…Please may there be one sacred community that ascends politics…
Let it start with us; those who know first hand the grace of the Kerry Blue Terrier.
We could be as awesome as our dogs! …Sure, we can get on our toes and spar… But in the end, let us model good kerry character; let us shake hands and share a bone.
Let it be that for us, the good of our breed will always trump self-interest.
Our Kerry pack had the best romp today. We took the long retractable leashes, and I’m sure the two tripled my mileage. I got dizzy at the chase circle as it took Stirling at least 4 rounds to catch Aoife. Aoife is a power house when it comes to athletic sprinting. Stirling is no sloth.
The trails are muddy, and we can’t go out without bringing back a bunch of souvenirs. For that reason this is not my favorite time of year in Alaska, even though the warmth and sun feels so refreshing.
So they spend a lot of time in the tub, and on the table.
My interest in Stirling had started several years before with a trip to the midwest to pick up my first sweet Kerry, Aoife. I had decided upon Aoife before realizing there were plans in the make to breed Stirling’s grandfather Brogan. Now Brogan was a handsome silver stud that melted my heart from the first moment I laid eyes on him. But of course being the silly woman that I am, I felt completely bonded with Aoife even before she took her first breath. So I stuck with my original plan, and picked up my dear little girl in the summer of 2009. Within a month or two Brogan’s litter was whelped, and from that came Picasso. And like his sire, Picasso grew to be a fabulous silver stud. …And in due course of time Picasso sired Stirling O’Hanluan.
Our life has changed so much since the arrival of Stirling. For one thing I was in Maine, away from our pack, spending precious time with my mother during her last days when news of Stirling’s whelp-day was announced. And though the news of his arrival paled in importance to everything else that was going on for my family at the time; it will always be a treasured part of Stirling’s past that I could share it with my mother as I did.
Anyway, …As to life’s changes; Yes, there are many.
Jaspers in Deep
…Once upon a time there was a pack of terriers that roamed harmoniously through the woods of Alaska with their monkeys. There was a gnarly male Airedale who was the uncontested pack leader. There was the youngest dark-Airedale runt who thought she was queen-of-all-she-sees. And the middle pack-child was a small Airedale who seemed to be the cross between a sweet tiger-lily and a hand-me-down-rose. …Anyway all three terriers knew their place in the pack, and the pack was happy. And the pack knew it was a pack-of-dales.
…Then one day the pack-mother-monkey went away for a while, and later returned with a very small terrier. Oddly enough this forceful little fellow resembled the queen-of-all-she-sees, and was three times more in-your-face. At first there didn’t seem to be much anyone could do about it; given the little pecker-head was so tiny. But over time the boy grew, and this one was not settled with his role in the pack. …So things had to change.
Me & My Jog-Joring Team
Ramming Down a Hill…
Jog-Joring Down the Power Line
Someone in our pack is always on leash, which has made necessary a whole new mode of pack exercise. We call it Jog-Joring, and it puts pink cheeks on the monkey!
“The Mother-Monkey”
Alaska’s temperatures in January hit record breaking highs while the Kerries and I were freezing our biscuits off in Florida’s record breaking lows. In fact, I had considered making a case to dispel the myth that Florida is warmer than Alaska.
But finally our temperatures have dropped, this morning to the single digits…
…Now if it would only snow
“The important thing in life is not to triumph but to compete.” -Pierre de Coubertin
Sunday Morning: 6:30AM, January 5th
…After hours of near-sleepless travel our Kerry Pack made its way into the Orlando International Airport (MCO). All things considered, the trip had been uneventful with a bit of rough turbulence at the start followed by hours of half-sleep in the semi-seated near-paralized position. Finally we were reunited at baggage claim. Aoife & Stirling were dazed and confused, but cooperative – and believe it or not, quiet. Each had made the 13 hours without soiling their crates, and they held on for still another length of time while I secured our rental vehicle.
