The dog who came—and went
This month's big feature was supposed to be about
our new dog, Halle Berry Lick, a gorgeous black Lab-
Border Collie mix. But alas, Halle is back at the
after 13 days we won't soon forget.
Halle, a year-old stray, fooled us and everyone at the
shelter with her shy and demure act. Once she
moved in, whoa, look out. Although she weighed
about the same as our old dog Sadie, she was taller.
We discovered there was nothing she couldn't reach.
Counters and tables were easy, and if something
was little too high, she got up on her hind legs and
grabbed it. And oh, she grabbed a lot. We have a
mangled remote control, slippers, and shoes, two
ripped-up cushions, three balls torn to shreds,
furniture with tooth marks, and several items
destroyed beyond recognition to remember her by.
For those who have read the wonderful book Marley
and Me, Halle was a Marley. Wild and crazy, she
was 56 pounds of too much love. When we sat down
to work or to relax, she'd come up behind us and
plant her gigantic paws on our shoulders or throw her
herself into our laps, nipping at our clothes, our shoes,
and our hands. She loved to lick my bare legs, and
Fred got several head baths from that big pink tongue.
Halle wanted to play all day and night. It was like
trying to sleep with an alligator in the room.
A water-loving Lab, Halle put both feet in the bird bath and drank from it until she managed to knock the basin off its pedestal. She put her head up under our leaky gutter and drank while the water poured all over her head. She dug in the mud until she was covered with the stuff. Then she came in and covered me with it, giant muddy footprints on my shirt, jeans and shoes. She put her feet in her water bowl and in the toilet bowl and shoveled water out all over the floor. Then she'd look at us with those gorgeous amber eyes, smiling that innocent doggy smile. Next minute, she'd grab a pillow with her teeth and tear it while we watched in horror. Nothing was safe.
Halle was not mean or stupid. I quickly taught her a couple tricks and looked forward to starting doggie school, but the one word she could not accept was "OFF!" We even had the dog trainer make an emergency visit. It was like inviting the Supernanny to our house. Imagine Jo Frost's English accent as Sue Green asked, "Who's in charge here? Is it you or the dog? You have to be the momma dog."
Green, who insisted Halle was a wonderful dog who could be trained, prescribed tough love. Ignore the pup till she behaved. When we needed peace, we should put her in her crate, the $140 monstrosity that took up half our den. Yeah, right, easy for her to say. The dog behaved perfectly while she was there, but the dog trainer should have seen us at midnight. It was sheer hand-to-paw combat. Just as I suspect a lot of those people TV's supernanny turns into perfect Leave-It-to-Beaver families for the cameras revert to their former behavior after she drives away, Halle showed us who was boss. We'd put her outside, and she'd throw her entire body against our new sliding glass door, over and over. Boom! So we'd bring her inand try to put her into the crate, but it's not easy trying to push a giant furry creature with sharp teeth into a tiny enclosure.
I managed to get her inside the crate with the door locked a couple times, but then she barked and howled and cried until I surrendered and went back to pushing her off of me every 30 seconds. I'm no good at tough love. I also don't have time to watch a dog every minute. Things came to a head when Fred accidentally closed Halle in the bedroom. I heard an unusual sound and opened the door to find this giant black dog sprawled on my white comforter chewing the face off Mom Lick's old white teddy bear. That's when I knew she couldn't stay, even though we had already gotten her vaccinated and licensed, had a name tag engraved, and bought her a ton of toys and treats.
We had been hoping for a calm dog that would fill the hole left by Sadie's death. But Halle was rarely calm. It was sheer joy to watch her run. That dog could fly. She was fun to play fetch with, she was housetrained, she made us laugh, and she did—eventually--sleep at night, thank God, but she was too much for us. I also suspect it was too soon to bring in another dog. We were still grieving for Sadie, trying to replace her with Halle. Sometimes Halle lay in exactly the same places in the same postures as my old friend, and it did feel marvelous to hold this big, silky creature, but we had to let her go, praying that someone younger and stronger, with the energy to tame her, will adopt her.
We cried a lot of tears the day we took her back, but we need to think of it as a two-week visit with an unruly guest. At least we were able to provide a lot more information than the shelter had before, so next time they'll make a better match. The shelter gave us a gift certificate to choose another dog when we're ready.
Halle has inspired a lot of article ideas, which I'm trying to get out into the world to help other people avoid picking out the wrong dog. The sad truth is that most of the dogs we saw at the shelters we visited are big mixed breeds like Halle who should have been trained as puppies and now don't fit well into the average home. Some mild-mannered dogs have been surrendered by people who could no longer keep them due to illness or moving into a home where they couldn't have pets, but a lot of sweet, energetic dogs just got too big to handle. God bless shelters like SafeHaven, which does not euthanize unadopted dogs. They keep them and love them as long as necessary.
Let me close this story with a note about a tiny woman, probably in her 80s, who came to the shelter while we were filling out the return paperwork. She had surrendered a dog named Mark a week early, but she couldn't stick with it. "I can't live without my Mark," she said. So a young worker went to get the dog, who had almost been adopted by someone else that morning. We expected some little cockapoo or terrier, but no. Mark was a gigantic German shepherd mix, almost bigger than his owner. She gave him a tearful hug and off they went. True puppy love.
