A DOG DAY VACATION
When BILLY Met PHOEBE
Some trips have adventure of the unknown, some exotic, some physically challenging, some mysterious.
This one had a bit of each; we were bringing Billy, our small Poodle/Bijon dog, BILLY, for the first time on our Alaska Airlines flight to Seattle to meet Phoebe. We weren’t sure. He could be cranky and single mindedly self absorbed. For a dog.
We had, through circuitous and questionable means, secured a “Service Dog” registration. Hoping we wouldn’t be asked to demonstrate what service he could provide.
And that whoever was sitting beside us on the full Boeing 737 Max, didn’t mind a dog. They had no complaint, nor did Billy.
Nancy, Priscilla’s friend from years ago, picked us up in her Toyota Highlander and we drove south the hour and a half into the evening to her remote home beside Case Inlet at the end of the labyrinth of Puget Sound backwaters.
We were going back to Harstine Island for Thanksgiving.
Any detachment from our Santa Monica city home is always refreshing, and this was particularly so. But I don’t think Billy had any sense of movement. Not yet
Trees, I felt l enveloped by trees. Most tall and looming, also a few fields of Christmas tree sized Douglas Fir - ready for market. The Fruits of the Northwest.
It was raining, as it was to do so for the next four days.
Down a gravel dirt path –between some outbuildings to Nancy and Paul’s house. There was ocean water somewhere but it was so dark we couldn’t see it.
Ocean water but no waves. Ocean water that flowed fast like a river. The backwater tides.
I slept well in the silence, So did Billy and Priscilla
In the morning, we headed down to the living room
Billy leaped up on the couch, maybe he saw it as akin to his own in Santa Monica. He claimed the high ground.
Then Phoebe, Paul and Nancy’s young pup scurried in. Phoebe, a Basenji. of two years that Nancy said, loves to play with strangers, Exhuberent play.
She ran up to Billy - not with arrogance, but playfully in that teen age macho way, a punch in the arm, hoping it seemed, like wanting a punch back.
Billy though, didi’t get it. He saw nothing beyond aggressive annoyance.
He didn’t accept this form of play.
For he first time ever, he growled. But Phoebe was not deterred and seemed take that as a sign of success of her teasing.
Phoebe, clever and imaginative, circled like a panther darted in and out playfully biting at Billy’s tail.
It was entertaining to us. And we were curious as to how Billy would fend for himself.
He growled and barked . But no physical defense…a stand off.
Leaving the dogs to work it out, Paul took us to his workshop.
It was filled with wood carving devices far beyond my understanding - he was finishing a complicated and complex working model of a Stegosaurus with undulating appendages. A nice way for his nephew to learn about dinosaurs. And there was a very simple three inch wooden salt box. For “pinches of salt” as the recipes ask for.
This gave me mental flashbacks to my hours carving balsa wood for the scores of mode airplanes I made, many years ago.
Paul and I took our dogs outside where there would be less territorial claims.
Phoebe knew the turf and went to her places. Billy sometimes followed.
Billy, in the many walks we have made to the Santa Monica beaches, never put a foot near the ocean, nor any other body of water. But today, the water was shiny, calm, and smooth as glass, a Billy, probably thinking it solid, tried to walk on it. Christ-like.
We explored with the dogs. Walking the streets, some paved, some dirt, past more houses than I thought existed on this island that has only one bridge to the mainland.
I’m always curious about how people present their homes to the world, some behind closed gates and some with esoteric arrangements as expressions of their personality. Some invite strangers in, some repel.
A few had cultivated manicured lawn grass right down to the waterfront. I thought of the accented line in the film Chinatown “ bad fo glass….salt water bad for glass… (grass)
Phoebe led the way, Billy followed. Though, as always, he stopped to examine the source of every smell.
Phoebe started into the neighbors dog door but Paul brought her back with the long leash. I always feel guilty pulling a dog away from their curiosities, for them its like perusing books in a library.
Unlike last year, the kayaks stayed put.
Paul led us along a path up the hill that got progressively narrower, we passed singular structures more and more rudimentary as we went. Interesting constructs of primal elements of tree limbs and stone. They seemed fit for rituals. Then the path curved back on itself, back to the pavement.
A neighborly connection path to next door friends
Back at the house, food preparation for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving was beginning
I didn’t get involved –My contribution was a Crissy’s Table Tomato Pasta for tonight’s dinner.
Paul’s daughter Sally and her partner Nick arrived. Sally’s ebullient energy was infectious, even to Billy who found a new best playmate.
Paul, who is a medical doctor, performed his surgical skills on the turkey.
It was a fine dinner. And though there was no ham, Paul told the joke of The Pig with a Wooden Leg…..
Nick and Sally - passed time playing chess with each other.
Billy seems to claim more territory but Phoebe seems to have come to peace with the foreigner in her house
There seemed to be a truce …
Next morning, we Packed Billy up for the ride home - in his transport pack.
Wonder if we get frequent flyer miles for Billy ?
Great post Paul. One for the scrapbook of life. Cheers. Chilango(Scott R....C is someone from Mexico City....my Mexican friends have dubbed me!)
Paul, your beautiful tree photos remind me of camping in Oregon when I was a Boy Scout. David Douglas scouts are we, searchers of the land and sea. A very nice Thanksgiving. Regards, Don Mckinnon