports a rather fetching blue disco collar) and went on his daily explore, confident in the fact that the Alpha could spot him wherever he was (or at least call him and he’d raise his head above the grass to show his collar).

I wonder, sometimes, what my ‘disco collar’ looks like to my Alpha.  What is it that He sees in me that singles me out from the crowd, that He can spot when I’ve got my nose buried deep into whatever project I happened to be sniffing around, that when He calls and I raise my head, he can see that collar and thus know where I am? Most assuredly my collar is ‘talent’.  I bet my dramatic talents, quick wit and charm, not to mention my razor-sharp intellect really are the things that single me out in a crowd, to my Maker (she says, tongue in cheek).   Surely the collar of this drama queen sparkles loud and proud, right?  Loud enough for Him to notice, I bet.  No, I think the disco collar around my neck is ‘daughter’. All because He loves me and longs to see me even in the darkest of nights, even when I go astray. Phew!  Even when I’m exhausted and can’t do another thing, He still is able to pick me out of a crowd.

 

Digger has a disco collar for this very reason – to spot him in the dark, in the mud, in the woods, on his journey, to make sure he’s close, safe and in my sight. All because I adore that disco king, I do!

 

This is a photo of the much loved new corgi named Clyde, who is the latest family member in the Lancaster household.  My sister-in-law, Dena, just got him and I know that he will be so very happy in that house.  Please send in more of your dog photos!!!!!!

Plus there are always dogs....

18 January 2014

 

My friend, Patti, posted, on her Facebook page, the following picture:

 

(http://www.giftofniceness.com/)

 

There have been a lot of bad days around here lately.  Take the weather, for instance.  Linda, Susanne and I are fed up with walking through the mud and the incessant rain.  If we’re told this summer that there will be a hose pipe ban due to drought conditions, I believe that the whole of the United Kingdom will take up in arms. Mind you, Digger, Dougy, Jimmy and Jasmine are loving it.  Running across the fields of Rothampstead Manor, through the puddles (small lakes??) and trekking through the woods is akin to going to Disneyland for children.  They are in their element.  Dogs have a way of making the most/best of each day and every situation, whatever the weather, whoever the human. Also, we three ladies are forever complaining about the darkness of the hour (usually a 7:00 am kick off for the dog walk) in the winter.  I’m surprised we are not all crippled with seasonal affective disorder, a truly wicked disorder to have.   Also, it is truly miraculous, after all these years of walking dogs together, that we still like each other.  Think about it. We do not see each other at our best.  We wake up early (in the pitch black, most of the year), trek out in our wellies, scarves, gloves and hats (most of the year), pick up dog poo off the football pitches and hose down and dry filthy muddy hounds day in and day out. Moreover, we do all this with very little caffeine in our systems.  Why am I still friends with these ladies?  ‘Cause they are good folk.  Kind people. As Susanne would say 'Geteiltes Leid ist halbes Leid.' We share each other’s joy, sorrow, pain, complaints, victories, defeats, struggles and strides. Despite all the bad days I’ve had and all the mean people that have hurt me, when I walk with these kind ladies, my day doesn’t seem so bad after all.  The Lord has provided me with such amazing friends, wouldn’t you say?

 

Thank you, Pattie, my dear kind friend, for reminding me that there are good days and kind folks and faithful companions. 

 

I would like to thank my niece, Ruth, for sending in a photo of her babies, Frank and Finely and their friend, Lily.  What a trio!!! 

 

 



 

 

What’s a girl to say but :( ?

9 January 2014

What’s a girl to say but L?

Last week Digger hijacked my computer, wrote the blog, then proceeded to write an ode to my daughter.  I’m back and you’ll be glad to know that this week there’ll be no ode or mention of the words ‘sweet’ and ‘fart’ in the same sentence**.

This week’s edition of the Digger Dogologues is dedicated to Digger’s friend, Max, a beautiful bouvier des flandres who passed away last weekend. He was the much-loved pet, a loyal, faithful and true companion my dear friend, Roger, and will be greatly missed.

