On This Day- August 16th... Junior Comes Home

Butch was dog #3. He came to us as an orphan, as they all do. He was 4 years old when he joined our family & we only had 9 years with him, not long enough.

Butch was a serious & stalwart little dog. In 2004, he broke his foot, but never complained. We never would have known, if we had not noted that one foot was 60 degrees turned outward. Butch was spirited & spry in his squirrel patrol, but in all other ways he was calm & composed canine.

We loved Butch beyond all measure & although his passing was sudden & swift, we grieved deeply when he went to doggie heaven. I still have never really recovered from the loss.

Butch & his Dad, July 2007

I waited an acceptable 3 days before orphan #4 joined us at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. I had told myself that I was open to another dog & I would take my time to find another deserving orphan needing a home. But, there he was on Craigslist in my first minute of searching. The post told the sad tale: in the countryside, outside of Portland, the little Jack Russell mix had been tied to a tree with a lead of rope, for a year. The trucker who had him would bring the young dog food & water, but not much else. A neighbor of this pitiful puppy, explained to me: “Out in the country, we don’t tell each other what to do with our animals, but I just couldn’t take seeing him every day, all alone, with no love & no activity. So I dognapped him & I need for someone to take him fast so that I can take down the Craigslist post & not get found out.”

I emailed this animal savior, telling him that I was at home & I would meet this terrier. I said yes to the dog staying with us on first glance, even though the first thing the little dog did on arrival was vomit.

For the first 36 hours, I thought that the new terrier might have escaped, but then I would spy him out of the corner of my eye as he skittered around the edges of the back garden. On day 3, while I was sitting in the Boys’ Fort, the dog cautiously approached me & laid his head on my knee. I looked down at him & started to speak, but he was gone in a flash. But, the next approach lasted longer, & the next longer still.

He came with the name- Junior & we decided that was a name that was fine by us. He had been through enough in his first year of life without having a name change, the only one of the 6 dogs that we have shared our lives with to not be christened with a new moniker. Junior. It fit him.

The poor Husband has never had a say in the choosing of a dog. Starting with a terrier mix by the name of baby in 1985, I have brought each of them home, often with no discussion. I mean, I don’t rearrange the furniture & he doesn’t choose the children. The Husband has been devoted to & delighted by each of our orphans.

Only 3 days after Butch’s taking leave, Junior was a part of the family. Like Butch, he is strong & stouthearted, but unlike Butch, he is a little slow. I see so much of his predecessor in him, but of course, Junior is his own animal.

Junior started life living outside with no comforts & no attention. Now he sleeps on pillows & is reminded that he is loved every day. Junior has been a member of our family & a resident at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia for 5 years today, August 16^th. 

Post Apocalyptic Bohemian Dog Days Of August

With Portland temperatures in the upper 90s for the week, my family just sacks out for the day.

Family Therapy

This weekend, after a number of problems raised their little heads in an attempt to destroy our family, at my insistence (being the only rational one), we had a long session of Family Therapy with the renowned Dr. Shlomo Sectshual.

After indulging the good doctor in some role playing & trust exercises, we each were able to open up. The very essence of each family member can be distilled in the following:

Stephen:"I believe that it is a cosmic mistake that I do not have my own TV show, magazine, bestselling book, plus the #1 dance single in the country..."

The Husband: "I am not looking for power or money or success. I am looking for aesthetic balance."

Lulu: "I have abandonment issues..."

Junior:"I never got enough love in my childhood."

Henry: “I finally became tired of being a passed around pussy.”

Ah, Shit!

I get a lot of our dog walks. I really get to take in the neighborhood homes & gardens in a way I cannot from an automobile or even walking briskly on my own, because dogs stop to sniff & investigate the world.

Yesterday morning it was sunny & warm in Portland, a near perfect day for the celebration of the resurrection & what should have been an exceptional dog walk was marred when Junior, who could have done it anywhere on the trip, stopped & pooped a huge load on a lovely, manicured green lawn, filled with children in their Easter best, having an egg hunt.

Not only did Junior choose this spot to do his business, but as the grown-ups on the porch glowered at me, I noted that Junior was sporting a impressive big red rocket of a canine erection at the same time that he donating his feces to the event. Picking up those poops was a humbling experience.

