Three’s Company Four’s a Crowd - on a Honeymoon
Plus, a moment of silence, a loud baby bird, a quiz, and a book update
Greetings, I’m glad you are here. In the news today,
A moment of silence for three souls lost to violence
A mysterious noise louder than that of a teenager is identified
A quiz to test your pet and professional creativity
A new collaboration for my memoir
But first, a story…
Steam billowing from the showerhead nudged a soft cedar scent from the bathroom paneling. The spa-like atmosphere had me conjuring images of a shampoo commercial with cascading water that would wash away the grit and stiffness from miles hiked earlier in the day. As I stepped onto the tub floor, I was wrested from my reverie by a disturbance outside the cabin. Who is shouting obscenities in the middle of our quiet woods? I pulled my wet foot from the warmth so I could balance over the toilet to peer out the window.
Joe and I had just celebrated the first day of our honeymoon. A cerulean sky and peak autumn leaves served as backdrop for a week of adventure in a national forest in northern Wisconsin. Happy energy had filled the three of us – me, Joe and our dog Snuka. While the offers to care for Snuka during our vacation had been plenty, it didn’t seem right to leave him behind. He had trekked beside us through two years of dating.
Snuka’s food and toys were packed alongside our kayaks and hiking boots for our first official family trip. Joe and I were running on little sleep and dwindling adrenaline. Snuka was wound tight like a top ready to spin. In the first hour on a remote trail, he chased a squirrel up a tree trunk before he realized he wasn’t a cat. He slid like a cartoon character to the ground, bounced with a grin, and sprinted down the trail untethered, zigging and zagging and adding more miles than the two of us combined. He rattled a pair of bounding deer, nosed a turtle sunning on a log, and snuffled countless golf balls buried in fallen leaves in the course carved out of a forested valley. Thank goodness Snuka had been firmly leashed at our side when we encountered a bear at our cabin door.
My friend, Loree, believes we don’t find animals, they find us. Snuka followed me into my life on a sunny spring day during college senior week. Students with little to do littered the grassy quads bathing in the sun and tossing the Frisbee. As I crossed through the chaos to the cafeteria, I spotted a wide-eyed smiling dog. Lured by his resemblance to a stuffed animal one might see in a Christmas window at the department store, I stopped a moment to pat his very furry head. I didn’t think anything more was communicated in this short gesture. Two minutes later with my cafeteria tray in hand, I caught a flash of fur at my feet in line at the salad bar. I took him outside, patted his head, and thanked him for the laugh. Three hours later and through two sets of steel doors he found me again on the other side of campus. I had just returned a set of dumbbells to the weight rack when I caught a glimpse of his generous smile reflected in the mirror.
We took our first walk with an extension cord loosely tied around his neck. During the second walk we upped our distance from one block to two since walking made him happy. After a month of searching for his past home, he found a new one with me. I bought a leash and collar and engraved a silver-plated tag with his name.
Snuka became the model to which all future dogs in our life were compared. He wasn’t just committed to the act of obedience. He genuinely loved people and the reward of praise. Yet the scene unfurling outside my steamy bathroom window was not what anyone would expect from our never-before disobedient dog. My new husband was pitching rocks to the side of Snuka who was barking at a hissing racoon perched on a low branch of a yielding tree. Snuka and tree were planted in tar-black muck at the deep bend of a meandering river.
Alarmed, I wrapped myself in a towel and darted out the back door. With one hand holding my towel, I used the other as a megaphone. I joined Joe in yelling at our crazed dog who seemed to have developed selective hearing for the call of the wild. Snuka eventually capitulated and trudged toward me and Joe. A bounce soon returned to his step and smile reappeared as if treeing the masked bandit had been victory enough.
With the fear of dog versus racoon diminished, my new husband realized his new wife was standing before him in the Northwoods with nary a stitch of clothing. He was amused. I was not. I dragged our foul smelling dog to the tub. Two hours and one bottle of shampoo later, the last patch of dog hair was released from the grasp of the thorny brambles that entwined his Keeshond fur.
We arrived at our dinner destination a quarter hour before close. The room was thinning of patrons, enabling us to nab a choice seat in front of a stone fireplace. As wood crackled and light danced, we dined on a bountiful Wisconsin relish tray and smokey pork chops while laughing about the unique start to our honeymoon and what would become a long-term love affair – with dogs. (FYI, as of this writing, we are 36 years into a love affair of our own!)
This story was originally printed in the summer edition of the Ruff Drafts Newsletter by the Dog Writers Association of America. There are many more stories that make for perfect pool-side reading, including a Mexican street dog who foiled a kidnapping, a cross-country move with a menagerie of pets that became the move from hell, and tips on traveling with dogs while escaping from a hurricane.
A MOMENT OF SILENCE
Three lives were lost in one act of cowardice. Two lives were shattered. Many people now struggle to reconnect jagged pieces of nonsense. I didn’t personally know any of those impacted by last week’s violence, but I do know of their efforts to make the world a better place for people and pets. I bow my head for Rep. Melissa Hortman, her husband Mark, their dog Gilbert, Senator John Hoffman, his wife Yvette, and all the family, friends, and community who are grieving. May tomorrow bring a path towards peace.
A BABY BIRD LOUDER THAN A TEENAGER
I’ve passed by this same section of forest nearly every day of the last 26 years. Last week, I was startled to hear something new. The chirp-like screech is that of a baby yellow-bellied sapsucker. Thank you to my colleague and avid birder, Jim, for the tip.
YOU GET ONE GUESS
Thirty-two people were registered for the one-day Stronger Together retreat in Tifton, Georgia (USA) sponsored by Who Will Let The Dogs Out. Most attendees were animal shelter workers, animal control officers, rescuers, and volunteers. What was the best job title reported on the registration form? The answer is in the Instagram reel below.
MEMOIR UPDATE
Time is marching quickly towards September, and my knees are step, step, stepping in quick succession. Last week I contracted with Michelle Park of Melissa Williams Design to craft the cover for my book Mom Loves the Dogs More: A Memoir of Family Rescue. Our first design meeting reminded me of my food styling days when food stylist, photographer, and creative director collaborated to create something extraordinary. I’m excited to see what comes next.
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My son has a Keeshond named Babka!
Your Snuka. What a gorgeous dog!