For those of you who own a dog (or a pet who can actually interact with you), you’ll know what it’s like to love an animal (almost?) like a member of the family. No more need be said.  My friends Melanie, Christy and Linda, as well as my sister, Mindy would all understand this feeling of loss.  But for you who are pet-less, then know that it can be very traumatic to lose a beloved pet. 

Max was a beast of a dog.  Their name in French means “cow herder of Flanders” and they were originally used for general farm work and the males can weigh upwards to 120 pounds (or 54 kilograms). Now they are used for guard dogs or police dogs or PETS!  Rumor has it that the sound that Chewbacca made in the Star Wars movie is the same sound that a bouvier makes when he’s making sounds, but I can’t verify this.  Even Ronald Reagan owed a bouvier named Lucky (I found that fact on Wikipedia, so I can’t verify this either. Sorry. Let me know if you know whether that’s true or not.)

Max and Digger met when they were puppies.  Max was born in August and Digger in October and when they would get together and play, Digger, being the much-smaller of the two, would climb all over Max as he lay on the floor.  They were lovely companions and liked each other very much.  As they both grew up, they didn’t see so much of each other. Max would walk at different times than Digger and their owners (whilst still good friends after all these years) couldn’t be bother to arrange play dates for their dogs!  Such is life!

No one approached Roger’s home without first encountering Max.  He was a guard dog, not by training but by nature, and he protected the home and family he loved.  Some might say his bark was worse than his bite (although I never heard that he had bitten a soul) but a stranger approaching the house would only see this big, black, hairy dog barking in bass tones.  He did his job and did it well.  No strangers ever messed with Max! 

As Max grew older, he became grumpier (as often happens in dogs and humans) and was a solitary dog (bar his interaction with Pepe, the new dog in the family, and others he met on his walks).  But, let me tell you this. Max adored his owner, Roger, and Roger adored his Max and together they made a great team. Max, being an uncommon breed in this part of England, always attracted attention when he went out for a walk.  People would often approach Roger and strike up a conversation with him about his dog. As I’ve said before, a dog is a great ice-breaker, especially in England, and can be the catalyst for some deep, life-long friends.  What a legacy, eh?  Roger doted on Max and Max did not leave his side.  Max was a faithful companion to the end.

So here’s to Max.  Fierce protector, faithful companion, much-loved member of the family. 

** http://thediggerdogologues.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/ode-to-my-girlie-or-my-happy-in-happy.html

Ode to My Girlie (or: my 'happy' in Happy New Year)

1 January 2014

Good morning, everyone.  This is Digger writing to you for the very first Digger Dogologue of 2014.  My Alpha (aka Dana) is still in bed (how is it that she’s still asleep at 9:30 am!! Outrageous!!). She must be sleeping off last night’s madness in London.  So, here I am, a loyal, faithful and true companion, taking up the slack and getting this dogologue out to you in a timely manner.

My Alpha and I apologize that you have not heard from us in ages.  I’ve been busy taking naps, chasing pigeons off the roof of our garage, chewing bones, eating, pooing, sleeping, getting ‘loved on’ and hanging with my mates on the Nickey Line and in Rothampstead Park.  My Alpha has monopolized her time by playing the clown for Acting Up! (www.actingup.uk.com), travelling back and forth from England to New York, visiting with her amazing friend, Rocio (to whom many thanks are due for taking good care of me while My Alpha went off to NYC), preparing for Christmas and cooking and eating loads!  You’d think she’d use her time more wisely so as to make the dogologue a priority. (wink wink!)  Never mind!  It’s Digger to the rescue!!!!!  Just call me Wonder Dog!

So, for the New Year posting, I decided NOT to list all my resolutions for 2014 because I have my priorities in line and my goal is to fulfil my priorities.  You know the priorities, right??  Get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, eat sensibly (my IBD is under control), go for long walks with my Alpha and make sure I spend plenty of time with her and pay attention to what she has planned for us and of course, just be me!  I’m good at being me and I make lots of people smile by just being me.  So, since these priorities have always been there, I don’t have to go through the routine of making resolutions. “But what will you write about, Digger?”, you ask???