Mi Famiglia

The Power Of Pussy

I am compelled to come out of the closet. I was afraid of what society would think. I needed to face my own self loathing. I have known for some time, but I have not been strong or honest. I have stood on the sidelines as friends & co-workers came out publicly, only to be ostracized, ridiculed, fervently prayed over, & physically harmed. It didn’t take long to learn who their friends were, who tolerated them, & who would no longer have anything to do with them. But now I that I am coming out of the closet, I am discovering strength & spirit.

I feel it is my responsibility to give my top reasons to come out of the closet.

1. Honesty – You just don’t wake up one day & discover that there is something “different”... well, maybe you do. For me it was a process, like baking a cake–except here you don’t get to lick the spoon. Coming out offers you an opportunity to live an honest lifestyle. Some people will say: “It’s nobody’s concern”, except this is a big part of your own experience & that regardless of what you think, it is already everybody’s business. Coming out isn’t about the world, it’s about you. If you decide to come out, consider all the pressures that are lifted; no more lying, sneaking, or carrying the guilt. It’s that negative part of “the secret” that adds to stigma that is wrong. Revaluate why you keep hiding it. To be honest with yourself will give you power.

2. Increased Self-Esteem – Something happens after you come out. You discover other people just like you & you no longer feel isolated from the world. You feel better about yourself & your decision, which adds value to your life. Looking in the mirror becomes a beautiful thing & it gets better with time. You are not a stereotype.

3. The Power of Tolerance – Coming out not only frees you from the bonds of secrecy but it also prepares you for the rest of your  life & all it throws at you. You become more tolerant towards others. Now that I am open, I try to be tolerant of those struggling with their issues but it isn’t always easy. You realize that once upon a time you were having the same issues & magically out of nowhere, the tolerance arrived like fairy dust.

4. Accept It – Although it doesn’t define you, it is a new part of your life & only a small part of who you are. You are like a pie chart & it’s up to you to divide that pie & assign the values. Is this going to take up 1% of your existence or 99%? There’s no correct value & it will fluctuate from time to time depending on what’s going on in your life. But no matter how much value you assign to your new acceptance, avoid the things that feel dangerous or uncomfortable.


So right here, on my little spot on the Internet. I want the world to know that I am an out & proud… I have a cat. Yes, I have a cat. I can say it. I am moving past the embarrassment & shame.

Oh, no! There is a cat in the house!

Nearly a year ago, & with his harrowing hard luck story, we allowed RCK to live in our basement rather than under bridges & in parks. He brought with him, his ancient cat. RCK did something very bad & he is now in prison, leaving his few belongings & his feline in our basement.

Henry is a sagacious, very old cat with a sweet disposition. With RCK gone, I explained to The Husband that Henry could live us. I was not about to have him put down, & finding a home for a 16 year old cat on Craigslist appeared futile. So, Henry stays. But, I was firm that he would live in the basement. We could bring him upstairs on occasion & even outside if we were sitting in the back garden. I felt that Henry would be content & glad not to be on the streets. We have a nice, clean, dry basement & Henry made a cozy spot for himself on a shelf of stored linen.


Lulu was indifferent to Henry, but Junior was not happy one little bit. He hated the cat & for hours, he would stare through our glass door to the basement landing with the cat on the other side.

Leaving the basement door ajar, Henry started sneaking upstairs. Over time he insinuated himself into the traffic & rhythms of the main floor & was soon napping on the backs of the daybeds. There were hisses & growls, Henry had his tail nipped & Junior had his face slapped. Lulu rose above the fray.

Now, we are a family of 5. I was able to say to strangers: “I have a husband, 2 terriers & a very lucky old cat… that’s right, I am out & proud & I have a cat.

A Late Winter Day At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

With 12 days before the official start of Spring, Portland enjoyed our nicest day of 2012, so far, with a high of 65 & sunny skies. I had one window & the French Doors of the bedroom wide open. Lulu & Junior both found a spot in the sun.

