Sophie > Diary of A Southern Belle 6

Well it's been three months since I came to Ridgefield, Sophie might say if she could speak English.But she doesn't. Instead she talks dog and does it quite often with little provocation, thinking she is really communicating with us. In fact, I can actually hold a conversation with her. It goes something like this:

Are you a good girl? “Woof”.

Do you really think so? “Woof, Woof”

Do you want a biscuit? “Woof, Woof, Woof”

Wanna go for a walk? “Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof” (accompanied by extreme butt wiggling and jumping around).

Well, I may not understand her words but I sure understand the sentiment.

We've settled into routine and our own understandings about who's who and what's what. I get to go out the door first, Stella gets to eat in peace, I can doze a little longer by saying “later”, I don't get whacked with a paw for another chest scratch if I say “no more”.

We have watching the gate at about 5am to make sure the newspaper delivery car drives away.  We have the sunrise's bubbly greeting when we appear for breakfast (actually that's usually Carol). Then there's nap time in one of several spots: the sofa, the pomegranate Sherpa bed, a rug, the window seat or the hard wood floor (I haven't figured that one out yet).

After my 2nd cup of  coffee, an offer for a trip to the cottage / office is time for some enthusiasm because it means a small biscuit for her and Stella. Of course the office is only 300 feet away from the house but no matter, in the course of that trip, there are several stops to see if there are any really stupid squirrels waiting to be had.

Nope. OK.... I'm coming, I'm coming..... and we all troop into the office for more Bouv naps while I twiddle away at my computer.

But Sophie does checks the property periodically through the picture window next to her bed.  And if she spots anything, she follows it from window to window until I let her out for a quick & futile chase. But, boy, can she move fast.

It is funny to watch Sophie & Stella moving in concert. Sophie moves like a fully extending race horse, thundering down the track while Stella trundles along on those stubby little legs of hers. Nevertheless, Sophie keeps an eye on Stella.

Before coming into the house, Sophie will invariably turn around to see if Stella is following. And I noticed something really interesting at the dog park a few days ago.

(At this juncture, let me just say I don't really like dog parks but I have been taking Sophie (and Stella) there to observe Sophie's interaction with other canines.)

If I stand in one place, Sophie protects that territory so her only interaction is “Get away from my space!” which she expresses quite convincingly with a very hard, un-blinking stare just ooozing tough karma. Next a growl if that doesn't work & finally a limited chase to clear the area – the minimum to accomplish what it takes.

But you see, Stella never shares our space. She occupies her own space at a respectable distance from us so I watched, with some bemusement the other day, as Sophie kept an eye on Stella's space too, chasing off  'anyone' who got near her sister. It was very sweet.

Otherwise, Sophie is not into “playing” with the other dogs. Though attentive, she won't run with the pack. She won't chase a ball but she does hang out, sitting or lying before me. And she doesn't cause trouble unless trouble comes to her first. But, in all cases so far, I'm able to control her behavior with very slight modifications to my voice. (Generally, I only whisper commands). It is, however, clear to me that her priority is to guard me.

This became even more evident, by contrast, when I arrived to the Dog Park one day when no one else was there. And to my surprise, both Sophie & Stella quickly left my side, spread out and did a complete tour of the park's perimeter, turning only occasionally to see what I was up to.

On the other hand, riding in the back of my little beemer is a different story. It's quite confining. Stella (my autistic Bouv) MUST lie down in the back seat. Sophie, every alert, likes to sit so she can stick her head out the window or simply watch all the passing 'stuff'. Admittedly my car is NOT the car to transport two Bouvs in for long distances but it can be made to work for short distances & I've let the girls figure out how to manage the limited space.

So this morning, with Stella was in a particularly stubborn mood on her way to the body maintenance salon, she decided to stretch across the entire back seat. Poor, uncomplaining, Sophie was left to stand gingerly on the edge of the seat as I carefully drove to our rendezvous. But half way there, Sophie had had enough so she sat down on Stella. There was no skirmish or outburst but Stella got the message & sat up to give Sophie room. Ahhhh, the girls. I love the way they interact with each other.