I’d like to write an ode to a very special girlie in my life and she’s known me for many years and I love her lots (and besides, I sleep in her room anytime she’s home and that makes me feel very safe and cosy!).  She taught me how to sit, lie down, shake paws, and wait patiently till she called my name.  People think I’m a very clever dog because I can do all these tricks, but if it hadn’t been for her tutelage, no one would know what I’m capable of.   Her name is Georgia and this month her very first book of poetry is being published.  Her blog is: http://www.georgialynneallen.com/.  Check it out and buy her book.  I can’t read but I hear it’s good! 

I cannot hold a candle to her poetry writing; she’s been practicing a long time and is naturally gifted in writing.  She comes from a long line of poets – both her great grandmother and grandmother were poets – and has written loads of stuff. So, the following is called “An Ode to My Girlie” and I hope you all have a wonderful happy new year!!

 Ode to My Girlie

A long time ago, in a faraway town

You chose me from the pack and you said, all around,

“This is my doggy, the one we’re taking home,

The one who’ll be with me wherever I roam.”

For the joy set before you, you exclaimed with great glee,

“I’m no longer just I but rather a we.”

Together we played, laughed, cuddled and slept.

Then off you went to study. I missed you, but kept

Looking for you upstairs and down.

You then returned home. I’m happy as a clown.

You’re the sweetest girlie a dog could ever know.

And I’ll stay by your side wherever you go.

You are my ‘happy’ in this Happy New Year

For when I am with you, there is nothing to fear.

So, remember, my Georgia, that from the bottom of my heart

I think you are sweet and so are your farts.

  

p.s.  Dana is back next week to raise the tone of the blog. Also, be sure to send in more photos of your dogs.  They will be posted. 

Does Size Really Matter??

24 Nov 2013

A friend from New York recently commented on the height of my husband, after seeing a photo of my family on our refrigerator.  “Your husband is shorter than you are.” he stated, with a tinge of disbelief.  “Yes.” I said.  “Oh.” he said, sounding as if he were not quite sure how to process that information.  Perhaps he had different expectations of what my husband would look like or perhaps I’m reading the situation all wrong.  In any case, I began to think about size.  

Does size really matter?  Surely, in situations where sheer hulkiness, height and bicep circumference plays a roll (think professional boxers, body guards, bouncers, Mr Universe contests), then, yes, size really does matter.  Also, if you want to carry a whole lot of people across the Atlantic Ocean, you need a very, very big boat or airplane, so then, yes, size really does matter.  Furthermore, it’s no good trying to pass a big bulky camel through the eye of a very tiny needle; you need very slim thread for that, so then, yes, size really does matter. 

     

But, when my husband gives me ‘that look’ with kind, gentle eyes, and then holds out his hand to take mine, size makes no difference at all (unless you count the humongous size of his heart!).  Our daughter is shorter than me, as well, but she is the PERFECT size for a girlie hug (which calms my soul and gives me love).  Our son is the tallest of us all, but at 5’ 9” you could hardly say he’s tall for a man.  Yet, his intelligence, his capacity for kindness, his tender heart and his love for Jesus make me proud to call him my son.

The one thing about Border Terriers (or most terriers, for that matter) is that they think they are a big dog.  Digger weighs all of 22 pounds and yet, in his eyes, he’s a massive, horse of a dog that boxes in the heavy-weight division.  If threatened (by another dog, a bike, an unsuspecting jogger), he dives in for the fight.  He’s scrappy and uses his whole being to stand his ground.  Mostly, this frustrates me because it’s no good chasing a bicycle which can outrun him or an innocent jogger who just wants to get in her morning jog before work. This sort of ‘standing your ground’ gets him nowhere and makes me crazy!  What I admire, however, is his insistence and his faith that, even at the ripe old age of 12, he’s still got it going on!!  In his eyes, he’s a giant amongst giants, not a Goliath, but a David, small and scrappy, fierce and unafraid. He pulls out the big guns when needs be.  On the other hand, I have seen him gently and carefully greet the tiniest of puppies, freshly weaned and exploring the Nickey Line, so as not to harm or scare them.  I’ve witness his taking a small doggy treat from my (then 10 years old) daughter’s hand, doing so carefully, patiently, sweetly so as not to bite her fingers.