This is the space we named The Back Room. We spend a great deal of time here, each of us having our own daybed, used for TV watching, reading & naps. At the start of 2012, The Husband & I switched daybeds, after half a decade, just to prove that we could be zany. On the walls are an architectural piece from a built into the wall bed, Flemish, early 18th century, & across the room is a Belgian tapestry, an early 20th century replica of a medieval piece.

Junior

Details From Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The terriers each found a spot in the sun. Let me introduce Lulu (above) & Junior (in the photograph below).

Greetings!

There is nothing nearly as warming as being greeted by your dogs. After a full day of attempting to make happy: shoppers, staff, supervisors & spouses, nothing says love like the delirious delight of the “welcome home, I missed you so much! I missed you so much! Your home!” from a canine.

I give the love back. I can talk the terriers into a sort of hypnotic state, with the incantation of: “what a good dog…daddy loves you so much… you are so adorable.” Lulu & Junior’s eyes will roll back in their heads & their taut little bodies will ripple as I stroke them. If only Husbands could be lulled in the same manner.

Dog Day

I have long imagined what the canines do when we are not with them at home. I brought in a doggie cam to catch them in action. I have now glimpsed into a day at home with Junior & Lulu.

When we get home from a walk they receive a cookie & then I leave for work. I had always imagined them napping & awakening to only pace & look at the window waiting for the daddies to come home. But, I was mistaken. This doggie duo heads for the back room the moment the front door closes. Junior & Lulu watch TV! They start with the Kathy Lee & Hoda hour of the Today Show while enjoying a little Chardonnay. Then they take their next nap.

After awaking & doing a bit of stretching, they partake of the doggie bong. They eat cookies while settling in for Ellen & Anderson, They prefer their talk shows to be hosted by homos. They have a little shot of whiskey & are at times, distracted by a squirrel sighting.

Next up is the parade of toys. They remove each plaything & distribute the the goods around the house in what they think is a casual manner. In late afternoon, Junior licks his balls as Lulu keeps a lookout for one of us to return.

Orphans...#3 In A Series

He came into our lives in a blistering blaze with the salacious swagger of a porn star, because he used to be, well… a porn star.

RCK plopped into our lives on Memorial Day weekend, the very start of the summer of 2007. Summer 2007 was pitched perfectly. Each day brought temperatures in the high 80s, incandescent afternoon sun in the cerulean sky reflected back on the slate colored Willamette & Columbia Rivers. The 3 of us would spend every free afternoon naked on the beach at Sauvie Island. The Husband was mahogany by Labor Day, & even my redhead PSF 70 skin turned the color of toast. Our trio would sun, read, walk on the beach, sip vodka lemonade & smoke some pot. We would return to town in the evening to nap in the Boys’ Fort before going bar hopping at night.

Our relationship with RCK ended as the summer of 2007 ended, on Labor Day weekend & it ended badly. A terrible riff developed between RCK & The Husband & because I always have my husband’s back, I took his position. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Through the years RCK would call me or email me asking for a get together, but I never seemed to find the time & eventually he informed me that I just wasn’t a good enough friend to continue, news to me since I had understood that we were quitsville.

RCK had met a new friend after our days together. This friend's name is Crystal Methamphetamine & she is a real bitch. RCK eventually lost his job, his home, his much loved Cadillac, his motorcycle & all his friends. He contacted me a year ago begging me to meet him somewhere, insisting that he needed to see me.

At a café in my neighborhood, RCK told the tale of loosing it all, sleeping in parks & under bridges, nights in jail, a suicide attempt & having to give away his beloved feline Henry. I can be a tough cookie, but the part about giving his cat away made me cry. I gave him $50 & explained if the weather was frightful, as it can be in Portland, he could sleep at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia.

The Husband, who has the sense of charity of a nun, went further & allowed RCK to shower & do his laundry at our home. The Husband made RCK his project & took to giving him rides to appointments & treatments. He helped RCK acquire a small subsidized apartment & moved him in. RCK got Henry back & all seemed to be hopeful for just a moment.

RCK's misfortune managed to somehow continue as he lost the apartment, his laptop was stolen, his cell phone disappeared, along with any promise of confidence or hopefulness.

The Husband fixed a really sweet little bedroom for RCK in our basement, against my wishes. RCK & Henry moved in this spring. It all went better than I would have ever assumed. RCK insisted that he was clean & was tested weekly.

