other cheap graduate-student furnishings I now have. I really do wonder just how Geraldine R. Dodge managed to protect her art collection. And what about Isabella Stewart Gardner? She was a dog lover, too, and she owned Rembrandts! They hung on the wall, of course. Even so, it galls me to think that Mrs. Dodge’s and Mrs. Gardner’s dogs may have been more civilized than mine. Anyway, the only expensive objects in my office are my computer and printer, so mine is a perfect example of the famous paperless office possessed by everyone enamored of technology, which is to say that it is a papery mess of first drafts, second drafts, final versions, photocopies, notebooks, legal pads, and Post-its, all containing information that I’m going to discard or put on the computer someday other than this one.
Instead of oil paintings of people, my walls display pictures of dogs and all sorts of other dog stuff, like a framed copy of Senator Vest’s famous Eulogy (“faithfull and true even to death”), certificates from the American Kennel Club attesting to titles my dogs have earned, and a bulletin board heavy with snapshots sent by people who read my column. The office also holds zillions of dog books and magazines, urns containing the cremated remains of departed canine loved ones, ribbons and trophies from dog shows and obedience trials, and, anomalously, the ugliest cat I have ever seen. In an effort at what Rita calls “positive reframing,” I named the cat after a famous Alaskan malamute, the late Ch. Kaila’s Paw Print, called Tracker, who was as beautiful as my feline Tracker is homely. Tracker is, however, far better-looking than she’d be if Rowdy and Kimi got hold of her. For a start, she’s alive. And yes, I am doing my damndest to train the dogs to accept Tracker. In the meantime, she and I share my office.
My newfound addiction to cyberspace has been a boon to Tracker. When I’d first adopted her, about three months earlier, she’d hissed and fled at the sight of me. These days, she still hisses when I move her off the mouse pad, but after that, she tolerates my presence and even hangs around in a more or less normal way, not that she does anything really normal and Wonderful like bark, for example, or sing woo-woo-woo while wagging her tail in delight, but it has been a month since she’s scratched or bitten me and a month since I’ve sworn at her, so we are beginning to make friends.
After politely asking Tracker to get off the mouse pad, I signed on—unlimited access, another gift from my father— and discovered a couple of replies to my inquiries about Mrs. Dodge and the Morris and Essex shows. The previous responses had been sparse, probably because most people who’d been active in the dog fancy in the late thirties were either dead or not on-line, which in the popular view these days means the same thing. The first reply was from Sheila, whose last name I should have remembered but didn’t. She was on Dogwriters-L, the list for professional dog writers, of course. It read:
Hi, Holly!
Have you seen the Dog Fancy article on G. R. Dodge from a couple of years ago? Didn’t know you knew Motherway.
Sheila and the Woofs
And the second:
Holly,
Have you checked the New York Times for coverage of Morris & Essex? There were long write-ups you shouldn’t miss. Too bad shows don’t get that coverage these days, huh?
I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you talk to Motherway. Or has the new cat got your tongue?
Harriet
Am/Can Ch. Firefly’s Stand By Me, CD, JH, CGC
Harriet is not an American and Canadian champion, Companion Dog, Junior Hunter, and Canine Good Citizen, but she does belong to the Dog Writers Association of America and to numerous golden retriever clubs, including Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue. I know her through breed rescue. I help to find homes for homeless malamutes. Harriet lives in Connecticut. We see each other at shows and obedience events, and we exchange
Instead of oil paintings of people, my walls display pictures of dogs and all sorts of other dog stuff, like a framed copy of Senator Vest’s famous Eulogy (“faithfull and true even to death”), certificates from the American Kennel Club attesting to titles my dogs have earned, and a bulletin board heavy with snapshots sent by people who read my column. The office also holds zillions of dog books and magazines, urns containing the cremated remains of departed canine loved ones, ribbons and trophies from dog shows and obedience trials, and, anomalously, the ugliest cat I have ever seen. In an effort at what Rita calls “positive reframing,” I named the cat after a famous Alaskan malamute, the late Ch. Kaila’s Paw Print, called Tracker, who was as beautiful as my feline Tracker is homely. Tracker is, however, far better-looking than she’d be if Rowdy and Kimi got hold of her. For a start, she’s alive. And yes, I am doing my damndest to train the dogs to accept Tracker. In the meantime, she and I share my office.
My newfound addiction to cyberspace has been a boon to Tracker. When I’d first adopted her, about three months earlier, she’d hissed and fled at the sight of me. These days, she still hisses when I move her off the mouse pad, but after that, she tolerates my presence and even hangs around in a more or less normal way, not that she does anything really normal and Wonderful like bark, for example, or sing woo-woo-woo while wagging her tail in delight, but it has been a month since she’s scratched or bitten me and a month since I’ve sworn at her, so we are beginning to make friends.
After politely asking Tracker to get off the mouse pad, I signed on—unlimited access, another gift from my father— and discovered a couple of replies to my inquiries about Mrs. Dodge and the Morris and Essex shows. The previous responses had been sparse, probably because most people who’d been active in the dog fancy in the late thirties were either dead or not on-line, which in the popular view these days means the same thing. The first reply was from Sheila, whose last name I should have remembered but didn’t. She was on Dogwriters-L, the list for professional dog writers, of course. It read:
Hi, Holly!
Have you seen the Dog Fancy article on G. R. Dodge from a couple of years ago? Didn’t know you knew Motherway.
Sheila and the Woofs
And the second:
Holly,
Have you checked the New York Times for coverage of Morris & Essex? There were long write-ups you shouldn’t miss. Too bad shows don’t get that coverage these days, huh?
I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you talk to Motherway. Or has the new cat got your tongue?
Harriet
Am/Can Ch. Firefly’s Stand By Me, CD, JH, CGC
Harriet is not an American and Canadian champion, Companion Dog, Junior Hunter, and Canine Good Citizen, but she does belong to the Dog Writers Association of America and to numerous golden retriever clubs, including Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue. I know her through breed rescue. I help to find homes for homeless malamutes. Harriet lives in Connecticut. We see each other at shows and obedience events, and we exchange
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