One other quick observation that has nothing to do with anything. Truman was our food vacuum cleaner. Stella couldn't care less. But Sophie is our bowl cleaner. She licks ALL bowls clean and I do mean clean. They look like they've come out of the dish washer. And sometimes after dinner, I put our soup or dinner plate on the floor so Sophie can polish off what little is left. (These are not really fattening left overs as we eat very healthy.)

To end this edition of Sophie's Diary the way it began -- that is with communication -- I must relate the following:

We had finished eating dinner, had placed the plates on the counter & had left the kitchen to do something. When Carol returned to the kitchen, Sophie was sitting, staring at the counter where the plates were. As Carol walked in, the Soph let out a loud bark, still looking directly at the dinner plates. Only a real dummy could have misconstrued that message. And so it goes.....

Y'all come back now, ya heah!

Diary of a Southern Belle - Recall 17 Days After Adoption

Sophie - Diary of a Southern Belle

Sophie is one of those Bouvs, given the freedom & opportunity, will take over -- the sofa, the pillow, the house. In short order -- in less than two weeks -- she has mastered the household schedule & is beginning to herd on a time table, i.e. it's time to eat dinner at the table, you've sat too long so it's time to leave the table, etc. All very charming until you start wondering who just rescued who.

This occurred to me today as she casually decided she was coming up on the sofa for a snooze even though there are various places for her to sack out. I made a quiet disapproving sound and shook my head "no". Shocked, Sophie turned her head to look behind her to see who I was talking to. Seeing no one, she approached the sofa once again. Same reaction. This time she looked hurt, bowed her head & slowly slunk off to her favorite rug. I think she will survive the trauma tonight.

Meantime we had fun today chasing squirrels, guarding against squirrels, sitting and waiting for some stupid squirrel to make a move, imagining squirrel stew. This is all fine & dandy except I'm also using this time to practice recall. She has been reacting appropriately but today she was pretty casual about the whole exercise which annoyed me. However, I couldn't say anything 'cause I let her get away with it, i.e. I had no absolute control over her.

Going forward, I must get through to her especially at moments when she is distracted just as a safety measure.

Watching her track quite naturally led to our playing a game of "where is your biscuit?". She is picking up on that faster than I anticipated but needs to learn more discipline in the search which I am confident she will.

Two days ago, Sophie -- unhappy with her temporary bedding in the cottage where I work -- approached a sleeping Stella who was luxuriating in her extra large Frongate pomegranate Sherpa bed. There was some room on the edge & Sophie, very gently, pawed at the open area to see if -- like me when she does that -- Stella would move over a little. No dice. Stella is NOT a trained human so Sophie sighed & walked over to mat on the other side of the room. She will be getting her own Frontgate extra large pomegranate Sherpa bed with monogrammed pillow soon but I haven't told her.

I can now confirm that I have, not one but TWO very active Bouvier dreamers. Between them, we hear snores, yips, growls, barks, sighs and witness all kinds of body movements.

And then there are the farts. Stella is not bad on that front but at least she warns us by emitting a sound but NOT Sophie. No. She falls into a blissful sleep & while dreaming about eating a squirrel or some other yummy morsel, an oder begins to float throughout the room. It's not the clearing-the-room kind but it's enough to make me and Carol suspicious of each other before realizing where it is actually coming from.

Sophie's eating, drinking and bathroom habits are all stellar. And she has her bone(s). After meals, Stella gets her beard cleaned and combed and so does Sophie who for the moment is sans beard but I want her used to the exercise when her beard grows in. Then they get their teeth brushed. And so it goes. Just another day in the Rifkinson household.

Take care y'all.

Sophie > Sun & Mon (Days 3-4)

Sophie literally has no tail so she wiggles her butt but she does talk and, believe it or not, we had a conversation yesterday. I talked to her, she answered. She also slept with me last night, not so cute because (1) she's a very active dreamer and (2) she takes up A LOT of room.