He would leave in the evening & sometimes not reappear for days. Yet, RCK was kind to the dogs & he cleaned the house like no one ever had. When he was present he cleaned daily, including waxing the cork floors in the kitchen, Murphy’s soap on the hardwoods, the bathroom sparkled, the ceilings de-cobwebbed; he even washed & disinfected the garbage cans. He washed, dried & folded our laundry nearly every day that he was at the house. It was not really a surprise, when RCK had a home it was spic & span spotless. I was uneasy, but could hardly be unhappy with his residency.

Poor Henry had to live in the basement because Junior the dog desires to kill him. Henry will sometimes sit on the landing & Junior will smell him & whine & growl on the other side of the basement door. We would keep the dogs inside & allow Henry to be in the back garden & in the Boys’ Fort. He loves to be with us & sit in the sun. Henry is at least 16 years old. He is a very primordial, perspicacious, prudent & peaceful pussy.

RCK traveled to another city in the Willamette Valley on a late August evening. He did something bad. Very Bad. He is now an inmate at a county jail awaiting trial. He will most likely go to prison. I can't imagine how frightened he is right now.

Henry is still with us, still in the basement. I sat with him in the Boys' Fort on this perfect first day of autumn. He purred. Junior sat in the window, wounded by attention paid to his feline nemesis.

Before Larry Dog left us on Sunday, we had 2 months of actually having 3 dogs & a cat at Post apocalyptic Bohemia. I remain surprised we were not tapped for Animal Hoarders on TLC.

All Dog Stories Have The Same Ending

Larry Dog

1998-2011

It is a heartbreaking, crushing sensation to schedule your dog's death, but that is what we had to do. One could think that I would be somewhat hardened by experience, having had to schedule the endings of 2 other dogs before him. Only Butch (1992-2007) went suddenly. It was a blessing. The horror of scheduling Larry's demise was that everything was a "last": his last Thursday, his last Friday, his last full day, his final "last call for potty", his last cookie.

Larry, like so many animals & people in our lives, was an orphan. To be fair, Larry was much loved by his original family, who decided to give him up because he was nipping at the toddler. Jack Russell Terriers, cute though they may be, are not the best dog for a household with children. They do not have the patience of a Lab or Golden Retriever, having their tails pulled & being rode like a pony.

Larry's first family were distraught over the choice of giving him, but relieved that he was going to a terrier keen couple who would provide him with a loving home with lots of walks & lots of cookies. Larry would be our 4th terrier.

Larry was the Eric Cartman of canines (I hope you understand the South Park reference): entitled, perpetually petulant, food obsessed & sassy. He would actually grumble under his breath as he walked across the room. Larry was as tenacious as any terrier I have encountered. We were initially timorous at his ultra-terrier comportment, often stubborn & selfish. His original family stopped to visit him once after had been with us 3 years, & we were shocked that he behaved as an angel dog in their presence. When they left he immediately started to swear under his doggy breath: "god damn it, ggggrrr... give me a cookie & let's get back to the business of making me fulfilled, you gay daddies!"

Larry was not an affectionate dog, but he had his tender moments. He was very sweet on The Husband & The Husband would start each day with about 15 minutes of tummy & ear rubs & kisses with him, but soon Larry would have enough & he would give a huff of exasperation, saying to us: "I hate this mushy stuff. If you truly love me, you would give a caboodle of cookies!"

Lulu is our 6th dog in our 32 years as a couple. I surmise what it must be like to have several children. You love them all, but you love them differently. Larry was very different in personality & presence from the other 5 dogs: Overweight, hairy, spoiled, outspoken, lazy, & foul-mouthed. I know what you must be thinking... Larry seemed to be the perfect dog match for me. Junior is thin, sensitive & damaged by his past, making him an excellent match for The Husband. But Larry was very loved by me, especially loved by The Husband & amusing to our circle of friends.

Like those before him, we had the doctor come to our house so that his last moments would not be in a sterile, brightly lit room. He was in the home that he loved to be in (Larry was loath to go outside, if he could be inside on a pillow). His daddies had been crying for days. The past 8 weeks, Larry's hind legs no longer worked. We would carry him outside to pee. He would go about the house dragging his hind end, using his front legs only. He looked like a big dust mop.  At the end Larry was often not able to let us know that he needed to go out & we were left to deal with his "accidents" for several months.