What about my faith in me, in God?  Do I think of myself as small and scrappy yet fierce and unafraid? Do I think that I, as David, can confront my Goliaths head on, using only what I have and what God has given me?  On one occasion, when Jesus was out with his own disciples, they were approached by a desperate, distraught and overwhelmed father whose son was desperately ill and was out of his mind. The father had asked Jesus’ disciples for help but they could do nothing.  Jesus ordered that the boy be brought to him and then proceeded to heal him of his affliction.  When asked why they couldn't heal the boy, Jesus says to the disciples, “because you’re not yet taking God seriously. The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn't be able to tackle.” (Matthew 17:14-20, the Message translation)  

I look at Digger and admire his courage, tenacity, strength.  He takes himself seriously and uses what God has given him to do what he has to do.  Then I realize that Jesus promised me that I when I trust him I would not only do what he did but would do even greater things than he did on earth. (John 14:11-14)  Me??? Do greater things than Jesus did??? Seriously???  So I’m told.   It seems, then, when it comes to size, it’s not the size of  MY body, My bank account, My Ego, My Reputation, My work, MY faith, or My strength that matters at all.  What matters is the size of my God and the enormity of what he has promised, the vastness of his faithfulness, the overwhelming immensity of his grace and the limitlessness of his love.  When he is for me, who can be against me?

p.s. This is a photo sent to me by my dear, dear friend, Patti. Her two dogs and her husband are on this sofa.  If I were to guess, I would say that Gemma was the Alpha Dog in this situation (no offense, Unc Da!).  Thanks, Patti, for sharing this with me.

                                             (l to r) Gemma, Sophie and Unc Da!

Rockin' with Mick Jagger

12 Nov 2013

I really missed Digger yesterday.  I’m sure he’s in good hands with Joel, who is house/dog sitting for us this week, but Digs would have loved a walk in Central Park yesterday.  The weather was chilly but clear and sunny and I was with my friend, Brenda. 

Brenda is the CEO of NYC Navigator (http://nycnavigator.com/), the international relocation firm that helped us with our move to New York. She’s kind and generous and fun-loving and I knew when I first met her that we would be great friends.  If you ever relocate to the USA, call Brenda and she’ll do you proud!  Yesterday, I went for walk with her in the park and she brought along Mick Jagger!  I met Mick yesterday and let me say that he is such a cutie pie, much cuter than his human name sake (no offence, human Mick!!!)  Brenda’s Mick is a cavalier king charles spaniel, just 12 weeks old and desperate to explore this wonderful planet on which we live.  

I had forgotten how ‘full of beans’ (as Brenda says) a new puppy is. Digger, being 12 years old, is still quite feisty for his age, but he is slowing down and tends to stick to the path and not wander off so much anymore. That beaten path is comfortable for him and besides, it’s probably becoming more difficult for him to see.  But Mick – well, it was a good thing he was on a lead in Central Park yesterday. With his sense of adventure and wonder for this new world, not to mention a very keen nose for new smells, Mick would have taken off down the pavement (sidewalk, for you Americans) after some squirrel or dog or scent or leaf blowing in the wind!  His enthusiasm for life is infectious and loads of people commented on how cute and sweet and lovely he is.  Indeed, being around the fun-loving Mick made me feel happy!

For Mick, life is for the living.  He’s like a Star Fleet recruit, on a mission with the Star Ship Enterprise – to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no dog has gone before.  Nor is he a respecter of persons. He doesn’t care if you’re black or white; pretty or ugly; rich or poor; living in a mansion or on the streets; all perfumed up or in need of a stick of deodorant.  He couldn’t care less if you are educated or never finished high school. What he cares about is playing, licking faces, being petted, loved-on and pleasing his loving Brenda.  As long as you’re loving and kind to him, he’ll stick around to love you.

