City Dogs

Sorry about the downtime. But I've been staying close to the nest the past few days as a steady parade of home health folks have traipsed through the apartment on their various errands of mercy. The subject of their attention has been outwardly compliant; but there is no doubt in my mind that rebellion lies just below the surface. I am very familiar with the breed, and Marian is clearly pissed-off that a little thing like having both hips replaced at the same time has impinged on her life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

I did get to do some walking around this week - it's been much warmer. A couple of days ago I hoofed-it down to the Shilshole Marina. Lots of REALLY nice boats. They are renovating the marina. One of the additions is a ten foot statue of my cousin Leif Erickson. And for an unspecified amount of swag, one can have the names of one's beloved Scandinavian ancestors inscribed on a genuine concrete runestone to be placed on Leif's pavillion.

Yesterday I hiked down to and across the Ballard Locks and then up the hill, around the point, and into Discovery Park. It was a beautiful afternoon. The birds were chirping. People were smiling. Dogs were panting. Which brings me to the main subject of today's ramblings - city dogs.

As a long-time Juneau resident, I have certain preconceptions of dogs and their doggy lifestyles. In Juneau, every pick-up truck comes with not only an AM/FM radio; but also with a black lab tethered to the metal toolbox in back (said toolbox more likely than not serving as a beer cooler) or riding shotgun with the passenger window down and ears and tongue happily flapping in the slipstream.

Seattle dogs are, for the most part, a much more refined lot. Labradors (and pick-up trucks for that matter) are relatively rare. Ballard is a riot of exotic, pint-sized and pampered pooches. The prevalence of small dogs I understand. Condo and apartment living does not lend itself to large breeds. It's the accessorizing that I find amusing. When it snowed last week, I was dumbfounded by the superfluity of doggy sweaters, windbreakers, booties and other garb. Foo- foo dog pedicures are clearly de rigueur. I expect that many of these hounds bathe more frequently than many Alaskans. And while I have not actually seen them, I am certain that doggy yoga and pilates studios exist somewhere in this burg.

So...with all of this in mind you can imagine my satisfaction when yesterday in Discovery Park I came across a very unhappy hip 30 something gal attempting to come to grips with the fact her furry little rat-bag bundle of joy actually enjoyed CHASING SQUIRRELS! Indeed I witnessed the tenacious little bugger chase a big fat one up a tree.

A dog is still a dog - even in Magnolia.

Cheers!