I had planned to rent a mini-van and have the seats removed, but the Alamo representative looked at me as if I had three-heads. She informed me of the fortune it would cost me if I chose to tamper with the seats, and invited me to rent from the Dollar Rentals [her hand motioned to my right]. …Now this was no big deal really, except I had the good fortune of securing a porter to assist me with my travel lot, and he was patiently waiting with my precious cargo. The Dollar Rental line was long, so out we went to the Alamo lot to off load the porter’s cart.
At least a half-hour and 3 vehicles later we were ready to give up. Neither one of us could figure out how to flatten the seats in these vehicles, and at the best configuration we literally had a large crate sticking half out the side door. I really should have grabbed my camera, but I sensed I was pressing my luck with this porter. He had gotten himself into far more than he ever bargained for, I’m sure. So we unloaded with the intent of my joining the Dollar Rental line, while relieving the porter of his duty. But as it were another person came along and showed us how to flatten the seats, and so we parted with our mission accomplished.
But talk about tired… And although I could go on and on about how we’ve spent the last three days, I won’t. At least not at this time.
But in the meantime, back in Alaska the -dales have found adventure of their own:
This was a beautiful day. And I am grateful for this one day, though it has followed so many before and will surely be followed by so many after… We are truly blessed.
We are blessed to live in one of the least touched regions left in our country. And we are blessed to have one another with so much in common; and the joy for the simple pleasures in life…
Each day must be held gently, carefully. …As if it were our last. But I can tell you; if I live to be one hundred thirteen, this is the visual memory I hope to see behind my settled eyelids.
Our Jasper is getting a bit older. Not old I say, but just old enough to find us good company in the face of every earthly smell.
There are a lot of holiday traditions that Mark & I let go. But we have started one very special tradition that we all enjoy. We’re heading to bed early this evening with the plan of getting up in the middle of the night for our sacred Christmas trail walk w/ the pack. The dog’s eyes will pop open like glossy Christmas ornaments, as we ready ourselves for the adventure. It’s the best gift we could possibly give them. And though it’s admittedly hard to uproot myself from my snuggly covers, it’s a treasured tradition for us monkeys too…
Good night… And Peaceful Christmas
~~~
We popped out of bed last night at about 1:00 this morning, and slipped everyone into their cold-weather gear. The temperature had plummeted to negative 7, so there were snow booties for all the terriers. And, hand & toe warmers for this monkey…
We made our way out the door where we were greeted by the clear night sky where the stars were brightly shining. …We all tromped down the road and around the bend towards the outback trail. Our pack was quiet and respectful of the sleeping neighborhood, except Stirling who was coming out of his own skin with enthusiasm…
As we passed from the civilized world on into our world of Christmas fantasy, we found ourselves topped by a modest show of the Northern Lights! It was not an intensive presence, as they sometimes can be. But, perfectly welcomed to the occasion…
By 3:00AM we were peacefully back to visions of sugar plums and “voles with peanut butter”…
My Stirling is quite a character, and so full of terrier exuberance!
…So I’ve been putting that pup to some good use! Here is Stirling blazing our trail as the lead ski-joring dog.
Freak’n cold warms just a tad. And the world could not be whiter. The bare trees have sweat out crystal sweaters…
God knows, I love Alaska…
On the evening dog walk, the deciduous trees were crystal white and the sky creamy.
That’s what it’s like in sub-zero.
This summer has been delightful, and unseasonably warm for Alaska. One ‘ole fella I fell in line behind at the grocery store noted it was the warmest summer he’d seen in his 72 years.
…Besides all of that our life has changed a bit with the addition of Stirling, being our 4th terrier. Stirling is a wonder-dog in so many ways; but he is also a bit of a dink where it comes to other dogs, …especially the little ones.
And added to that, our Gypsy seems to have been afflicted by a shoulder injury. The particulars on that are unclear, but she seems to be doing better with a steroid injection and relative rest.
So by comparison, I’d say our former life was more carefree. Now instead of ramming the country side off leash with GPS collars, at least two of our pack are on leash at all times. Besides that I’ve got Stirling in organized classes once or twice a week, which takes us off the trails altogether.
…So this summer our fall-back dog-walk has been straight out our front door across a small field and stream onward towards a small pond at the edge of a near neighborhood. This walk is low on adventure, unless you consider a rickety bridge that’s 
threatening to collapse on one end, or the fact that the little pond is infested with wildlife.