She now opens the door to my office on her own. She barks when she wants to come in the house if I'm not with her. She has not had a bathroom accident. She wanders the property at will, barks @ the next door neighbor's dog and air sniffs.

She & Stella are on the same schedule & this morning they went out together -- in the dark -- did their thing in privacy, wandered on a smelling expedition & came running home when called. It's funny watching them run together. Sophie lopes, Stella scrambles on her cute, stubby legs.

Yesterday, Sunday, I took Stella on some morning errands to give her some special time with me while leaving Sophie with Carol to bond & get used to my NOT being around ALL the time. Sophie and Carol went for a run.... well, Carol ran while Sophie trotted alongside.

You've got to understand that the Soph has legs that go on forever. In a different life she might have been a Radio City Rockette or a pantyhose model. Instead she's a dog with looooong legs. To give you an idea take a look at these historic photos of the early Bouviers

Then look @ Burton here. Smart.... and what an athlete he was !! And so different from the current crop of American Bouviers.

Anyway, after my errands & Carol's run, we met at a local coffee shop. The shop has tables outside where people walk by, cars drive by, i.e. there's lots of action. Stella is used to this so I had her lie down & told Sophie to down next to her & I watched Sophie's reaction as people walked by & cars moved in & out of parking spots, not 5 yards from her nose. 

She looked on with interest but no real reaction. As it happened some friends came by to chat so I stood up to talk to them while maintaining Sophie in the down position. (Stella I don't worry about as she stays until released.) No problem. At one point there were 5-6 people gathered in a knot, towering over her. Again no problem (Truman might have been growling quietly in similar circumstances). After about an hour of this, we went home where Sophie played outside on her own before choosing to go into the house.

In the afternoon I suggested that Carol & I follow our oft routine of going to the movies. We said bye-bye to both girls & left them with the run of the house. By the time we returned home 3+ hours later, it was pitch black.

As Carol approached the house, we heard barking -- not from one, but from two Bouvs. One in the dining room looking watching through the french doors, the other in the kitchen looking through the little glass panes. Stella exited first, then Sophie.

I was waiting at the end of the driveway & made my presence known with a "Hi girls!". Stella trotted down to my location but Sophie charged, full tilt in my direction. If she had hit me, I would have been flattened by her 110-120#. OMG, what a greeting!! Wiggle butt, talking, jumping around. I had to make room for Stella's greeting as Sphie surrounded me. <whew>

This is a very smart girl, this Sophie. She is very communicative. She will offer a paw if she wants to be scratched. She sits & looks directly in my eyes if she wants attention. She is learning to sit to wait for dinner. With a slight correction She now allows me to exit a door first. She comes when she is called but not yet 100%. She offers kisses in trade for a butt scratch. She was fairly patient when I started to thin out her undercoat although she is a bit sensitive about her upper legs. Well, what girl isn't sensitive about her thighs?

After dinner we comb her non-existent beard (to get her used to it) as we comb Stella's luxurious beard nightly. Then I brush Sophie's teeth w/o a problem, thanks to her foster parents. Finally it's time to rest but she is always attentive to sounds & movement around the house. 

However, when she finally falls fully asleep, she sleeps like the dead. And getting up is a chore. It's like waking a teenager to go to school. Let's just say she's a slooow riser. My hope is that -- should we have an intruder -- s/he will not come in middle of Sophie's REM sleep because there will be no more Sophie/Stella diaries.

The Yin & Yang of a weekend trip to Washington, DC

Carol and I traveled to Washington, DC ostensibly to attend a wedding. We had some free time & there were a few sites we both wanted to visit between our social obligations.

On Friday afternoon, in the blazing sun, we walked to the Vietnam Memorial wall. On the way there we ran into a friendly squirrel.

