Lyle Awesomepaws

Imagine that you are a small white dog with long nails and a problem with authority.  Now imagine your owner's mother has a leather sofa.  This sofa is susceptible to scratching.  You are largely unaffected by the ongoing scramble to protect the sofa from your toenails... at least for a while.   Then one day, as you nap on the sofa, plans are being set in motion that will change the course of your life, at least for the remaining ten days in France.  You sleep in ignorant bliss through some snipping, sewing, and hot gluing.

As you have probably guessed, this is a story about Lyle.  Today I had the "creative" idea of making him socks from my too-big-socks.   I don't really like dog clothes that look too much like human clothes (i.e. sweaters, etc.), but this was arguably necessary.  It was surprisingly easy, but I'm really only a perfectionist sometimes, and I willed myself to relax about something like dog socks (in fact I made one inside out, oops).  Some mild swearing was involved in the process, on my part.  If Lyle could speak, I shudder to think what he might have said about the whole thing.  After we put them on, he spent about ten minutes trembling on the sofa, staring at where his paws used to be.  Then we put him on the ground.  The hot-glue sticky spots worked surprisingly well for traction, but it was a little bit heartbreaking watching him move around, like he had to re-learn how to walk after being in a coma.  I put away the socks for the rest of the day.  We'll begin the process again tomorrow.
(P.S. Lyle's pet passport is stamped by a vet and he's ready to fly.  He sends you all season's greetings!)

Lyle, Lord of the Snow

When we woke up yesterday, we saw there was a couple inches of snowfall outside.  I don't think I can possibly express our excitement upon seeing that, because we knew that at long last we would be reaching a big milestone in the life of Lyle.  To summarize the eventful life of Lyle so far: he was adopted as a puppy from a shelter in Arkansas.  Then he lived in Georgia with me for a summer before we moved to Spain.  Since then, Lyle, who is conveniently travel-sized, has become quite the continental traveler.  I understand that dogs don't have the same motivations and desires as people, probably including including international wanderlust.  At the same time, he travels well and I love seeing his ears perk up when we get to somewhere new.  I would like to think that Lyle will remember some of what he's seen and smelled of the world.  I know I've enjoyed watching him discover new things and explore his surroundings.

This, Lyle's experience of snow, was a big milestone.  He's nearly three now, and definitely a grown up dog.  It seems so incredible that there was a time when we celebrated him walking across a pillow without collapsing for a nap.  Most of the 'milestones' have been unexpected, however, since we left the United States.  For example, when he had his first taste of rabbit in paella, or when he peed for the first time on a cathedral.  This one, however, was one that we'd anticipated for a long time.  Watching him bite at the snow, run around, and generally be confused by it, was everything that we hoped it would be.  

Re-create the Look: Extreme Edition

I'm not sure how I feel about winter --that is real, snowy, below-zero winter-- anymore.  Growing up it was the most magical New England season.  My best friend, sister and I were sledding- and snow-fort-building-enthusiasts, to say the least.  My mom used to have to drag us inside every couple hours to prevent frostbite.  As a young adult, I devoured books like Dogsong  by Gary Paulsen, which Google Books hilariously labels "Self Help" (perhaps, for twelve-year-old girls wanting to do the Iditarod). Now I wonder if I'll ever choose to live in a place with a real winter again.  I know my younger self would scoff at the no-fun kind of grown-up I've become, but I'm wary of the prospect of shoveling snow and waiting until April to see green.  Yet, there's a small part of my imagination that will always live in the snow.  Not in the real, cold snow, but more like the winter fantasy pictured above, where racing across snow and ice involves a puppy in a designer handbag and a camp as pictured for our destination. (See a slideshow of Eric Valli's campaign for Hermes here, you will not regret clicking, I promise).

Not that designer handbags are really my passion, per se, but puppies and forts are still at the top of my list.  The above via Helena Holmstedt .  Clearly the arctic dog sled is underutilized as a decor piece.  Here's what you need to live the fantasy on a backyard scale:

The classic, flexible flyer with red, powder-coated steel runners.  This is a dream sled of the variety that become family heirlooms and endure their time in the attic between generations with grace.  At 48", I have definitely outgrown this model.  I am not discouraged in the slightest.  Available here (currently out of stock) for around $80.00.

At right is a serious tent.  This is the SpikeII from Montana Canvas via.  Unlike the above, open air version, I'm sure you would stay toasty in there, especially with the addition of the stove.  You could actually camp in this, in the real winter.  It's priced accordingly (around $1000).  To re-create the former, only suitable for fantasy winter, or daytime lounging and cocoa consumption between sled runs, I think a tarp with grommets, some poles, twine and stakes, a princess in the pea mattress would work.

Here's the Coleman NORTHSTAR® INSTASTART™ PROPANE LANTERN.  the lantern resembles those hanging on the side of the tent and looks like it would adequately fulfill my needs for propane lanterns.  I love my little propane stove and the primal exhilaration that comes from cooking something incredibly simple over it.  It reminds me of the Bunsen-burner cooking in A Wrinkle in Time, continuing the YA fiction theme.  I can only imagine that this would do for lighting what that stove does for cooking i.e. make the magic.  For only about $50, I'm sold.  (We also have a few vintage kersosene lanterns around my Mom's house.  They don't burn clean, but when they're lit it's a really special occasion, and they make a great silver lining in any power outage).

 

I couldn't resist.  I don't know much about huskies, but I do know that they *are NOT for every home,* probably not for most dog-friendly homes, in fact.  The kind of dog that is comfortable pulling an arctic sled in a pack for hundreds of miles is a special, special breed.  They need a cooler climate, companionship, mental stimulation and a ton of exercise. That being said, here is a rescue organization for Siberian Huskies in Pennsylvania. (The pictures are from their site)