Thank you, Mick, for reminding me to live life because life is for the living!

Brenda and Mick in Central Park

Friend or Foe? Meet and Greet

2 Nov 2013     Digger is a red grizzle (referring to his colour) and, as you saw from his photo is previous blogs, he is grey, brownish-red and black.  He weighs about 10 kilograms (22 pounds or 1 stone, 8, depending on where you live!) and is considered to be a small dog. The thing about Digger is that, mentally, he is a big dog.  I’m sure when he looks in a mirror he sees himself as an enormous an Afghan Hound, a Spanish Canary Dog or even possibly an English Mastiff.  Why do I think he thinks he’s so big? When we are walking in the morning and we come upon other dogs, he crouches down on his legs, with his belly touching the ground, so as to make himself nearly invisible. In fact, because of his colour, he is quite un-seeable on the muddy path.  He remains very still as the dog approaches. Is this dog a friend or a foe?? He waits, waits, and waits some more.

Then, when the other dog is near enough, Digger springs up, surprising the dog with his gargantuan size. Well, gargantuan in Digger’s mind anyway.  He goes from nearly invisible to, voila, a standing, tall, statuesque big (little) dog.  It doesn’t matter whether the approaching dog is a big or small breed.  Digger must first assess the approaching dog (from a position of invisibility) then springs his surprise from a position of height.  

Then he does, what I call, the ‘meet and greet’ dance.  With tales wagging, the two dogs start to sniff each other’s back side to ascertain whether or not they know each other.  Once this is established, they either remain playing. Or they move on, because one or the other or both do not like the smell or they don’t feel comfortable or they feel threatened.  Sometimes, he takes a dislike to a dog because he smells aggression or fear. When this happens, the atmosphere gets tense, and I know Digger and the other dog will possibly have a fight to sort out who’s the top dog.

I’m not a dog nor an animal behaviouralist, but it seems to me that this ritual is a great leveller amongst dogs and establishes whether or not they will be friends or not. Big or small, dominant or submissive, friend or foe, you sniff each other’s privates and there is nothing to hide and no secrets.  Once you’ve sussed out the other’s stinky parts, you can decide whether you want to be friends or not.

As an older dog, Digger has smelled his share of stinky parts.  And yet, he still loves the meet and greet. He still loves to get to know new dogs, have a little run around, be part of a crowd of dogs who are romping in the field. He still wants to explore. The stinky bits don’t seem to have put him off. Yes, there are some dogs he lets pass by.  I’m not sure why (I really can’t be inside his head!) but he is cool with most dogs he meets.  He’s a friendly little dog who sees himself from a position of strength, height, not easily intimidated.  He knows who he is, what he is and what he’s capable of.  And he doesn’t mind the stinky parts.

Ok, my niece has sent in a photo of Frank and Finley, Digger's cousins.  Digger loves these two. They are most definitely friends!

Send Your Photos!

1 Nov 2013  It’s scandalously late this morning (9:38 am, for goodness sakes) and we’ve yet to venture out for our morning constitutional (walk, that is).  Digger is bored, bored, bored, waiting around for someone to do something besides sit on her computer blogging about him. Ok, I’ll keep it brief. 

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:  If any of  you dog lovers/owners out there who would like for me to post your beloved dog’s photo within this blog, please send me a .jpg file via a facebook message or on google+, and I’ll try to put it in at some point. Mick Jagger has already been posted in one of the blogs and I thank his owner, Brenda, for letting me to it. 

I look forward to seeing all your photos.  More Adventures of Digger to come soon.  

Good Morning!!

