tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50559964692153132212024-03-17T18:17:58.536-07:00c. creativity: life in macrophotography, creativity, disability & dogsc.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-26765824324742955962023-07-18T14:31:00.003-07:002023-07-18T14:33:12.568-07:00ChronicThis blog has been on a long hiatus, another thing I've had to surrender to the whims of my chronic illnesses.<br />
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The "chronic" in "chronic illness" makes it seem like a chronic illness is one that stays the same, but what it really means is that you don't get better--your health may in fact be fluctuating. Or, as is too often the case, getting worse.<br />
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In 2018, my health got worse.</div>
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Technically, the downturn started in the fall of 2017. That's when my gut started misbehaving more than usual and when the nerve in my nose started acting up.</div>
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That's right, I'm looking at YOU, infratrochlear nerve in my right nostril!</div>
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Several nights each week, around 3:00 a.m., my infratrochlear nerve would suddenly get hypersensitive for three or four hours. The result being that it was very painful to breathe through my nose--the slightest movement of air created a clear, cold pain that ranged from ice-on-the-skin painful to ice-on-a-sensitive-tooth painful. The simple solution, you might think, would be to breathe through your mouth. However, one of my nighttime medications gives me dry mouth. I also have steady post-nasal drip. Breathing over a dry, phlegm-caked tongue created conditions so foul that nerve pain was preferable. My tongue also seems to get puffy in the night, so to even get air in I had to have my mouth open to a much wider-than-natural degree and it didn't work for me to try to sleep like that. Of course, it wasn't working for me to sleep with a pillow over my face, either. (I did try blocking off the sensitive nostril using an earplug, but every time I inhaled, it would tug on the plug. Also, the sensitive nostril was always the nostril that was open. Most people don't notice it unless they have a cold, but our nostrils are not equally open at the same time--they alternate with one side being more open than the other. Thanks to the allergies also contributing to the steady flow of nighttime phlegm, the interior of my nose is usually slightly swollen at night. Once upon a time, until I had surgery that basically hollowed out the interior of my nose, I had almost no airflow at all through my nostrils and chronic sinus infections to go with it. Conditions have improved a great deal for me, but there's just enough inflammation in my nose at night that the nostril that is less open is actually mostly closed, resulting in inadequate airflow. On top of all this, all of my head and neck, from the collarbone up, was riled up in such a way that when my nasal nerve was acting up, it hurt for air to touch me in a cold and awful way. The solution, you might think, would be to just burrow under the covers. Well, because my body can be cruel, when the nasal nerve was acting up, my body from the collarbone down would be ferociously hot. I needed my abdomen and hands (we'll get to the hands later) uncovered. It took me a long time to come up with a solution.<br />
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That solution? The balaclava! That's right, I started wearing a ski mask at night. I found a nice high-tech, super-thin fleece number intended for winter sports and wore it in bed. It wasn't perfect, but a million times better than a pillow over the face. I even fell asleep in the ski mask a few times. So there'd I be, at 3:00 a.m., with my covers shoved down to my waist, my pajama top hiked up to expose my belly, my hands arranged with my palms out, and a ski mask covering my face and neck.<br />
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I've had lifelong insomnia and am accustomed to being awake for several hours every night, but even once I got the ski mask thing figured out, being awake for several hours several nights per week because you've got some serious nerve issues going on in your face has a way of impacting your waking life. My daytime cognitive fatigue got worse and worse. I struggled terribly with concentration and had a really hard time taking information in--just the littlest bit and I'd get overwhelmed, or it would just slide of my brain. I couldn't think and I most certainly couldn't write. It got to the point where wanting to write but not being able to became more painful than not wanting to write at all, and so I gave up the very last thing I'd been holding on to since my migraines turned chronic and taught myself not to want to write. I had to accept that I might never write again and to be okay with it. As a measure of how miserable I was, I actually did it. I gave up writing, I gave up a piece of my soul, a crucial chunk of my identity since I was six years old.<br />
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My diminished cognitive capacity and my fatigue and increased level of migraines meant that I started spending a lot more time in bed during the day. We're not talking about "oh, I'm so tired!" fatigue, we're talking "I can't be upright one second longer" fatigue. I had no choice. Sitting in my bed saved me just enough energy over sitting in a chair that I could aimlessly look at (though not necessarily engage with) the internet, or watch an easy-to-process show, or read, instead of doing nothing. I find it better to do SOMETHING over absolutely nothing, even if that something, like reading, is hard on my eyes, because if I do nothing, then I have no choice but to sit and observe my misery and that really isn't helpful. So I sat in my bed, leaning against the pillows, reading advice columns (the level of entertainment I could handle), and accordingly wrecked my neck and upper back. My neck got horribly stiff and my occipital region got all inflamed and I had nasty tension headaches all the time, which in turn caused migraines, which in turn made it so I had to spend more time in bed. I KNEW it was a vicious circle, but I really could not be up. I did not have the energy required to spend sitting upright in a chair.<br />
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So I had the nasal nerve issue, and the neck issue, and I also had some kind of issue with my gut. It wasn't just that I was terribly bloated and gassy, it was that I clearly had some kind malabsorption going on. It seemed that no matter what I ate, I was always on the verge of hypoglycemia. (And far too often, over the edge.) My gastroparesis already makes it hard to keep my blood sugar up and steady since I never know if/when the food I ate is going to be digested, but this was worse than usual. I spent way too much time feeling shaky and spacey and wiped out. Eventually we figured out that I was experiencing SIBO--Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth. This is likely due to the gastroparesis, since they have found that motility disorders increase your risk of developing SIBO. What happens is that you get too much bacteria in your small intestine. In simple terms, the bacteria compete with you for carbohydrates and turn them into gas while also impairing the ability of the small intestine to absorb nutrients. It doesn't help that, due to my gastroparesis, my diet consists largely of easy-to-digest simple carbohydrates, the preferred good of the bad bacteria. I took some nasty antibiotics that wiped out the bacteria in the small intestine, followed by some potent probiotics, and I felt so much better! I could go eight hours between meals! Everything I consumed got absorbed! My hugely distended belly flattened! It helped so much...and then it came back. I spent far too long in denial before I again took the antibiotics and got dramatically better and resolved to act swiftly in the future when the symptoms cropped up. I've had three episodes of SIBO now and am hoping that there won't be more, but I know better than to bet on that kind of thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, because wearing a balaclava over your entire face is not idea for sleep, I sought more help for the issues with my facial nerves. Ultimately, the treatment that has worked best is lidocaine nasal spray, lidocaine cream to use on my face, and hats. It's not perfect, but it helps. My facial nerves are so sensitive that this point that they can't tolerate being exposed to temperatures below 55 degrees. So if I have to go outside--and I go outside several times per day with the dogs--I need to wear a fleece neck warmer pulled up to just below my eyes, a beanie pulled down to my brows, and the hood up on a sweatshirt to make sure there aren't any gaps in coverage at the base of my neck. If it's sunny and there's no breeze, I can make do with just a sweatshirt with the hood up and cinched tight. Thus, I have to wear some protection over my neck, head, and face, at least at nights, nine months out of the year. I also can't tolerate cool air blowing directly on my face. That means the vents in a car must all be angled away from me and directing the flow of my air conditioner away from the head of my bed. The result of having any too-cool air touching my face, whether from outside temperatures or indoor fans, is multiple days of heightened nerve sensitivity, causing a cascade of issues between pain, fatigue, and brain fog. I've grown skilled at managing this stuff, but it's been a rough road with a lot of interrupted sleep, a lot of nerve pain, and consequently poorer quality of life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, in March of 2020, I came down with a prolonged case of COVID. AND breast cancer. As if I didn't already have enough issues! My experiences with COVID and cancer will have to be a topic of another post if I'm ever able to write again.</div><div><br /></div><div>So why am I writing now?</div><div><br /></div><div>Because I have to talk about Bixby.</div><div><br /></div><div>The<a href="https://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2017/12/introducing-nala.html"> last blog post I wrote</a> before having to make the hard decision to stop writing was about Nala, my newly adopted former puppy-mill mama dog. When it became clear that Nala would benefit from having a people-loving, happy-go-lucky dog to make her feel safe and show her the ropes, we searched for what would amount to a service dog for her and found just the right guy in a dog named Bixby. He changed her life dramatically for the better, changed our lives for the better, too. We had five years and eleven months with beautiful, bodacious, bobblehead Bixby before losing him suddenly and far too soon to cancer.</div><div><br /></div><div>I need to write about his death and the writing I've done so far is much too long for just a Facebook post. But I can't write about his death without ever writing about his life and I didn't want to jump back into blogging after a five year hiatus without talking about why. I started this post back in 2018 or 2019, added on to it in 2020, and am completing it now in 2023. Once I'm done with Bixby, I may once again have to stop writing. I just don't have the capacity for that kind of cognitive exercise most of the time. But some things MUST be written.</div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-4876477991222131732017-12-21T15:23:00.000-08:002018-03-12T01:44:20.564-07:00Introducing Nala!<div style="font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It’s hard to believe that nine months have already passed since we brought home an amazing black dog named Nala and even harder to believe that not only did we adopt Nala, we’ve adopted a second dog, Bixby! And I haven’t written about any of it! It’s for a very good reason: whenever I’ve been well enough to write, it also means I’ve been well enough to do things with Nala. I’d managed to start a detailed blogpost covering her first month with us, but time keeps flying by and things change almost daily, so it’s clear I need to pick up speed to get to where we are now: a two-dog household. Who could have imagined such a thing when Abbey passed away last October?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Dear, sweet, gentle, beautiful Nala: she came to us a dog just beginning her recovery from a lifetime of trauma. She spooked easily, sometimes shying away in terror and other times freezing in fright. She was afraid of movements, unfamiliar sounds, being reached for, being grabbed (especially by the collar), being pulled, being lured. She avoided eye contact and made very little noise: she'd clearly learned to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Nala's body told us why: she’d been overbred, neglected, and abused.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92kfsRP2mKFqQq_a8Ttk2jT1C3ZAy75RwoqhcI8_UyKGiQO1S1D9HXiodWJB33bMcPBwDEBrmsH-xJSE6jgLvDIWnsc9JXN8UjPmqLUbqbYtF2bQSQr8YlfPR1t36AXcHZZ3phO6MXPk/s1600/IMG_1007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92kfsRP2mKFqQq_a8Ttk2jT1C3ZAy75RwoqhcI8_UyKGiQO1S1D9HXiodWJB33bMcPBwDEBrmsH-xJSE6jgLvDIWnsc9JXN8UjPmqLUbqbYtF2bQSQr8YlfPR1t36AXcHZZ3phO6MXPk/s400/IMG_1007.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Mama Nala right after she came home. Her body tells a woeful tale of life as an abused breeding dog.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The permanently stretched-out teats from many litters are the most obvious evidence; she was most likely bred twice a year since she first went into heat. It's quite possible that she had ten or more litters in her life. By contrast, a responsible breeder will breed a bitch only thrice in her life and never two litters in the same year. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyTW5WPGBMAFZIu2CXW7GF7Dico7MV0cADksE7fu1Ikn4aGj0FPqi_75SinTX6bVlr9XIyRGhFwzlu76bb5S3h9US_q2-8MGuer79rjq0xGFI5hOOqHTQm-TXYigOZH4R9KXb6N8U2BU/s1600/IMG_5339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyTW5WPGBMAFZIu2CXW7GF7Dico7MV0cADksE7fu1Ikn4aGj0FPqi_75SinTX6bVlr9XIyRGhFwzlu76bb5S3h9US_q2-8MGuer79rjq0xGFI5hOOqHTQm-TXYigOZH4R9KXb6N8U2BU/s400/IMG_5339.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala's stretched-out flaps of belly skin trap moisture and get easily irritated and prone to yeast infections. Every night I clean out the areas where she has skin-on-skin contact with a baby wipe and then dust those places with Gold Bond Medicated Powder to help them stay dry.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">She has scars and calluses from pressure sores on her elbows, wrists, paws, and hocks; she may never had anything soft to lay on, a lifetime spent with nothing between concrete and her bones but the inadequate cushion of her skin. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGNq_eJa3sDm54ovnD0ZTm_UfWhTFWZoL4PRWyE4ZOYb48BM6J8QmJiLLMK81cQP2zCMvFwEg2yXm7qa3CoV_BI8IwWwyzp919sHJYO-ebqxfvpUI3C3WxhQvipVQwBq_YXUhrYcfvV4/s1600/IMG_5336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGNq_eJa3sDm54ovnD0ZTm_UfWhTFWZoL4PRWyE4ZOYb48BM6J8QmJiLLMK81cQP2zCMvFwEg2yXm7qa3CoV_BI8IwWwyzp919sHJYO-ebqxfvpUI3C3WxhQvipVQwBq_YXUhrYcfvV4/s400/IMG_5336.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Years of laying on hard surfaces are reflected by these healed-but-hairless old pressure sores on her legs.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Most sickening of all, her front teeth were pulled. The vet suspects that it was done when she was fairly young, probably when it was decided that she was to be bred. The clean removal of of her incisors, top and bottom, hints at a level of expertise and organization far beyond what would be possessed by a casual backyard breeder. Her top canine teeth are broken off, her bottom canine teeth are mere stubs. I hate that they did this to her, that they took away her only means to defend herself, even if it was done to prevent her from accidentally harming her puppies or nipping stud dogs. It hurts, too, that they did it to a dog so gentle that she would never bite--it's simply not in her nature. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her bare upper gums. It's the same situation on the bottom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is all that remains of Nala's canine teeth. (The other side looks identical.) Because the top canines are broken in exactly the same way, I wonder if it was done deliberately, like the removal of her front teeth. Alternatively, she could have snapped her upper canines and ground down her lower ones by chewing on a chain or cage bars. Either prospect paints a heartbreaking picture.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">To the cruel people who subjected Nala to this torture, she was just a commodity, a puppy-making machine, likely one among many, her pain irrelevant, her capacity to love worth nothing. There is no evidence that Nala was ever fought, so it's some consolation to me that she was probably being bred because she is a beautiful dog with a wonderful temperament--a producer of puppies destined to be pets, not fighting dogs. Year after year, Nala's puppies were taken from her and sold to people who gave them homes, but year after year, there was no home for Nala.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">According to the DNA test we did, Nala is not a purebred American Staffordshire Terrier. (While these tests fallible, corgi would explain Nala's long back and short legs!) Apparently, her breeders were not scrupulous about her parentage in their decision to pass on her genes--her generic pit bull appearance must have been enough for them to make a buck off of her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0w5BrRS5zNqURWtmHWzDfw0bhlIBOkDnCGWznbQBIi7PmOhJlC3LV1t_k43LPkoSzhucrU-lBPe5YK98Bi-NAI4It8OljUEEsXvgIfKoAKVOxSJyK6vclr7ccW0yNU8rwpJWCyAFMt0/s1600/IMG_5344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0w5BrRS5zNqURWtmHWzDfw0bhlIBOkDnCGWznbQBIi7PmOhJlC3LV1t_k43LPkoSzhucrU-lBPe5YK98Bi-NAI4It8OljUEEsXvgIfKoAKVOxSJyK6vclr7ccW0yNU8rwpJWCyAFMt0/s320/IMG_5344.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala's shelter paperwork with a very woeful photo.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">How she escaped that life is unknown. Was she dumped, considered too old to continue breeding, after her final litter was likely weaned around the beginning of September? Did she escape? (Nala will bolt if she sees an opening. It's an instinctual and panicked reaction--she runs without even knowing why she is running.) Regardless, when she was brought into a crowded San Bernardino shelter at the end of September of 2016 as a stray, she was underweight, riddled with yeast, her coat lackluster, her spirit dim, and appeared so old that in her initial shelter assessment, they made the quick calculation that she was likely ten, instead of the five to seven years deduced on closer examination. Her prospects were bleak: an old, overbred, black pit bull has almost no chance of making it out of a high kill shelter in an area with too many dogs and too few resources. Euthanasia was almost certainly in her near future.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl_w2AFb085KylAzzMb_ma8xWAQ_xJPGyNElTKJFsrqkTvkGcjZS1mxUQdf6GW4zO9gCWuLSPQMqPk3hOX9X5kfMRf9vR7DMXGHignPwVntRGP1gUO41O-3Jk60IbtNP4yXon1cosQTg/s1600/IMG_0764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl_w2AFb085KylAzzMb_ma8xWAQ_xJPGyNElTKJFsrqkTvkGcjZS1mxUQdf6GW4zO9gCWuLSPQMqPk3hOX9X5kfMRf9vR7DMXGHignPwVntRGP1gUO41O-3Jk60IbtNP4yXon1cosQTg/s400/IMG_0764.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala's foster family loved her dearly, but they came to realize that their home wasn't the right match.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V83L-mgT4FlOzCJnkUWvj4yVQCqOP7zYaOQlURqZD6A_JXiP0cZan0U4yaat99iSRd_FskAwbv7y7Us0fym9oX73nO7hTykmFoHGbzKlv-K8BA_K9XIqK-8d3SF-7zHEpcl0g-YEWrA/s1600/IMG_Petfinder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="317" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V83L-mgT4FlOzCJnkUWvj4yVQCqOP7zYaOQlURqZD6A_JXiP0cZan0U4yaat99iSRd_FskAwbv7y7Us0fym9oX73nO7hTykmFoHGbzKlv-K8BA_K9XIqK-8d3SF-7zHEpcl0g-YEWrA/s200/IMG_Petfinder.jpg" width="131" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala's Petfinder photo</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">However, thanks to the internet, she caught the eye of a teenager in Seattle, WA. This girl helped persuade two rescues--one in California and one in Washington--to take on this dog so she could be transported up to Seattle for adoption. Called "Nana" in the shelter, she was rechristened "Nala." It was originally intended to be a foster-to-adopt arrangement, but two wrinkles emerged: Nala, it turned out, was not good with cats, and there was an epic and bloody battle with the resident feline, and Nala also remained persistently fearful of her foster dad. No matter what he did to try to win Nala's trust and convince her of his good intentions, she remained afraid. Theirs was also a household constantly bustling with people and noise and activity, which was not the ideal environment for an easily-overwhelmed and fearful dog. The family truly adored Nala, but they realized they were not the right home for her, so she was listed for adoption. That’s when I saw her on Petfinder and got in touch.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">On February 21st, I noted,</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>"I had a great chat with this house hippo's foster mom--Nala is definitely a contender! If the scheduling works out, I'll meet her this weekend. She's a sweet, easy dog that just wants to be near her people. She gets along with other dogs, she enjoys a short walk but is okay without one, does fine at the dog park, and is well-behaved and undemanding. She's still a bit reserved and timid in her fost</i></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>er home, but she's unfurled a lot during the time she's been there and they think she'll really bloom when she's in a stable, longterm home with calm, quiet people." </i></span></blockquote>
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We went as a family to meet her on the 26th and were surprised, at first, by how small she was--we were expecting a larger dog at 70 pounds, but she was only just a bit bigger than Abbey!--but were immediately taken with her gentleness, her beauty, her lovely manners, and her quiet attachment to her foster mom and girls. By the end of our visit, we had no doubts: Nala was the one.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And so, on March 10th, 2017, Nala came home.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome, little one! The rescue took this photo of me and Nala.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFV5dvtAou1fYQRv50rQzubS8SeTyNovEd3hb_BqnwievfppgitfnPWMQz6-yXjMbIVmZLvp6QoyixKuWz9mc_Z_rRvlyf9Zcb6D7yJCERkMtxiYu_7UT5RJsG2jHdCf4ph266Sa85Ps/s1600/IMG_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFV5dvtAou1fYQRv50rQzubS8SeTyNovEd3hb_BqnwievfppgitfnPWMQz6-yXjMbIVmZLvp6QoyixKuWz9mc_Z_rRvlyf9Zcb6D7yJCERkMtxiYu_7UT5RJsG2jHdCf4ph266Sa85Ps/s400/IMG_0934.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first of many Nala photos.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Even after three months in her foster home, Nala had only just begun recuperating from lifelong abuse and neglect. Luckily, I was not wholly unprepared for taking on a traumatized dog, since I follow online the progress of a number of dogs who have come from bad situations, usually fight busts or hoarding cases, and I had some idea of what to expect and also how to proceed. Rehabilitating a dog with Nala's background usually takes lots of time and a tremendous amount of patience. You have to let go of having any expectations and let the dog advance according to her own timetable. <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Fortunately, our quiet home and my quiet life are a perfect </span>fit<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> for a tentative dog and I was ready to put in the time. I knew Nala had bonded with the women in her foster family, so I set out to create a bond with her. Studies have found that when a person pets a dog for ten minutes, it releases oxytocin, which promotes bonding, in both the human and the dog. I love to pet dogs </span>anyway, but with that science in mind, <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I spent an average of four hours a day that first week sitting on the floor stroking Nala and it turned out that gentle, loving touch was precisely what she craved. And that was that: I was hers and she was mine.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Settling in. I was encouraged that she felt safe enough to fall asleep in front of the family on her very first evening with us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_XTErQNxGhVky1Fv6vrqd7ZjFExp6NBrLZLmGm3dL4NcN0pMGHPyhD8RsqtLuCP3n4DXSMVRHs8D-2FpE9-BJbO-gpjsWno8_i3CThXS0Y6Ly9WWtbtuKyUxhFElFdCFBHd-M9wGWDc/s1600/IMG_0712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_XTErQNxGhVky1Fv6vrqd7ZjFExp6NBrLZLmGm3dL4NcN0pMGHPyhD8RsqtLuCP3n4DXSMVRHs8D-2FpE9-BJbO-gpjsWno8_i3CThXS0Y6Ly9WWtbtuKyUxhFElFdCFBHd-M9wGWDc/s400/IMG_0712.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spent hours every day sitting on the floor next to Nala, quietly petting her and just being with her, in order to form a bond.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq42uncbtSmT-lVTi93DzxblrPl36_KoVmScYqpHVbcZRfRp-XdAgEMio3d42E_hyphenhyphenUn9vaVznWtvNdgJDc1wm0_0cw6EErrUyvo_ImcBg-U44bVUF8X7BYuIOlD7HWHQGr0jx_KhcYc6Y/s1600/IMG_EarlyApril.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1020" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq42uncbtSmT-lVTi93DzxblrPl36_KoVmScYqpHVbcZRfRp-XdAgEMio3d42E_hyphenhyphenUn9vaVznWtvNdgJDc1wm0_0cw6EErrUyvo_ImcBg-U44bVUF8X7BYuIOlD7HWHQGr0jx_KhcYc6Y/s400/IMG_EarlyApril.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was clear that Nala had longed for gentle, loving touch--she never grew tired of it. </td></tr>
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While I was intellectually prepared for it, it really was striking how <i>stunted</i> Nala was.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVaJ2lHnEh8G1EkhwtveHRiMtFDT9JbVWMWcFVQEAhz1Xid3iazjBzxgU861Dle2vp6YoR4iygh9iNISlMD9SQutDryVp_wmDkzarGidosPUg0EJotZT02EwYK0Uepe88wh1JwIiu2Qg/s1600/IMG_0972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVaJ2lHnEh8G1EkhwtveHRiMtFDT9JbVWMWcFVQEAhz1Xid3iazjBzxgU861Dle2vp6YoR4iygh9iNISlMD9SQutDryVp_wmDkzarGidosPUg0EJotZT02EwYK0Uepe88wh1JwIiu2Qg/s400/IMG_0972.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On her second day home, Nala cautiously checks out the family room. Although immediately adjacent to the spot at the edge of the kitchen were we spent most of our early weeks, it was some time before Nala actually entered the family room and a long time before she became comfortable there.</td></tr>
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She was missing some basic skills we associate with pet dogs. She'd never used stairs prior to her foster home and she still clumsily climbs them one paw at a time instead of bounding up the steps like most dogs learn to do. She'd obviously never had occasion to jump up on things--she tries to climb up and when that doesn't work, she'll give up. I have to boost her into the car! She didn't sniff around or try to eat food that fell on the floor, she didn't try to manipulate objects using her paws or muzzle (she was utterly mystified by "shake" for the longest time because, I think, she wasn't used to reaching out for things with her paws, and certainly not to engage with people!), and she was initially petrified when her foster family introduced her to leash-walking. It took months for her to comprehend playing with toys, despite watching first the resident dog at the foster home and then dogs I dog-sit playing with them. As she grew more comfortable, she started feeling a desire to play with me and other dogs, but she seemed rattled and overwhelmed by her own joy, doing just a move or two before quitting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pqpjEcimd1xZnMp4bVvsxOu4Qb1YZDKV1qUVy89k7uodL5I1HLQ0d8C4mRYUAHMVWbd0iE5rLnD5I0TUNTjB57XAwuMat-nWjdVjRDf4vFG4uzta0Ddlr-WYX6QlrI_Tp25VYJ53EOs/s1600/IMG_1457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pqpjEcimd1xZnMp4bVvsxOu4Qb1YZDKV1qUVy89k7uodL5I1HLQ0d8C4mRYUAHMVWbd0iE5rLnD5I0TUNTjB57XAwuMat-nWjdVjRDf4vFG4uzta0Ddlr-WYX6QlrI_Tp25VYJ53EOs/s320/IMG_1457.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what passed for direct eye contact with Nala.</td></tr>