Calling it a wall is sort of a misconception, at least to us. While it is a wall, it is set into the side of a berm, i.e. it was not a free standing wall which we had always imagined it to be. This did not take away from its simple beauty or tragic symbolism. 

As we walked along it in respect of those who were sacrificed, I told Carol that what saddened me most was knowing that 35,000 of those 'names' became eligible for their etching only after the start of peace talks between the United States & the Republic of North Vietnam. 

The two sides first had to first decide on the location for the negotiation, then the shape of the table the negotiators were to sit at & other such important items before getting into the protracted peace talks which where punctuated by extra U.S. bombing runs to make a negotiation point, the suspension of the talks & the return to talks, a dance that went on  for years so everyone could save 'face'.

Saturday morning started with a cholesterol filled breakfast (eggs benedict) & a cooler walk to the National Holocaust Museum. It was crowded, many of the vistors where young. I guess that's a good thing but I couldn't imagine how these kids were going to absorb what they were to read & what they would see.

In the museum lobby, you take an ID card which contains the photo and the story of a person who died in the holocaust. My person was a Polish Jew named Chaim Engel. When the Germans invaded Poland, they sent him to Germany as a slave laborer. In 1940 he was shipped back to Poland but immediately deported to the Sobibor death camp. There a small prisoner revolt took place; Chaim stabbed his overseer (to death) while screaming the name of his father & his mother & others murdered with each thrust of the knife. Chaim escaped into the dense forest where he hid out until the war ended. After living in Europe & Israel, he emigrated to the U.S. in 1957.

At the start, the museum is dark and foreboding. No natural light filters through the steel covered windows.

The tour beings on the forth floor and wends its way down an irregular ramp which takes you through different spaces of exhibits, photos, videos, news reels, clothes, hair, films, objects (large & small) in a time line from the rise of the Nazi Party to the present.

But to give you an inkling of the intensity is to describe traveling to the fourth floor in a crowded industrial-like stainless steel elevator; to me a reflection of the gas chambers that were used to poison groups of un-suspecting prisoners. At some level I felt some relief when the doors opened on the fourth floor.

The story of the Jew's descent into hell begins with Kristallnacht (the night of broken glass) and continues as the race laws were enacted, destroying Jewish life & dignity bit by bit before destroying bodies and minds. Then came the camp experience told by survivors via film & audio recordings. Next the liberation as seen by the troops and here I have to pause for a moment to describe one video that impacted me deeply but I didn't know it until later when it hit me like what I imagine PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) episode must be like. 

When the allies reached Auschwitz & Bergen-Belsen & other camps, the Nazis had not had enough time to destroy all the 'evidence' of their atrocities so the allied soldiers found piles of dead bodes which had not yet been burned along with mountains of shoes & hair, and brushes & spoons. Oh yes, there were the odd skeletal survivors & one can only marvel at the strength of the body to survive such horrors. 

To avoid disease, the allied army was tasked with buring the piled dead bodies in mass graves. This was accomplished using bulldozers so there I stood watching a video of these bulldozers pushing piles of emaciated corpses into a mass grave & covering them with dirt. 

Then came the story of how no one would accept the refugees from these camps who had nothing, some left without their dignity nor a shred of clothing to hide their bodies. Not the United States, no country really, so Jewish organizations set up camps for these people to heal & to get organized before moving on.

We walked through narrow hallways with photos from ceiling to floor on both sides of people who had lived in the shtetls (villages) before the war, the names of these shtetls engraved in glass to be glanced at as we moved along. Then the names of the inhabitants of the shtetls also etched in glass. Some light could now be seen as we approached the end of this tragic journey. 

But just before we reached the first floor, there was a vast bright and almost empty room save some simple stone benches & an eternal flame. There were only a very few people in there. 

It was the remembrance room where people could sit and meditate, to think about what they had just seen & heard, to think about relatives or friends, or friends of friends, or relatives of friends, or period stories read & to consider some of the more recent ethnic cleansing in Europe and Africa. 