In fact that brings me to the point of this thread. We’ve been watching a beaver in the small pond all summer. Now beavers have a reputation in Alaska for baiting dogs into the water, and then being quite destructive on their soft under-bellies. Aoife, for one, absolutely loves water of all kinds. And maybe I’m gullible, but I wouldn’t want to test that rumor. So we carefully enjoy these rather large rascals from a respectable distance. As you might figure from one who is so respected; this beaver doesn’t hesitate to make himself known to our pack. In fact, Mark tells me one day our beaver ran across the trail right in front of him and the -dales!
So this day I decided to take my camera; and we half expected to get disappointed as is sometimes the case when you take one. But low and behold, our friend was waiting in his usual place…
We feed “raw”, which doesn’t actually mean that nothing is cooked. To us it means non-commercial dog food made right in our kitchen from all the finest ingredients. Sweet potato, peas, green beans, pinto beans, macaroni/rice and broccoli are cooked. But whatever variety of meat, as well as the carrots, zucchini, or fruits are served uncooked. And of course, there are the added nutritional supplements. But no matter how you mix it, it’s a bloody mushy mess.
So imagine for a moment the gorgeous bearded face of your kerry dog pressed into a slopping delicious bowl of dog food, as we define it.
…Messy
So I got this brainstorm…
Maybe Aoife should go into scent work…
Yesterday evening I hid a certain “rabbit” up on the top shelve of a closed closet in the spare bedroom because Aoife just wouldn’t let it rest. This evening she started barking insistently at the closet door.
…Guess who has a rabbit!
At 73 degrees in the late afternoon, it seemed everyone and his brother was out on the trail with their dogs. Many a dog was off leash; just plodding around snoot’n up tales of the daily goings on as marked on every branch and brush along the trail. No point in rushing them; we monkeys can hardly do any better when there’s a newspaper in our hand. …So all things being quite normal and the day being a tad warmer than what we Alaskans are used to; we were quite enjoying a sunny summer afternoon.
But then there was that one dog barking solo staccato at some distance directly across the Campbell Airstrip, and just out of sight in the woods. And there was that telltale rustling of brush that followed. So there was no surprise when this fellow popped out of the brush just moments before a spirited she-moose. And no surprise to see the two head in different directions; the flustered moose towards our course.
So we had an excuse to run a bit, and all’s well that ends well… Just another daily dog walk.
I love this place.
I love my pack.
Ever wondered what you should not do with your Kerry?…
…but we still do.
And a Kerry will be first to tell you; there’s nothing better than voles w/peanut butter!
Mark & I met on a trail in the woods that surround the swamp that lie
betwixt and between our homes at that time. No doubt we never would
have met if not for the dogs – all being terriers. But such as it
were, we all started meeting regularly out on the trails. Sometimes
the meetings were loosely planned, and other times Mark and his -Dales
would emerge from the woods on a trail where I just happened to be
walking Aoife. …Anyway, we ended up spending a fair amount of time
together. And I like to recall the day I fell in love with Mark; or,
at least the day I realized it.
Aoife & The -Dales
As the story goes; we had just finished our dog-walk, and there at the
trailhead was a impromptu fire pit where some carefree souls had
enjoyed their time the night before. The fire pit was filled with
broken glass from bottles that had been carelessly thrown into the
fire. As Mark loaded the -Dales into his van, I started to clean up
the broken glass knowing that we would run those trails again and
again. The idea that a dog might injure it’s paw made the cleanup
necessary; and beyond that I really wasn’t thinking much about it.
Within moments Mark knelt down at my side, also picking up the broken
glass from the abandoned fire pit. Mark never uttered a word. Nor
did I. …And the pack looked on from inside our vehicles.
Too often in this life we are faced with the task of cleaning up a
mess. And in the rare event you find yourself enjoying the company of
a friend while cleaning up some stranger’s mess; I think it’s a good
idea to recognize you’ve found a treasure. So oddly enough that’s how
our story began…