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And then there was the emotional stunting. She seldom wagged her tail, though she wagged it regularly in her dreams, and when she did start wagging more regularly, it was usually just one wag, with the tail low, not necessarily every day, and for a long time, only in front of me. She made no noise. Her foster mom heard her bark once over the course of three months. After crying for the first day or so at our house, Nala clammed up and my mother didn't hear another peep out of her of any kind for two months and didn't hear Nala bark until she'd been with us for five. Nala did occasionally made little sounds around me, primarily an "ow!" at the end of an excited yawn or crying in the car in anticipation of doing something fun. She barked roughly once a month when startled by something, but only ever a single bark. I'm sure this is the result of being punished for making noise during her past life. Nala also shunned direct eye contact. In dog body language, looking away says, "Do not hurt me, I mean no harm," and avoiding eye contact was undoubtably high on her list of things to do when in the presence of people for most of her life. She's improving, but Nala still tends to look up at people from under her brow rather than meeting their eyes directly. She also has curiously little expression in her face, a result, no doubt, of nothing to express and nobody to express it to. She probably spent her entire life in a small kennel. I think she must have spent much of it in a neutral state, simply being. Her ears, her eyebrows, her body: they stay still and mum. And when Nala came to us, she did not ask for things. It's one of the fundamental evolutionary behavioral differences between dogs and wolves: dogs turn to people for assistance, while wolves, even if they are raised like dogs from puppyhood, do not ask humans for help. But why would Nala look to people for anything? No one had ever helped her. I remember the foster mom mentioning how Nala liked to be around them and would sit in their vicinity, but she wouldn't come over to them and budge them with her nose and say hello and ask to be petted like most dogs do. I figured out very quickly that Nala liked to cuddle and be petted, but she wouldn't come to me--I had to bring the cuddle to her. It was a huge milestone the first time that she poked me with her nose just to check in and then when she came and lay down next to me to snuggle for the first time! Pretty much the only suggestion she ever made was to briefly cry by the front door as a way of asking for a walk, but she didn't do it regularly and was not persistent. She didn't try to encourage me to go in certain directions by moving forward and then looking over her should or tilt her head to indicate something that interested her. She never asked to go outside to go to the bathroom. It was only just recently, shortly before Bixby arrived, that she made her first demand: I was sitting on the floor eating pie and she wanted some! I obliged, of course, because when your timid dog finally says, "I want that and I'm not going to take no for an answer," you honor her demand!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7R3oCEojwAA6Bl49X_o7qe6jBb5kMzFVNYH4TwR-I9l1Z4ZDXcD25X55Wi3_kEfHxga-rMOYkrjOEh6OtDenE1FZkIlFTdoNHLQtYWmuTcppOeJAKNYeBCwIcUyrZ_8-f0W-7y6640w/s1600/IMG_1183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7R3oCEojwAA6Bl49X_o7qe6jBb5kMzFVNYH4TwR-I9l1Z4ZDXcD25X55Wi3_kEfHxga-rMOYkrjOEh6OtDenE1FZkIlFTdoNHLQtYWmuTcppOeJAKNYeBCwIcUyrZ_8-f0W-7y6640w/s400/IMG_1183.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how Nala looked most of the time for the first few months--alert and concerned. As she grew more comfortable, though, her skin started to get looser! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPziIIIsouMHrHwI2O8JXItbNc1C5qnRjHaDRW_ASo48X_ToiX74hvdluZwCX58EFK9Jl7n_nRCmDnM7iGyZPbtv5N8OZb5cPdpGsb11wIs65y257_Z1C0J_gvO7bJC5ey59p-sqBqqY/s1600/IMG_1093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPziIIIsouMHrHwI2O8JXItbNc1C5qnRjHaDRW_ASo48X_ToiX74hvdluZwCX58EFK9Jl7n_nRCmDnM7iGyZPbtv5N8OZb5cPdpGsb11wIs65y257_Z1C0J_gvO7bJC5ey59p-sqBqqY/s400/IMG_1093.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a week at home, Nala's forehead worry wrinkles disappeared for the first time! I learned to notice her changes in expression--the slight relaxing around the eyes, the state of the wrinkles on her forehead--but they were subtle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaeOEjAShbQBiJEsMPj7KIWmM23ns0d86Fl0CvF2BBcB9F2ZnrR9ksu9zMkRUji2cAEkjj5MLkhUPXf8f-plHQbK6-WA9Pou5wddxaOZQGTaJTM6HOMQC36Wc25VMyHg_YsmKXvc-zZuU/s1600/IMG_March21stKiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="897" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaeOEjAShbQBiJEsMPj7KIWmM23ns0d86Fl0CvF2BBcB9F2ZnrR9ksu9zMkRUji2cAEkjj5MLkhUPXf8f-plHQbK6-WA9Pou5wddxaOZQGTaJTM6HOMQC36Wc25VMyHg_YsmKXvc-zZuU/s400/IMG_March21stKiss.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had no doubt that she liked me, even though she kept even her body language so quiet. Case in point: I'd been trying to take a selfie with Nala after she'd been home for about ten days and she surprised me mid-picture with a smooch!</td></tr>
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Nala may have been wary and silent and socially awkward, but there was still so much that was endearing about her. She obviously yearned to be able to trust and love and was affectionate in her quiet way. She worked so hard on facing her fears and she swiftly figured out that I was there to assist her, helping to unlock her when she froze and guide her forward when she hesitated, and she repaid my efforts with as much trust as she could muster. Her manners were impeccable, which was a relief, since we never had to reprimand her and all of our efforts could be put into encouragement. While she tended to fearfully bolt down her food, she took treats softly and daintily. She was clearly such a sweet, gentle, loyal dog at heart. For a dog that was so scared of being grabbed or pulled, she was actually very easy to handle, seemingly accustomed to having her paws and ears and mouth, etc., attended to. (This was very helpful, since I needed to clean and powder her belly every night.) Furthermore, I found that when exposed to things that had no reference to her previous life, Nala was surprisingly outgoing. She took to car rides and visits to the pet store and interacting with strangers on outings with gusto. It was a chance to see who Nala was when she wasn't afraid and that dog was perky, curious, and affectionate.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are two things I wrote after she’d been with us for a month: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">On Facebook:</span> </blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4L5GnFNd-3ZU8j6CDGs-L5tkCKG6ZvR-SRn9hTwVAbYgJD8nCTC7H1lRqbAdoK7oxccYIyJ_F1Nq-KBE6RRCmcFd4mCwyz4DJH7fR01lOSXokph_YNYOOgs6pASl3M4Gtu1O3wS7bEQ/s1600/IMG_1382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4L5GnFNd-3ZU8j6CDGs-L5tkCKG6ZvR-SRn9hTwVAbYgJD8nCTC7H1lRqbAdoK7oxccYIyJ_F1Nq-KBE6RRCmcFd4mCwyz4DJH7fR01lOSXokph_YNYOOgs6pASl3M4Gtu1O3wS7bEQ/s200/IMG_1382.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nuzzles.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“I’m marveling over how three weekends ago I was celebrating the fact that Nala was finally confident enough to go up the stairs without having to be coaxed up step by step with treats. Now I'm celebrating the fact that Nala has been playful and excited for four mornings in a row and that today she has already requested a walk AND to be given a bite of my breakfast. That the fearful dog who was overwhelmed by the task of going upstairs is now feeling confident enough to express opinions and happy enough to be wagging her tail and running around the yard just for the fun of it is truly amazing. Nala still has a long way to go, but if she can come this far in a month, I have no doubt she is going to make a full transformation into a perfectly ordinary beloved canine companion whose only carryover from her rough beginnings will be her lady drapes.”</i> [“Lady drapes” was the term I coined for her double row of sagging teats!]</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfT8dEABWoXQ_lqxx29APiGMCEagWd9MV9cHiM82du2if8Qxxbv-wLBDzPeN6_YAAQQ1aNCoYpfWUa_EV89j_hJ8e0ld10-m10WjQpsJ03hF6MxDRK6wu9tzOolwgaVX0If2KrvspQP4/s1600/IMG_1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfT8dEABWoXQ_lqxx29APiGMCEagWd9MV9cHiM82du2if8Qxxbv-wLBDzPeN6_YAAQQ1aNCoYpfWUa_EV89j_hJ8e0ld10-m10WjQpsJ03hF6MxDRK6wu9tzOolwgaVX0If2KrvspQP4/s400/IMG_1200.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala and her lady drapes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGt2NPEQFfe3VZQk19GhKVAFKTa6hKc3dlbj6Yil7MHBdLXVkK2XtUc9c7PHgpmpUgfoOhtOmk0yDhRmxdnRNM9W-6N8_vAX2eqHsRbHXBhuAPjLtdi7cf5F74y2FauM1PMUJBBmKH_4M/s1600/IMG_1577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGt2NPEQFfe3VZQk19GhKVAFKTa6hKc3dlbj6Yil7MHBdLXVkK2XtUc9c7PHgpmpUgfoOhtOmk0yDhRmxdnRNM9W-6N8_vAX2eqHsRbHXBhuAPjLtdi7cf5F74y2FauM1PMUJBBmKH_4M/s400/IMG_1577.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala's lip gets stuck on her gums!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In a note to her rescue:</span> </blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSRsgtdKNRHIVx0-o3XyR9Cp8UukT-2vesp_EBwaKiKIBEwNDy4qexQIIBNyN2P1R55bzwl36AJZGBZg2DXHBqRGP7AIKW29dLoyPxZ0DGck1hLzE9vMTzE5xYIZqjdnOQvT8CMqlytM/s1600/IMG_1669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSRsgtdKNRHIVx0-o3XyR9Cp8UukT-2vesp_EBwaKiKIBEwNDy4qexQIIBNyN2P1R55bzwl36AJZGBZg2DXHBqRGP7AIKW29dLoyPxZ0DGck1hLzE9vMTzE5xYIZqjdnOQvT8CMqlytM/s320/IMG_1669.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala at rest.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“I thought you'd like to know that after one month at home, Nala is doing great! Every single day she gets more comfortable and confident. Her favorite things are car rides, walks, being petted, and hanging out with me. This past week she has started initiating a little bit of play every morning (or, in today's case, have major zoomies in the backyard) and she's wagging her tail more frequently. She's also started greeting strangers we meet on our field trips to Petco--I had not expected her to be brave enough to voluntarily sniff the outstretched hands of men she didn't know, but she kind of goes out of her way to do it now! Nala has claimed her preferred spaces in the house and even expresses an opinion now and then, which is a big step for a shy dog with her history. If I'm at her side, she finds she can summon the nerve to confront all kinds of scary things. On our walks, especially, if she sees something unfamiliar, she's become more likely to lean forward with curiosity than to recoil with fear. We've learned that at home, if she's spooked by something, if you're patient and let her work through her fear, she can often summon the courage to get over her initial fright. She's got a ways to go yet before she puts the trauma of her previously life behind her, but I never, ever expected that Nala would get to where she's at in so little time! It's just amazing and so rewarding to watch her and help her bloom. In addition to being incredibly courageous, Nala is a beautiful, gentle, polite, sweet, and loyal companion. She's enriched the life of my whole family and we all love her so much!”</i></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1O0yvoGWHsFJV37-zNWj-rUNFSNtPYy-cigFcAtkSddCqEpNDd2nLT4tgBsXugzYKglXkun1TzleHAEBGQSh-Qmy_73QZQ4Swiz6XK0TKDv2Cf0kycI0-A_DAYVC9GqzBVKOszemYfl8/s1600/IMG_0777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1O0yvoGWHsFJV37-zNWj-rUNFSNtPYy-cigFcAtkSddCqEpNDd2nLT4tgBsXugzYKglXkun1TzleHAEBGQSh-Qmy_73QZQ4Swiz6XK0TKDv2Cf0kycI0-A_DAYVC9GqzBVKOszemYfl8/s400/IMG_0777.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a couple of weeks, Nala started to relax and really enjoy her walks. She'd hold her tail high when out and about, which was different than how she carried herself at home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2LQOPs93xXFiA1MUNZs8BDSGz7XrhG7UnvB4BWcOYGbmRMpKH4_4ISsJmQwQsgNHkbhjeJ2OkLBe4tLJVEYdXfPWjthwMEk_T-ejKgeYD1mBFct4FyvrYbUiOPxlI6FRtvuFaU9IlLM/s1600/IMG_0765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2LQOPs93xXFiA1MUNZs8BDSGz7XrhG7UnvB4BWcOYGbmRMpKH4_4ISsJmQwQsgNHkbhjeJ2OkLBe4tLJVEYdXfPWjthwMEk_T-ejKgeYD1mBFct4FyvrYbUiOPxlI6FRtvuFaU9IlLM/s400/IMG_0765.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my girl on a springtime walk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-muxUmpWRowfNM0x2Nt4T-mJfKDHeiHu8hWcDbZzOJIYdGp8haCSDrL6suGOVjV9tj7edCb_N6OkYWr7yq4cULm_CwRoPIqxhBKt62lLyZUO9tBiUuz3USls573X3OaUirN5qPW667g/s1600/IMG_0796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-muxUmpWRowfNM0x2Nt4T-mJfKDHeiHu8hWcDbZzOJIYdGp8haCSDrL6suGOVjV9tj7edCb_N6OkYWr7yq4cULm_CwRoPIqxhBKt62lLyZUO9tBiUuz3USls573X3OaUirN5qPW667g/s400/IMG_0796.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seeing Nala like this after an outing was so amazing, since it was such a contrast to her day-to-day poker face. If outings were going to make Nala smile, I was going to take Nala on outings, which is why nine months with no blogging happened!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Much of Nala’s progress was witnessed only by me—she wagged her tail just a little bit for me the second day she was home, but it was a month before she did it in front of anybody else in the family, and no one else saw her playing in the yard or heard her little happy sounds—but even with others, her tremendous resilience and perseverance despite her fears was notable. It was clear that Nala didn’t WANT to be afraid of my dad, it was just that she’d had so much bad experience with men that it was hard for her to approach him even though she didn’t actually think he would hurt her. Her compromise was to deliberately put herself near him in “safe” situations, such as when both my dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table or when he was sitting on the couch and I was on the adjacent love seat. We had decided on the policy of not pushing Nala to have a relationship with my dad until she was ready to initiate one herself and while the going was very slow, it was clear that she was working so hard to trust him against everything her experience had taught her about men.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB1C06OY4wbgJyI2GuVa6k5ipPqmeUWP-UGikO2tJ6ePsUeWMuN8qnNWN43Z4fp_YvgVyrTfZBSNddDxO2UPq7YC5tCx9y6GykSDb6vzmu-pDRUz2LE6k1ZN_5HUurITFSVSzvMTvdAk/s1600/IMG_2078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB1C06OY4wbgJyI2GuVa6k5ipPqmeUWP-UGikO2tJ6ePsUeWMuN8qnNWN43Z4fp_YvgVyrTfZBSNddDxO2UPq7YC5tCx9y6GykSDb6vzmu-pDRUz2LE6k1ZN_5HUurITFSVSzvMTvdAk/s400/IMG_2078.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who is that brave dog reflected in the window?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLdUsVH1NBe3iAAazEmY3TpQzzkZz2TSHreTmpNaQHqewHK71Vsfzbn7o3Zo9Wb0MpxJscUj_sdMRUQwWW7Q8fovCy_sZpUo1X21mIlc8Qy8apNIE6-h7XvAg2GMT22k0-96Ih5Y5qEA/s1600/IMG_2194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLdUsVH1NBe3iAAazEmY3TpQzzkZz2TSHreTmpNaQHqewHK71Vsfzbn7o3Zo9Wb0MpxJscUj_sdMRUQwWW7Q8fovCy_sZpUo1X21mIlc8Qy8apNIE6-h7XvAg2GMT22k0-96Ih5Y5qEA/s320/IMG_2194.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pondering the world.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The progress continued. To my astonishment and delight, it turned out that Nala LOVES water. She was startled and intrigued by the lake on her first encounter, but was ready to experience it up close by the time we reached the end of that walk and not only waded in, but plopped herself down in it and then had zoomies in and out of the water. After that, I often made the point of trying to plan walks where she’d have the opportunity to splash in a body of water, so we drove all over to experience new creeks and rivers and lakeside parks! It was so fun to see her glorying in all that this new life had to offer—including horses. The sight of one nearly blew Nala’s mind: she’d never imagined such an amazing thing existed! So I took her to parks and Petco and the bank and everywhere interesting I could think of. On those walks, I also learned that there’s something about her that really draws people to Nala. I will always treasure the time when a group of people, seeing Nala at some distance, called out, “Your dog is beautiful!” Passing people would smile at her and compliment her. A surprising number of people wanted to stop and meet her and make a fuss over her. And Nala loved this! It’s so interesting—I’ve walked a number of head-turning dogs in my day, many of them more traditionally gorgeous than my funny little hippo, but I’d rank Nala at #3 in terms of people wanting to interact with a dog I’m walking, after only Mr. Goregous, the stunning rough collie, and smooth collie brothers Teddy & Roo, who know everyone in their neighborhood and are in the habit of stopping and saying hello to all of their friends. Something about her cheerful air and wiggle-walk and swinging teats and upraised tail seems to make people smile and want to get to know her better. So much for hysteria about pit bulls! And, of course, Nala has a very compelling story and everyone is so glad that my sweet and gentle girl is getting a happily-ever-after ending to her previously harrowing life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrt_5btPTfnmU5N66vIFKx3medmufLnQGAqLF5B3ch0gaSLlUoVRAA-4kIm2K39LBbJ-MeQpq5QAVTJeCElVYx3qSE555FiOCGwFUTkq-30VOMwTnNoeKTVEnlmOz_19uWFqSGJ7PmYYI/s1600/IMG_0815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrt_5btPTfnmU5N66vIFKx3medmufLnQGAqLF5B3ch0gaSLlUoVRAA-4kIm2K39LBbJ-MeQpq5QAVTJeCElVYx3qSE555FiOCGwFUTkq-30VOMwTnNoeKTVEnlmOz_19uWFqSGJ7PmYYI/s400/IMG_0815.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What's THAT?!" wonders Nala when presented with the lake. She hung back during her first encounter, but by the end of the walk, she'd braved the little waves and had water zoomies!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Co-DpnQS2v83LRWbAUl_zPljLElKrNA_pB_7ZCzpaNnY6I7pcdbkSR52mN6b7h6Ld1ys4jstBe_aopBOOeE-HheKQCageLKPcazgli6LZ_svJFrrLcXBRPjUw73nnpb48-wfvQe1dlQ/s1600/IMG_0834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Co-DpnQS2v83LRWbAUl_zPljLElKrNA_pB_7ZCzpaNnY6I7pcdbkSR52mN6b7h6Ld1ys4jstBe_aopBOOeE-HheKQCageLKPcazgli6LZ_svJFrrLcXBRPjUw73nnpb48-wfvQe1dlQ/s400/IMG_0834.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala likes to plop herself down in a body of water before doing her "thrashing hippo" maneuver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrYEd0jbaNvu5v421hfNrBrRxjY8s7QGDUaCIRbuEjXhpyYT4Okjat82YZCT1hB29ZLGxa7nhBpMs_-0jHEFds_R2gyrBcwh3r2Z0CzQCdSBv07IMH7P953-huqBuH9Oym8ZCx6I9EzU/s1600/IMG_0840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrYEd0jbaNvu5v421hfNrBrRxjY8s7QGDUaCIRbuEjXhpyYT4Okjat82YZCT1hB29ZLGxa7nhBpMs_-0jHEFds_R2gyrBcwh3r2Z0CzQCdSBv07IMH7P953-huqBuH9Oym8ZCx6I9EzU/s400/IMG_0840.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sopping wet and happy as can be!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuPvQpG_RJ5fTmVPZpmFUWNtWD0Je-N-FVLmQH9_qEE8oB792X0JuQQXu5219IeEaXeFbGvGdE5omuc6-ZuaFhQ0iqoWkJ_sYKcVXNVgbK5xXZvuDToXxNlZ6V5L0ARFojDvad9Or3BA/s1600/IMG_2336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuPvQpG_RJ5fTmVPZpmFUWNtWD0Je-N-FVLmQH9_qEE8oB792X0JuQQXu5219IeEaXeFbGvGdE5omuc6-ZuaFhQ0iqoWkJ_sYKcVXNVgbK5xXZvuDToXxNlZ6V5L0ARFojDvad9Or3BA/s400/IMG_2336.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala having a blast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iO9NP_pf5415pkQ3hE4GEVPrWs8wGQpHo8egYew3QVNlqC6JRTQpOZSqlO6CHajFvBSfPYMsJ8luhcMUB2ahLe5Kas9CPtVPhOQQrDrUoIxNr-58vmtFgOvqc3diX3Ldg-ZZVZ3_wdE/s1600/IMG_0854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iO9NP_pf5415pkQ3hE4GEVPrWs8wGQpHo8egYew3QVNlqC6JRTQpOZSqlO6CHajFvBSfPYMsJ8luhcMUB2ahLe5Kas9CPtVPhOQQrDrUoIxNr-58vmtFgOvqc3diX3Ldg-ZZVZ3_wdE/s400/IMG_0854.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala loves forests, too. And horses!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_Xs2kV767hx8MG19GvM_IezymdBHLprbOxjXd_OeGcPnvT5JxPyojT4Z8Vh_MZZelITLfWndeqnf73pUDWvrX8iZGysHi_LEhGdDyMbgLjugDYMtiurHAcNeyTidl3estaEZ9Xalj5w/s1600/IMG_2200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_Xs2kV767hx8MG19GvM_IezymdBHLprbOxjXd_OeGcPnvT5JxPyojT4Z8Vh_MZZelITLfWndeqnf73pUDWvrX8iZGysHi_LEhGdDyMbgLjugDYMtiurHAcNeyTidl3estaEZ9Xalj5w/s400/IMG_2200.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think it's easier for Nala to enjoy things that have no reference to her former life as a breeding dog or to her first frightened months as she began her transition to being a pet. I know, thanks to all the outings we've taken, that this dog exists inside Nala. It is my goal for this happy, social, playful, carefree dog to be present at all times.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Some things still scared her, of course. She remained highly suspicious of the branches of the trees swaying over our yard when the wind blew and was always on the alert for activity overhead, more so than any dog I’ve ever seen. The smallest thing, like a small spider or light reflected onto the ceiling, would catch her eye, and whenever she was nervous, she always checked overhead to make sure nothing is going to hurt her from above. You could still freak her out by simply reaching your hand toward her, or making a sudden move or noise that she wasn’t expecting. We also discovered that she was much more fearful when tired: after an excellent day of fearlessly enjoying new things, it was common for Nala to be spooked by things that she'd seemingly grown accustomed to. When tired or scared, she was most easily soothed by retreating into what we took to calling her “office,” which was a bed under my desk. Her office was her den, her safe space, and she preferred to be there than with the family. She needed her office badly on the day that she saw my father kill a fly with a fly-swatter: Nala was terrified. She cowered and shook in a way we hadn’t previously seen and it was so clear that she knew exactly what that motion entailed: being beaten. I helped her calm down, but when she saw my dad again later in the day, Nala started shaking again. It was so hard to see. We’d gotten used to the idea of the neglect, the pulled teeth, and what that represented, but this indisputable evidence that she was familiar with being beaten was hard to stomach. We were also worried that it would set back Nala’s slow acceptance that my dad wasn’t a threat. But once again, Nala surprised us: a week and a half later, Nala asked my dad to pet her for the first time! </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A different worrisome crisis was the appearance of idiopathic head tremors, a neurological condition most commonly seen in dogs with big, blocky heads that caused her to involuntarily shake her head as if saying no for five minutes or so at a time. I was so upset when it first happened because it seemed so unfair for Nala to have a neurological condition after such a hard start to her life. Thankfully, after happening every other day or so for a month, the tremors went away and she hasn't had a single episode since the end of April.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BRu7ys3X9lLBa4h2Rij2dxQfk_ZW4YmOGIto8bkSGHOa1SrHwHEBQ_s_uDZJMh89LJoyT5S7Z3T3axsz4LtDqicatn9Id3L2sQV9eaKklLovMLq1xALmNtAxVSoZFbSfedl_wJRcDQQ/s1600/IMG_1379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BRu7ys3X9lLBa4h2Rij2dxQfk_ZW4YmOGIto8bkSGHOa1SrHwHEBQ_s_uDZJMh89LJoyT5S7Z3T3axsz4LtDqicatn9Id3L2sQV9eaKklLovMLq1xALmNtAxVSoZFbSfedl_wJRcDQQ/s400/IMG_1379.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see how fearful Nala is of taking a treat from me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8YwrmLT_Qy38Enn6XR8DAyiZDL4Nb0xJ2bwHo0OsYAF3cKlAuIWlcKtesmp79ypWdI1937mnk65gtxnvaWdBAeLE0yRzVg3UE5aVBOsW7vV8X0U5JbrTGVUQgMjSgdycmrIBWrCdGSk/s1600/IMG_1390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8YwrmLT_Qy38Enn6XR8DAyiZDL4Nb0xJ2bwHo0OsYAF3cKlAuIWlcKtesmp79ypWdI1937mnk65gtxnvaWdBAeLE0yRzVg3UE5aVBOsW7vV8X0U5JbrTGVUQgMjSgdycmrIBWrCdGSk/s400/IMG_1390.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala picked out two safe spaces for herself in our house: under my desk...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-qIxiUjuupzoPpVOMFTYhuxIuvyQXfmFDIblwr2FDBleoUpneNcq1yHEsY7zh6_4YZhZLx1ysTJ-giQjb6o3T3O4exBQ8i4X2ksXKpJrhlYnNKwKW0xjD20nKVF7Fr6MGC9L4UthXj4/s1600/IMG_3074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-qIxiUjuupzoPpVOMFTYhuxIuvyQXfmFDIblwr2FDBleoUpneNcq1yHEsY7zh6_4YZhZLx1ysTJ-giQjb6o3T3O4exBQ8i4X2ksXKpJrhlYnNKwKW0xjD20nKVF7Fr6MGC9L4UthXj4/s400/IMG_3074.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....(seen here with the bed I put under there for her once she started spending most of her time in that spot)...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowk3o6GrcnOxUjw1vLXXVq_nMeOfFVbNQZuIEmqEiYMiqYZNhe_jOhyHI-GKLX_J4qxFiX6nc1KElWAa144CJzveMP6Kg5Yi3jNWrEL1G4gjqJpIdxD-RR7iDiLkqzQ01GGWHf1_s7Wg/s1600/IMG_2092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowk3o6GrcnOxUjw1vLXXVq_nMeOfFVbNQZuIEmqEiYMiqYZNhe_jOhyHI-GKLX_J4qxFiX6nc1KElWAa144CJzveMP6Kg5Yi3jNWrEL1G4gjqJpIdxD-RR7iDiLkqzQ01GGWHf1_s7Wg/s400/IMG_2092.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and squished between some furniture in what I call her "nest." </td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In May, I wrote,</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“I didn't register the six-month anniversary of Abbey's death until after the fact; Nala and I had been busy dog-sitting Teddy and Roo at the time. When I did remember, it brought forward a notion that I'd been formulating in the back of my mind for some time: Nala, I feel, is Abbey's final gift to me. One of the things that I'd long used to help me accept Abbey's eventual passing was the notion that Abbey's death would allow me to get to know my next dog, that I couldn't have the one without the other. But my feeling, now that that idea has become fact, goes even deeper. Abbey gave me so much in so many ways, but the one I've thought about the most in recent weeks is that I couldn't be here for Nala in just the way Nala needs if I hadn't had Abbey first. I needed Abbey in order to have Nala. And I am so profoundly glad to have Nala. She is giving my life new meaning and new depth and new joy. But none of these things would have been possible without Abbey's life and, crucially, Abbey's death. Nala NEEDS me. Nala's liberation from her former life happened right around the time when Abbey no longer needed her body and transitioned from a physical being into an abiding memory and because of that, there was a place for Nala. Nala, who needed a home. Who needed me. Thanks to Abbey, who saved me and gave me a reason to live when I needed it, I can save Nala. I don't know if I'm expressing it clearly, but there's this profound sense of continuity, of rightness, of inevitability. I rarely miss Abbey anymore, not because I've forgotten her or that Nala has replaced her, exactly, but because there's no NEED to miss Abbey, since she's helping me help Nala. Nala, who is so dear to my heart. Nala, who I needed. Nala, who is mine. Thanks to Abbey.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oKndOJqPs_ZnhSEQNCLS0X7-uWi0AN_BJRJEzJX0ss8Il0ZVw3VV2LLbPakv6c0GzGceu4oj56Z4LCRnPGlcWJSxytuiYyxnAxPiAQ7bTOSjcDCY4Koe6d8t8Ha7MByzWhqeq_ovvmw/s1600/IMG_2207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oKndOJqPs_ZnhSEQNCLS0X7-uWi0AN_BJRJEzJX0ss8Il0ZVw3VV2LLbPakv6c0GzGceu4oj56Z4LCRnPGlcWJSxytuiYyxnAxPiAQ7bTOSjcDCY4Koe6d8t8Ha7MByzWhqeq_ovvmw/s400/IMG_2207.