Why do I feel the need to still convince myself that we are doing the right thing? Why is my heart so broken?

Good-bye, Larry Dog. You were loved. I will always think of you, you will not be forgotten. Give your buddy Butch (dog # 3) a butt sniff when you cross over to the other side. He has been waiting for you.

2006

Butch is in the background

Before he got too old, Larry liked to be king of the hill & sat atop the furniture.

His best friend was The Husband. Here is reminding Larry to wear sunscreen while tanning.

CSI: Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

Junior & Lulu at couples counseling

Early this morning, while having tea in the Boys' Fort, The Husband committed himself to cutting Junior's nails, something that in the past has been done by professionals. He unintentionally cut into the quick & the poor little canine was bleeding. I took him for a long walk thinking he would stop with the bleeding by our return & the cool, clean, condensation of the grass in the park would feel good on his toes.

When we returned home, Junior seemed to be doing well. I drove The Husband to a job in NW Portland & when I returned I opened the door to what looked like a crime scene. Nearly ever surface was stained with blood, including the white shag rug in the front room, the newer sofa, the antique Belgian, circa 1820s, sofa, the wooden floors, the rug in the back room... blood splatters everywhere.

I was able to clean & recover everything with a terrific product- Nature's Little Miracle stain remover, but it took me hours of blotting to get the place recovered. I haven't spent that much time on my knees since the summer of 2007, another story for another day.

Junior & Lulu Have An Afternoon Nap At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The Escape Artist

LuLu has been in residence at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia for 18 days & she has managed to escape & take flight 5 times. She, shockingly, got out of the back garden on her first day. This fenced garden has held Butch & Sister, the 2 Jack Russells that moved with us to Portland from Seattle a decade ago. This urban oasis has been a safe haven for Larry & Junior for years. We have had the luxury of leaving the sliding doors to the garden pass-through open for canines to come & go as they please. Now they must be escorted to the garden as we attempt to ascertain LuLu's modus operandi & doggie deceit.

On the first escape, with the husband hunting the'hood in hysteria, the tiny terrier turned up on a 6 foot fence post looking like a condor or as if she was playing canine charades & her word was- gargoyle.  We had been in full-tilt frenzy because Little LuLu didn't yet have a collar & tag (since remedied).

LuLu

The #1 narrative was that the little squirt was jumping the 4 foot fence with ease. The Husband has been adding 8 foot bamboo poles lashed to the chain link fence in 6 inch intervals, but I can't conceive of my keeping calm about LuLu being unattended in the back garden.

The Husband contemplates the escape route

Junior, who has never bolted in the 4 years he has been here, did just that. The front door opened a fragment, Junior jumped over Larry the dog & took off down the street, naked! It took the unhappy Husband several blocks to nab him. It seems that LuLu had a trifling talk with Junior & compelled him to sprint down the street with a daddy giving chase. LuLu let on that this was just a boisterous blast of a good time. Bitch!

Such a very nice garden for a little orphaned dog to hang out in...

Sing Out, Louise!

Orphans. We always seem to have one, but in the summer of 2011 we have 2, a canine & human. I will post about both of them, but the canine orphan's tale is a more sanguine story, so it goes first.

Larry, the dog, moved into Post Apocalyptic Bohemia a few months after Sister, our tiny terror of a terrier left us at age 16. A tough one, that Sister, even to the end. Putting her down was an agonizing decision. It is never easy to decide when to say good-bye to an animal friend, they rely on us for that choice, & I never want to have to make it. At the end, Sister's body was that of a dog half her age & she had no disease, no cancer, & no arthritis. But she was deaf & demented. Sister would find herself in a corner & not be able to figure out how to leave, she would walk in a small circle for hours. Heartbreakingly, Sister didn't seem to know who we were in her final months.