It reminded me of the a room in the Jersalem Halacoust Museum -- a room of eternal flames -- a number of them placed on the floor below a low, wooden, viewing balcony, each flame representing a remembrance of the thousands of Jews lost in each country conquered by the Nazi war machine. 

I started to enter the Washington Holocaust remembrance room & felt a sudden need to stop as though a strong hand was in front of me, preventing me from entering. Mind you, this was all in nano seconds. But I turned away overwhelmed by an enormous emotion, a sorrow, so huge that it left me with the greatest urge to burst into tears but I managed to keep myself together. Carol must have seen something on my face & asked if I was all right. I couldn't talk. I could only shake my head. 

Outside we sat on a stone bench, watched children lined up waiting for their tour to begin, and talked about other things: the weather, what we would do next, the back timing necessary to get to the chuch on time. After a few minutes we walked back to the hotel. 

Four thirty in the afternoon found us at the little yellow church near the White House for a lovely wedding ceremony followed by cocktails, dinner, speeches & dancing. 

The date was May 22rd & it wasn't until many hours later that I flashed on my 97 year old father being buried about six weeks before, his coffin in the hole in the ground; everyone throwing shovels full of earth into the hole to cover the coffin which contained his body, emaciated by old age. He would have been 98 on May 23rd.

Maybe We'll Leave Ridgefield

Eleven years ago Carol & I moved to Ridgefield CT after seventeen years in beautiful Pound Ridge to live in a quaint New England town. This was going to be our last stop. While Ridgefield remains a wonderful town, it's beginning to remind me of what happened to us in New York City.

Many, many years ago we bought into an historic brownstone on an historic street on NYC's upper west side. It was in the 70's between Central Park West & Columbus Avenue. We had a neighborhood watch. People cleaned up after their dogs (before there was a law). Mr. Tiffany had once owned the brownstone across the street & you could see his study, complete with a back lit Tiffany glass ceiling; it was that kind of neighborhood. And it had a mix of all kinds: from folks who had moved there 30-40 years prior to newcomers, renters as well as owners. The Rolling Stones' Keith Richards was a neighbor. So was a well known heart surgeon.

Columbus Avenue was replete with tiny mom & pop shops: dry cleaning, fruit & veggie stands, cheese & hardware stores & the corner newspaper shop where Morris (who owned it) was the only person who cashed personal checks, knew everyone and had everyone's preferred paper ready for them in the morning. There were old styled soda shops with stools and counters, ordinary coffee and lots of mirrors, chrome & vinyl. Richard Ruskay of Ruskay's served reasonably priced, delicious meals to couples in old fashioned booths.

Then the neighborhood got gentrified. Fancy coffee houses, those kitschy little shops sprung up like so many weeds, Morris had to move out to make way for Putamayo and the rest is history. The sidewalks became so crowded with strangers that stepping into the gutter was sometimes necessary just to get by.

The neighborhood had been devoured and so we moved away, having lost the very quality we had bought into, worked hard to preserve and loved so much.

Three in the afternoon.

I went to Starbuck's for a cup of coffee (no, no, no...'a tall latte, no fat' in SB parlance) & a mallorca but they were out of mallorcas. So I had my latte with a chocolate chip cookie outside, facing the sun, perched on a metal Starbuck's chair.

There I sat, sipped, crumbled & tried to immerse myself in my current paperback mystery. The place was bustling with business so I was frequently distracted by what walked by.

After about 30 minutes, I got into my little, black car, its top down & started driving through the connecting 'mallettes' to avoid the afternoon traffic so I could get home to my Bouvs.

Instead something came over me. And rather than tamp it down, I let it go.

I turned into a big, empty parking lot, maneuvered my car to face the sun which was perpendicular to the parking lanes, turned the engine off, moved my seat waaay back & took out my book to read some more.

The sun was warm, a gentle breeze blew by. Soon I placed the open book on my chest & took a delicious nap right there in the parking lot.

Then I drove home.