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the days got nicer, one of Nala's favorite things to do was take a sunbath on the deck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYEHLItumQQ6u-SMSi4AsLjm-J7qZT2KTcIo1Hc4j1eVtI69arBV9zDIMdbsIDkHNKzvNa2B3s-wtsZi3ioq_e9KxykhSWpiuj95xDwXhZ2SGTbPsX2FrTMwbwu1uPvPqTMww2dbpLGk/s1600/IMG_1899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYEHLItumQQ6u-SMSi4AsLjm-J7qZT2KTcIo1Hc4j1eVtI69arBV9zDIMdbsIDkHNKzvNa2B3s-wtsZi3ioq_e9KxykhSWpiuj95xDwXhZ2SGTbPsX2FrTMwbwu1uPvPqTMww2dbpLGk/s400/IMG_1899.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala does her best at trying to eat the Forbidden Ornamental Grasses that Abbey was always trying to sneak, but it's not easy to eat grass without any front teeth!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGpTaeHSNsKgiPpYr7R-ra9UoEBVEizS8gfIygG9ZDFK_9kIdcAs7WcvlboXWIpa61W-dZGJGaZJJxEMtTk0rR6cY6PPy0tlh-aCEcEG1OcA8k3qDQlIO_o9vAEd84Fm_gD28v6IsHaU/s1600/IMG_2225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGpTaeHSNsKgiPpYr7R-ra9UoEBVEizS8gfIygG9ZDFK_9kIdcAs7WcvlboXWIpa61W-dZGJGaZJJxEMtTk0rR6cY6PPy0tlh-aCEcEG1OcA8k3qDQlIO_o9vAEd84Fm_gD28v6IsHaU/s400/IMG_2225.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seeing my Nala sleeping with her tongue sticking out makes me laugh, but it also fills me with such aching tenderness. I love her so very much.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8QgmtfhWUytc2hBpE0z8DO3wL_8THCeYS_DpBNZ8Mj0kswHirLZ0GddRXKnyGQcFT9r9dsmtjD3YU3x9cqDUFl7FU68x6C1POJPYFSggOaGOfGncz6gCNcWhYn_xay6mc0Ec0suqXgA/s1600/IMG_2760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8QgmtfhWUytc2hBpE0z8DO3wL_8THCeYS_DpBNZ8Mj0kswHirLZ0GddRXKnyGQcFT9r9dsmtjD3YU3x9cqDUFl7FU68x6C1POJPYFSggOaGOfGncz6gCNcWhYn_xay6mc0Ec0suqXgA/s400/IMG_2760.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's such a beautiful, sweet, and gentle soul.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5A_3vnv7caYP_zcuHIkUb-EFgNSMbBM2qhWYltjeLn6_y-k5YXjpItyJze9r6Qo-J_ttcZ69X3x1FPV5KHk6jQlG8uO5oOGY-axL0hGc-zq8vhT9zFbbfcuAKvjbwEjA1YYZVe2nebwI/s1600/IMG_2406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5A_3vnv7caYP_zcuHIkUb-EFgNSMbBM2qhWYltjeLn6_y-k5YXjpItyJze9r6Qo-J_ttcZ69X3x1FPV5KHk6jQlG8uO5oOGY-axL0hGc-zq8vhT9zFbbfcuAKvjbwEjA1YYZVe2nebwI/s400/IMG_2406.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just as Abbey and I were meant to be, Nala and I are meant to be, too. I was not expecting to get another "heart" dog after Abbey, but my love for Nala is just as deep and every bit as rewarding. What Abbey did for me, I am now able to do for Nala. It's a perfect continuum of love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNPLJT4gudlH4_SBm-8p5SJe8dTA9zPtX9dB210YCb3Rb2Ha5cXCj_BZKFHyGRIpniY3M6Pq_cTsdyxJxq6H-4e1VY2sfiXADRtg-7-aXmdYADhUh-BEOVIx0IL4syuts6zrn67YgebU/s1600/IMG_0801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNPLJT4gudlH4_SBm-8p5SJe8dTA9zPtX9dB210YCb3Rb2Ha5cXCj_BZKFHyGRIpniY3M6Pq_cTsdyxJxq6H-4e1VY2sfiXADRtg-7-aXmdYADhUh-BEOVIx0IL4syuts6zrn67YgebU/s200/IMG_0801.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a walk with the boys. </td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Nala went with me on our first dog-sitting gig six weeks after she came home and it was successful beyond my wildest dreams. It was with Teddy & Roo, and Nala, so friendly with other dogs while also being so mellow and respectful, was able to integrate with them immediately. I’d planned to do a slower intro where she was on a tie-down, but it quickly became clear that everyone was happiest when she got to move freely. By two days in, Nala was acting as the filling in a Teddy & Roo sandwich. Subsequent visits with T&R, Curly, and Jazzy went just as well. It became clear that being with other dogs made Nala happy. She was more relaxed, more chatty, and much braver. I decided to try taking her with Curly to the small dog park near our house and it was a success! She spent most of her time greeting the dogs and people, but even on the first visit, she had a teeny-tiny game with another dog. (As I noted at the time, “Can you imagine how weird it must be to greet another dog and suddenly have this bizarre desire to spin and twirl and be chased?”) At first, her games lasted only one move. Then, two or three. By mid-July, she’d progressed to playing full games with other dogs, displaying all the grace of a lumbering dairy cow, but her body alive with joy. And, of course, the other dog owners loved her, admiring her beauty and mellowness and gentleness of spirit and cheering her on.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfxn7APCD33L7GUIbIge_tq3-7wBqPpnRObIkVK_-VWk-ftv1aB1eGwyTgodc-aIRmF7qgwWsbrYGmZfUfDrTOFd5-PoPb4Cx7yHXGmWyrGUrpb70z4inlh0qClkOB4U35dRlz0IfgOQ/s1600/IMG_1804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfxn7APCD33L7GUIbIge_tq3-7wBqPpnRObIkVK_-VWk-ftv1aB1eGwyTgodc-aIRmF7qgwWsbrYGmZfUfDrTOFd5-PoPb4Cx7yHXGmWyrGUrpb70z4inlh0qClkOB4U35dRlz0IfgOQ/s400/IMG_1804.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala and the boys got along beautifully.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjqOcT4a0gq5hEpfSDwyuN1DEJo8E6sviIZvTugRzJDbXvMUHRST49uAgYoaeClF_2W-WrjTny_dVTUhTCbv5qds3H1WToOeoziS02jHXs7ASqzi1wV_CGWymebzcGnbgE6TfAw7gjT8/s1600/IMG_1724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjqOcT4a0gq5hEpfSDwyuN1DEJo8E6sviIZvTugRzJDbXvMUHRST49uAgYoaeClF_2W-WrjTny_dVTUhTCbv5qds3H1WToOeoziS02jHXs7ASqzi1wV_CGWymebzcGnbgE6TfAw7gjT8/s400/IMG_1724.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved seeing the Nala--happy, proud, at ease--who emerged when we dog-sat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCC7vUCoGKgB0EvrEur5Qe0aKBEIAEqp4YY02gy-KTZDxwqMV8iXqhwb3WDux9n8begHRKJuHfF2y92dA6UNmoY2bh7pASfRPUFQp_QLlyjc4BU7pMLgVU6HoXCeLP9pUjrR1PN_KvDY/s1600/IMG_2771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCC7vUCoGKgB0EvrEur5Qe0aKBEIAEqp4YY02gy-KTZDxwqMV8iXqhwb3WDux9n8begHRKJuHfF2y92dA6UNmoY2bh7pASfRPUFQp_QLlyjc4BU7pMLgVU6HoXCeLP9pUjrR1PN_KvDY/s400/IMG_2771.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly was quite captivated by Nala's aroma when they were first introduced. Nala sends a lip-licking "I don't mean any harm!" signal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifetOsZX1lJSEYmoAYsNP6K34On_UVdXvpWGVnDjGB39o9xZqw6NNmDSGVGb6MOZpSD4wSYm9ah6w-Xl6GmqxWKubCyvdb-P8guvWaSM7z0_OtxA3f3xbpDZsXIx7v386TeBL2K2e08es/s1600/IMG_2835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifetOsZX1lJSEYmoAYsNP6K34On_UVdXvpWGVnDjGB39o9xZqw6NNmDSGVGb6MOZpSD4wSYm9ah6w-Xl6GmqxWKubCyvdb-P8guvWaSM7z0_OtxA3f3xbpDZsXIx7v386TeBL2K2e08es/s400/IMG_2835.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I often found Curly and Nala side-by-side at my feet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iA4S_SAXj2l_AVhollOHYYoFjhHR7BDPgXO5JWaoBFgx8sNKFaANiMApSFDZ-Wun3HlNZTBx5KfBrPr5Ro8L-h69sQPIMDIUYfCk_He6B7ItkyBDLzAjT0n86P-hNRcFuejjfCU-uWE/s1600/IMG_2831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iA4S_SAXj2l_AVhollOHYYoFjhHR7BDPgXO5JWaoBFgx8sNKFaANiMApSFDZ-Wun3HlNZTBx5KfBrPr5Ro8L-h69sQPIMDIUYfCk_He6B7ItkyBDLzAjT0n86P-hNRcFuejjfCU-uWE/s400/IMG_2831.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala at Curly's. Pit bulls can be such sloppy sitters!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSvg3iMb28CTZ95eC5GOJGmRtltuZwA9TVPMtNaZ22fdZ7eig6xs0JmWm0-LcGxrw_5ML5EFVFrrwiOkIhUT6R5kczN0iCoEOg4QVZ1EEhIPqzfM-2c_ttuHDqfMImhKAkYjE04bseC8/s1600/IMG_3184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSvg3iMb28CTZ95eC5GOJGmRtltuZwA9TVPMtNaZ22fdZ7eig6xs0JmWm0-LcGxrw_5ML5EFVFrrwiOkIhUT6R5kczN0iCoEOg4QVZ1EEhIPqzfM-2c_ttuHDqfMImhKAkYjE04bseC8/s400/IMG_3184.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala and Jazzy. Jazzy is on the high-strung side and not always comfortable with other dogs, but she and easy-going Nala got along right away.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDP8I8JwLUpSCtRvWVhaQ-ImNXpq5arrc-_sGGrBkudZw3WNt14CaC1L-E5yRQIHqwFBWEjZqDePos8GqxcXDQiwpaRjCZv3_097uBmfpGsCBwNhdN3KYSFsFA9Hr3jfi1nTmI0N8qGQ/s1600/IMG_3104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDP8I8JwLUpSCtRvWVhaQ-ImNXpq5arrc-_sGGrBkudZw3WNt14CaC1L-E5yRQIHqwFBWEjZqDePos8GqxcXDQiwpaRjCZv3_097uBmfpGsCBwNhdN3KYSFsFA9Hr3jfi1nTmI0N8qGQ/s400/IMG_3104.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala is stalking something in the bush at Jazzy's house in this photo! She sloooooowly lifted this paw and sloooooowly and silently set it down as she tried to creep up on some critter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwslFE8JIHNrtRiUABSymbF4laqQqYX7q0M9zQc7YDngBGYAq7wOib3BSiPuWetNd55WQbf4N6YzEk6mSKA6UuggPCjtVYalGwiBDg2_cJ8UXhV_fkejUu9kX_nk9Cc1j0dhQA3By49oQ/s1600/IMG_2972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwslFE8JIHNrtRiUABSymbF4laqQqYX7q0M9zQc7YDngBGYAq7wOib3BSiPuWetNd55WQbf4N6YzEk6mSKA6UuggPCjtVYalGwiBDg2_cJ8UXhV_fkejUu9kX_nk9Cc1j0dhQA3By49oQ/s400/IMG_2972.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dog-sitting makes Nala happy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_dEXxlufMKukboK3fHOKgrPh6QokLuuMxj3fkji_iNc3tANQjY7xvUhMar0CJaEVrmvk1pelhbn3wVU58jjSlQQLVkygNoSyAAo0f90hPaSCsdssNp545gcxuFrVShyVe_lm2Qk0pNE/s1600/IMG_3160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_dEXxlufMKukboK3fHOKgrPh6QokLuuMxj3fkji_iNc3tANQjY7xvUhMar0CJaEVrmvk1pelhbn3wVU58jjSlQQLVkygNoSyAAo0f90hPaSCsdssNp545gcxuFrVShyVe_lm2Qk0pNE/s400/IMG_3160.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala tries to roll on something for the first time while at Jazzy's!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQfIHZc-jT8lQVEtEvf0lx3sRVPGpIJs6KSOUDl3VHW2In6DxMkLt-h4ln_x_BisPgs0tMq41j4mI8nsFCKO1XBBuSWebEpHcREcrincFaB6Qwfm_TSL1YsSp61Mv_YqxmXhjLjAFQL0/s1600/P7190038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQfIHZc-jT8lQVEtEvf0lx3sRVPGpIJs6KSOUDl3VHW2In6DxMkLt-h4ln_x_BisPgs0tMq41j4mI8nsFCKO1XBBuSWebEpHcREcrincFaB6Qwfm_TSL1YsSp61Mv_YqxmXhjLjAFQL0/s400/P7190038.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The odd couple in the car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRll9YoMxwGAAXZFAH-FqMSwKPOMJBIH4U3YWlogpismn0ViOQLv-17mozgD90_sjTo6YQKUYX9nGkefSUxwpPDLlxnZUF3WCKcdqvFK4ntOUOinlccxT1GEQ6ucJ6_xhMESSCMWEau8/s1600/P7130011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRll9YoMxwGAAXZFAH-FqMSwKPOMJBIH4U3YWlogpismn0ViOQLv-17mozgD90_sjTo6YQKUYX9nGkefSUxwpPDLlxnZUF3WCKcdqvFK4ntOUOinlccxT1GEQ6ucJ6_xhMESSCMWEau8/s400/P7130011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala runs! Look at my little hippo go! She couldn't run very fast and wasn't very graceful, but every time she went to the dog park, she got bolder when playing with other dogs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrNradep_za6sJ2sX9IvwE-4oiiPMNqHkAXSrci47MieyD5HiIsY5atRCSd_QtYwSYtXfZPSl0nV2qMOoUisIV1bj1ednEZ10Efo4mPTlnQrrO86PEjMm3WsRO7o4JCjxviBD9H7KBHo/s1600/P7130018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrNradep_za6sJ2sX9IvwE-4oiiPMNqHkAXSrci47MieyD5HiIsY5atRCSd_QtYwSYtXfZPSl0nV2qMOoUisIV1bj1ednEZ10Efo4mPTlnQrrO86PEjMm3WsRO7o4JCjxviBD9H7KBHo/s400/P7130018.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala even learned how to dig a hole! She came to us lacking many basic dog skills.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RWrNYHYX-pVk_JytE5VDPK3pVnPZZjxTgTbV0ZvJvVIQ-Ro1Rr3G6KUf-1IV2mVxdoe4WX0WtWefha4LsERsherF4OppTvy7z_mSz4mTXwamNGuXYKMmdbYiOi0fIpbFfYELyOPCv0Q/s1600/P7130031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RWrNYHYX-pVk_JytE5VDPK3pVnPZZjxTgTbV0ZvJvVIQ-Ro1Rr3G6KUf-1IV2mVxdoe4WX0WtWefha4LsERsherF4OppTvy7z_mSz4mTXwamNGuXYKMmdbYiOi0fIpbFfYELyOPCv0Q/s400/P7130031.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala snuggles up with Curly for a snooze on the way home from the dog park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZDhRLbl0eaoFxmDSX01dSwJcwNQ-vu99ejQ0ICG8v05ErkorNSoxqVPlEbAzB8hrYsea-l_LPHhjXT56r02UtGr7o3YBw2fsfrriZ6L83lC2LQtfOcgDz6XI7odKsdn7TK_Rri8och4/s1600/IMG_3032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZDhRLbl0eaoFxmDSX01dSwJcwNQ-vu99ejQ0ICG8v05ErkorNSoxqVPlEbAzB8hrYsea-l_LPHhjXT56r02UtGr7o3YBw2fsfrriZ6L83lC2LQtfOcgDz6XI7odKsdn7TK_Rri8och4/s400/IMG_3032.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pretty pittie on one of our dog-sitting gigs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRadUusfOd00OvAcgX52YWLXa8yWaK6m5NI7QdUzpktPi1NnHOuaqmiyhQm5bD_jFrGMCq3Rodyhz_qy_1jAdrA1bHhyphenhyphenqNHkE-2qI0kOOnZP8roBKxFORhbVG4ZEVSn8Gke6I_1mRgf4/s1600/IMG_3325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRadUusfOd00OvAcgX52YWLXa8yWaK6m5NI7QdUzpktPi1NnHOuaqmiyhQm5bD_jFrGMCq3Rodyhz_qy_1jAdrA1bHhyphenhyphenqNHkE-2qI0kOOnZP8roBKxFORhbVG4ZEVSn8Gke6I_1mRgf4/s320/IMG_3325.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pals.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Nala had a seminal stay with Teddy & Roo at the end of June. She learned to sit on command, got to dig in the dirt for the first time, caught her first fly, played her first full game with me, and played with toys for the first time! Regarding the first: I had done virtually no training with Nala because a) she was so well-behaved that she didn’t need any obedience training and b) she was fearful of being asked to do things and was particularly spooked by treats. Obviously, food had been used in the past to lure her and while she might take a tidbit from me if offered casually, she often shied away if I held out a tasty snack and it was almost impossible for my mother to offer Nala anything without Nala panicking. Additionally, there was no easier way to make Nala freeze in fear (grooming aside) than to try to manipulate her body in some way. After consulting a trainer, I’d started using hot dogs as a high value reward to teach her “come,” but trying to put gentle pressure on her rump to help guide her into the proper sitting position was still out of the question. However, while I was giving Teddy, Roo, and Nala treats during that gig, I noticed that her body seemed very loose and relaxed and I decided to see if, with the big collie boys at her side to support her, I could move her into the “sit” position. And it worked! Between her physically relaxed state and her eagerness to get treats with the boys, she learned "sit" within two sessions. In the case of toys, Nala had always seemed bewildered by them. Little wonder: she’d probably never encountered a single toy in her life prior to her rescue. While she’d seen her canine foster sister and the dogs we’d sat together playing with toys, they’d never clicked for her. On that gig, though, something changed. While she’d first appeared rather alarmed by the games I played with T&R (they DO like to yelp happily when they play), on the 30th of June, Nala decided to pick up an alligator toy that the boys had been playing with and did a brief bit of keep away. I then introduced her to the magical thing that is a squeaky snake. And she played! She played just like a regular dog! I wrote at the time, “Friends, I hope that at some point in your life you have an experience that brings you even half of the rapturous glee Nala felt upon discovering the joys of a Squeaky Snake.” My joy was as nearly incandescent.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6qIL5RRqF6JIjEEZW6RBkoEPA8RQiNO6-VLu6ikBhr2R6JNol4WYk2cVCzN02HIrioEEBfHsyrZq-ArGRo1_n3fCUEUkk-_nCXFC_ssUrlVoeKSnDLDH9uBZUQdUuWY-ok5trDnP8jk/s1600/IMG_2688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6qIL5RRqF6JIjEEZW6RBkoEPA8RQiNO6-VLu6ikBhr2R6JNol4WYk2cVCzN02HIrioEEBfHsyrZq-ArGRo1_n3fCUEUkk-_nCXFC_ssUrlVoeKSnDLDH9uBZUQdUuWY-ok5trDnP8jk/s400/IMG_2688.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a photo of Nala tasting rotisserie chicken. She approved! Hot dogs are more convenient for training purposes, though.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala plays! Nala plays with a toy!!!</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwuSQ0pwj9diPi_DceiDBLjQiZVUejDmYC_CITk2tEg3AJZYX93-z8kwWGKH-ZvWWiWKwW23OqcG4OpkDnq9A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nala and the Squeaky Snake</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone was happy!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was after that gig that we started to talk about getting Nala a dog of her own. It had become abundantly clear that when she was in the company of other dogs, Nala could make progress that she couldn’t make alone. When she was with other dogs, Nala’s past melted away and she became lighthearted, demonstrative, confident, and even a little silly sometimes. How could we deny Nala, who had endured so much and had so little, the chance to be her happiest? We’d never had more than one dog, but we loved Nala and if Nala needed a dog, well, we’d get a dog for Nala. I started combing Petfinder for a mellow, happy-go-lucky male dog of a similar size who was affectionate with both humans and other pups.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala looks black, but in strong sunlight her true color--a delicious dark brown--is revealed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We wanted Nala to be able to feel this happy all the time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCn7veKyzIkqKemUXAzhyMeg5WLs8v462xMlfm19S-6_vj5iOyDIN7yU_baPkEXYH4I4CJTorJyOX5E-3faHGpmg6QFbrtVtRGTVQNtR-dErxtt53dfr73FJTzudzHkmxzyo9na6-88M/s1600/IMG_3535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCn7veKyzIkqKemUXAzhyMeg5WLs8v462xMlfm19S-6_vj5iOyDIN7yU_baPkEXYH4I4CJTorJyOX5E-3faHGpmg6QFbrtVtRGTVQNtR-dErxtt53dfr73FJTzudzHkmxzyo9na6-88M/s400/IMG_3535.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My main nicknames for her are Nala Doll, Mama, Mama Nala, and Little Mama.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">During the time we searched for her companion, Nala discovered the joys of chasing rabbits, learned “down” in one session with Curly and Jazzy’s assistance, found out that you can scratch yourself by rubbing aga</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">inst a bush, and sorta grasped the command “shake."</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RABBITS!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji131hptcgBQF23h-jgSthSDpp9hsvdpQ-AnoMqApzw-PWc9CEVZ9oOD8XU-VN_svWQBdp5Z4MgMMtIFiIUtLvidAaXdXHLyew1USI_1zeE2IIlgHOhVGC2z2aLO8KZEgKi_9FGRuwYAw/s1600/P7200014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji131hptcgBQF23h-jgSthSDpp9hsvdpQ-AnoMqApzw-PWc9CEVZ9oOD8XU-VN_svWQBdp5Z4MgMMtIFiIUtLvidAaXdXHLyew1USI_1zeE2IIlgHOhVGC2z2aLO8KZEgKi_9FGRuwYAw/s400/P7200014.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning "down" at Jazzy's house with Curly's assistance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXmr71pIroMAmj2B53n-LWFP5BgY_UpLNTr3bQ28D6GiAqxedLtm5Kcs3nmb9_QNjlvAcqMljoOQIFEbzLG2C1UwTkd_lE0eqS9sAjLKZsAGxReHg0Ql4FjOavvETPAPXcvlFGDGF9Us/s1600/IMG_3663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXmr71pIroMAmj2B53n-LWFP5BgY_UpLNTr3bQ28D6GiAqxedLtm5Kcs3nmb9_QNjlvAcqMljoOQIFEbzLG2C1UwTkd_lE0eqS9sAjLKZsAGxReHg0Ql4FjOavvETPAPXcvlFGDGF9Us/s400/IMG_3663.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala continued to have so much fun in the water!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsG8yZ7v2iFzQZW53IshYLAzcToHMhdiUAmymIaYEryEQwp2uDARqBBJv8R4CofUfGBeKpC2B3oOAGUh98FdQD72NkAoMW8kF5_SkMPgxoZz6QtIsMkHSEfMN7MgiKThZlgVkEQRx4i14/s1600/IMG_3810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsG8yZ7v2iFzQZW53IshYLAzcToHMhdiUAmymIaYEryEQwp2uDARqBBJv8R4CofUfGBeKpC2B3oOAGUh98FdQD72NkAoMW8kF5_SkMPgxoZz6QtIsMkHSEfMN7MgiKThZlgVkEQRx4i14/s400/IMG_3810.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's quite the little explorer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSDBr_1pcElixQOXPtIa8gbtoa_o2p65PQkhCEBYxxpKvFBrtxs2vY9jx_kJKs9FjKFxmCQCafzXQvLMX9yoMPiURYptexzc2d5RnkwKz9YI1RN9tUY-Cn_sj_agzExKl89GiCpGC704/s1600/IMG_4323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSDBr_1pcElixQOXPtIa8gbtoa_o2p65PQkhCEBYxxpKvFBrtxs2vY9jx_kJKs9FjKFxmCQCafzXQvLMX9yoMPiURYptexzc2d5RnkwKz9YI1RN9tUY-Cn_sj_agzExKl89GiCpGC704/s400/IMG_4323.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the vet said to me, "This is not the same dog physically or emotionally that she was six months ago."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxExUhmqv3gV7lGcbMmzorrdIIwKca94cTIRJuVLuRH-iPJg-Yi-dwCliRfNc_wLvarGGaDp-mqJNCOvU5y_ZjXh0HDR5eTHkS5KstBVn_I3ekvjhmp7kVp-CByz7IcMqIMUb0sbGp74/s1600/IMG_4343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxExUhmqv3gV7lGcbMmzorrdIIwKca94cTIRJuVLuRH-iPJg-Yi-dwCliRfNc_wLvarGGaDp-mqJNCOvU5y_ZjXh0HDR5eTHkS5KstBVn_I3ekvjhmp7kVp-CByz7IcMqIMUb0sbGp74/s400/IMG_4343.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala enjoying the sun so much that she starts to melt off the step!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUevw62uWQ1eC5n6SXxq4xh7zAbltw8LU-SxyILhxIY9vDd5LILJrA_MExUubO3dDNw294kayUFHWPKI7PX9XpxFyCPT0YtXS7CyUd1xbSfwzDLU5nwYPK1PMo2SCPpGNrq8lDxfgQSI/s1600/IMG_4443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUevw62uWQ1eC5n6SXxq4xh7zAbltw8LU-SxyILhxIY9vDd5LILJrA_MExUubO3dDNw294kayUFHWPKI7PX9XpxFyCPT0YtXS7CyUd1xbSfwzDLU5nwYPK1PMo2SCPpGNrq8lDxfgQSI/s400/IMG_4443.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With her tail held high and her ears flapping, Nala explores Pipsqueak's yard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was absolutely thrilled when she discovered that Pipsqueak had a perfectly-sized hippo pond at her house!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_owfMM6iQKEcULwQ8OH1brucMw3KYDnjjHn4t8RW93qTmw0XAIYXgJiFVQFfWklvjKEHijx3aoc6JitgJ61zWTOIcDFWFc6roiGATl9WG-iIVnBJaE-uxHF3_qe-5hR3tZAhBR6jvHB4/s1600/IMG_4541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_owfMM6iQKEcULwQ8OH1brucMw3KYDnjjHn4t8RW93qTmw0XAIYXgJiFVQFfWklvjKEHijx3aoc6JitgJ61zWTOIcDFWFc6roiGATl9WG-iIVnBJaE-uxHF3_qe-5hR3tZAhBR6jvHB4/s400/IMG_4541.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ultra-mellow Nala has been helping Pipsqueak learn that big dogs are not scary.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And yet, no matter how much progress she made elsewhere, Nala continued to spend most of her time at home up in her "office" away from the family. Even with high value rewards as an incentive, she could still be skittish about getting treats from my mom and never fell asleep with her back to my dad. After all this time, she seldom wagged her tail or made a sound and was her full self in my presence only. Because she had memories of being afraid at our house (simply because she'd still been in such a fearful place when she came home), she was stuck on being anxious when at home. She needed a friend to help her see that she needn't be afraid at our house anymore.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjgJf8HWP9nexj94BHiAyOrTpe50kiop40YePtLktr8DpE6WB1Vhu24sKHEYKeR4diVMMEhPjvP1K5kIVUFw9lpd8Pf5meVzloIG6qZCG4BLdBNQU7Db6IECh7DyvKvXIIMXFO-KoCRc/s1600/IMG_2736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjgJf8HWP9nexj94BHiAyOrTpe50kiop40YePtLktr8DpE6WB1Vhu24sKHEYKeR4diVMMEhPjvP1K5kIVUFw9lpd8Pf5meVzloIG6qZCG4BLdBNQU7Db6IECh7DyvKvXIIMXFO-KoCRc/s400/IMG_2736.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nala continued to worry about what was happening overhead.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjSdtBUGc3kH9MyRDjyjTK7YH0El2P-G3t22vGYdhg2ltG2HCbBGZ2M7wtcK1lGmEtNSJb3O5iVha7ZZuDLb7iDZcoiV1iB7REa739Bw4w-Jr3kC4q-S51eIR2iL8ebkEer_nAZrjZo0/s1600/IMG_3214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjSdtBUGc3kH9MyRDjyjTK7YH0El2P-G3t22vGYdhg2ltG2HCbBGZ2M7wtcK1lGmEtNSJb3O5iVha7ZZuDLb7iDZcoiV1iB7REa739Bw4w-Jr3kC4q-S51eIR2iL8ebkEer_nAZrjZo0/s400/IMG_3214.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She spent almost all of her time in her office. We didn't want to push her too far and make her uncomfortable, but we hated to see her isolating herself.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Enter Bixby. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpYRiWIEr2g_rgM8Qr-qtvuzuScHvGokaq7ONZm1s4zZFUXiug0N7lpQftlNr2xfVQ_gnkDTBHqCAnlx8KQR227LO9AI1nE6ORvPK7_DMI41Yb64gala0NZtmRzHbEa-zGWL_C-sHpQQ/s1600/IMG_4573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpYRiWIEr2g_rgM8Qr-qtvuzuScHvGokaq7ONZm1s4zZFUXiug0N7lpQftlNr2xfVQ_gnkDTBHqCAnlx8KQR227LO9AI1nE6ORvPK7_DMI41Yb64gala0NZtmRzHbEa-zGWL_C-sHpQQ/s320/IMG_4573.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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To be continued!<br />
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-44073039069945807722017-02-28T17:41:00.000-08:002018-03-12T01:25:14.466-07:00Moving Forward<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxVUzIR3tAB4tkBMqLmKIcFxsp40y-fokpV81lLZJaNzQjaK-MLQ2AvuywlGF1rhW30QnammwtWRl6wZL5JksdMFhd6p6LMzxtJq3wl-ROUPDHYpl8JFNp5cytakWLTSyQwviAKDITJg/s1600/IMG_5535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxVUzIR3tAB4tkBMqLmKIcFxsp40y-fokpV81lLZJaNzQjaK-MLQ2AvuywlGF1rhW30QnammwtWRl6wZL5JksdMFhd6p6LMzxtJq3wl-ROUPDHYpl8JFNp5cytakWLTSyQwviAKDITJg/s400/IMG_5535.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's been four months now since Abbey passed away and <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/11/a-love-larger-than-loss.html">three months since I wrote</a></u> about my singular experience of peace, rather than grief, after her death. It is the nature of grief to come and go in waves, so I'm no longer occupying that same surreal space of serenity, but this is not a bad thing. Life has resumed. For a couple of months, I had the sense that Abbey was not gone, but, rather, simply not here. That's changed. Abbey is gone now. But it's okay. I don't talk to her every night anymore, either, and that's okay, too--I've found that I've said everything to her that I needed to say. I <i>do</i> still usually give her urn a brief caress when I go to bed and as a family, we still talk about her all the time. In December, I finally managed to donate her leftover dog food. I got notecards with her photo printed on them and sent a thank you note to our regular vet, the vets that handled her euthanasia, and one, along with a donation, to the shelter where we got her. Donating the food and sending the notes were both emotionally demanding, but those tasks were necessary to my mourning and my process of letting go. I bought a pretty storage box for the things of hers that we are saving--her Disintegrating Christmas Reindeer and some of her other favorite toys, her collection of rope bones, the various collars she had over the years--and will be packing them up this week. And I finally, finally washed the stinky bedding in her crate. Overall, it's been okay.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBSB4FdEKxOjUusz7QRhfx8TWyoUvAPNYgddfAPn3lrTmJCQD5vAJoc0WFP9VeW-uHbptCMFiDlwOAylX26SBfJQ4tjH3o0VD2De7puQEOkcsuZClefyJSbUkk4jZhOtaLf_3NrQbKNk/s1600/IMG_3927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBSB4FdEKxOjUusz7QRhfx8TWyoUvAPNYgddfAPn3lrTmJCQD5vAJoc0WFP9VeW-uHbptCMFiDlwOAylX26SBfJQ4tjH3o0VD2De7puQEOkcsuZClefyJSbUkk4jZhOtaLf_3NrQbKNk/s200/IMG_3927.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey with presents from Santa. <br />
(She generously shared that jar<br />
of peanut butter with the rest of <br />
the family.)</td></tr>
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What was hard was Christmas. I think we were all rather taken aback by how hard it was to have Christmas without Abbey. Abbey loved Christmas and we got such a kick out of how much she enjoyed it. She knew just what was happening when the stockings were hung up on Christmas Eve! The family tradition has always been that my sister and I would wait at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning until given the signal that we could come down, a ritual we largely preserved as adults. Abbey would wait impatiently with us, eager as a small child to charge down the stairs to see what Santa brought her! She'd get some chews, some kind of treat, and her yearly stuffed toy. She'd also "help" me with my stocking, of course, and play her first game with the new stuffie before we moved as a family out to the living room to open presents around the Christmas tree. Abbey love this part, too. I think she liked how everyone was there, sitting on the ground, and how everyone was happy. She did some assisting with the unwrapping of presents, but mostly lounged in our midst, radiating satisfaction. But this Christmas, there was no Abbey to run down the stairs, no stuffies, no interested wet nose pushing through my hands as I pulled off a present's wrapping paper. That was not the only change. My sister, who married over the summer, spent Christmas with her husband's family. It was the first Christmas since I was born where there were just three of us, not four. No Abbey, no sister, no stockings--it just wasn't the same.<br />