Larry was a rescue dog. He was a baby biter & I of course felt some affinity for this orphan. I am also drawn to biting a baby, babies are both aggravating & appetizing. He came to live with us when he was 8 years old & he recently turned 14. Larry is not the most lovable canine. He is a corpulent, cantankerous, covetous cur. He is the Eric Cartman of tail-waggers.  Still, it is woeful to watch Larry loose the use of his back legs & he has cancerous growths that take away from his masculine good looks. Larry's entire focus in life is food. He will be with us until he has no interest in eating. Then we will know it will be Larry's time to leave.

 The Husband holding a very rasty Larry. Enjoy... the Husband will make me remove this photo & I will have a reckoning.

A week ago, my handsome, sexy, talented friend Bryan tossed off: "Do you & your husband think you could take on another terrier?" I was a bit taken aback because the Husband & I had recently admitted that we were not looking for another dog, there would be no visiting of shelters or looking online, but if a hardluck story should plop in our lives, we might be able to be Daddy Warbucks for a canine Little Orphan Annie.

She was dropped off at the animal shelter in Tillamook, Oregon, by a family in an RV, saying that they just didn't want her anymore. The shelter is not a "no kill" shelter & because they lack funding in the current economy, this shelter does not hold on to animals long before doing them in. My buddy Bryan's charming mother volunteers at the shelter & she understood that this little female terrier deserved one more chance & decided to foster her rather than leave her on Death Row with the Pit Bulls.

  Her first moment in her new home

Meeting her new family

 Seemingly stunned by the promise of her fortunate future

She has been with us for only 24 hours, but she seems to sense that she has hit the doggy lotto jackpot. I have brought home all our dogs, with the Husband never having had a say in that decision. But, he has chosen all of our animal family's names. He has dubbed her- Louise. She came with the name- Snickers, but I couldn't abide saying Snickers because it was a name I was bestowed with in kindergarten, & the situation that brought me that moniker is still to painful to think about 55 years later (it had something to do with my inability to make it to the bathroom in time).

We have long ago shortened Junior's name to June... so now we have June & Louise. If you catch that reference, you are in my club.

Dainty June & Baby Louise

She already has my heart, the Husband's too.

Every little breeze seems to whisper 'Louise.'
Birds in the trees seem to twitter 'Louise.'
Each little rose tells me it knows I love you.
Every little beat that I feel in my heart
Seems to repeat what I felt at the start.
Each little sigh tells me that I adore you, Louise.
Just to see & hear you is joy I never knew,
But to be so near you thrills me through & through.
Anyone can see why I wanted your kiss.
It had to be, but the wonder is this:
Can it be true, someone like you

Could love me, Louise.

Leo Robin

1929

A Little Spin Around Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

I had an unexpected day off today: no obligations, no husband, no agenda, no automobile... just time alone in the house on a blustry spring day to read, Facebook, blog, nap, & cuddle with Junior. Sometimes don't you just desire some alone time & a rare chance to "just be"? 

Before

After

(You can click on any image to enlarge)

The Husband on the other hand, can hardly stay still. On his own day off with the house to himself, he reworked the front room & edited some of the collections. In the winter we use this room for the fireplace, in the summer we move to the back of the house to enjoy the back garden & The Boys' Fort. 

Below are some details from the mantle. More than a half decade ago, the Husband removed the original tiles surrounding the fireplace with the intention of replacing them with mirror tiles. I loved the resulting look so much that I had The Husband put off finishing it. He did silver leaf a corner. The fireplace & mantle have that Post Apocalyptic Bohemian look that I have a passion for. This part of the house seems to be part New Orleans shotgun shack & part Venice Palazzo's decaying sitting room.

The framed ExVotos are early 19th century Venetian, purchased at a favorite junk shop in Venice on our anniversary in 1991.

The crucifix is early 19th century Indian carved ivory, found in a NYC shop that sold goods from India. Also in this tableau are a hand beaded sea anemone (a wedding gift), a piece of coral, & a pencil that belonged to The Husband's sister who, in the beginning of the 1970s, passed away in her early 20s from diabetes.

Mantle details

The Husband collects boxes, possibly to balance my collection of orbs.

Details from one of the Husband's in process assemblages.

The ubiquitous shots of Junior.

I hope you enjoyed the tour. I hope you will come back soon. I feel bad that you didn't have time for a cocktail!