dog Archives - Page 2 of 5 - Scooter in the Sticks

Spirit Gureghian — The Dog in the Sidecar

April 16, 2018 by Scooter in the Sticks 10 Comments

Photo of Spirit by Ara Gureghian

The Sad Passing of an Iconic Riding Companion

For any readers familiar with (or not) Ara Gureghian’s blog The Oasis of My Soul you’ll know of his constant riding companion for the last 11 years or so — Spirit. I felt a great sadness today when I read of his passing. Spirit, a rescue dog, occupied a big space in Ara’s life and in the minds of his many readers. When I look at the picture of Spirit with his helmet and goggles I’m reminded of how these creatures become more than an animal or dog. They become part of our lives if you let them, and bestow great gifts to those smart enough to befriend them.

A photograph reveals a lot about how a photographer feels about their subject. Ara’s photo speaks volumes about Spirit.

Michael Beattie, author of Key West Diary, has a fine post about Spirit.

I wish I would have had the chance to meet Spirit. In our occasional correspondence, I always asked that he give Spirit a pat on the head for me.

I’ll give my canine pal Junior a pat on the head in remembrance of Spirit…

Chilly Dogs

January 16, 2018 by Scooter in the Sticks 16 Comments

Frosty Friends

This will be a short post. It’s was 1F again this morning. I was tired, cold and not much in the mood to spend a lot of time outside. Junior and Lily don’t understand those feelings. And in the face of my lack of enthusiasm for throwing the tennis balls, they too matters into their own hands.

I watched them race around the garden chasing each other — back and forth across the property. Slowly, their hot breath took form on their black fur. When I got them to stop for a moment to pose for a photograph, the look in their faces seemed to say, “What’s wrong with you old man?”

Yeah. Really. What’s wrong with me?

Belgian Sheepdog

January 15, 2018 by Scooter in the Sticks 14 Comments

Belgian Sheepdog,Groenendael Type

My dog Junior. A Belgian Sheepdog as considered by the American Kennel Club. Known as a Belgian Shepherd in Europe. The black variety are Groenendaels, a short hair version are Malinois (a favorite of the US military and also used by the US Secret Service to guard the White House), and a brownish, longhair version called is called Tervuren.

Junior is a purebred dog. His sisters are competition champions. Had his ears remained erect, he may have been too and eventually led the life of a gigolo. We’re glad he had faulty ears and was able to come live with us.Continue Reading

Dog of My Dreams

February 17, 2016 by Scooter in the Sticks 10 Comments

Heart Thieves and Robbers

I have two Belgian Sheepdogs; Junior (left), Sandevel’s Get Out of Town Now, and Lily, Kennaree’s Lily the Hammer. Each has a large, expansive role in my consciousness and commands measures of love and attention most people only dream about.

So it is with the power of the canine.

Only one is the dog of my dreams.

Junior Comes to Town

Junior was 13 months old when he was spirited away from his canine mother and siblings to join our clan. The memories of that day, the look in his eyes, when I put him on a leash and walked him out the door to travel 600 miles to a new life. On a good day I tell myself he has a great life. On other days I feel like a kidnapper.

It’s a dog’s life.

Part of the Family

Junior bonded to me immediately and can make me feel more important and special than I have right to feel. Thick as thieves, we wander life together. In winter, summer, spring and fall, man and dog together, part of the family, part of the world.

Junior loves the snow. I used to.

Touching Roots

Nine months ago Lily the Hammer came to visit. Permanently. I’m not sure Junior realizes the connection to his roots. Lily is his niece, daughter of his sister Chloe, granddaughter of McKenna and Bing – Junior’s mother and father. Dogs work on you, slowly, consistently, inching their way into your life and then your heart, setting you up for catastrophic pain and anguish. The price of admission to the world of dogs

Each time I pay I swear the price is too dear. But in the cold, hard light of day – worth ever penny to have the dog of my dreams.