<br />
I also found myself thinking more about Abbey's final days of illness in ways I hadn't before. For several weeks I couldn't seem to stop myself from seeing her climbing the stairs, vomiting as she went, on the final evening. I hated thinking about her that way: she graced our lives for 4,389 days and that penultimate day was not who she was or how I wanted to remember her. It did eventually lead to some more curiosity about what disease had killed her. When it was all happening, there'd been no time and really no point in picking apart what caused her intestines to fail--it was enough that they failed. I'd never researched canine intestinal cancers because the subject didn't come up until that second-to-last day and then, within twenty-four hours, she was gone. When I finally checked, it was somehow reassuring that unless a mass is detected and removed early, mortality rates are high. In one type of cancer, once it metastasizes, it can prove fatal within as little as fifteen days. It's not as if there was something that we could have done: if Abbey had been feeling sick for a long time, she hid it well. In retrospect, we wonder if the fact that she'd started choosing to nap in her crate instead of on my bed during the day for a month of two before the end was indicative of something starting to go wrong inside her, but fourteen year-old dogs sleep a lot and Abbey had always loved her crate and preferred to sleep there at night instead of on my bed, so it was hardly a matter to bring before the vet. Cancers often proliferate silently in dogs; in some ways, I was lucky to have had as much time with her as I did after she got so horrendously ill. And even if I'd taken her to the vet on Thursday or Friday instead of planning to call on Monday, it would still have been too late. Test results wouldn't have even come back by the time all hell broke loose on Sunday evening. There was nothing else I could have done. Modern veterinary medicine kept her as comfortable as possible during the last days. Modern veterinary euthanasia philosophy meant that she could slip away in my arms on my bed surrounded by her family. Everyone did their best, just as she always had.<br />
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I missed her keenly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekl16UbOrCA0lndGsI6G6cxXypZ7oXh7_qTqXpoPjC-HL82tLwDNnt00kDmLti2LJ5A1chieUgOhBDlB0qDLv5FaAnO1vK2TRdBchv5sd5cGzy8uTnZ9nM2suFbvteP4Apk9u3BVdIIk/s1600/IMG_4229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekl16UbOrCA0lndGsI6G6cxXypZ7oXh7_qTqXpoPjC-HL82tLwDNnt00kDmLti2LJ5A1chieUgOhBDlB0qDLv5FaAnO1vK2TRdBchv5sd5cGzy8uTnZ9nM2suFbvteP4Apk9u3BVdIIk/s200/IMG_4229.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rabbit at silflay.</td></tr>
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But then I reread Richard Adams' classic novel, "Watership Down," about the trials and adventures of a group of rabbits finding and establishing a new home. I'd last read it nearly twenty years ago and remembered only that the rabbits called a motorized vehicle a "hrududu." This time around, I was struck by the final passages of the novel, which I share below. (For clarity, in rabbit mythology, the great rabbit folk hero El-ahrairah has ears containing starlight, in rabbit society, an Owsla is a warren's ruling council, and in rabbit vocabulary, "silflay" means to feed outdoors.)</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>One chilly, blustery morning in March, I cannot tell exactly how many springs later, Hazel was dozing and waking in his burrow. He had spent a good deal of time there lately, for he felt the cold and could not seem to smell or run so well as in days gone by. He had been dreaming in a confused way--something about rain and elder bloom--when he woke to realize that there was a rabbit lying quietly beside him--no doubt some young buck who had come to ask his advice. The sentry in the run outside should not really have let him in without asking first. Never mind, thought Hazel. He raised his head and said, "Do you want to talk to me?" </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Yes, that's what I've come for," replied the other. "You know me, don't you?"</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i> "Yes, of course," said Hazel, hoping he would be able to remember his name in a moment. Then he saw that in the darkness of the burrow the stranger's ears were shining with a faint silver light. "Yes, my lord," he said. "Yes, I know you."</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"You've been feeling tired," said the stranger, "but I can do something about that. I've come to ask whether you'd care to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you and you'll enjoy it. If you're ready, we might go along now."</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>They went out past the young sentry, who paid the visitor no attention. The sun was shining and in spite of the cold there were a few bucks and does at silflay, keeping out of the wind as they nibbled the shoots of spring grass. It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch, but stopped for a moment to watch his rabbits and to try to get used to the extraordinary feeling that strength and speed were flowing inexhaustibly out of him into their sleek young bodies and healthy senses.</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"You needn't worry about them," said his companion. "They'll be all right--and thousands like them. If you'll come along, I'll show you what I mean."</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>He reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom. </i></blockquote>
<i>"It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more..."</i> When I saw that, I understood, and my grief once again melted away before my sense of awe. Abbey did not need her body anymore, so she left it lying on my bed in my arms.<br />
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She did not need her body anymore not just because her bowels no longer functioned, but because her work, her life, her time here were done.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_mr8wLX0srlQNsBMmRurrkcByUWs-bXLjlQFB8obsX1ngKFRf0uM_0lQfdkyEPuybu4HI9Uux73zZScv-oFs0JJ-OQGz3FiJQDfnriLdGfhbL8XOolxBCUgTXHRjEjqMypW7K3A3W_UQ/s1600/IMG_9095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_mr8wLX0srlQNsBMmRurrkcByUWs-bXLjlQFB8obsX1ngKFRf0uM_0lQfdkyEPuybu4HI9Uux73zZScv-oFs0JJ-OQGz3FiJQDfnriLdGfhbL8XOolxBCUgTXHRjEjqMypW7K3A3W_UQ/s400/IMG_9095.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
She gave everything to me, her heart, her life, her love, and left her body behind. I hope that she is now running alongside Hazel, matching speed for speed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDMLQIqdWc40rMexPGVMH8BAdOso8IPEvZvj81rRMlYt49bZgUu41ZaY44_UC04sjK6YPuUkZRss8NAWUC5SKmzouyixWjciw7AF8lIcp_fBBaUCFtWnnnV9MyeeXjQM62RVfN-uwtJM/s1600/IMG_7733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDMLQIqdWc40rMexPGVMH8BAdOso8IPEvZvj81rRMlYt49bZgUu41ZaY44_UC04sjK6YPuUkZRss8NAWUC5SKmzouyixWjciw7AF8lIcp_fBBaUCFtWnnnV9MyeeXjQM62RVfN-uwtJM/s400/IMG_7733.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Who could want more than that?<br />
<br />
Well, perhaps I want this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>In My Good Death</i><br />
<br />
<i>I will find myself waist deep in high summer grass. The humming</i><br />
<i> shock of golden light. And I will hear them before I see</i><br />
<i>them and know right away who is bounding across the field to meet</i><br />
<i> me. All my good dogs will come then, their wet noses</i><br />
<i>bumping against my palms, their hot panting, their rough faithful</i><br />
<i> tongues. Their eyes young and shiny again. The wiry scruff of</i><br />
<i>their fur, the unspeakable softness of their bellies, their velvet ears</i><br />
<i> against my cheeks. I will bend to them, my face covered with</i><br />
<i>their kisses, my hands full of them. In the grass I will let them knock</i><br />
<i> me down.</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>--Dalia Shevin</i> </blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIDK18KJFTztIo-JMwHvdVtBKGrMHj_5mEDq1vQHsLTEmGm00RPwueAxgI7uB3LlVluU2patjP3rVgGUOIPRO5usknXVWrBKhHqbgprwgm_d7CNjrS7GJ88szTb5hmL8Vkw-xQhgRpDQ/s1600/IMG_3295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIDK18KJFTztIo-JMwHvdVtBKGrMHj_5mEDq1vQHsLTEmGm00RPwueAxgI7uB3LlVluU2patjP3rVgGUOIPRO5usknXVWrBKhHqbgprwgm_d7CNjrS7GJ88szTb5hmL8Vkw-xQhgRpDQ/s400/IMG_3295.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There had better be nose nibbles in heaven.</td></tr>
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<br />
But all this, Abbey's passing, it isn't how it ends. It is just one more thing, one more story, one more memento, one more gift, one more grief, one more love, one more dog. One of many.<br />
<br />
My dog-sitting work has resumed. I've spent some time with Sable & Scruffy, Pipsqueak, Curly, Cutie, Teddy & Roo, and a new client, Jazzy. It's mostly been drop-in visits, but some overnights, too. It has made me happy to be with them, though one of the times when I miss Abbey most is when I'm returning from an overnight gig and know my own dog will not be there to welcome me home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbs-D6Df487p-zdXcwrLuP0wq8dgSECzvV3taYI5xLsHc5cw8s5g60eg4nY25QZfofE3-KxHDIixnh9MPWW9ngJHiEHK_3EAcOCdrjopWjRytpTnCOnlp4M0uFJEkDR8az3YEQOvqXHU/s1600/IMG_8423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbs-D6Df487p-zdXcwrLuP0wq8dgSECzvV3taYI5xLsHc5cw8s5g60eg4nY25QZfofE3-KxHDIixnh9MPWW9ngJHiEHK_3EAcOCdrjopWjRytpTnCOnlp4M0uFJEkDR8az3YEQOvqXHU/s400/IMG_8423.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable found a really great stick washed up on the beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICe4QIl8sZrQ5nKmx1tfp0jS6XrjvxswQiZqYfIGsQE2tRHuxv82_JBDt0XT9KAdzuDIhnLZ5FKCi7ZZte5dlRPyPbu4nkAN9rZJB3Wp36HBTBICdseDFc_ZUJU8-CSkthtfWfh8WsqY/s1600/IMG_8393.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICe4QIl8sZrQ5nKmx1tfp0jS6XrjvxswQiZqYfIGsQE2tRHuxv82_JBDt0XT9KAdzuDIhnLZ5FKCi7ZZte5dlRPyPbu4nkAN9rZJB3Wp36HBTBICdseDFc_ZUJU8-CSkthtfWfh8WsqY/s400/IMG_8393.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wind-blown Scruffy sniffs the air for prey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJKa5FZP8WUCsG2i4QGYQiTzV94x626InXvq2ooyRMzd9349WFQBInCRkM6g6Lm8gaL0oSNx516vEK7D7ecBWtrUnRJlMf5D4LcQke2xcrK-HwovuIqQ_kGktXm8esJky8ax4eqeORgg/s1600/IMG_8761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJKa5FZP8WUCsG2i4QGYQiTzV94x626InXvq2ooyRMzd9349WFQBInCRkM6g6Lm8gaL0oSNx516vEK7D7ecBWtrUnRJlMf5D4LcQke2xcrK-HwovuIqQ_kGktXm8esJky8ax4eqeORgg/s400/IMG_8761.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Miss Pipsqueak.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkvW3oyla0j3aMajh32YA1Te5lg6scJJIg0nSP3P4F1JqiOyAelxa8jNWLBfTuh-S4Lbj6vXjyDFfcFN50NssiVPkB7IUM4N1Ffs3kMW10-Fz6DM9JpuIZO1IUSk2vn9Y9JIHDkPLjRQ/s1600/IMG_9911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkvW3oyla0j3aMajh32YA1Te5lg6scJJIg0nSP3P4F1JqiOyAelxa8jNWLBfTuh-S4Lbj6vXjyDFfcFN50NssiVPkB7IUM4N1Ffs3kMW10-Fz6DM9JpuIZO1IUSk2vn9Y9JIHDkPLjRQ/s400/IMG_9911.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly just turned two!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNeTSb5pPUebBlrdyxKs1oJN7r47e3ga-1HOPxXrvu9rZ4nqSXH8hCV4aXpuge3sHP8jyqdwUZ7FlEWmbLdqYi5RvsEe7yxj_t0k4zDRRc2TpDSZ12w9k2o3qjPqUQZ6raG0m1dtpxk3k/s1600/IMG_9773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNeTSb5pPUebBlrdyxKs1oJN7r47e3ga-1HOPxXrvu9rZ4nqSXH8hCV4aXpuge3sHP8jyqdwUZ7FlEWmbLdqYi5RvsEe7yxj_t0k4zDRRc2TpDSZ12w9k2o3qjPqUQZ6raG0m1dtpxk3k/s400/IMG_9773.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie just turned six!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a2N2B6atWU6erLcp1e-f_QruAkKTcO_3QXzt8iRBt6Zeb9RyTNnAzjhsmbg3Td2wHOPZuhUCmLQ2svcIfp9cQtohAjHxfRwfVhuoA4NNbwj4WhzhlitebqZoirC1aUKMgUvTaXJ7N3E/s1600/IMG_9754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a2N2B6atWU6erLcp1e-f_QruAkKTcO_3QXzt8iRBt6Zeb9RyTNnAzjhsmbg3Td2wHOPZuhUCmLQ2svcIfp9cQtohAjHxfRwfVhuoA4NNbwj4WhzhlitebqZoirC1aUKMgUvTaXJ7N3E/s400/IMG_9754.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got Cutie and Curly together for a couple of playdates. They had so much fun!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kYWPLbb7Mf-8nGfgO0b_HcJb2ArwqRv5VMAVHuIhGlwkeuAI87sRn1_x_jACV24qzzJNjopepzcbYUhct-UrAL1pQ7HGd_NCXXWfcRYFJTBlvnZjbQrFNaPczUW3U0HNg5VCidv8FCY/s1600/IMG_0725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kYWPLbb7Mf-8nGfgO0b_HcJb2ArwqRv5VMAVHuIhGlwkeuAI87sRn1_x_jACV24qzzJNjopepzcbYUhct-UrAL1pQ7HGd_NCXXWfcRYFJTBlvnZjbQrFNaPczUW3U0HNg5VCidv8FCY/s400/IMG_0725.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMbhmADZsrc4gGek1b46qrV6XWjJoYAH97Xu6IG__QhZGe-IUoBtiSBTQHzoGyK3zIEGhvjk81PkkG4bjymWVyRHACb8XrxYRreiEpM3uV7zf0RJgay-yeGvYCQtdQ49eb44Xaiu-GEM/s1600/IMG_0699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMbhmADZsrc4gGek1b46qrV6XWjJoYAH97Xu6IG__QhZGe-IUoBtiSBTQHzoGyK3zIEGhvjk81PkkG4bjymWVyRHACb8XrxYRreiEpM3uV7zf0RJgay-yeGvYCQtdQ49eb44Xaiu-GEM/s400/IMG_0699.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teddy and Roo have just turned twelve.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPS6I82KbZgBYQirWrOwVNLQggpyHTfnGn8rvWSdQV68xbF9B20oy3xmMV3lofe9u-0ArKZ-CjZKBC-gFSEq5Wracowhv7_wABof_xgiLPfBthZpBtS3vMXFzW_izr0ApL1wnQYUTZYQ/s1600/IMG_9630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPS6I82KbZgBYQirWrOwVNLQggpyHTfnGn8rvWSdQV68xbF9B20oy3xmMV3lofe9u-0ArKZ-CjZKBC-gFSEq5Wracowhv7_wABof_xgiLPfBthZpBtS3vMXFzW_izr0ApL1wnQYUTZYQ/s400/IMG_9630.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Jazzy, a Mini Australian Shepherd!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXHX4JcYBqzJixEXaKM8NVdcggwWIQEsg6-bcqBqf5GDXlesbSY4kSwKMvI4bmQwriGtLe_zamEYjCpxd0D1cEgIUd7n1PCRTx5lanWtjko5sH13FHUyazN2l_oUBer9RDxHAdKkbUn0/s1600/16681795_1479506495401476_6758504442190721764_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXHX4JcYBqzJixEXaKM8NVdcggwWIQEsg6-bcqBqf5GDXlesbSY4kSwKMvI4bmQwriGtLe_zamEYjCpxd0D1cEgIUd7n1PCRTx5lanWtjko5sH13FHUyazN2l_oUBer9RDxHAdKkbUn0/s200/16681795_1479506495401476_6758504442190721764_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This boy was the first I considered.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then there's my new dog. Abbey, I feel, has settled into her final resting place and I decided it was time to start searching in earnest. After the first meet-and-greet I did, the emotional enormity of both the task and its implications gave me a massive migraine. However, I persevered. Thanks to my years of dog-sitting, I knew how critical it was that my next dog have certain attributes in order to protect my health, the single most important thing being the dog's energy level. I needed a low-energy pup that would be fine without being walked and perfectly content to snuggle on days when I had to spend most of my time in bed. There are scads of dogs in need of homes whose adoption profiles say things like "would make a great jogging or hiking partner!" or "perfect for an active family!" That's shorthand for "high-energy, needs lots of exercise." It's much, much harder to find dogs with lower energy levels, so I felt it would behoove me to keep my eye open for any such dogs that might become available. I also knew that I needed to adopt a dog that was living in a foster home because the way a dog behaves in the shelter is not a guarantee of how it will behave in a home. Much sooner than I expected, I found a profile for a dog that seemed to meet all of my criteria: low-energy, sweet, easy-going, and good with other dogs. My family went to meet her this weekend and it was clear that she's the one.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LzMjxFho0m8KtWCDrenAe0055CPm2qXHYK-mNyuQYQwQqLfKYzb5Qu-OqzUreELZLtdwjs9C0y_XYTGl8h1q6avGeAsu9g16w0ysIbUmiju_pEoDml7l9rJS-Y80c3HUHPFUFCmbsAw/s1600/IMG_0763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LzMjxFho0m8KtWCDrenAe0055CPm2qXHYK-mNyuQYQwQqLfKYzb5Qu-OqzUreELZLtdwjs9C0y_XYTGl8h1q6avGeAsu9g16w0ysIbUmiju_pEoDml7l9rJS-Y80c3HUHPFUFCmbsAw/s400/IMG_0763.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Nala.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She'll join our family in the middle of March and I'll wait until then to tell more about her! But she needs me, just as Abbey needed me, as much as I need her, and I know we will become dear companions.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe7YcRI7dHXNrWmHdAwTN16Cefr-A65WMyHh0W2ciUiTpIKVvvILFg37VYpCUOW-KrxX6h_Y4Nj4DDUImyBgvf4vJqrSnwy9H_xWjxM7I4ZgFRzSusuyObsz6focNdc3MmzIgtdHo3Bc/s1600/IMG_0758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe7YcRI7dHXNrWmHdAwTN16Cefr-A65WMyHh0W2ciUiTpIKVvvILFg37VYpCUOW-KrxX6h_Y4Nj4DDUImyBgvf4vJqrSnwy9H_xWjxM7I4ZgFRzSusuyObsz6focNdc3MmzIgtdHo3Bc/s400/IMG_0758.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's a very gentle soul.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is not the end of Abbey. This is just a new phase, the one where I use the heart that Abbey opened for me and everything she taught me to give this new girl the best possible home. I had a long chat with Abbey, in fact, after we got home from meeting Nala, and told her all about it. I asked Abbey to help me watch over this girl and make her feel safe and loved and cared for.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pzU3VhBfE71794fHUZ7iPH9j23_q3Pc9yOgECcJfaER6KcBRLFKzwuQFlujerDXNKv55xq3KkrgXTECdGTfT-7JzgTrvaBcsVhsw3u0GSCEz_-fOxkg8sBWWwnJ3C-bQh4Aa3KXmyVQ/s1600/IMG_2336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pzU3VhBfE71794fHUZ7iPH9j23_q3Pc9yOgECcJfaER6KcBRLFKzwuQFlujerDXNKv55xq3KkrgXTECdGTfT-7JzgTrvaBcsVhsw3u0GSCEz_-fOxkg8sBWWwnJ3C-bQh4Aa3KXmyVQ/s400/IMG_2336.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping an eye on things.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I dreamed of Abbey the other night. She gave me a joyful yodel-bark, licked my face vigorously, and suckled on my cheek as if she was nursing. Abbey will always be one of the great loves of my life, but there is room in my heart for many more.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_37bo8rgMTTm2OsbvKIF67mmgI-0Iz3u6vL6ogVxmf0a3kcFBJYt8St5wK2EvNr7WoY5-hXs40hKpqKRhQ5ME_SCMRYl2ktL7aAPtw3blaqEgmSWUBq2OGFSW67zlWdiYEGy3cCJ9uI/s1600/IMG_2231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_37bo8rgMTTm2OsbvKIF67mmgI-0Iz3u6vL6ogVxmf0a3kcFBJYt8St5wK2EvNr7WoY5-hXs40hKpqKRhQ5ME_SCMRYl2ktL7aAPtw3blaqEgmSWUBq2OGFSW67zlWdiYEGy3cCJ9uI/s400/IMG_2231.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful brindle beast.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If you love Abbey, you can see many more photos of her on <u><a href="http://packdog.com/abbey-6">her Pack page</a></u>!</div>
</div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-59221122411230782412016-11-17T17:28:00.000-08:002016-12-05T23:23:40.159-08:00A Love Larger Than Loss<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52sGV52H-eG5kcgTUZOoqT0LBdZdcfbcsp-9YpqBK8tlN_B6UmPM37BKUYhsCcHZjMUGYON30peBgP5snJG-Dk1WhTQdOkfTAd66wvHO3iGNI5CdzQCj4brs-WHa_3XzA6xQYmu_fJbw/s1600/IMG_1509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52sGV52H-eG5kcgTUZOoqT0LBdZdcfbcsp-9YpqBK8tlN_B6UmPM37BKUYhsCcHZjMUGYON30peBgP5snJG-Dk1WhTQdOkfTAd66wvHO3iGNI5CdzQCj4brs-WHa_3XzA6xQYmu_fJbw/s400/IMG_1509.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My soft-eyed sweetheart.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My beloved dog, Abbey, passed away on October 21st, 2016. This did not catch me unawares: I'd been preparing myself for her death since not long after I adopted her twelve years ago.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEt_E_ZhQqhhM-HicavjP8ZOzd6o_mzZ0LZq_e5bJ9tedBZeiJ5stmCirAR_WO1V12Sow53sl_zyFsle4NgBWibaqhLVcz-NMyYJF4f2E05DV3eM1Ps2npsaJonK2gP3iSQf-vE8IwPs/s1600/IMG_3771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEt_E_ZhQqhhM-HicavjP8ZOzd6o_mzZ0LZq_e5bJ9tedBZeiJ5stmCirAR_WO1V12Sow53sl_zyFsle4NgBWibaqhLVcz-NMyYJF4f2E05DV3eM1Ps2npsaJonK2gP3iSQf-vE8IwPs/s400/IMG_3771.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little brindle dog in a big green world.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Here is the context for that decision: I'd had the utterly terrifying experience in July of 2004 of waking up suicidal one morning. It was like waking up to discover that I had been taken hostage in my sleep and that there was now a gun pointed at my head. I had no desire to die and begged and pleaded with the part of my brain that wanted to kill me. None of my impassioned arguments moved it whatsoever and as the day wore on, I grew more exhausted and less sure of my ability to resist. There was one thing that saved me: while I hadn't been able to convince my brain to live for myself or my family, I found that I could live for my boyfriend, who was nearer at hand. I knew it would devastate him if he were to find me if I attempted suicide and that thought gave me the strength to hold on until at last I fell asleep and the immediate crisis was averted.<br />
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After that horrifying experience, I no longer trusted myself. I was scared that the same thing could happen again and I knew, now, that I might not be able to live for myself or for my family. I clung to the idea that I had proof that I'd be able to live for my boyfriend, despite the fact that he was now lived half the country away because my parents had brought me home to care for me. But then the relationship ended. In addition to the grief that came with parting with someone I loved was the terror that I was now without a surefire reason for living that I could wield against my suicidal mind. I needed to find something new.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-com-THxxepCih9DftIqmxh2teWL72W8k6P_dcRIflj9vJuDYYYL76RUvxPpjkExIcJXAw5_xOZBVBP5QhT5mmqsuggDl-M3cgcxT5ocZF1Uu1bTQTh-bI1sGFlyKY2A5i0TxjPYB1r8/s1600/IMG_7932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-com-THxxepCih9DftIqmxh2teWL72W8k6P_dcRIflj9vJuDYYYL76RUvxPpjkExIcJXAw5_xOZBVBP5QhT5mmqsuggDl-M3cgcxT5ocZF1Uu1bTQTh-bI1sGFlyKY2A5i0TxjPYB1r8/s200/IMG_7932.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey, December 2004, two<br />
months after her adoption.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I chose Abbey. We adopted her three months after my scary brush with suicide and from day one Abbey had seen my vulnerability and stuck to me like glue. She made it her mission in life to watch out for me and never let me out of her sight if she could help it. I realized that I could not possibly betray this dedication and devotion to my well-being and knew, also, if there came a time when I was living on my own with just her for company and things got really bad, making arrangements for her care in the event of my death would enable me to ask for help for myself.<br />
<br />
This was a huge relief. Except for one thing: dogs die. And I did understand that the only thing worse than me outliving her was for her to outlive <i>me</i>. Thanks to effective medication and therapy, by the time Abbey had been with us for a year, the threat of suicide was receding. In fact, her devotion was inspiring me to be braver and more confident than my anxiety had ever permitted in order to relieve her of some of the burden of looking after me. All of this meant that my love for Abbey was very intense, though, and I was worried about how vulnerable it could make me. The answer, I believed, was to start preparing myself for her inevitable loss. <i>"Abbey will die and you will be devastated, but you will also survive it."</i><br />
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And so, for the next eleven years, I never once let myself lose sight of her mortality. In time, my bipolar II depression was so successfully managed that I no longer had any fear that I would be overcome by suicidal urges. However, I depended on Abbey in new ways because I'd been beset by chronic migraines and had to stop working and give up on a lot of dreams. She kept me company as I retreated into my little reduced-trigger cocoon and brightened my days and helped, I thought, in keeping me from growing bitter about my situation. Even with these changed circumstances, I still kept telling myself, <i>"One day Abbey will die and this is okay and as it should be. You will be devastated, which is okay and as it should be, but you will also recover in time and that is okay and how is should be as well."</i> I figured all of this was more an intellectual exercise than an emotional one, since it's one thing to tell your heart something and another for your heart to believe it, but I thought repeating the idea, even if I didn't fully embrace it on an emotional level, would make the reality less of a shock when the time came.<br />
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And then the time came.<br />
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There were twenty awful hours between the time I realized that she wasn't going to survive her illness (reported in detail in <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/11/abbeys-last-days.html">this post</a></u>) and when I gave my mother the okay to finalize the appointment with the at-home euthanasia vet to take place in just three hours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BR0xo67mHbkwa43KCcsobSdjnuZMDBkYFvOAk3A99tdKrSVf2IxD5qsWdvDbqUKuYEXOVRXBIXL74pMdMHNhtLLzzicYsEq-BDZAv0XlVKJkWyPIJxXpOrBE9RR2FwP6em8f73AxqD8/s1600/AbbeyBedCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BR0xo67mHbkwa43KCcsobSdjnuZMDBkYFvOAk3A99tdKrSVf2IxD5qsWdvDbqUKuYEXOVRXBIXL74pMdMHNhtLLzzicYsEq-BDZAv0XlVKJkWyPIJxXpOrBE9RR2FwP6em8f73AxqD8/s400/AbbeyBedCollage.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so thankful Abbey got to pass away on my<br />
bed where she always felt so deeply content.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My heart had been wailing, <i>"No, it can't be time,"</i> but as soon as the appointment was made, the wailing stopped. Deep acceptance, acceptance that went all the way to the bone, that went down to the very depths of my being, took hold. It was time. There was no point in wishing it to be otherwise, in wasting energy on fighting against what I knew to be true. My dog was dying. I couldn't unmake that reality. What remained was how I handled her final hours and her passing.<br />
<br />
I had, over the years, given some thought to what I wanted for Abbey when the end came. At-home euthanasia was important, for though she liked the vet himself, she was anxious at his office and I didn't want her final moments to be anxious ones. I wanted individual cremation for sure. I'd thought for years that perhaps the best place for her to be at the end would be in her beloved cozy oval bed with the raised sides downstairs, but after she took a wonderful nap on my bed with me when we'd brought her home from the animal hospital with all of our hopes of her recovery--hopes that would be dashed in mere hours by her rapid decline, necessitating in hospitalizing her again--I realized that my bed was the right place. I wanted to be sure that she did not see my pain, as it would worry her if I seemed distressed and I did not want her to be worried. The only thing I wanted for myself was to sing her my favorite lullaby as she parted with this life.<br />