31 Oct. 2013  If I had to assign a bible verse to my dog (bear with me!), I think it would be (at this particular moment, but it might change in the future!!) Psalm 118:24 that says “This is the day which the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it”.    Every single morning of his life, Digger has greeted me with a wagging tail, eager to get the day started and eager to get his morning cuddle.  He sits outside my bedroom door waiting for me to open the door. When I do, he stands up, tail a-wagging as I stumble out in my pyjamas or dog walking clothes.  I say hello, give him a quick pat on the head and venture down the stairs. He knows the routine, so he follows, still wagging his tail and waiting for me to pour my first cup of coffee. I then go to the sun room, sit on the floor and pay attention to my furry companion.  I rub his back, his head, his chin and clear his eye-boogies (can’t stand eye-boogies, not in humans, not in dogs!).  He then lies down and exposes his underbelly, which you know, if you’re a dog lover, is a very vulnerable position for a dog to adopt.  It exposes the softest, easiest target for a predator to kill a dog. When a dog lies on his back, he’s submitting to you, believing you won’t harm him. If he does this around another dog, then he knows that he’s not the top dog. Digger only does this around dogs with whom he is great friends and never around strange dogs he first meets.  Smart dog, wouldn't you say?  He’s cautious around strangers but vulnerable around friends.

So, I give him a good rubdown and he starts to ‘talk’ to me.  Border terriers ‘sing’ (google it on youtube and you’ll find loads of examples). He’s a happy dog; happy to be around me, to have his belly rubbed, just to hang out until it’s time to do something else.  They say that dog owners and their dogs start to look like each other.  Well, I hope I never start to look like Digger but you know what I would like??? Sometimes I would like to be like Digger. He waits patiently, he’s eager to start the day, with its new possibilities.  He knows what I’m like, yet still wants to be around me even before I've had my first cup of coffee.  Nothing is boring to him. The same walk down the Nickey Line is like Disney Land to him. New smells, new sights, new dogs to meet and greet, new possibilities.

Some of you might question my assignment of human emotions/qualities/characteristics to my dog.  I don’t care.  I love my dog, not because I need something else to take care of and not because I want to control, dominate, take charge or command him.  I love my dog because he’s loveable and cute and fun and cute! Not moody, not weird or jealous or cruel or hateful or back-biting or devious or betraying or self-important (shall I go on???).  AND he starts every day with an eagerness, an expectation and an enthusiasm for what the day will bring and how he’s going to spend that day with me, his Alpha dog.  I long to wake up each day with this attitude towards My Alpha Dog.

Indeed, this is the day the Lord has made. I want to rejoice and be glad in it.

  

Oh, and by the way, Digger looks forward to meeting a new friend named Mick Jagger, who is from New York. I think he’s much cuter than the human, though!  Here’s his photo. You be the judge. 

Baby Digs

Forgot to post this for his birthday.  Digger at 8 weeks.  Bless 'im!

Clever Dog....

28 Oct 2013 – For the first time in the 12 years that Digger has been alive, he slept in my bedroom in his bed.  Scandalous, I know.  Dogs aren’t supposed to sleep in the master’s bedroom – he is a dog, (not a human???!!!) after all – but last night, wild and crazy weather predictions were forecast for southeastern England (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-24690552) and I was worried that he would bark all night will all the racket going on outside. I am nothing else, if not practical, and I didn’t want to be climbing up and down the stairs all night telling my dog to stop barking.  Digger was delighted to be sleeping in my bedroom. What a treat!   The beta member (I, being the Alpha), +Georgia Allen often allows him to sleep in her room when she house/dog sits when I’m away. 

But lo and behold, the weather where I live wasn’t that bad at all, except there was a tree downed on the Nickey Line (http://www.nickeyline.org/) and it blocked out path this morning at 7:00 am.  This is a photo of the tree across the path with Digger and Jasmine (his Jack Russell friend) and Linda (my human friend of 12 years).                                                                                  

 

Linda and I have been walking together since Digger was born.  I guess you can say that Digger brought Linda and me together and we've been friends ever since.   She used to live down the street from me and, at 6:45 am before work, she used to walk her dog D’fer (as in ‘d’ for dog’. Bless him.  He’s now in heaven with my mom, whom he loved. He wasn't really keen on humans but he was sweet on her!). We often passed each other on the Nickey Line and in the winter when the mornings got darker and darker, we’d comment on how it was really spooky to be on ‘The Line’ and one day surely we would meet our demise via an axe murderer or some such nonsense.  Don’t get me wrong. The Nickey Line is wonderful and there have never been any axe murders on it in known history; it’s just that our imagination often got the best of us and we’d scare ourselves silly.  One day it dawned on us to walk together.  It was a match made in heaven!  I think I see Linda then more than I saw my own husband.  She’s a great friend and I love her loads. 