If anyone knows of an older dog in good health, of calm demeanor, and not tall enough to reach the tables and counters, we're interested. We're dog parents without a dog, but meanwhile, it is so nice to eat, sleep and work without being attacked by Halle Berry the dog. What we want is a dog who will join the family and let us all take care of each other. And leave my slippers alone!
I guess this month's feature is about Halle Berry Lick after all. All the best, my friend.
Publication news
I've been writing reams about Halle Berry but can only report publication of my usual Writers on the Rise freelancing for newspapers challenge. The March challenge was to brainstorm ideas for the food section. April's challenge is to write a profile of an interesting person. When last checked, The Scriptorium had been delayed, but my piece on the value of getting out and meeting people is next in line. That column should also be appearing in the Willamette Writers newsletter soon.
A distributor in Jamestown, California has purchased a large quantity of my book Stories Grandma Never Told: Portuguese Women in California to distribute in bookstores, gift shops and wineries in the Gold Country. I'm glad to see Grandma, which you can also buy here on my website, getting a chance to find some new readers. I'm also shocked at the postage to send the books to Jamestown. If you send only books, you can use "media mail," which is much cheaper than other postage, but if the box includes other material, such as flyers, postcards, invoices and order forms, you have to pay full freight. Sigh. By the way, postage is going up a cent again in May. Can you believe it?
Oregon Coast writer events
This is awfully late notice, but the Oregon Coast chapter of Willamette Writers meets April 1 at 7 p.m. at the Newport library. Our guest is poet Ralph Salisbury. Admission is free, no reservations required. Looking ahead, the May 5 speaker is children's Elizabeth Rusch. Same time, place and price. By the way, in an earlier edition, I had Ralph and Elizabeth married. Wrong. Ralph's wife is poet Ingrid Wendt, who will be our speaker in October. Proofread, my friends.
Writers on the Edge has two events this month. On Saturday, April 12, the second annual Instant Haiku Classic will take place at Café Mundo in Newport. Teams will be formed to write haikus and read them to guests and a panel of judges. I competed last year. Our team came in second. It was great fun, even if we did have to do our writing on the balcony, where it was freezing. Check the Writers on the Edge site for details.There's no cost to attend, but you might as well eat there. The food is fabulous, and the décor is fascinating.
Writers on the Edge also welcomes Ceiridwen Terrill, herbalist and assistant professor of environmental journalism at Concordia University, as the featured reader at its regular monthly event, April 19 at the Newport Visual Arts Center. She is the author of Unnatural Landscapes: Tracking Invasive Species. An open mic follows. Admission is $5, and the festivities begin at 7 p.m.
I should also mention that I'm the guest speaker for the Southern Oregon Willamette Writers meeting in Medford on Saturday, April 5. I'll be talking about freelancing for newspapers. See the WW website for details.
Book Report
The ASJA Guide to Freelance Writing, Timothy Harper, editor, St. Martin's Griffin, 2003. This book covers many of the same areas as other books about writing and selling nonfiction, but its chapters are written by pros who have cracked the biggest markets in the land. Most of them make a good full-time living with their writing, so their advice really counts. It's well-done and can serve as a marvelous resource for questions about everything from generating ideas to sending out invoices. Highly recommended if nonfiction is your game. You may also want to visit the ASJA website to partake of the resources there.
A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas, Harcourt, Inc., 2006. The title comes from an Alaskan saying that some nights are so cold you need three dogs to keep you warm. This jumbled memoir is the story of Thomas's years after her husband suffers permanent brain damage when he gets hit by a car. He is institutionalized for the whole five years covered by the book, and Abigail eventually settles into a cottage with her three dogs. They all live a disorganized, undisciplined life, with the only touchstone being Abigail's weekly visits with her husband. It's an easy read, short with big type. Looking at the credits, I see that many of the chapters were published as separate essays. They work well that way, but putting them together, I get to the end and feel as if there is no conclusion, no resolution, no closure. Perhaps the message is that both Abigail and her husband are permanently lost. I hope not.
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Well, March came in like a lion and, despite the profusion of daffodils and the calendar telling us it's spring, Oregon is still looking pretty wintery. It snowed on the coast last week.We needed raincoats and sweaters for Easter. When Oregon newcomers ask if it shouldn't be sunny by now, we just look at them with pitying smiles. Sorry, we will have a few more months of the wet stuff. Spring and summer happen so quickly that you might miss them if you happen to go out of town. But autumn, ah, autumn, that's why we live here.
Anyway, happy birthday to Shurnie and the other April babies, and God be with the many friends who are ill or dealing with the loss of loved ones right now. March was tough. Let's hope spring brings much better news to us all.
And if you pick up a new dog, get a receipt and make sure he's returnable.
Hugs,
Sue
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Newsletter archives
Note: I have taken the 2003-2005 newsletters offline, but if you see something interesting in the list, I will provide free PDF copies on request.