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When we picked Abbey up from hospital, she was so happy and in such good humor that it became so easy to be happy and in good humor, too. She was clearly not suffering in the way she'd been the day before, but because I knew that her death was inevitable, and that the choice might very well be between ushering her out surrounded by her family and her passing away alone that night back at the animal hospital, her good cheer was something to celebrate. I was so happy that she seemed be loving all the petting she was receiving, just like she'd had when she wasn't feeling sick. It was easy to set the tone to be one of joyful reminiscence as we gathered around Abbey on my bed for that last hour because there was so much to be joyful about. It was a true celebration of life, first as she soaked up the physical affection and then as she napped snuggled up against me. She was so happy. How could I not be happy, when she was so happy? I freely gave her my joy and my ease in her final hour and it cost me nothing to do so because I was in a place of joy and tenderness and deepest affection.<br />
<br />
Her death was a beautiful thing. I never thought it could be so beautiful. She was in my arms, so sleepy and content. The initial sedative did nothing more than deepen that sleep. I sang to her as her eyes closed and all consciousness slipped away. She may have been deaf, but I have no doubt that she heard my song. When the second sedative did its work and her heart grew still under my hand, it was simply a deeper sort of stillness. It was so peaceful. I had never imagined such peace, both her peace and my own.<br />
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To my astonishment, the peace lasted. I felt awed. I felt rather stunned, too. But I didn't feel grief. No tears came. No tears were needed. What I felt was not grief, but gratitude.<br />
<br />
The days passed and still I did not suffer. At first I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop because how could I possibly be <i>okay</i> with the death of Abbey, who I had loved more deeply and purely than any other being, who had helped me through the darkest period of my life, who had been my constant companion and such an enormous source of joy for twelve out of my thirty-five years on the planet? I'd spent <i>years</i> planning for being bereft--why was I not bereft? As it became clear that the other shoe was not going to drop, that this state of wonder was in fact the whole of my reaction to her passing, I began to grow curious about my response. How could it be that one of the most important relationships of my life had come to an end and I was experiencing virtually no sense of loss?<br />
<br />
It turns out, all those years of mentally preparing myself for the inevitability of Abbey's death <i>had</i> penetrated my emotional understanding, so I did not have to suffer through more than a few hours of the agony of denial. The role acceptance has played in reducing my distress in this situation cannot be understated.<br />
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Acceptance is not easy, especially not in our culture, where we are encouraged to always be wanting more, trying harder, shooting higher, looking for better. However, there are some things, like death, that no wanting or trying can alter. If you've had little practice or training on how to deal with things that cannot be changed, confronting them is very painful. Thankfully, I have received both theoretical and practical training in mastering the art of acceptance.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtPAHnxDtNMNa9c8UiIJfDbDCPTT7VB6cJZYyLm7eyd6mNQth8r1kEFaDG3K-5DhXl9YKkQLtrijFUqaPnZCkMAo58Fu_ddZpbtsqoPWUsB5BOYtl1J1rwmWKzgw4MjtYFGVXZSURmQ8/s1600/IMG_3841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtPAHnxDtNMNa9c8UiIJfDbDCPTT7VB6cJZYyLm7eyd6mNQth8r1kEFaDG3K-5DhXl9YKkQLtrijFUqaPnZCkMAo58Fu_ddZpbtsqoPWUsB5BOYtl1J1rwmWKzgw4MjtYFGVXZSURmQ8/s200/IMG_3841.jpg" width="160" /></a>One of the critical factors that allowed me to bring my mental health under control was Dialectical Behavior Therapy. DBT, a type of cognitive behavioral therapy, is skills-based: rather than simply talking about your issues, you learned methods for changing your thinking to better tolerate distress, manage your emotions, communicate more effectively, and quiet your mind. Acceptance is a fundamental component for DBT--to effectively manage your emotions, you must cease denying or judging or fighting the facts of a situation and work from what simply <i>is</i>. You learn, in DBT, how to separate facts and emotions (you'd be surprised by how often what you think of as the facts are, in actuality, opinions), and while it takes a lot of practice, you can learn how to pare away all the excess and look at the naked truth. To do that, to say, "This is what it is," and to not fight to add back any of the emotions and judgments and opinions, is acceptance. Acceptance, however, does not equal complacency. The dialectical part of DBT is the belief that it is possible for two contradictory ideas or strategies or feelings to exist together in the mind, the primary one being that if you accept something, you can also change it. If you cannot change a situation, DBT teaches you how to change how you feel about it. My preparation for Abbey's death involved acceptance--Abbey will die--and three oft-contradictory beliefs surrounding that central fact: that this is as is should be (all things must die), this is heartbreaking (I love her and will miss her so much), and that I can be okay (in time my grief will lessen). Without DBT, I would have dwelled much more on how painful and unfair it is that I would have to lose her and likely resisted the very idea of getting over my grief because it would seem disloyal to be happy without her.<br />
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I responded very well to DBT, so well that in time I'd become so successful at employing the skills that I ran out of issues to bring to my therapist for her assistance--it's been years, in fact, since I've seen her. The methods have become so ingrained that I draw on them without any thought or effort, which is a fantastic example of the principles of cognitive therapy in action: I have, through rigorous training and practice, changed how I think, and by changing how I think, I have actually changed how my brain functions. It's cool stuff, but part of why I'm so good at it is because I've had plenty of opportunities to practice. Between lithium (plus a few other medications) and DBT, my mental health has been rock-solid for years. Prior to 2006 or so, such success would have been unthinkable. So hurray for all that! But what was also unthinkable prior to 2009 was that I would end up fully disabled by chronic migraines. In October of that year, I was in the best physical and mental health of my entire life. I was overflowing with creativity. Despite being free of depression for quite some time, I'd had to put longterm planning on hold because it took three unexpectedly long years of awful withdrawal to get off a mood stabilizer that not only didn't work but was threatening to cause permanent neurological problems. <i>That</i> debacle was behind me at last and I finally could make plans for the future. The possibilities looked <i>amazing</i>. I was so excited. And then, boom, just like that, from one minute to the next, I had to give everything up because my brain could no longer tolerate virtually any kind of exertion or stimuli, be it sensory, cognitive, emotional, or physical. My migraines responded very poorly to treatment, so I was left to face a lifetime of "managing" them. Because almost everything triggered migraines, I had to make a little cocoon for myself with as little stimuli as possible and leave it only when absolutely necessary. And it meant I had to give up. And give up. And give up some more. It sounds bad, to have to abandon not only projects and dreams and aspirations, but smaller things like listening to music, interacting with friends in person, and leaving the house after dark, too. But I can assure you, fighting against the reality of my limitations is far more painful, both physically and emotionally, than letting go, giving up, <i>accepting</i>. There are hard limits on what my brain and body will tolerate. That is the fact I must work with. And so I do. Physically giving things up is not terribly hard, since there are massive and obvious negative repercussions when I overstep. Much of the work of acceptance comes from acknowledging emotionally that things are beyond my reach. Some of it is easy. Some of it took months. Some of it took years. Some of it must be accepted anew on a regular basis. Some things I am still working on. I focus most of my energy on enjoying what I can do, but every day, I have to face the prospect that what my mind and body was able to tolerate the day before will be intolerable today. And so I accept. And accept. And accept.<br />
<br />
The loss of one dog, however beloved, looms rather less large when compared to the fact that I've accepted the loss of whoever I might have been and whatever I might have done had my own brain not betrayed me.<br />
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Another part of my acceptance stems from the fact that I believe in death. It sounds funny, but we are a culture that is very much anti-death, terrified of it, repulsed by it, seeking always for ways to try to defeat it. I do not agree with this way of thinking. I believe that death is not the antithesis of life, but part of life, and not just part of life, but <i>crucial</i> to life. I think it's important that we die. Thus, I have always believed that not only Abbey would die, but that she <i>should</i> die. As will I, and should I. This is not to say we shouldn't grieve, just that we could spare ourselves so much suffering if we didn't fight our inevitable destiny. Since I believe in death, I can also believe in dying well. One aspect of dying well means favoring quality of life over quantity. For example, I believe it is much more dignifying and humane to make the comfort of a dying patient the most important priority instead subjecting them to unnecessary medications and procedures that will not halt death's inexorable approach. A life made possible only by machines after the brain has slipped forever into silence is not, in my mind, truly a life. Better to live, unambiguously, and die, unambiguously, and to die well. That means something different for each of us, but I had no doubt that a good death for Abbey was one where she felt no anxiety, where she was physically comfortable, where she was surrounded by love, and where I was present. I could not give Abbey more life, but I could give her a good death, so I gave my dear Abbey the best possible death, a wonderful death, beyond everything I ever could have hoped for, and I am still awestruck as I type this, weeks later, by the how beautiful a good death can be.<br />
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(For those who are wondering how my acceptance of death and dying factors into my history of suicidal ideation, it doesn't. I still fear suicide because suicide is a form of murder, made more terrifying by the fact that the murderer dwells within myself. It is the <i>act</i>, or at least the willingness to do so, and the mind behind it, that scares me, much more than the death that might follow.)<br />
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Being mentally and emotionally prepared for the fact of Abbey's death proved invaluable, but the timing of how it worked out was very much in my favor. I'd always thought I would have wanted more warning, not a lot, but perhaps several weeks of advance notice that her time was near, but in retrospect, the swiftness of Abbey's illness meant she spent much less time suffering and I spent much less time worrying. There might have also been much less certainty about picking the time if I had been trying to gauge "quality of life" instead of "massive systematic failure." It was also not too short. It would have been ghastly if she'd died that first night when we rushed her to the emergency hospital, her body wracked with pain. It would have been awful if she'd died the second night, after she'd been so doped up on pain meds when I'd visited her that evening that I wasn't sure she even knew who I was. And it would have been gut-wrenching if I'd waited too long and she died alone, without me, at the hospital, because I'd hesitated. Any scenario where she might have died alone, without me, is appalling to even contemplate. Six days of thinking she was a little under the weather, five days of her clearly being very sick, and one day of knowing she was dying before I was able to give her the absolutely best passing possible seems like an ideal timetable when considering the alternatives. When you add to that that she was fourteen years old, had been my companion for twelve long years, and that she was in very good health right up until the last illness, I find it hard to protest that I should have gotten more.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvMG7hA6ziW7DKGFdonn7UepvsKKQ-Rj0guy27QBJ1aYMQ6X-wKh0AzkuSuOPOzjmMFIbRnlg4D8eP27UWZ32zWX5lp1W7HA4UWKodD9e4xIPSo-YcXiMNZjQVkH1gOj79lqCym8P46s/s1600/IMG_3295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvMG7hA6ziW7DKGFdonn7UepvsKKQ-Rj0guy27QBJ1aYMQ6X-wKh0AzkuSuOPOzjmMFIbRnlg4D8eP27UWZ32zWX5lp1W7HA4UWKodD9e4xIPSo-YcXiMNZjQVkH1gOj79lqCym8P46s/s400/IMG_3295.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nose nibbles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrez5QcKjjlZifuGez49uZ58WltItndq90Wn75SQqGnckXI0TBJbmeR8-saDcfAwJiuejsnuSfeiPAlB_nsUO_HUhqmRhul2GVK7qmYinflxTX7s5oycpZjBcVmhyphenhyphenCftRAjyr6Z9w3jq4/s1600/Melvin.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrez5QcKjjlZifuGez49uZ58WltItndq90Wn75SQqGnckXI0TBJbmeR8-saDcfAwJiuejsnuSfeiPAlB_nsUO_HUhqmRhul2GVK7qmYinflxTX7s5oycpZjBcVmhyphenhyphenCftRAjyr6Z9w3jq4/s320/Melvin.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I learned a lot about love and loss from <i>Oh Melvin</i>.</td></tr>
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To be honest, over the years I have had much more trepidation about the shape my grieving would take than the fact of her dying. I've lost some relatives and friends to death and have said goodbye to previous pets and dog-sitting clients, but never have I had to part with a soul that I loved so deeply and so intimately (and, in a sense, so maternally) as I loved Abbey. How does one bear such a loss? Fortunately, I had blueprints. I follow quite a few individual dogs and dog rescues and dog blogs on the internet. Over the years, dogs I've fallen in love with online have passed away and online I've followed the grief of the people they've left behind. I've watched people be devastated and I've watched people then become okay again and also, perhaps most crucially, watched people continue to love and remember and honor the dogs that have passed on. It was one blog in particular, <u><i><a href="https://ohmelvin.com/">Oh Melvin</a></i></u>, that I thought of and drew upon as Abbey's death approached and then passed.<i> Oh Melvin</i> chronicles the lives of the dogs owned by a woman, T., with a very stylish home, a great sense of humor, and tremendous emotional honesty. Through her blog I fell in love with first Melvin and then Jake, followed the progression of first Melvin and then Jake's terminal cancers, and witnessed T. grieve for first Melvin and then Jake. Just as she loves, T. grieves with her whole heart and wrote about all of it, including being overwhelmed by tears long after each dog passed. And yet, in the midst of her sorrow, she held onto the belief that she must and would continue to choose joy. Melvin had chosen joy every day of his life and to cease to choose joy would be to dishonor his memory. So I watched T. grieve and choose joy (a very DBT outlook!) at the same time and it gave me faith that this would be possible for me, too. And if it was possible that the initial violence of T.'s grief tapered off over time, so, too, I believed, would my grief over Abbey. Not fearing my sorrow so much made it easier to face, and, I think, easier to bypass almost entirely.</div>
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In addition to choosing joy, T. embraces the philosophy that, "Love lives on." It has astonished me to the degree that this is true. My love for Abbey has not ceased with her death, which is no surprise, but neither has my sense of her love for me. I'd expected to feel empty, but instead I'm as full with Abbey's warm love as I ever was. Everything that Abbey taught me lives on. Everything that Abbey gave me lives on. I carry so much of Abbey inside me that my sense is not so much that Abbey is gone--she simply isn't <i>here</i>. Every inch of my house is thick with memories of Abbey and rather than this being painful, it means that anywhere my eye lands, Abbey can be conjured. Every memory of her brings me joy. Instead of feeling bereft, I have this ongoing sense of being enveloped by her and buoyed by her. I continue to love my dear brindle dog and that love is warm and fresh and freeing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey loved her crate.</td></tr>
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I do not believe there is an afterlife and I do not believe that Abbey lives on in any other way than in my heart, but I've developed some rituals that have helped me feel like I remain in contact with her. Sometimes I check in with her by touching her crate or her pile of rope bones next to her bed in my study. Sometimes I give the urn containing her ashes a pat or a little squeeze. Sometimes I'll give her ID tag with her name on it a kiss. The most important thing, though, is my nightly chat with her. On the final night when we had to take her back to the hospital because she was too sick to be at home, I was frightened that she was going to die in the night without me there. I had things I needed to tell her before she passed, so I knelt down in front of the door of her crate, my forehead resting on my folded hands, and talked to her, aloud. It helped calm my soul somewhat, so I've continued to do it every night, and is not perhaps as odd as it sounds, since I talked to her all the time when she was alive. I tell her about how my grieving process is going, I mention the memories of her that came up during the day, I recall the ways she helped me over the years, I tell her what I miss about her and how much I'd like to pet her, and generally talk about how things are going. One of the things I've recently been discussing with her is the fact that her crate is rather stinky. Right at the end, she was leaking just a bit of fluid from her anal glands and it doesn't take much to create a strong and lasting odor. It's rather unfair, I feel, to keep her crate stinky, because Abbey was the least odiferous dog that ever lived, but the bedding in her crate is one of the few things I have left that she has touched directly and I am not ready to let that go just yet. But I've also begun to mention that I am no longer needing to talk to her as much as I did at first and may soon not need to talk to her at all. This is a good thing, too, I promise, and it in no way diminishes her standing in my heart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUul9TLLU1PkXIh1_ZXaDRQfR-jetn5e8lJFLEq0tVTrMMCdGwIVxzYk_w96MFcByz9kj8shf_E9sFf15hquDDxc35mV6JpJLSxt2PDBbWJzxYvJ5CFCxVyn_n-_xnbgaKYIEKWFDhJoY/s1600/IMG_3618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUul9TLLU1PkXIh1_ZXaDRQfR-jetn5e8lJFLEq0tVTrMMCdGwIVxzYk_w96MFcByz9kj8shf_E9sFf15hquDDxc35mV6JpJLSxt2PDBbWJzxYvJ5CFCxVyn_n-_xnbgaKYIEKWFDhJoY/s400/IMG_3618.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the photo I picture when imaging Abbey as whole, well, and happy.</td></tr>
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My nightly chat with Abbey has taken on another important function. After she died, I had several terrible, traumatic nightmares about her where she was horrifically hurt. It was unacceptable. I did not want my love for her to be used against me in ways to express my sadness, fear, stress, or anger about her loss or any other event. I decided I needed to come up with a method of intervention and have taken to repeating every night before bed that Abbey can only appear in my dreams if she is WHOLE, WELL & HAPPY. If she is not WHOLE, WELL & HAPPY, I am to know that I am dreaming and that I can wake up or stop the dream. Thus, if I ever see Abbey, I need to first check that she is WHOLE, WELL & HAPPY. I am extremely pleased to report that this has been a success. I have managed four times to use the WW&H guide to successfully identify that I was having a bad dream and, on three occasions, to stop the dream. On three another occasions, Abbey <i>was</i> WW&H and I was very pleased to see her and she to see me. It was too unfair to have Abbey being misused by my subconscious for metaphorical purposes when she had been whole, well, and happy all her life and had been a constant source of positivity. Establishing that Abbey will be whole, well, and happy in my dreams to come is a valuable pre-sleep ritual.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhFkTuS3epygjK-vs0LFJcGHDoND1GrKw77dNeqaD7vRkQsdgQ1T9UNQpLTz3AFEwm5gdQmhGvXSaAW8Omv-v6X9XM_WWHW5RLG2aZ4SMjc7XGTE_06iXe4GVaDL78zpU0hp5Ty_7YVEQ/s1600/14910501_10209876154676506_4522284636375062402_n-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhFkTuS3epygjK-vs0LFJcGHDoND1GrKw77dNeqaD7vRkQsdgQ1T9UNQpLTz3AFEwm5gdQmhGvXSaAW8Omv-v6X9XM_WWHW5RLG2aZ4SMjc7XGTE_06iXe4GVaDL78zpU0hp5Ty_7YVEQ/s200/14910501_10209876154676506_4522284636375062402_n-2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've been hugging Humphrey, a stuffed<br />
dog I've had since I was six months<br />
old, when I'm really missing Abbey. </td></tr>
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Something that has also helped me cope with Abbey's passing is the outpouring of support I've received. While few met Abbey in person, she was well-known to many people online, both through her <u><a href="http://packdog.com/abbey-6">social media account</a></u> and my own, where I posted many photos and documented her life and its overlap with mine over the course of eight and a half years. I took some 6,000 photographs of Abbey during our time together and because Abbey had such a sweet, expressive face, I think people grew to feel like they knew her. Even if they weren't interested in Abbey for her own sake, anyone who knows me knew what my dog meant to me and how large she loomed in my life. Those people mourned the loss of Abbey for my sake, but many also grieved for Abbey herself. I received so many condolences online, many of them beautifully written, all of them heartfelt. Others sent cards and gifts. People who never once met Abbey in the flesh shed tears when she died. It has been so helpful to be part of a community in mourning! Grief can be very lonely, especially when no one else knows that you've suffered a loss. Because I feel like so many are grieving with me or, at the very least, for me, I've felt free to share my ongoing thoughts and emotions about her loss, as well as to continue to share pictures and celebrate all that was wonderful about my dear dog!<br />
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(It's interesting how important a role photography played in my relationship with Abbey--one of the more wrenching aspects of her death for me is the fact that there will be no more photos. My love for Abbey may be infinite, but my ability to photograph her has turned out to be finite, and while I literally have thousands of wonderful photographs to remember her by, it is a point of some pain that I will never be able to add more to that collection.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3xYI68HdI42FUUcRkB_JvnECf3wud5i4LhxfG6xkVwZfUz8j6SD-ZK5aJdN2sx0WHe3Hr-ouKLvNWwwpoczIhV-YnvJ0vCFxv3i0nsA9YzxRc8Iy2TOpCm-M54lfjpCZlDW6ltNj23Gk/s1600/IMG_7636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3xYI68HdI42FUUcRkB_JvnECf3wud5i4LhxfG6xkVwZfUz8j6SD-ZK5aJdN2sx0WHe3Hr-ouKLvNWwwpoczIhV-YnvJ0vCFxv3i0nsA9YzxRc8Iy2TOpCm-M54lfjpCZlDW6ltNj23Gk/s400/IMG_7636.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the it, the final photograph I took of her before her death.</td></tr>
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There have been some sad moments--picking up Abbey's ashes was an emotional experience, reliving her death while writing about it has been draining, and I cried the other day for the first time since her death because I <i>needed</i> my dog and my dog wasn't here--but I'm thankful to have been spared the agony of regrets. I kinda wish I had gotten her teeth cleaned sooner so her breath could have been fresh for more than just the last four weeks of her life after years of old age halitosis, but I'd delayed getting that done out of concerns over anesthetizing her, so it wasn't as if I'd made a bad or selfish decision. I wish my health could have allowed me to socialize her more with both dogs and people, but that's just not how life worked out. I <i>am</i> glad that I told my dog-sitting clients this past year that I could only do short gigs because it had begun to stress Abbey to have me sleeping away from home for extended periods. Partly as a result of that request, I didn't do any overnight dog-sitting during the final three months of Abbey's life, so I have no regrets on that score. Abbey and I were always there for each other in the fullest whenever we were together and we were together almost all the time. She cared so deeply for me and demonstrated that daily and I did the same for her. Abbey was so loved and knew it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgD2aWj-Qfnd0tWqCB84Z2ghIuZyFldjzNxGmjZslz6k8jZTAsFWn7r53x2lwutrghhy_9n1yxyNImPCXQMtWmCWk5YEonkSZXqf2VPDUC4BBIkdg5NIloO0R3gB6qLFd7ByAgU_Oy-Q/s1600/IMG_4608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgD2aWj-Qfnd0tWqCB84Z2ghIuZyFldjzNxGmjZslz6k8jZTAsFWn7r53x2lwutrghhy_9n1yxyNImPCXQMtWmCWk5YEonkSZXqf2VPDUC4BBIkdg5NIloO0R3gB6qLFd7ByAgU_Oy-Q/s400/IMG_4608.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dog of my heart.</td></tr>
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Over the course of this month, my overwhelming sense has not been one of grief, but of gratitude. I am so thankful that Abbey came into my life. I am so thankful that we had twelve years together. I am so thankful that she worked so hard to protect me and care for me when we first adopted her. I am so thankful that she gave me hope that I could triumph over suicide. I am so thankful that she gave me the inspiration to be stronger and braver. I am so thankful for how expressive she was. I am so thankful that her fur was so wonderfully soft and thick and not greasy or smelly. I am so thankful that she loved to be petted. I am thankful that she was brindle. I am very thankful for her tail, which was the best tail ever. I am so thankful that concerns about her possible breed mix led me to the wonderful world of pit bull activism. I am so thankful that she taught me so much about dogs, especially shy and anxious ones. I am thankful that she decided to take up swimming in midlife. I am thankful that she decided, in her old age, that visitors were actually okay and that it was exciting when company came over! I am very thankful that she was such a playful dog. I am thankful that she wasn't much of a barker, but when she did bark, it was a very deep bark, the bark of a dog half again her size. I am thankful for the many ways that she kept in touch with me throughout the day. I am so thankful for her joyful yodel. I am so thankful for the way she lined up with me, always ready to go where I was going. I am thankful that she never got arthritis. I am thankful that her sickness was short. I am thankful that we had enough time--not too little and not too much. I am thankful that I chose to have her passing take place on my bed. I am thankful that her death was so peaceful. But what I return to, again and again, when I chat with her before bed, is how thankful I am that she made me feel safe, that she helped me get strong, that she loved me with every fiber of her being, and that I know that I can carry on that love, that strength, that safety even though she may be gone.<br />
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I can think of no greater gift.<br />