Handsome Man

Junior has a special presence. He knows things. He sees things. It’s the kind of stuff every dog owner says about their dog.

In this case, it’s true.

Really. Junior is the dog of my dreams.

And Lily plays the same role in Kim’s dreams…

Every Leaf Speaks Bliss

November 1, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 22 Comments

A riding intermission pushed other things into awareness. Autumn on the road gave way to the dogs racing through the garden as I pondered the bright yellow Sassafras leaves with my camera. The desire to ride despite a flare of an old back injury finally receded when I surrendered to a battle I could not win on my schedule. And now October has faded into November. Every leaf speaks bliss when I take time to pay attention.

Autumn has always generated a nostalgic energy which colors my thoughts. As a child I recognized the change and loss the came with the season. Now I connect it with the natural cycle of life — in the mirror I see autumn. My body whispers of changes.

A first ride since an old back injury flared and sidelined the Vespa. Pushing the scooter out of the garage hinted of improvement and by the time I stopped to make a photograph I could assess the limits of body and mind.

Junior, our seven year old Belgian Sheepdog (with faulty ears), saw more of me the past two weeks. While I couldn’t ride I could still toss a tennis ball and reach the dog cookies on the counter. It’s easy to understand the positive affect a dog can have on people suffering from myriad ailments.

Thank you Junior.

Vespa GTS scooter in farm field

The biggest physical challenge to riding is sudden, jarring movements. The kind of indifferent attitude I had to where I rode and parked the scooter now is a more careful, studied act. I don’t want to pull the scooter on and off the centerstand several times looking for solid ground. My back demands I do it once.

It was cold during the ride — 37F when I departed. The heavy sky didn’t seem to matter save for add mood to the morning. Any fear I had of not being as cold tolerant after the heart attack seems unfounded. I remained warm save for the cold air striking my neck which my misplaced balaclava would normally protect and the expected cold hands.

Lily is no Junior. Not yet at least. At almost 10 months old she’s full of energy and has little time to comfort and console. She will ram into you at breakneck speeds or relentlessly remind you of the need to throw the ball, throw the ball again, retrieve a treat, serve some food, throw a ball, throw a ball…

At least you feel needed.

I’ve missed most of the flaming foliage this year. Riding through the forest I could see much of the canopy is now on the ground. Riding on the gravel roads introduced occasional ruts that provided striking reminders of my back. Strong enough to have me make a note to self: “No off-pavement riding for awhile”.

By the time I reached Bellefonte, Pennsylvania I had meandered for about thirty miles and decided my hands were cold enough to enjoy a cup of hot tea. I still love the transition from bracing chill to cozy coffee shop.

Cool Beans Coffee and Tea provided a welcome respite from the riding experiment and enough distance from the gathered throng of Penn State football fans gathered just ten miles away.

My friend Paul (somewhere in Kansas) is on his way to New Mexico with his Ducati in the back of his truck. He sent an email in response to a query about the trip and he said he was sitting in a cafe, drinking his coffee and reading his book. He’s trying to have no expectations and just do whatever he wants when he wants. Sitting in Cool Beans I was thinking of how difficult it is to reach that state.

Moments after making this photograph I learned a lesson about bad habits — leaving the engine running while stopping for a picture. That habit started some years ago when I was riding with a suspect battery which left me stranded a few times. I started not turning off the engine. Seems to work fine right?

As I walked back to the Vespa I could see it slowly start to fall over. With my camera in one hand I grabbed the grip with the other — the throttle grip. I wondered why the engine was revving so high and suddenly realized as the scooter fell more my hold on the throttle was applying more fuel. Had it come off the centerstand the scooter would have scooted right across the road.

My pride would have been injured at the very least.

So my riding experiment yielded useful data. My back is improving but not enough to ride with reckless abandon. I don’t seem to be less cold tolerant. And I’ve learned to shut off the engine when I park the Vespa. Add that to the still lovely riding landscape and it was a pretty good ride.