So you see, a dog can bring people together. Naturally, easily, effortlessly.  Without really trying. If you let him……clever Digs.  Wish I were that clever. 

Happy Birthday, Digger!!

October 26, 2001 - a historic event happened on that day.  A border terrier was born!  A very special border terrier who is loved and very much a part of my family. His name is Digger - or, The Digster, Digs, DiggerDoon, DiggerDog, DigDig - he's a fine dawg, indeed.  His official name from the breeders is ‘Buckley Star’ but yuk!!!  We had to change his name and struggled to do so. We finally settled on Digger, which is what his breed are supposed to do (dig a lot) but which he didn't start doing until about 2 years ago.  He is now 12 years old.  I guess should have started these monologues back in 2001; however, I still had dial-up internet, no real sense of what blogging was (did we have blogs that far back?) and I had just submitted my thesis and couldn't be bothered to do anything else but veg out, take care of my dog, and my family.

So here I am 12 years later starting a blog about my beloved Digs.  I didn't really want a dog.  I had enough to take care of with 2 children and a husband and I sure didn't need an animal thrown in the mix.  Besides, I grew up with cats (Pharaoh, Little Kitty, Satan – yes my siblings and I were allowed to name our black Korat cat and Satan is all we could muster.  Outrageous, I know.) and really didn't know the first thing about raising a dog. My kids begged for a dog, with all the promises of helping take care of him, blah, blah, blah.  But guess who ended up taking care of Digger?? Yes, of course – the mamma!!!  He became very much a mamma’s dogs and when he arrived in our home, I spent the month of December in my kitchen with him, opening the back door when he needed to ‘go toilet’ or cleaning up after him when he couldn't quite make it outside.  So the journey began, in 2001, with my dog in the kitchen.

Why am I writing this anyway?  Those of you with a dog will understand the immense pleasure a family pet brings to all involved and how you grow to love that dog, who is, more often than not, easier to be around than those you married or gave birth to.  My dear friend, Melanie, was a bit worried when I first got a dog.  I swore I would never get a dog and sure didn't want to take care of one. So when I got one, she was rightly concerned. Then one day, when she came to visit, she saw me with Digger, cradled on his back in my arms and I was stroking his stomach like you would a baby’s.  She burst out laughing and told me she couldn't believe how I was so ‘googoo-gaagaa’ over a dog.  She, who is a great lover of our fine, four-legged friends, said, ‘Welcome to the club!’  She never imagined that I would be a convert, a dog lover, a pushover for Digger. Those of you without a dog may think “I could care less about what this dog lover has to say about her dog, her family, her faith, her life”, so feel free to follow or not. But I have found, over the years, that my dog has taught me so much about what it means to be human, what it means to be a child of God, what it means to love unconditionally, to be a better parent, to be a better friend, to love me for who I am and not for what others expect of me.  I have come to realize that if God can use get a donkey to speak to get Balaam’s attention (Numbers 22: 21-31 in the Old Testament), he could use Digger to get mine.  I was going to entitle this blog ‘The Gospel according to Digger’ but I think four gospels are plenty enough!

So what I have learned from Digger today?  This, and every morning he eagerly awaits my coming down the stairs to greet him, to pet him, to ‘love on him’ and to feed him. He waits patiently while I wake up with my drug of choice (caffeine via a strong cup of coffee) and then jumps up when I ask him if he wants to go for a walk.  He’s ready to wait patiently when necessary, to come when needed, to seek me out when lonely, to allow me to love on him when and how I can, to forgive when I accidentally step on him.  I wish I could be more like my dog with my fellow human beings. 

The only problem with Digger is his breath.  Despite all the teeth cleanings and chew toys, he’s got ‘old dog breath’.  That’s one area in which I don’t want to be like him but who knows.  I’m not as old as he is yet.