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I miss her. Of course I miss her. But I do not mourn. It is not for lack of love, but because of love, a love that has not diminished, that death <i>cannot</i> diminish. It is not, one might say, for lack of suffering, but because I have already suffered so much that I have learned to accept what cannot be changed and to find gratitude in what remains. It is for lack of fear, because I taught myself not to fear her death and not to fear my grief, and for a lack of regrets, because I have none. What I do is celebrate, celebrate the life of my tenderhearted, sensitive, intelligent, playful, soulful, easygoing, engaging, communicative, brown-eyed, brindle-coated, velvet-furred, funnily-proportioned companion of so many years who enriched my life and changed me forever for the better and whose love lives on.<br />
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<i>In memory of my beloved Abbey</i></div>
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<i>2002-2016</i></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-76686581564753916622016-11-17T17:27:00.001-08:002017-02-15T16:12:12.830-08:00Abbey's Last DaysIn a <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/10/celebrating-twelve-years-of-abbey.html">recent post</a></u> celebrating the twelfth anniversary of Abbey's adoption, I wrote,<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The vet, when he did Abbey's most recent exam, said, as he's had in the past, that she's in great shape for her age and he never would have guessed at a glance that she's fourteen. He made me extremely happy by saying that as long as we kept on top of her care, it is quite possible that she could live to be as old as seventeen or eighteen. Having cared for a number of geriatric dogs in recent years, I can attest that she is doing well. I know cancers can arise at any time and act swiftly, but despite UTIs and a couple of little rotten teeth and medication-induced seizures that have had to be dealt with this year, she's still my vibrant Abbey, always at my side, eyes alight.</span></blockquote>
Little did I know that the ending had already begun.<br />
<br />
Abbey passed away at 4:30 in the afternoon on October 21, 2016, little more than a week after her adoption anniversary on October 12th.<br />
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<i>The following is a detailed account of Abbey's final illness. It is written as much for me as it is for anyone else, as I want to preserve these facts without necessarily having to keep them in my mind. For those who do not want to know all the details of the six days that passed between when she first got seriously sick and when she exhaled her final breath, I've written a second post about my remarkable emotional journey since Abbey's passing that can be found <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/11/a-love-larger-than-loss.html">here</a></u>.</i></div>
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* * *<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGav6WzF7JzRjUQMhybQxbT3z6ffqD0lJ7wCXoO9zwZBgQqksfT9WpIg8XgjCYzq7CfdIv0lSAtymnYj-o0nrnxerXfsDRi9Ff_Phj6KGIUW9g5wmeSXvHPMSLapyGKMH7miFaw4PFyE/s1600/IMG_7560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGav6WzF7JzRjUQMhybQxbT3z6ffqD0lJ7wCXoO9zwZBgQqksfT9WpIg8XgjCYzq7CfdIv0lSAtymnYj-o0nrnxerXfsDRi9Ff_Phj6KGIUW9g5wmeSXvHPMSLapyGKMH7miFaw4PFyE/s400/IMG_7560.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey may have thrown up before dawn, but she seemed perfectly fine later!</td></tr>
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Abbey had woken me at 5:00 a.m. on the 12th by vomiting up some of her partially digested dinner from the night before. This was not wholly unusual--Abbey's always had a sensitive tummy and sometimes she vomits in the night after excitement or stress the day before. We had gone to the vet on the 11th for a followup to her dental work and while the vet had been very impressed by how great everything looked, Abbey was rather less pleased to be back at the vet's and it was plausible that it had triggered her upset stomach. The only thing that was at all out of the ordinary was that she hadn't eaten all of her dinner at once the night before, though she'd licked her bowl clean by bedtime. I gave her rice for dinner Tuesday night just to be sure and everything was fine. Wednesday she didn't eat all of her dinner at once again, so I picked it up, not wanting to repeat the whole 5:00 a.m. upchuck thing if possible. Not much later, she had another partial seizure that temporarily disabled one of her back legs and then she vomited after it was over. I was bummed, since it meant that the seizures in August had probably not been caused by the flea meds and made a note of this to tell the vet. Thursday and Friday, she didn't eat all of her dinner at dinnertime, so I put her bowl up and fed her the leftovers for breakfast. She devoured it all hungrily and without any negative consequences. I was watching all this closely, wondering why her appetite was shifting, and planned on making an appointment to see the vet on Monday. Saturday, after putting her half-eaten bowl of dinner up on the counter, she made such a convincing display of being hungry again a short time later that I put it back down and she ate it right up. She dry-heaved that night, though didn't bring anything up. I didn't sleep very well, listening for any sounds of imminent vomiting. I gave her rice for breakfast, which she consumed hungrily. I then gave her rice again for dinner.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Hv0JZqXWckfvWE10tNj7pBx1OFLlH96v01_cEIqYU8N_1dp1KrR-OrVcS8oRhYVgOIAaef0sCO8XLaEjaM1PvgJsxViHghFYtGrr80eljvN4bWRFREraBfdmFQvwV7vZtzZrz92DH-Y/s1600/IMG_7571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Hv0JZqXWckfvWE10tNj7pBx1OFLlH96v01_cEIqYU8N_1dp1KrR-OrVcS8oRhYVgOIAaef0sCO8XLaEjaM1PvgJsxViHghFYtGrr80eljvN4bWRFREraBfdmFQvwV7vZtzZrz92DH-Y/s400/IMG_7571.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her appetite was off, but in all other ways, Abbey seems like her regular self.</td></tr>
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That was on October 16th, 6:00 p.m. She ate her dinner eagerly enough, but immediately afterward urgently requested to go outside, where she had some diarrhea. She didn't want to go back inside right away and tried a couple more times to have a bowel movement, though nothing happened. Then she started vomiting. She vomited up all of her dinner and continued to vomit after was nothing to bring up. Finally, she wanted to go back inside, and while her tail was up in an alarming way that suggested that diarrhea might still be on the immediate horizon, I let her back into the house, keeping her on the kitchen floor, though, and put down a towel and spread newspaper behind her just in case. She was hunched and miserable and not wanting to move. Then she started having waves of intestinal cramping so massive that I could actually <i>see</i> them squeezing her sides and belly as they rolled through. Eventually, she decided to lay down. The cramps continued, wracking her whole body. She was in terrible pain. By 7:00, we knew that she needed to be taken to the emergency vet.<br />
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As we waited for her to be admitted, Abbey tried pacing and hiding behind the furniture and laying down to get away from her pain, but there was no escaping the horrible spasms, each one causing her to extend her neck and hind legs in agony as they gripped her gut. As someone who has had plenty of experience with GI pain, I could understand all too well the misery she was in! I'm thankful that the torrential bloody diarrhea didn't start until after they'd taken Abbey back to X-ray her abdomen. It had been hard enough to watch her suffer the pain; witnessing blood being wrung out of her intestines would have been unbearable.<br />
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Abbey was admitted, of course. The X-ray ruled out bloat or blockages, but a brief glance at her insides with the ultrasound wand had revealed fluid in her abdomen, the cause unknown. More tests would be run overnight to figure out what was causing her severe GI distress and the fluid accumulation. She'd also be receiving pain meds and medication to stop the nausea and diarrhea. When we went to say goodnight to her, Abbey's hindquarters had already been bathed free of the bloody diarrhea. It was some comfort to know that she was in good hands. It was late when we returned home. I went to bed, trying not to let my fears get too far ahead of me.<br />
<br />
We were relieved to learn that she had stabilized in the night and that medications were controlling her pain, vomiting, and diarrhea. A more rigorous ultrasound had revealed an intestinal tract so inflamed that it was impossible for the doctors to make out any details and the rest of her abdomen and the organs therein were also experiencing some inflammation. The fluid in her abdomen was clear, which was a good sign, but the most worrisome thing was the low blood protein level revealed in her blood work. In short, it meant that she had not been absorbing sufficient nutrition through her intestines and this resulted in imbalances that were was causing fluid to seep out of her blood vessel and into her body, which was where the fluid in her abdomen was coming from. At that point, the internal medicine veterinarian said it was too soon to rule out an acute issue, like eating something that violently disagreed with her (unlikely) or a reaction to the antibiotic she'd just finished to clear out dental infections (plausible), or something chronic, like inflammatory bowel disease. The only way to know for sure, the vet said, was to have her anesthetized to do an endoscopic bowel biopsy. The vet had difficultly justifying why we should do this, since the treatment approach would be the same as what we were already doing. We were highly reluctant to pay $1,800 to risk sedating our sick dog just so we could learn exactly what dose of steroids would be most effective. Start the steroids, we said, and give it a few days and see if Abbey would start to improve.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fDlcmQXxG2kG51dIFvYWwJWpoeL9VV-rDguOrp2TWmj1hOxYjRCopsiRuXGrELhJ-Ak4HsSbdsMNvoKJDjvoC0A72HHuFkCNyPJ6o2bHtgzfU0tiGzMFF2H_98y2ODgpuaeO80GWDP4/s1600/IMG_0630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fDlcmQXxG2kG51dIFvYWwJWpoeL9VV-rDguOrp2TWmj1hOxYjRCopsiRuXGrELhJ-Ak4HsSbdsMNvoKJDjvoC0A72HHuFkCNyPJ6o2bHtgzfU0tiGzMFF2H_98y2ODgpuaeO80GWDP4/s400/IMG_0630.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very out-of-it but pain-free Abbey.</td></tr>
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When I visited her on Monday evening, Abbey was so out of it from the fentanyl they were giving her for pain that I honestly don't think she knew who I was. When she looked at me, there was no change in her focus, no sign of recognition. She briefly rested her chin on my knee, but she spent far more time staring blankly at the sides of her pen. It was hard to see her so woozy, but it was preferable to the horrendous pain she'd been in the night before!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH2Lh2pT4XyQZxFXly-XvKlxHaYxkKnEm3OFTJs23CvPQH5DlVnmRDef-i6_N9tOE1UdaRZOakXLrVYcgUuc6P40N_tbEpcZXPZpNAfHpB_or3ArcHWY8tsSAsfkne6ymq82NSebFCXg/s1600/IMG_0636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH2Lh2pT4XyQZxFXly-XvKlxHaYxkKnEm3OFTJs23CvPQH5DlVnmRDef-i6_N9tOE1UdaRZOakXLrVYcgUuc6P40N_tbEpcZXPZpNAfHpB_or3ArcHWY8tsSAsfkne6ymq82NSebFCXg/s400/IMG_0636.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once removed from the fentanyl, Abbey again recognized me and can be seen wrapping her paw around my shoe as I sit with her in her hospital pen, tempting snacks at the ready.</td></tr>
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The next thing the doctors wanted was for Abbey to eat. I was glad to hear that they'd stopped the fentanyl, since there was no way Abbey was going to eat while that out of it. We'd delivered some of Abbey's kibble and a few of her favorite Rice Chex and oyster crackers in hopes of tempting her appetite, but on Tuesday during the day she wouldn't eat for the hospital staff. I was not surprised, but convinced I could do better. Abbey was much more alert and happy to see me because she wasn't drugged to the gills and while she didn't eat a lot, I got her to eat some Rice Chex, oyster crackers, and special bland baby-food-like dog food. What she REALLY wanted were the peanut butter pretzels I'd brought for myself. I let her have some of those, too, but not too many, since I didn't think peanut butter was likely ideal for a dog with a horribly inflamed GI tract.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuy_qGPAAI7GLQ4-m0Qce1_8fR6pYgjEqZdlv0l9iOfdtXw3hwdCe1Zm4EoEeKTV_Fm787kw41jRJRwuGEwBK_ND4G-t9gUbQl3XhIq5wKYEnepdWAbheIWU426SnBrigDyYlYqK-iGk/s1600/IMG_0639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuy_qGPAAI7GLQ4-m0Qce1_8fR6pYgjEqZdlv0l9iOfdtXw3hwdCe1Zm4EoEeKTV_Fm787kw41jRJRwuGEwBK_ND4G-t9gUbQl3XhIq5wKYEnepdWAbheIWU426SnBrigDyYlYqK-iGk/s400/IMG_0639.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey at the veterinary hospital.</td></tr>
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Since Abbey had eaten better for me and could control her bladder and bowels and wasn't having bloody diarrhea and was no longer in terrible pain, we requested that Abbey be discharged into our care, figuring she'd be better off at home in her own bed and own environment with her own girl taking care of her. The vet was willing to try it, since she was stable (though her blood protein level was still very low and had in fact dropped slightly lower during the time when she was in the hospital), making us promise to bring her back if she still wasn't eating after a few days. We were very ready to have her home, enthusiastic about taking over her care--after all, I'd spent weeks hand-feeding her and giving her water through a syringe last summer when her mouth and tongue were too weak for her to properly eat or drink because of her disastrous response to being given acepromazine after getting her ears cleaned. Also, seeing as it was costing $1,000 per day to have her treated at the hospital, we didn't want to keep her there any longer than was absolutely necessary. So we stocked up on chicken baby food and cream of rice cereal, one of the techs taught me how to give Abbey her steroid injections, and we brought her home on Wednesday evening.<br />
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Once she was at home and not confined to her hospital pen with her IV, Abbey looked much sicker. Her back legs were so weak she could hardly support herself and she swayed and wobbled terribly when she walked. She drank water and ate a bit of the proffered mix of chicken baby food with rice cereal, but she didn't want to eat a marshmallow. Abbey will ordinarily do ANYTHING for a marshmallow and it's how we give her pills--you stick 'em in, toss the marshmallow to her, and down it all goes. I quickly found that trying to get a dog who doesn't want to swallow any sort of food to take pills is really awful, especially if there are seven different medications and some of them are so big that they have to be broken down into multiple pieces. I finally managed by coating the pills in a bit of peanut butter, sticking them as far down Abbey's throat as possible, clamping her jaws shut, and then squirting water into her mouth with a puppy-feeding syringe, forcing her to swallow. By the time she'd taken all of her medications, both Abbey and I were exhausted!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnvSyu-AGGq4e4xPmGTlqfAzSRT6qvn5EJDkEAkwWZ6ErTSO1BrY6nr84aCBC_pc9Zsz5wH9xbu75GFiDSffpLjHAznl0ideXQi-OhMl-JCWy8USJrYhfHpHKBl-ydk7S0k9vRS27jpQ/s1600/IMG_7631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnvSyu-AGGq4e4xPmGTlqfAzSRT6qvn5EJDkEAkwWZ6ErTSO1BrY6nr84aCBC_pc9Zsz5wH9xbu75GFiDSffpLjHAznl0ideXQi-OhMl-JCWy8USJrYhfHpHKBl-ydk7S0k9vRS27jpQ/s400/IMG_7631.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey at home.</td></tr>
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<br />
I'd arranged for Abbey to see her regular vet the next morning. I trust him completely. The animal hospital provided excellent care, but they never met a test or procedure they didn't want to undertake--and then bill you for. The internal medicine vet had been so vague about the necessity of the various things she had suggested and everything she said was said with rising inflection, making it hard to get a read on what was actually necessary and what was her trying placate us for some reason and what was being suggested to in order to pad the bill, etc. Also, he has roughly twenty more years of practical experience. I knew the regular vet would give me straight talk. And he did. He looked at Abbey's test results and said, "You only see these values in a dog with a chronic condition and there are really only two possible diagnoses for this set of numbers: cancer or inflammatory bowel disease." The reason to get the endoscopic bowel biopsy (which he recommended as the next step), he explained, was so we knew which we were dealing with. Inflammatory bowel disease could be managed with the medications she was already on, but if she had cancer, there was nothing more for her that could be done except make her comfortable. (The hospital vet had said, "I don't think she has cancer?" and didn't mention it again, though it hadn't been ruled out by any of the tests or scans.) In ten minutes, he managed to explain everything more clearly than the internal medicine vet had over the course of three days. He also cut the medications for Abbey to be taking by half, eliminating redundancies, gave her an anti-nausea injection that would take up any of the rest of the slack from the eliminated medication, gave me some cans of special intestinal protection food for once she started eating again, and a bunch of different size syringes to help feed her. (He also mentioned he'd had a lot of communication issues with the internal medicine vet and said to feel free to consult with him if Abbey had to be hospitalized again and we were confused about our options.) Abbey, who'd spent the last few days being handled by a wide variety of strangers, was the most at ease with the vet she's ever been, sniffing him all over and asking for petting as he and I sat on the floor discussing her care. I left feeling much encouraged, despite the fact that he'd just told me my dog might have terminal cancer.<br />
<br />
Abbey ate and drank a bit when she got home, and after I'd taken care of a few tasks, the two of us settled in on my bed, where she took a long, hard nap snuggled up against me. I was glad to have her home, seeing her sleeping there in her usual place, and felt good about what we were doing. A couple hours of hours later, I noticed she was shivering in her sleep. Then she got up and changed her position multiple times before finally coming over and pressed her head against me, making me wonder if she needed to go out. And she did. She held it until she got to her regular bathroom area, but once there, she had diarrhea. I'd been expecting dribbles. This was like the spray jet from a hose. It was pure liquid. Whether or not there was blood in it, I couldn't tell, but it was shocking enough as it was and definitely not the product of a well dog. She settled in okay once she was back inside, but she only ate just a little bit of peanut butter. Whatever you offered, she'd politely turn her head away. She stopped drinking her water, too. She'd approach her bowl, put her muzzle down to drink, then decide against it. I didn't realize how worried I was until my mother called in the late afternoon to see how Abbey was doing and I burst into tears. That's when I knew what my subconscious had been slowly piecing together: Abbey was dying.<br />
<br />
So I cried on the phone and so did my mom and then she got home and we both cried some more and we decided if Abbey still wasn't eating by the end of the weekend, we would know that it was time. At this point, she was refusing all food and water and it didn't look good. I couldn't believe my dog, my dearly beloved Abbey, was dying, and yet I could believe it. And just weeks after the vet had said that she might make it another three or four years! It was a punch in the gut. It was a stab in the heart. I'd always thought I'd have more warning. I wanted more warning, more time to get used to the idea. I felt dazed, bereft, agonized. I tried to collect myself, though. My sister was coming over for her birthday dinner in a couple of hours. Abbey and I went upstairs to my study, where we spent so many of our days together, while I tried to distract and collect myself. Abbey, I noticed, didn't settle on her pillow like she normally did. Instead, she stood in a place where she could see out of the study door, her weak back end listed to the side. It eventually dawned on me what she wanted, so I moved her pillow to that spot and she immediately lay down where she could watch family members going up and down the stairs, though it wasn't long before she fell asleep.<br />
<br />
It was right around the time that my sister and her husband arrived that Abbey woke up and started vomiting. When she wasn't vomiting, she was retching and coughing and sometimes dry-heaving. When dinner was ready, I brought Abbey's pillow down next to my chair, but the first thing she did was throw up without any warning. Before long, she decided that she wanted to be upstairs and she threw up on the stairs themselves. I spent the rest of the evening sitting on the floor next to her bed, reading and holding a bucket under her muzzle. In the past, when Abbey was going to throw up, it would be preceded by a certain amount of noisy heaving, but this time when she vomited it just burped out of her without warning. As I sat with her, I came to understand that she needed to go back to the hospital. There was no way I was going to be able to give her her evening medications and it looked like that without IV medical intervention, she might vomit and gag all night. She was sick beyond my capacity to care for her. This was likely to be her last night on earth.<br />
<br />
We took her back to the hospital and she threw up twice more as we waited for her to be admitted and had an accident for good measure. We explained to the hospital that we just wanted her stabilized and made comfortable, that we didn't want more tests, that we weren't looking for her to be cured. She wagged her tail when we said goodbye to her. It was late when we got home. It was later yet before I felt settled enough to go to bed and before I did, I kneeled before her open crate door and said all the things I was terrified I might not get to say to her if she died in the night. The thought of her dying in the night, at the hospital, with me not by her side, was agonizing. I was awake a long time in the early hours, too, and I tried to read to keep being overwhelmed by my grief. I was still reading when the hospital called to give the first morning report: she had made it through the night and rested comfortably. I slept then, finally.<br />
<br />
I woke up at 12:30 to face some hard decisions. While I'd slept that morning, my mother had done the hard work of calling our vet to see if they recommended an at-home euthanasia service. That service had an appointment available at 3:30, just three hours away. I did not feel ready to put down my dog in three hours. Would it be better to wait one more day? What if that was too late? I knew it should be done that day, but so soon? While I felt so exhausted? We spoke to the hospital again and while Abbey was still resting comfortably, they said that her protein level remained so low that fluid was going to start filling her lungs. There was absolutely no doubt that her body was failing and fast. That helped me make my decision. I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish to prepare for the final goodbye and two and a half hours (it was now 1:00) still seemed awfully tight. My mom called the home euthanasia service if they could do something just a little later and we got confirmation that they could come at 4:00. We called for my dad to come home and let my sister know the time and I got to work.<br />
<br />
First and foremost, if we were going to having Abbey put down in our home that day, I needed to have all signs of our hopes for her recovery removed. That meant all of her medicine and the papers from the hospital and the jars of baby food and every bit of paraphernalia that went with our brief effort to help heal her at home. There was to be no healing. I needed those things out of sight. Even now, the thought of those vain hopes makes my throat tight.<br />
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Secondly, I'd decided that Abbey should pass in my bedroom, where she'd spent so many hours sleeping blissfully on my bed, and I wanted it took look nice. I cleaned it, moving haphazard piles of books to another room, and cleared miscellaneous items from the top of my dresser and stowed them in my closet. I dusted all the surfaces. I remade my bed so that it was tight and crisp and smooth. I was sweaty from my exertions, so I took a shower. During the shower, I cried one last time, a few sobs and a silent, gagging, agonizing scream that bent me double with its grief. Once showered, I selected my outfit with care. I wanted to look nicer than my average sweatpants and sweatshirt, but not TOO dressed up, because then Abbey would be wondering if I was going somewhere or if company was coming over. Like every dog, she was alert to all the nuances of everything I did and their potential meanings. I wanted her to feel like I was my normal self.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQO7y36j6rwZH8KcnFjEq_HwrOP_p3H_3_dbXtNrGZcbZxxeZKtpGoQySkaQRhkc_hzuN8AsvGkIz3xVS8dNsT-YAfHJnkp0e8JAbCgBGCXkRapWdSCOe5aAnGI74X6H_q6sId7PxfeJ8/s1600/IMG_7647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQO7y36j6rwZH8KcnFjEq_HwrOP_p3H_3_dbXtNrGZcbZxxeZKtpGoQySkaQRhkc_hzuN8AsvGkIz3xVS8dNsT-YAfHJnkp0e8JAbCgBGCXkRapWdSCOe5aAnGI74X6H_q6sId7PxfeJ8/s400/IMG_7647.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey was so happy to see everyone and be surrounded by her family!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
By then it was two. My dad and I went to the hospital to pick Abbey up. It took forever, both of us waiting tensely. It was almost three when finally the nurse brought Abbey out. My dad had been prepared to carry her to the car, but Abbey was alert and seemed comfortable on her feet. I rode in the backseat with her and Abbey couldn't stop licking my face and my hands. She seemed truly happy. We arrived home just as my sister pulled up. Abbey was utterly delighted to see her--the whole family was together! With light in her eyes and pep in her step, Abbey even cruised the kitchen to see if any crumbs had fallen. I wanted a few last photos of and with Abbey. Abbey was overjoyed to have me down on the floor and a great deal more enthusiastic licking ensued. She even nibbled my nose, which was my very favorite of her affectionate gestures. My sister got down on the floor to be in photos, too, and Abbey could barely contain her delight. That task taken care of, my dad carried Abbey upstairs and put her on my bed.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkF_m5MWBk62m15EqVMrvf0yfMzyVzznvieOOjiaWXrdZjxvXoYtDlD0oox6VEdaYErIqWcOVVO_AcxSRGypkoyLcMkqVS9lPO0lj0_ia_KhcrK_u-hw2H0YyZZyMET3kq-exzEpEbrAg/s1600/IMG_7640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkF_m5MWBk62m15EqVMrvf0yfMzyVzznvieOOjiaWXrdZjxvXoYtDlD0oox6VEdaYErIqWcOVVO_AcxSRGypkoyLcMkqVS9lPO0lj0_ia_KhcrK_u-hw2H0YyZZyMET3kq-exzEpEbrAg/s400/IMG_7640.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my dog. She's gazing into my eyes as she gives me a kiss.</td></tr>
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<br />
Abbey and I had some time alone for a few minutes, so I petted her and sang some of the songs I'd made up for her over the years. My mom joined me and petted her, too. Soon my sister was on my bed as well. Abbey was loving it. In the days prior, I hadn't been sure Abbey had really enjoyed being petted because she wasn't feeling well, but she was clearly enjoying this epic rubdown session.<br />
<br />
After about half an hour, she got tired. Abbey had been laying between my legs, facing the door, but she got up, gave me another lick on the nose, and then settled herself against my right side, her head facing toward the pillow, one leg draped over my legs, as was so often her habit. She snuggled her belly up against me and fell asleep, using one of my arms as a pillow. As she napped, the four of us started telling stories about Abbey and all of the things we loved that she did. It was a joyful half an hour, one spent in smiles and laughter, not tears.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4BN5D61cdSocoruooWh5xtisiu18dH1lw6ji6Td9RxLQsw7Rza2hfLea4DJGQ80dbPxkZXGZAC2QUFIhXJr_G6ZTaMkXyZPeFRjO8wvQVnNEnPbdsI_r8aG-cbTIOH6r_PpHKPJ1kjU/s1600/IMG_7649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4BN5D61cdSocoruooWh5xtisiu18dH1lw6ji6Td9RxLQsw7Rza2hfLea4DJGQ80dbPxkZXGZAC2QUFIhXJr_G6ZTaMkXyZPeFRjO8wvQVnNEnPbdsI_r8aG-cbTIOH6r_PpHKPJ1kjU/s400/IMG_7649.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey positioned herself for a nap beside me, a leg slung over mine. It was one of her ways of being connected to me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At the appointed hour, the vet and her assistant arrived. They were wonderful, bringing calm, gentle energy with them, though they themselves remarked on the lovely atmosphere we'd built around Abbey during that final hour. We could tell just from how they moved and spoke that they were the right people for the job. Abbey, catching their scent, woke up briefly, but after being handled by so many people in scrubs in recent days, the presence of two more vets in my bedroom didn't seem to surprise her any. She settled back into a doze as they explained the process and asked a few necessary questions. And then it was time. Everyone else was crying, but I was not. I didn't need to. I was where I was supposed to be. They gave Abbey the sedative in a quick injection in the loose skin at the back of her neck. I wiggled down so that Abbey's nose was just inches from my own and sang her my favorite lullaby as her eyes closed and she sank into a deep sleep. I whispered a few more words of love. The vets carefully rolled Abbey over so they had access her legs. They had some difficulty getting a vein in her hind leg ("Is her blood protein low?" they asked), but Abbey had no awareness of any of this. I had my arms wrapped around her, one hand over her heart. It was her breath that stopped first--her exhalations ceased to puff against my cheek. I felt her heart slow, and then go quiet.<br />
<br />
It was 4:30 p.m., October 21, 2016.<br />
<br />
She was gone. My Abbey was gone.<br />
<br />
She looked so serene, so sweet, so utterly at rest. My dear dog, my brindle baby. I held her for a while longer as the vets put their things away and carried their equipment out. At length, I sat up and gave my family members a chance to say goodbye. The vets pressed one of Abbey's front paws into a bit of modeling clay for a paw print to remember her by. Then, the head vet came in with a carrier. Calmly, gently, she moved Abbey on to it. She admired Abbey's soft brindle fur and speculated that Abbey might have had a bit of border collie in her. (According to the DNA test we did, Abbey was 25% border collie!) Every move she made was done with quietness, competence, and reverence. It made it easier to let Abbey go, seeing her handled in such a way. We all walked down the stairs together. In the open doorway, I had to stop the vet so I could give Abbey one last kiss on her velvety forehead. And then she was borne away, half-wrapped in the green carrier, her dear little face resting on the crook of the vet's arm, my last view of my beloved dog in her corporeal form.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAsfydwZntaQ3_mydbgTIG_Reeusi5WrXQyIkiRTkwcNoB13JnUIEMUXnR75j1E6qPVoPASRyq6cpPwiCGAFX0XJBJVmvE3uhnnL4tYgk-8w3h8Y0V9sIseYyDmgcCUeuviqaIDXMS5KQ/s1600/IMG_7668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAsfydwZntaQ3_mydbgTIG_Reeusi5WrXQyIkiRTkwcNoB13JnUIEMUXnR75j1E6qPVoPASRyq6cpPwiCGAFX0XJBJVmvE3uhnnL4tYgk-8w3h8Y0V9sIseYyDmgcCUeuviqaIDXMS5KQ/s400/IMG_7668.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey's paw print.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My father closed the door and I drew one deep, shuddering breath, exhaling sharply. My whole family wrapped their arms around me and one another.<br />
<br />
We all sat together for some time afterward, talking about the beauty of the thing that we'd just seen, how much we loved Abbey, how glad we were that she had passed in such a peaceful way. I was feeling slightly stunned, but okay. My primary feelings were of gratitude, amazement, but most of all, peace. And thus, one journey with Abbey ended and a new one began.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Bed is too small for my tiredness</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Give me a hill topped with trees</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Tuck a cloud up under my chin</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lord, blow that moon out, please</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Rock me to sleep in a cradle of dreams</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sing me a lullaby of leaves</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Tuck a cloud up under my chin</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lord, blow that moon out, please</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For Abbey, dog of my heart</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>2002-2016</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
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<i><br /></i></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-35372969504500865462016-10-12T21:28:00.003-07:002016-11-02T14:08:24.971-07:00Celebrating Twelve Years of Abbey!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFdsE4byJ7hYe1x2vsi8Ooj1RgGNZRAcMcE40qlLktdKJG3AsRfztg3pBegB2ru-pqlZAk5IA8GogwyBtUvY1XovsO0g7wTo0GftgaJqyvF2zeu80Lcag0bKj2VBNiLvSe2H0OvSMM_I/s1600/IMG_7178.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFdsE4byJ7hYe1x2vsi8Ooj1RgGNZRAcMcE40qlLktdKJG3AsRfztg3pBegB2ru-pqlZAk5IA8GogwyBtUvY1XovsO0g7wTo0GftgaJqyvF2zeu80Lcag0bKj2VBNiLvSe2H0OvSMM_I/s400/IMG_7178.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Where on earth did the time go?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpFxPKbCTIMeUzLNY571FZ1KGhBhqWDIq_1Z92IIb3QsGJTt1uzaY1K7NTG4vshIcvGiDEzOb4Mo6T75RCaU8xg_XJCiJmoiVkrXVzkXtbM6wYBxQ1KPeeiek2apAlqtQTpOH-4CkMcA/s1600/11875086_10206422597939746_1180740570347032213_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpFxPKbCTIMeUzLNY571FZ1KGhBhqWDIq_1Z92IIb3QsGJTt1uzaY1K7NTG4vshIcvGiDEzOb4Mo6T75RCaU8xg_XJCiJmoiVkrXVzkXtbM6wYBxQ1KPeeiek2apAlqtQTpOH-4CkMcA/s400/11875086_10206422597939746_1180740570347032213_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Miss Abbey just after we adopted her on October 12, 2004.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's been TWELVE years since we adopted Abbey. If she'd been going into first grade when we got her, she'd be starting her freshman year of college right now. She's been by my side for a third of my entire life. She's help see me through severe depression, years of awful medication withdrawal, the onset of chronic migraines... It's seemed both like she's been in my life forever and that it's been only a few years since she joined our family.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmZj3lMlFnOmMXAuwMQKzo_G9qDrtQdjd3iNSNc5Jy__0B54Ry3wl8NMimmFBRZhDCmEektgPEtfZgygJzotPvofxJMSn3rSUIy7hjAytDxet6pio1vIuJI71aWEkzuBaCHGziLNkwA0/s1600/IMG_7604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmZj3lMlFnOmMXAuwMQKzo_G9qDrtQdjd3iNSNc5Jy__0B54Ry3wl8NMimmFBRZhDCmEektgPEtfZgygJzotPvofxJMSn3rSUIy7hjAytDxet6pio1vIuJI71aWEkzuBaCHGziLNkwA0/s200/IMG_7604.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first photo together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We still like to tell ourselves the story of how we went to the shelter and all the dogs were barking except for one, a stray identified as Keta on her kennel card. Keta sat quietly and patiently, just waiting. "What about the brown dog?" my mom wondered. I went over to the kennel and knelt down at the door and Keta came up to it and I was able to stroke her little muzzle with my finger through the wire. We took her outside to a play yard to get to know her and we liked her, but we decided we needed to think it over before taking the step of adopting her. On the ride home, we renamed her Abbey and in our minds she became ours. My mom and I went to the shelter before it opened so we could be first in line, worried that someone else might try to get our dog before we did. But she was still there and we signed the paperwork that made her ours. "She's a real sweetheart," one of the kennel workers said. She was, and still is.<br />
<br />
She's also fourteen years old now.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblSaQ2r5Qo7jn-ZFbrJjSq1x-Zpc22S-rK-TH2CwMApZvcTObKBEzqgkJQrN8rHTikO0vGgIf-OVHBsCzdwdd3c8cFm5hS3Jn20MxsZG5PkBKdrwgtuMNzT9OztsvRE3pMUkxYktgZac/s1600/IMG_4253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblSaQ2r5Qo7jn-ZFbrJjSq1x-Zpc22S-rK-TH2CwMApZvcTObKBEzqgkJQrN8rHTikO0vGgIf-OVHBsCzdwdd3c8cFm5hS3Jn20MxsZG5PkBKdrwgtuMNzT9OztsvRE3pMUkxYktgZac/s400/IMG_4253.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey's hoop-jumping days are behind her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
When we got her, the vets estimated that she was a year and a half to two years old. After taking care of Curly the Puppy, I'm quite convinced now that she was definitely on the older end of the spectrum. While she was most certainly a young dog, there was nothing puppyish about her. Add a dozen years and I think it's safe to say that she's fourteen.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFFDfNHhwqqXdILkc3wYGHRsY-tNDSdsCvfmC2AUVQlZJh-HebIjbRKHIk3Uz_Dc1oolqEzvelF5ZDRGU-G9u63SXR_QzZ-UpaHgFAvnWPrdqNcKZ3YTEKCOyNrEXU_FaqqTDAbjOHpY/s1600/IMG_0576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFFDfNHhwqqXdILkc3wYGHRsY-tNDSdsCvfmC2AUVQlZJh-HebIjbRKHIk3Uz_Dc1oolqEzvelF5ZDRGU-G9u63SXR_QzZ-UpaHgFAvnWPrdqNcKZ3YTEKCOyNrEXU_FaqqTDAbjOHpY/s400/IMG_0576.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old dog needs a place to rest her head.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-c2ppobXH74ifM0lqfMaomuXm8Ua5moEL98RMKZ8DbGDFQ3LTNtOS7yVSgyPs5m-8y7ikqthi2TAIL_1x90GFSS6sZif_eQLP39ZmddhByS_fyOXLvw3BDfHVTe6lei_bED5nM_iXCI/s1600/IMG_5002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-c2ppobXH74ifM0lqfMaomuXm8Ua5moEL98RMKZ8DbGDFQ3LTNtOS7yVSgyPs5m-8y7ikqthi2TAIL_1x90GFSS6sZif_eQLP39ZmddhByS_fyOXLvw3BDfHVTe6lei_bED5nM_iXCI/s200/IMG_5002.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No front room for you!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fourteen is old for a dog. In some ways, that age has been reflected in Abbey's life this past year. There was the UTI, for example. Bladder infections are really common in older lady dogs because the sphincter muscles around the urinary tract weaken and bacteria gets in. Abbey's UTI was caused by E. coli and it took two rounds of antibiotics to defeat it. While it was still in the process of being treated, Abbey had a couple of accidents in the house out by her sunning spot in the front room and then she got kind of confused and started going to the bathroom out there. Once we figured out what was going on, Abbey was exiled from the living room and dining room until we could be sure that we had cleaned up every last drop and no scent was left to trigger her mind into thinking she should pee on the rug. For a dog who has always been exceptionally well house-trained, this was rather a shock for all of us!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyVJlDb4WFMQJzON9ItRlhAI4di_9Pzk3tYy8RFDVmRkq1_0V0KWcHvmiYSLv5ndp9if5bTigUvXILO9V0I1-HmUhwBcVoAT-txv7S7wdGib1MRggSTW7Djb3o6NKWntTWTzKUcW4MwQ/s1600/IMG_0550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyVJlDb4WFMQJzON9ItRlhAI4di_9Pzk3tYy8RFDVmRkq1_0V0KWcHvmiYSLv5ndp9if5bTigUvXILO9V0I1-HmUhwBcVoAT-txv7S7wdGib1MRggSTW7Djb3o6NKWntTWTzKUcW4MwQ/s400/IMG_0550.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey's UTI antibiotics affected her behavior: for the first time EVER, she chewed on something she shouldn't have! As it so happened, it was an antique book that had been given to me as a gift...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5v3yEu4WaoAPWYGb5nqvcLWjXhsYUJx-cHHiA72sueJubN5K9PMsKi0dhw7k5a5q7G6RF97GAs7a13vjW0JZKaHzgavGXe64An0vMd1r5AFKsKqPsD30gQzs3AcfaTJNB2iBZ1GeDfE/s1600/IMG_6532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5v3yEu4WaoAPWYGb5nqvcLWjXhsYUJx-cHHiA72sueJubN5K9PMsKi0dhw7k5a5q7G6RF97GAs7a13vjW0JZKaHzgavGXe64An0vMd1r5AFKsKqPsD30gQzs3AcfaTJNB2iBZ1GeDfE/s400/IMG_6532.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was Abbey's first basking day by the front windows after being forbidden from going into the front room for more than a month. She looks wonderfully content.</td></tr>
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I was expecting that sooner or later Abbey's teeth would start giving her trouble, so when she didn't want to eat her kibble a couple meals in a row until it had softened in the water I always add to her food, I knew what was up and took her right to the vet. She got her teeth cleaned two weeks ago and was able to keep almost all of them: only three tiny teeth in the back needed to be extracted. Her breath, which had gotten ghastly, is now completely odor-free! I would have had her teeth tended to earlier, since I know halitosis is caused by diseased and infected teeth and gums, but I've been reluctant to have Abbey sedated unless it was absolutely necessary after last summer's sedation-related debacle. She did great when she was anesthetized to remove a mast cell tumor on her belly last December, but I was nervous about having any work done around her head. Fortunately, she only needed twilight sedation and was ready to come home about an hour later. I can start ordinary dental care again with a clean slate and she should never need more dental work done in her lifetime. She's back to happily eating her hard kibble!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Af9rlJteSxnMm8B6GcvOq8J9Ru5m-H88Wd64S-jGVg9nEqCdzu_WBzloVvoJ0R8i3q-MRQ4JgaciNfOOcJw20yl49jidx_JSgrZjVmr9qKu7TZAgSSOATY1uFqSigvh6d1A8a8mun_s/s1600/IMG_9974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Af9rlJteSxnMm8B6GcvOq8J9Ru5m-H88Wd64S-jGVg9nEqCdzu_WBzloVvoJ0R8i3q-MRQ4JgaciNfOOcJw20yl49jidx_JSgrZjVmr9qKu7TZAgSSOATY1uFqSigvh6d1A8a8mun_s/s400/IMG_9974.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having had a mast cell tumor removed from her belly earlier that day didn't interfere with Abbey's winter sunning program.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-vMXfmBdv29vuVnI_nCWCZBir1nK5oQuFRHYbHf-9nvDl094vd-ctEfr3XpBx_FT_Mnkyp7vGF7x-fmMrtr4Ex_FGxtcz5RD-DEDuhUgH0_UARooapLfVcGpJFy5Z1CMjLwXT8NPjmo/s1600/IMG_7378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-vMXfmBdv29vuVnI_nCWCZBir1nK5oQuFRHYbHf-9nvDl094vd-ctEfr3XpBx_FT_Mnkyp7vGF7x-fmMrtr4Ex_FGxtcz5RD-DEDuhUgH0_UARooapLfVcGpJFy5Z1CMjLwXT8NPjmo/s400/IMG_7378.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey, feeling slightly woozy, minus three tiny back teeth and a whole lotta plaque.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZ3GL3i2ZxnGjdcfhvS55Hw_5eU6xAX6DMVMcTcEMPefrdqqH1mbBVSUz0Unw2hfgRq4g0dq56QuTHeMV5X74vjTaNvOoNuYePD6r4vqk6Y9jErnoRWy4TbD3jUhUXfaKon-pNhmucvA/s1600/IMG_0604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZ3GL3i2ZxnGjdcfhvS55Hw_5eU6xAX6DMVMcTcEMPefrdqqH1mbBVSUz0Unw2hfgRq4g0dq56QuTHeMV5X74vjTaNvOoNuYePD6r4vqk6Y9jErnoRWy4TbD3jUhUXfaKon-pNhmucvA/s200/IMG_0604.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuddled up.</td></tr>
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This was also the year when Abbey ceased to tolerate me being gone for extended periods. She'd always been a champ at waiting patiently, but not anymore. I think that the loss of her hearing was a factor, but for whatever reason, daily visits when I was dog-sitting weren't enough: Abbey needed me at home. It was when my mother came home one day and found Abbey standing on my bed, howling mournfully, that I made the decision to scale back on dog-sitting so I could be with her. The last thing I want is to cause my loyal companion undue stress and loneliness during her final years.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sAnF0il7wplAhe_-RGtPgOF0wYs5A8eXKLuEXp9dVSCpIkaqI72FydTOqaOuaozbXvr62EXQc-HYf46ZPZT1aniDCyYwUtaomJl5cRvLkLos9cZmWETV09gLForqopG8-CsgiAKvSt8/s1600/IMG_7458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sAnF0il7wplAhe_-RGtPgOF0wYs5A8eXKLuEXp9dVSCpIkaqI72FydTOqaOuaozbXvr62EXQc-HYf46ZPZT1aniDCyYwUtaomJl5cRvLkLos9cZmWETV09gLForqopG8-CsgiAKvSt8/s400/IMG_7458.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes a dog just needs her girl.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ibs4Ad0Ja1H0HZDIGF0lmTziPIekKhtTXZIBwAL97V6s0Rhl_gH4EpERPJlw69IwLO5uNKa1V7ROMq_eXXb3S3KPnH4frpVZm0a6JNqiWlAhD-AAv4Z8rQ0uStPFazudi2u1oaZoaYU/s1600/IMG_6288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ibs4Ad0Ja1H0HZDIGF0lmTziPIekKhtTXZIBwAL97V6s0Rhl_gH4EpERPJlw69IwLO5uNKa1V7ROMq_eXXb3S3KPnH4frpVZm0a6JNqiWlAhD-AAv4Z8rQ0uStPFazudi2u1oaZoaYU/s200/IMG_6288.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Abbey's fleas.</td></tr>
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The most dramatic thing that happened this year had absolutely nothing to do with Abbey's age: she got fleas! In twenty-five years of dog ownership, we've never had fleas before, so it was a shock! I took Abbey with me one day when I was watering a client's yard while they were out of town and she picked up a few fleas while romping through the undergrowth. Fleas are bad enough, but the timing was terrible. I'd come down with a brutal throat infection just weeks before my sister's wedding, so instead of resting up ahead of the wedding and getting the programs done (I'd overseen the designing and ordering of all the paper goods), I was laid up in bed and trying not to cry out involuntarily every time I swallowed. It was while I was in bed with Abbey snuggled up against me that I figured out she had fleas--one walked off her and on to me! We did have the advantage that I knew exactly when and where she'd gotten the fleas, which had been precisely one week before. It meant that we were ahead of the next generation of fleas emerging, so I did a bunch of research and got to work. My dad picked up some Advantage from the vet and I'd applied it within a couple of hours of seeing that flea, but we decided that for my health and Abbey's, it was best to go nontoxic for everything else. We were thinking of having Fleabusters treat the whole house, but the first day they were available was first thing in the morning on the day before the wedding--in other words, bad timing. So we settled on salting the floors and since I was worried about getting the carpet treated before any new adults formed, I got down on hands and knees and did most of the first application myself despite still being sick. I was also washing Abbey's bedding every day (or at least running it through the hot dryer for half an hour), wiping her crate down with vinegar, flea combing Abbey every day or every other day, and washing Abbey once a week. Never before have I cursed Abbey's wonderfully thick, soft undercoat! I caught one flea with the flea comb and had another one abandon ship when I was flea-combing her after a bath, but that's been it. I think I can safely say now that the fleas are all gone.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTAkQSZhnd_z9eFcuSPbQ2RkslZGJ7QFvnQG670NGWJHxikK5xyBnadYw5TaNbubUtaLtptvqQdavz3OJPNnTfgr2LAxck8K_nLwB7ZZANsgU2YuMBf2FXdLhqaNef6Vck86z7IiHwDE/s1600/IMG_6235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTAkQSZhnd_z9eFcuSPbQ2RkslZGJ7QFvnQG670NGWJHxikK5xyBnadYw5TaNbubUtaLtptvqQdavz3OJPNnTfgr2LAxck8K_nLwB7ZZANsgU2YuMBf2FXdLhqaNef6Vck86z7IiHwDE/s400/IMG_6235.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hi! I'm happy because I just ran through a bunch of underbrush and got fleas!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56nkN3DQ1z7pw5bPAraUZdls7QSe-xJ1oEAo5shjrWI6GGM4SmQk_73TfZLWwXzFeorbPAvbAoNvZV6tQDLlRyKi2CEocTsHqCYHQiwZKi31zrBV6Faf2iqxySQxAESx1w7_1KnreWE4/s1600/IMG_1426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56nkN3DQ1z7pw5bPAraUZdls7QSe-xJ1oEAo5shjrWI6GGM4SmQk_73TfZLWwXzFeorbPAvbAoNvZV6tQDLlRyKi2CEocTsHqCYHQiwZKi31zrBV6Faf2iqxySQxAESx1w7_1KnreWE4/s400/IMG_1426.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turns out that dense undercoat is a real disadvantage when trying to rid your dog of fleas.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtgGjxr323vnwKJF_mDshwkw8HsilfA1l21wALQVGomD0jr7A3KAy_ce_pgCtcgHBJY6fQzIQRgMUHS8f-tS0ZqvQv1IMMKNeANRlOZfRghIykZmzAookojGJgFXVvWa6RSsrLDJQn2w/s1600/IMG_6353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtgGjxr323vnwKJF_mDshwkw8HsilfA1l21wALQVGomD0jr7A3KAy_ce_pgCtcgHBJY6fQzIQRgMUHS8f-tS0ZqvQv1IMMKNeANRlOZfRghIykZmzAookojGJgFXVvWa6RSsrLDJQn2w/s400/IMG_6353.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey's just had yet another bath in this photo and is not very happy with me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMBpq4NnH3B3M5H0CMX4pta7NfCZkzRu4bNc2wYB6GDBgY849tp-_x55wAuAzJwGnlNqBnLLSRKWQBCx9Pj0s0_MgZpMInsIxKwFYllLdTW_TM0Vx7JZtCWtchOEvndoJxuTlB5GtoS4/s1600/IMG_6253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMBpq4NnH3B3M5H0CMX4pta7NfCZkzRu4bNc2wYB6GDBgY849tp-_x55wAuAzJwGnlNqBnLLSRKWQBCx9Pj0s0_MgZpMInsIxKwFYllLdTW_TM0Vx7JZtCWtchOEvndoJxuTlB5GtoS4/s320/IMG_6253.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want these feet to have feeling for as long as possible.</td></tr>
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In the middle of all this--fleas, a bacterial infection of the adenoids, my sister's wedding--Abbey had a seizure. She hadn't had any tiny ones since she got her ears cleaned last summer, so I'd been hoping we'd solved the issue. This one was much larger than the previous seizures. I woke up at 3:00 in the morning because she coughed, which can be sign that she's going to throw up. I was out of the bed with a bucket in hand in a flash (I'm well trained), but she didn't throw up. She looked awful, though, like she was about to hurl any moment, but instead she suddenly threw back her head and arched it waaaaaay over her back in an extremely unnatural way, held it there, and when her head came back down, the whole front half of her body jittered in a way that I was unfortunately familiar with. The tiny seizures Abbey'd had before had been just a few seconds long and she didn't even know they happened, but she knew this time that something had gone wrong. She was restless and anxious for the next hour before she could finally calm down and go back to sleep. I informed the vet in the morning and then we were on "watch and wait" alert. Two weeks later, Abbey had another. This one scared me because right after we came back from a walk, one of Abbey's legs stopped working. Abbey's been experiencing some very gradual decline in function in her hind end over some years now and it's one of my big fears that the decline will go from minor to major. When I saw her leg collapsing under her as she kept trying to walk, I thought that time had come. Shortly afterward, though, she regained full use of both her back legs, ran up the stairs as usual, and jumped up on my bed for a post-walk nap. I decided that a trip to the ER vet wasn't necessary, at least not at the moment, and was replaying the incident in my head when I thought, "It was like the back right leg suddenly had a mind of its own," and then it clicked. In addition to her little "jitters" seizures, Abbey had had seizures that consisted of her tail doing something of its own accord, just as if it had a mind of its own. I took her back to the vet and explained that she was having these much bigger seizures and he thought it was almost certainly the flea meds, which had been my hunch, too. I was ordered not to give her any more (the timing was actually great because she was due for a second application in just a few days), to continue to use only nontoxic treatments, and to watch her carefully. If she didn't have another seizure in the next two weeks, the flea medication, which she'd never had before, was almost certainly the culprit. It's been more than a month now and she's experienced no further seizures, so I think we're in the clear.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCJO96VNAZhnFnNCR2XyQbVXE5ppJTcqRyioxzrCPy2054aEA7xjNKCpIpYpyBkHUmxLn-uhbyBgsgaKycyGUazKbswdsN1P32saBtC46oKH6N3gJHpimgFkPFDLal4chCWf6YkOp3DE/s1600/IMG_2257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCJO96VNAZhnFnNCR2XyQbVXE5ppJTcqRyioxzrCPy2054aEA7xjNKCpIpYpyBkHUmxLn-uhbyBgsgaKycyGUazKbswdsN1P32saBtC46oKH6N3gJHpimgFkPFDLal4chCWf6YkOp3DE/s400/IMG_2257.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seizure free? We hope so!</td></tr>
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There is some good news, though. The vet, when he did Abbey's most recent exam, said, as he's had in the past, that she's in great shape for her age and he never would have guessed at a glance that she's fourteen. He made me extremely happy by saying that as long as we kept on top of her care, it is quite possible that she could live to be as old as seventeen or eighteen. Having cared for a number of geriatric dogs in recent years, I can attest that she is doing well. Yeah, she's deaf, and she's got lots of little growths hiding under her wonderful coat and half a dozen lipomas lurking under her skin, and she doesn't like to play rowdy games much any more because if she gets going too fast and is bouncing too much, sometimes her legs go out from under her, and she sleeps a lot, and the other day I watched her make the conscious decision NOT to chase a squirrel that ran along the fence in front of her, but she doesn't have arthritis (thank goodness for that!), she's still mentally sharp, and she's still got a bright quality that old dogs lose in their final years. I know cancers can arise at any time and act swiftly, but despite UTIs and a couple of little rotten teeth and medication-induced seizures that have had to be dealt with this year, she's still my vibrant Abbey, always at my side, eyes alight.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrRUmvPZEoEy3dXUvaGOOJuXki7UP_ktkJS0BWY9ZDkpNSkHD_st5NOjWutSHoBYh4pzRoAQywqqRENdspUl6IXV7oLkKnWjJ1IZXR3HPRuXzWsRK4kAo0PKOdnPAT4D69Zu2gezttus/s1600/IMG_9043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrRUmvPZEoEy3dXUvaGOOJuXki7UP_ktkJS0BWY9ZDkpNSkHD_st5NOjWutSHoBYh4pzRoAQywqqRENdspUl6IXV7oLkKnWjJ1IZXR3HPRuXzWsRK4kAo0PKOdnPAT4D69Zu2gezttus/s400/IMG_9043.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it's fun to run...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLrwtow6uDbywMWGhrBvYdmatmPEsLvT0hAsU_2y-gQJYtX8BSd0Kj1Cu-m65CX9y2btUXJu9sthD0OEJ0aqJ7IDe50oASetuR53-jJTE56GSvAsUGZKWOeHgGopxYSNlrxkm7ezA4zo/s1600/IMG_5032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLrwtow6uDbywMWGhrBvYdmatmPEsLvT0hAsU_2y-gQJYtX8BSd0Kj1Cu-m65CX9y2btUXJu9sthD0OEJ0aqJ7IDe50oASetuR53-jJTE56GSvAsUGZKWOeHgGopxYSNlrxkm7ezA4zo/s400/IMG_5032.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but as she gets older, Abbey is more and more content to just watch the world (and squirrels) go by.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRurtnGnF-dDHd-XtL1BYS5dGeMOEw3lZM6fBjEsWoSOfglh_3pjaut_DMqweAZnw-yg0KJOdSLehnyp49khBvHLArv1DzLa6XtL6a9BgeXpbJfx_aNgVnLTsHsWR7wuRgtSdK3_1mhqY/s1600/IMG_7152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRurtnGnF-dDHd-XtL1BYS5dGeMOEw3lZM6fBjEsWoSOfglh_3pjaut_DMqweAZnw-yg0KJOdSLehnyp49khBvHLArv1DzLa6XtL6a9BgeXpbJfx_aNgVnLTsHsWR7wuRgtSdK3_1mhqY/s400/IMG_7152.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being an old dog requires lots and lots and lots of sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WYueFy33VzyGUGGhikdpRWLuO7i_vS5943b1L7w6ENyEvRon1wOlWdcxDhHdTviCVvP5OJuyGsU26rJv2loaP7rnjWEToJ50r0yYokaeVqnRqJ1S9MI6ZjnJjReh5KlSEDjx0yKRFWk/s1600/IMG_0553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WYueFy33VzyGUGGhikdpRWLuO7i_vS5943b1L7w6ENyEvRon1wOlWdcxDhHdTviCVvP5OJuyGsU26rJv2loaP7rnjWEToJ50r0yYokaeVqnRqJ1S9MI6ZjnJjReh5KlSEDjx0yKRFWk/s320/IMG_0553.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She still moves her ears around, but she can't hear anything.</td></tr>
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Funnily enough, and I kinda hate to say this, Abbey's deafness has had certain benefits. It's made her much less anxious, since she can no longer hear thunder, fireworks, delivery trucks, the doorbell, or the vacuum. (Who knew it was the SOUND of the vacuum that triggered her antagonism all these years?) She's much more social, too, and is put out if she is not allowed to visit with company, which is just amazing considering how averse she was to strangers even just a few years ago. I think not hearing people's voices is a big factor in this new level of sociability. When we took her to the ER vet to get started on antibiotics the evening that I figured out that she had a UTI, despite being worried and not feeling well, she voluntarily approached the vet tech and asked to be petted, which is so different from how she would have behaved under the same circumstances in the past. The downside of her deafness is that if she's facing away from you or in a different room, you can't call her to get her attention and if she's asleep, you have to (gently) shake her to wake her up, but she's so adept at reading our faces that her responses to us are exactly the same as they ever were. Also, I've taught her hand signals for all of her old commands and after dinner, instead of playing a bouncy-pouncy game like she used to, she's always suggesting that we play what I call "tricks for treats."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMd8DbkuoIUt0V1-emQs6YOH2K_Ul-vWsSYetnFsa2Gv8WQHRMo9sQhQd3bw0wKt_GyxkzgJRVsqi9sgxAPlLoHVtHodYXVl2Z9hVpnJITKG8AEzRXPr-fznvlHKsOB0-JKart1HLwjJ0/s1600/IMG_8828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMd8DbkuoIUt0V1-emQs6YOH2K_Ul-vWsSYetnFsa2Gv8WQHRMo9sQhQd3bw0wKt_GyxkzgJRVsqi9sgxAPlLoHVtHodYXVl2Z9hVpnJITKG8AEzRXPr-fznvlHKsOB0-JKart1HLwjJ0/s400/IMG_8828.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey uses her nose more now that she's deaf. Here, she's trying to determine who just came home by smell.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboGzLPHfqEaIU-fEU5b7IlLFZ8auDq-FTQO1HrkDM8RSDhZ4hV2NjIM1LbD6Z3ZE-5Yzi-Ym-qwUIMizBdvf7BcwP_dyklz9R3ZqUeTajZcqZZ6KOh_iUejJ_QcAjBYEVprDeFbW1dPk/s1600/IMG_7577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboGzLPHfqEaIU-fEU5b7IlLFZ8auDq-FTQO1HrkDM8RSDhZ4hV2NjIM1LbD6Z3ZE-5Yzi-Ym-qwUIMizBdvf7BcwP_dyklz9R3ZqUeTajZcqZZ6KOh_iUejJ_QcAjBYEVprDeFbW1dPk/s200/IMG_7577.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puzzles are so much fun!</td></tr>
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I am trying to keep her mind active in other ways, too. She gets her breakfast in one of two feeding puzzles (a <u><a href="https://www.kongcompany.com/products/for-dogs/interactive/wobbler-2/wobbler/">Kong Wobbler</a></u> and a <u><a href="http://www.nina-ottosson.com/products/all-products/dogtornado-plastic-level-2.html">Nina Ottosson Tornado</a></u>) and I got her a new game, <u><a href="https://www.trixie.de/heimtierbedarf/us/shop/Dog/ActivityGames/?card=62544">Chess by Trixie Pet Products</a></u>, that's a little bit more challenging that she LOVES, even if she hasn't figured it out exactly. I make it more complicated by sitting with her as she does it and refilling the treat compartments so she has to keep hunting. I also put it up on a stool so she is forced to use her nose to open and close the compartments, which is trickier than doing it with her paws! I figure that keeping her mentally engaged and having fun will help prolong her life and ward off dementia. (Yes, dogs can get dementia!) Of course, her mind is pretty much always engaged because her primary occupation in life is to look after me. It's a little harder for her to keep track of me when she sleeps so much and is deaf, so I try to make it easy on her and not relocate to a different part of the house without getting her attention. I catch her eye, cock my head in the direction I'm going, and she's ready to follow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0ZfHBmrM92JTrKOmjRhCjuXgvwzPRXX8JFOlvS0ZpCJ0AzZwRSPzvmdxQ2gpXR4H8kfxnQIViukB6QqlbcsESbqnOiQHXynq2HXSvqtaKR6e2blPrw4mFiLYRetZajA7Ml-BZa10EFo/s1600/IMG_0992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0ZfHBmrM92JTrKOmjRhCjuXgvwzPRXX8JFOlvS0ZpCJ0AzZwRSPzvmdxQ2gpXR4H8kfxnQIViukB6QqlbcsESbqnOiQHXynq2HXSvqtaKR6e2blPrw4mFiLYRetZajA7Ml-BZa10EFo/s400/IMG_0992.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wobbler.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoDHiU0oEBOz9KxNpM-nMOG5KaqonjT5QWheBH-VQdQi2yd86BM6DfBOdAiVqBb7vT8VtJwNZQQGn6AmbHw8jBAFIa8bQvBltZcpe93zRJTrwt16flJyFYm07OX469RMsSYE8_VFQRJk/s1600/IMG_7487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoDHiU0oEBOz9KxNpM-nMOG5KaqonjT5QWheBH-VQdQi2yd86BM6DfBOdAiVqBb7vT8VtJwNZQQGn6AmbHw8jBAFIa8bQvBltZcpe93zRJTrwt16flJyFYm07OX469RMsSYE8_VFQRJk/s400/IMG_7487.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tornado.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNhrO3LUQJsP63DeuOTpnUwej_V6f9ny2etFO5xVboOejH8cJ9cDK5mk3QkNHsjeU_mLmlMWzy8kUxTxcdaIidRfHCvAhN8hhVpTgWbcvYL-yYUmwXwXHtGpfCtCekhxZmE3SgMut2ns/s1600/IMG_7589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNhrO3LUQJsP63DeuOTpnUwej_V6f9ny2etFO5xVboOejH8cJ9cDK5mk3QkNHsjeU_mLmlMWzy8kUxTxcdaIidRfHCvAhN8hhVpTgWbcvYL-yYUmwXwXHtGpfCtCekhxZmE3SgMut2ns/s400/IMG_7589.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chess.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUbaeB-GhtufdJjNqucm7hMhD5c69ZOcsY-ebUWupimwbs-6iHqkW7gWvFwMprvhnZBXzXL4aaASRyu0ecx1deCRgRrrXlxana4SXw-6KTEdCqPEci9-Wd0WjH8KXV_JPixz7-8vIhyphenhyphenE/s1600/IMG_7585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUbaeB-GhtufdJjNqucm7hMhD5c69ZOcsY-ebUWupimwbs-6iHqkW7gWvFwMprvhnZBXzXL4aaASRyu0ecx1deCRgRrrXlxana4SXw-6KTEdCqPEci9-Wd0WjH8KXV_JPixz7-8vIhyphenhyphenE/s400/IMG_7585.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chess is more challenging than the Wobbler and the Tornado, but she probably enjoys it the most of all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVo7hj1dmYb7UkIQt7EBQbPmRpuGMxq6GpU3IEG5hDm2NCESyLMKliDBi7kcySAJMT0tRhj369aXIogwB6u9Sg2XNtU6GN98UgQrvBFx8dicwWovwEIhc77ANixh4v-cvSRWRxrbzYmE/s1600/IMG_7290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVo7hj1dmYb7UkIQt7EBQbPmRpuGMxq6GpU3IEG5hDm2NCESyLMKliDBi7kcySAJMT0tRhj369aXIogwB6u9Sg2XNtU6GN98UgQrvBFx8dicwWovwEIhc77ANixh4v-cvSRWRxrbzYmE/s320/IMG_7290.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm so happy to see you!" sings Abbey.</td></tr>
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Now we have come to the topic of what I love about Abbey. I love her loyalty and her sense of fun and her sweetness and the softness of her fur, but one of my favorite things about Abbey is her expressiveness. I've taken care of eleven other dogs over the past seven years, so I'm not simply biased (though of course I AM biased) when I say that Abbey is by far the most expressive dog I've met. Her face and her body and sometimes her voice all have a great deal to say. I love when she expresses an opinion with just her eyes, like the particular look she gives me when she wants me to get out of bed and come downstairs in the evening. I love the dance she does when she tries to entice us into playing a game with her after dinner. I love when she gently and briefly touches my leg with her nose, just checking in. I love when she drums on hard surfaces with her tail when she's happy. I even love the new saucy look that she sometimes gives me these days when she decides not to obey me! I love how she lines herself up beside me when she knows I'm going to be moving to a different part of the house. I love the way she yodels when she's happy to see someone. I love her vocabulary of head tilts, ducks, bobs, and tosses and the myriad positions of her ears. I love the way she stomps when she's happy. I love how she packs so much opinion into how hard to she bangs her nose against the pantry door, which is her signal (that she invented) for wanting to go out. I love how her face lights up when she sees me, especially if she has mislaid me, and her soft, gentle, tender expression of love.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQRx-cx3d_YsbAQ9lt4ntcL6cZUFInYb65-MtZjqEHL8GqinKQmXuT735Jq_iacJS56OGDYEjXm1bxmIRzm212XVtxJjaNx2p_V7kJ05Qdc8suTeKPzGLCm8ztSqJ6q87GIGKBm6wPow/s1600/IMG_4485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQRx-cx3d_YsbAQ9lt4ntcL6cZUFInYb65-MtZjqEHL8GqinKQmXuT735Jq_iacJS56OGDYEjXm1bxmIRzm212XVtxJjaNx2p_V7kJ05Qdc8suTeKPzGLCm8ztSqJ6q87GIGKBm6wPow/s400/IMG_4485.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friendly face and wagging tail greet me at the top of the stairs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJTpnfd6ZXIe36lsqQ0rfKX6owLKdR_VUquTFmBNKAXol-KuGfqS0wpwEOUoI_HRLexh7u3XiLU6eBcwzuo-ObuObIUznYmSd8lclPS0cWmcJnpwPMFjxNGVd9b8aGKfK7sqYE3aVWfA/s1600/IMG_5008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJTpnfd6ZXIe36lsqQ0rfKX6owLKdR_VUquTFmBNKAXol-KuGfqS0wpwEOUoI_HRLexh7u3XiLU6eBcwzuo-ObuObIUznYmSd8lclPS0cWmcJnpwPMFjxNGVd9b8aGKfK7sqYE3aVWfA/s400/IMG_5008.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what a content and drowsy Abbey looks like.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziqXwLorHm-T4KY8BR-vC5ws9Fy8IaO8wSDQgeH22qHtRXC4L1CK27nqKttH6jpglSJaxbrCCu0KQ4oA7qFAujYu4NGexNLg8EaERkFF9vaRwwNSl8i2Knzg2KHN7TbJM5OeEWUjLkpE/s1600/IMG_3281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziqXwLorHm-T4KY8BR-vC5ws9Fy8IaO8wSDQgeH22qHtRXC4L1CK27nqKttH6jpglSJaxbrCCu0KQ4oA7qFAujYu4NGexNLg8EaERkFF9vaRwwNSl8i2Knzg2KHN7TbJM5OeEWUjLkpE/s400/IMG_3281.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey doesn't "smile" much--grins such as this one are rare.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZ-j6tSg8vtQShEaUsvcJ0J6ndBW_j97aTBBQexkLHaQmzKsMUCONPBNGhGeX_Xte9gD8SXZggYChyM9ECmoKOCZj49dlJ-d-DKjnTiVocOVjo4oSwQNh0x9XB2xgb06B7rcJCgzRCAM/s1600/IMG_2332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZ-j6tSg8vtQShEaUsvcJ0J6ndBW_j97aTBBQexkLHaQmzKsMUCONPBNGhGeX_Xte9gD8SXZggYChyM9ECmoKOCZj49dlJ-d-DKjnTiVocOVjo4oSwQNh0x9XB2xgb06B7rcJCgzRCAM/s400/IMG_2332.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Why are you doing that?" wonders Abbey when she sees me kneeling on the path to photograph her from a lower angle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iz9YLk7b23JPFFjPNjM9i2ReXLt8i-LF4TGcZu-tYoPz4t5MVRz8PbcMfoBl1Ocj5nsyJCJ8BqrPDdf2upJk6TK8Gphy8LY1hpGPMRt_-DoHAhjUMpH4nKIDAuDFmAbRdvMB2cO14qo/s1600/IMG_2725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iz9YLk7b23JPFFjPNjM9i2ReXLt8i-LF4TGcZu-tYoPz4t5MVRz8PbcMfoBl1Ocj5nsyJCJ8BqrPDdf2upJk6TK8Gphy8LY1hpGPMRt_-DoHAhjUMpH4nKIDAuDFmAbRdvMB2cO14qo/s400/IMG_2725.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A moment of goofiness.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bf4tUF_dxDsK4sK2IzUBremkqyyByqCq9gZiMrspQOPcfcGwWD23W5vsy_BmJ000qOpRABPue_Y-M3mKtN5OA6vPkH70yVEvZir9to7Yhmop4zHnj607KPiXw7eRRX831bw1SQBEnig/s1600/IMG_2339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bf4tUF_dxDsK4sK2IzUBremkqyyByqCq9gZiMrspQOPcfcGwWD23W5vsy_BmJ000qOpRABPue_Y-M3mKtN5OA6vPkH70yVEvZir9to7Yhmop4zHnj607KPiXw7eRRX831bw1SQBEnig/s400/IMG_2339.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hey," says Abbey, pausing in her basking to acknowledge my approach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-H1CXxz6H2YFmfiuGhTB0Njh6mm9M25Nhda3phB0MJwks6jhMGn1onVWjk5Qea_10DJQTV-zlGGYW_QGVZZq0IWBHMdOr3O8SduAUUj5lQx8c3kmnmnR8PS-lYpHP_vsKtASvx1Ri3A/s1600/IMG_7463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-H1CXxz6H2YFmfiuGhTB0Njh6mm9M25Nhda3phB0MJwks6jhMGn1onVWjk5Qea_10DJQTV-zlGGYW_QGVZZq0IWBHMdOr3O8SduAUUj5lQx8c3kmnmnR8PS-lYpHP_vsKtASvx1Ri3A/s400/IMG_7463.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Demonstrating her patience and restraint, Abbey allows me to photograph her wearing a ribbon. She's not going to smile for the camera, though!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_Mt2Hc6Ne8JUP3FVrH140Rqok4GgiOUZfNtXAfH6IQQbt3mGwm6tUKY3CvjIVonnBYxuFxucnPHnrKo2CfuXhRbEyNNRjHVJD5d3ZGc1plow-AMiT_qvn6SdXpiFhhWls8O_I4JqBt4/s1600/IMG_7568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_Mt2Hc6Ne8JUP3FVrH140Rqok4GgiOUZfNtXAfH6IQQbt3mGwm6tUKY3CvjIVonnBYxuFxucnPHnrKo2CfuXhRbEyNNRjHVJD5d3ZGc1plow-AMiT_qvn6SdXpiFhhWls8O_I4JqBt4/s400/IMG_7568.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Wherever you are going," says Abbey, "I'm going, too!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijswLo10xsWavXESbjsRJao6PZe_bSySYpJIl27viNVTOjtbViQhI9dxbu_nKLWYTxR8SI9DfhyrPTe76st3-m_NPAy1ozibspfKl5dIOUO5wf8lXLtRmQb95975-2BS7SU9BLqoq4vWs/s1600/IMG_0134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijswLo10xsWavXESbjsRJao6PZe_bSySYpJIl27viNVTOjtbViQhI9dxbu_nKLWYTxR8SI9DfhyrPTe76st3-m_NPAy1ozibspfKl5dIOUO5wf8lXLtRmQb95975-2BS7SU9BLqoq4vWs/s400/IMG_0134.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey has just banged on the pantry door with her nose and now stands, tail wagging, to see if her request to go outside has been acknowledged.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsWfyt4ElEyMqv_SPzPuwyDTIPm1_JnG0KWWw8xbGUDo7uObLa_3gjfQYcytSEwyFsMA9fmrNww0dD027-Jxnf-eBwrc4b6eT_kLYdmAKhyphenhyphenYaEZD3STn8VIESmGiL7xBKmrXk4_9_JyM/s1600/IMG_5055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsWfyt4ElEyMqv_SPzPuwyDTIPm1_JnG0KWWw8xbGUDo7uObLa_3gjfQYcytSEwyFsMA9fmrNww0dD027-Jxnf-eBwrc4b6eT_kLYdmAKhyphenhyphenYaEZD3STn8VIESmGiL7xBKmrXk4_9_JyM/s400/IMG_5055.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I know this look so well. "It's you, my beloved girl!" her eyes say.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSHqKgKXHGPfiBk19p7MCcMSI79iMfEbRKxisSwMqCKWMi9WZaSbFC4LHbtaFUcENYospuhflSsR7uNGtlC5df322JsDstvKVr-cLLXn5fUPWhpO70iFMd-xTu7r_uuS7fuCd355FF4/s1600/IMG_4608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSHqKgKXHGPfiBk19p7MCcMSI79iMfEbRKxisSwMqCKWMi9WZaSbFC4LHbtaFUcENYospuhflSsR7uNGtlC5df322JsDstvKVr-cLLXn5fUPWhpO70iFMd-xTu7r_uuS7fuCd355FF4/s400/IMG_4608.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just can't get enough of her dear little face!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And here are the things that Abbey loves:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfpCOMr9bYDJ6bdpilzAuKYWhziUvBXWkuQncQuhlA_K1q8DIBvQRo7CbWqLNp2ud70Zunr3b_EGWRQW7HRItt-AD51LVmPf8atVlX9rK-olQBF6oJzyiB9vj6366ROLuRlV5I0tTYsY/s1600/IMG_0543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfpCOMr9bYDJ6bdpilzAuKYWhziUvBXWkuQncQuhlA_K1q8DIBvQRo7CbWqLNp2ud70Zunr3b_EGWRQW7HRItt-AD51LVmPf8atVlX9rK-olQBF6oJzyiB9vj6366ROLuRlV5I0tTYsY/s400/IMG_0543.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curling up like a brindle bean in her bed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPa8YjygNtVBNGqvjIALn7k_LGbUYCEiGUlfPyIGFwr0xWHaWyDwPrFMw_COpdPTdphNJxcEARZCYl5rriDqbU94H8aiD35e_EjFs16sc4SsQ6H-p2WcoL6IgXMALaCwlQZCdQITdDIVk/s1600/IMG_4736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPa8YjygNtVBNGqvjIALn7k_LGbUYCEiGUlfPyIGFwr0xWHaWyDwPrFMw_COpdPTdphNJxcEARZCYl5rriDqbU94H8aiD35e_EjFs16sc4SsQ6H-p2WcoL6IgXMALaCwlQZCdQITdDIVk/s400/IMG_4736.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squishing into a really comfortable position on "her" couch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv74tLXUwWElrutkzbcSTbfERoDCdSl_bc5Nzs6fM5YnO7GAMP-pdQAv2BqURrICd6zwJb9mWLuZfLfT1KcCuXdmQu9msmPzkUt90iEjLUzM-rcmVok2pi14pX1vZf7s5NqQohFPB2vh0/s1600/IMG_8934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv74tLXUwWElrutkzbcSTbfERoDCdSl_bc5Nzs6fM5YnO7GAMP-pdQAv2BqURrICd6zwJb9mWLuZfLfT1KcCuXdmQu9msmPzkUt90iEjLUzM-rcmVok2pi14pX1vZf7s5NqQohFPB2vh0/s400/IMG_8934.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rearranging my bedding for maximum comfort.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrl4TCU4OnwbHzOcsUKLhtw2xXJpFMEjLyP7UklyWhmTZscDbcl50LU2xDsOG7JXtGQeuANDlrDdl7ay45Lnvf0M049FCezoHZbhgxwopICwwAySl-vH3FMOktUNZuPlffU5Dbkz1o8w/s1600/IMG_0535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrl4TCU4OnwbHzOcsUKLhtw2xXJpFMEjLyP7UklyWhmTZscDbcl50LU2xDsOG7JXtGQeuANDlrDdl7ay45Lnvf0M049FCezoHZbhgxwopICwwAySl-vH3FMOktUNZuPlffU5Dbkz1o8w/s400/IMG_0535.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going on car rides.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://packdog.com/abbey-6"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna8laNzPe_NYNh6VdJf1PdsYXvVPVA1PL0aN3-HH6X3fePATC6UYi2H3bdZfro8rIwLpmGTxXhMiFFH6sODqSOtXjOfGIpC2l4kao0F8u7DOuDAXTC-aYz8zvpXLaOBYvKYhE2bCQeOs/s400/IMG_3939.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://packdog.com/abbey-6">Keeping up with her friends on social media.</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwaibBB6MwGrG2FmDEtUfftJg5wR5KRVL6_KBAUndEeINC4Q11YTOabKYOfjmffZfFqwRHpjz6MNmyESSY5_lc5rLDrtNiASQ3Xvzm82kQbGnyTytbUnoskoqctW82msYlYZnIdeWDhk/s1600/IMG_5144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwaibBB6MwGrG2FmDEtUfftJg5wR5KRVL6_KBAUndEeINC4Q11YTOabKYOfjmffZfFqwRHpjz6MNmyESSY5_lc5rLDrtNiASQ3Xvzm82kQbGnyTytbUnoskoqctW82msYlYZnIdeWDhk/s400/IMG_5144.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squeezing between the kitchen cabinets and the legs of whoever is standing next to them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx95FRL3rLOTBMS6zbFW57EIb-4VaNtgIstm098eQChA8kBdzpZnNuykzfNdvCMrHDptsZe3eMygzbmWrbDmykHavu9oDUDf4GZTXCtQuOCS5DEhNd-T-EbV5uDqplbWjZWGO1SYUGC8/s1600/IMG_4715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx95FRL3rLOTBMS6zbFW57EIb-4VaNtgIstm098eQChA8kBdzpZnNuykzfNdvCMrHDptsZe3eMygzbmWrbDmykHavu9oDUDf4GZTXCtQuOCS5DEhNd-T-EbV5uDqplbWjZWGO1SYUGC8/s400/IMG_4715.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Collecting chew toys and using them as pillows instead of chewing on them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNWUg9LoEWO7_te9O1nmolKJA0TjUs8DXd8MKaifRhS2ZpPm_gurZnTz_07hiKiJ7yKOLMvzDhaG-deltNzCR8DZsdSDdVJIxsetWSTSw9quCJMOchuM38p8M0rwnUq0yEO0tyBvSkZA/s1600/IMG_3919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNWUg9LoEWO7_te9O1nmolKJA0TjUs8DXd8MKaifRhS2ZpPm_gurZnTz_07hiKiJ7yKOLMvzDhaG-deltNzCR8DZsdSDdVJIxsetWSTSw9quCJMOchuM38p8M0rwnUq0yEO0tyBvSkZA/s400/IMG_3919.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling around on her back and clapping her jaws when she's happy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cRHU2Dm9nAR07g5VzdgGE13NVD1MT320WI9wBhEp1wsb5bzC7zMAE5qB5oIr_TqSGXPq4bDxAB4Eg0192JY2Xw-BAShN8nD65EMEX2Mi-laxn5MlQ5TI8k7GD5J9E5ozUMOKLkQqsbI/s1600/IMG_9906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cRHU2Dm9nAR07g5VzdgGE13NVD1MT320WI9wBhEp1wsb5bzC7zMAE5qB5oIr_TqSGXPq4bDxAB4Eg0192JY2Xw-BAShN8nD65EMEX2Mi-laxn5MlQ5TI8k7GD5J9E5ozUMOKLkQqsbI/s400/IMG_9906.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Basking in the sun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQomwcAv1FinVruMm8M5HgqC0dWpQTt6_zyvWzitO6STcnrf7_LZsPRkwlZm8LzCXLxJmGEpamA2ABUvKcTz_og_Y0kwATSgSH_40rpPQeu7ccNrsKhyx8-bIoDBvrxhKoeYKV9iYyOc/s1600/IMG_7492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQomwcAv1FinVruMm8M5HgqC0dWpQTt6_zyvWzitO6STcnrf7_LZsPRkwlZm8LzCXLxJmGEpamA2ABUvKcTz_og_Y0kwATSgSH_40rpPQeu7ccNrsKhyx8-bIoDBvrxhKoeYKV9iYyOc/s400/IMG_7492.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anchoring herself to a wall or a piece of furniture or the edge of the rug whenever possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7EZHuQ_Z78E9fHC13oT1wfb6byow4q4UOztWdfdj5e3KBmckfYMSAyg4AGaN0YwkHaFgivwJ-l0SuwjxCFixfg9dBYk68Ac8qtURGiVqKLhOisH4XjW-Bt9PbpAH8urUM29LUxqL9rrI/s1600/IMG_9424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7EZHuQ_Z78E9fHC13oT1wfb6byow4q4UOztWdfdj5e3KBmckfYMSAyg4AGaN0YwkHaFgivwJ-l0SuwjxCFixfg9dBYk68Ac8qtURGiVqKLhOisH4XjW-Bt9PbpAH8urUM29LUxqL9rrI/s400/IMG_9424.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Receiving belly rubs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4XLCvI3fCH6KZigfXMMtwpy-qWPHdyIA14-se4k78KnkjnsvpPYm8e0gLRg5hH4JMTwBkz_ZOGy964eUkFIpSlIpE64GSkeGQt_R07wrsNCm-vVR4nI1IdvSq0wTnb6wb_MJr8hqvb8/s1600/IMG_9438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4XLCvI3fCH6KZigfXMMtwpy-qWPHdyIA14-se4k78KnkjnsvpPYm8e0gLRg5hH4JMTwBkz_ZOGy964eUkFIpSlIpE64GSkeGQt_R07wrsNCm-vVR4nI1IdvSq0wTnb6wb_MJr8hqvb8/s400/IMG_9438.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helping out in the kitchen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT9Ir9T389oMafevQdvoL8tsgtDjF8NHPo8i9g0XazRWVNnjjj0O6m8wkQWH7jL81f2jllUWZ__ydEXoRRRMsvpkTh0uSenWk-L8XnkXtAsS5VcXy0BKCLf3HDqWq-bX843nvt14AdoI/s1600/IMG_5042+1.46.57+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT9Ir9T389oMafevQdvoL8tsgtDjF8NHPo8i9g0XazRWVNnjjj0O6m8wkQWH7jL81f2jllUWZ__ydEXoRRRMsvpkTh0uSenWk-L8XnkXtAsS5VcXy0BKCLf3HDqWq-bX843nvt14AdoI/s400/IMG_5042+1.46.57+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneaking bites of the forbidden ornamental grasses.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9MyjoQQSCj_KyAQHDTfYn134F82L2RR0_HhEkoYdnHrneZuvd1Pz4OU7nQH2K5BNFaAwp9NOeoEa8i-8L4DkiBlI8HWWj8yqQgmyyvG6rnwqWqc7paO_b5-Ah_eqW9yt6XTFRtulhrg/s1600/IMG_6788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9MyjoQQSCj_KyAQHDTfYn134F82L2RR0_HhEkoYdnHrneZuvd1Pz4OU7nQH2K5BNFaAwp9NOeoEa8i-8L4DkiBlI8HWWj8yqQgmyyvG6rnwqWqc7paO_b5-Ah_eqW9yt6XTFRtulhrg/s400/IMG_6788.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating peanut butter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
But most of all, she loves being with her girl.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-lHDMOWKr1GUN_DwWaX5uAGqJYkEljNE96z-kYzwRu3aIfSyYdQYoPgpJmnjcazc-FRqaNtSYYxXInr3Q7XnuYUp5J-jFpy7cE2_1XXtPFJpjndxA74hpbNUtvvidpwKr5d_UhpwIPg/s1600/IMG_0531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-lHDMOWKr1GUN_DwWaX5uAGqJYkEljNE96z-kYzwRu3aIfSyYdQYoPgpJmnjcazc-FRqaNtSYYxXInr3Q7XnuYUp5J-jFpy7cE2_1XXtPFJpjndxA74hpbNUtvvidpwKr5d_UhpwIPg/s400/IMG_0531.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And I love being with her.</div>
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The thing is, for these past seven years, I've been largely housebound. If I'm not dog-sitting, I'm at home. I live with my parents, but during the day, it's the two of us, me and my dog. She follows me up and down the stairs, watches over me when I'm in the kitchen from the comfort of her favorite bed, and settles herself outside the bathroom door when I shower. When I look up from the computer in my study where I spend most of my time when I'm feeling well enough to be out of bed, I can usually see her because she's on the pillow by my bookcases, in the hall between the doors of my study and my bedroom, or hanging out at the top of the stairs. If I can't see her, it means she's asleep in my bedroom, where I can often hear her peaceful deep breathing. When I'm not feeling well enough to be out of bed, she's either snuggled up against me or keeping watch by my bedroom door. At night, she's usually sound asleep in her crate at the foot of my bed or else on the bed itself. Unless there's some really good sunning to be had out by the front windows, Abbey is pretty much always within fifteen feet of me. And we interact all day long. I talk to her in my language and she responds in hers. A lot of petting goes on, much to the satisfaction of us both. In her company, I am never lonely. She gave me courage during the years when I was grappling with severe depression and she gives me company now that I must spent nearly all my days at home. Abbey, with her warm brown eyes and soft brindle fur, her patience, love, and loyalty, is a bright star in my life, shedding light (and a great deal of dog hair) over my world.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzFRRkH1mriJNuiuwLMq93r0fPN9mmLL4nFfq5zgQTyXVAMDo74UNLvQPwLB_ufHYPBRNYovNzKrugZmguh4n-TqnNPTe7alB0d3jZwX8D1vOomGyePNn_j3-nX2hNan5iWk7IrVxpu8/s1600/IMG_9902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzFRRkH1mriJNuiuwLMq93r0fPN9mmLL4nFfq5zgQTyXVAMDo74UNLvQPwLB_ufHYPBRNYovNzKrugZmguh4n-TqnNPTe7alB0d3jZwX8D1vOomGyePNn_j3-nX2hNan5iWk7IrVxpu8/s400/IMG_9902.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dearest Abbey, dog of my heart.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7DiNtEP1Pdaol5EaqV3mr6h8yF1UHuWnFAMwNtV4cY3hIkTsx2vXaK9JkyJ7yQLcbRjVaMtmL-DhmcUhJ_x2wkM4eFEeD3zoeL5MSf0X2vTHapULNJqxmmUl10Sk2EPzSvO5S0PFxIM/s1600/IMG_2229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7DiNtEP1Pdaol5EaqV3mr6h8yF1UHuWnFAMwNtV4cY3hIkTsx2vXaK9JkyJ7yQLcbRjVaMtmL-DhmcUhJ_x2wkM4eFEeD3zoeL5MSf0X2vTHapULNJqxmmUl10Sk2EPzSvO5S0PFxIM/s400/IMG_2229.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May we seldom be separated (unless I'm trying to photograph the tulips without you sneaking around the corner to eat the ornamental grasses).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4BnS6LopN25Jwz6sON4bHy76934KBKzUK7KGgU8nPFrMQ5W7O1BPSsMn8kH7nuKdylBLQg9ds5iYMuCNk47sxbQWCJYJQpnXJh1iPQPFNByvfqUXDKC7kL7dcIuPWp0GjfRD5Hw8OUM/s1600/IMG_4660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4BnS6LopN25Jwz6sON4bHy76934KBKzUK7KGgU8nPFrMQ5W7O1BPSsMn8kH7nuKdylBLQg9ds5iYMuCNk47sxbQWCJYJQpnXJh1iPQPFNByvfqUXDKC7kL7dcIuPWp0GjfRD5Hw8OUM/s400/IMG_4660.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May you always be at ease.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzxVlW2rIq2Qz_pwav7u4g-J2660_0KGcVIxeVCuYNqaFwx-7-JICVZz3SGGNye4BQCda8xt2AHJf9Ip1sA7BG9RITww_TS3LMpTRqC8AqstCZuQNiJvMJ8ROECWBwSGLZC_fsT2uoO8/s1600/IMG_6219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzxVlW2rIq2Qz_pwav7u4g-J2660_0KGcVIxeVCuYNqaFwx-7-JICVZz3SGGNye4BQCda8xt2AHJf9Ip1sA7BG9RITww_TS3LMpTRqC8AqstCZuQNiJvMJ8ROECWBwSGLZC_fsT2uoO8/s400/IMG_6219.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May the final years of your life be full of sunshine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCUaTIDM7nfC0jtOflWOoDBqn18EYyQ8o40S1actVlfEB832BhKO-pNqdXZA_xHgPhT9mVyQzQtJpHp3dFAKZjyenIRecZjJnTLCorryBSZkgtr7H1ISf2cX8AQ1wusHSLuXKy3eQqDc/s1600/IMG_7264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCUaTIDM7nfC0jtOflWOoDBqn18EYyQ8o40S1actVlfEB832BhKO-pNqdXZA_xHgPhT9mVyQzQtJpHp3dFAKZjyenIRecZjJnTLCorryBSZkgtr7H1ISf2cX8AQ1wusHSLuXKy3eQqDc/s400/IMG_7264.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I will carry you forever in my heart</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eMBWkZBEq2dj5iGDbQEhVpqqHS7UYAcfxvp9h3goq7nPVsdICDTMeZ4ISyLRn9wE8DLJTrysRi7p8Xy7hLM7bTrzr7l-wdP20V_kosENn5qG19DVUJgnGI6KWw9KfuU9wpcVlsHkq9Q/s1600/IMG_7456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eMBWkZBEq2dj5iGDbQEhVpqqHS7UYAcfxvp9h3goq7nPVsdICDTMeZ4ISyLRn9wE8DLJTrysRi7p8Xy7hLM7bTrzr7l-wdP20V_kosENn5qG19DVUJgnGI6KWw9KfuU9wpcVlsHkq9Q/s400/IMG_7456.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You were meant to be my Dog and I was meant to be your Girl.</td></tr>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-70370496418755593292016-08-30T14:55:00.000-07:002016-08-30T14:55:28.269-07:00Hummingbird Heaven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCUM8j3x1AA0kDD__AciBPIUqhT0SUvSi0r3-paFozX3C7gHS_H6RaDG4slNhmQflgFxQvRscdWrgKxbkY_sxwkX52gXDJmn8zFOpz7FLqM1BRLMcBS7MgOCI57QwkWPGnJyS1A28izg/s1600/IMG_6001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCUM8j3x1AA0kDD__AciBPIUqhT0SUvSi0r3-paFozX3C7gHS_H6RaDG4slNhmQflgFxQvRscdWrgKxbkY_sxwkX52gXDJmn8zFOpz7FLqM1BRLMcBS7MgOCI57QwkWPGnJyS1A28izg/s400/IMG_6001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I discovered, to my delight, that <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/06/birds-at-teddy-roos.html">Teddy & Roo's yard</a></u> turns into a hummingbird paradise in the summer, with the jewel-like birds zipping to and fro, feeding at the flowers and fighting over the three feeders. Anna's hummingbirds were the dominate species, but rufous hummingbirds made appearances, too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbtSC4AkP6PN4Je4UclRh1aT-_LYysVaJucj087jef7-raR8sgtdqyv7z8U2bn-lJNmDZ_X2FpWGZoxeTPoq9wyu_SV48LfUO037tgWnGL3cEaXoV9cWbhI8GNT7iPg1C2JQ3-Sy6JKg/s1600/IMG_6039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbtSC4AkP6PN4Je4UclRh1aT-_LYysVaJucj087jef7-raR8sgtdqyv7z8U2bn-lJNmDZ_X2FpWGZoxeTPoq9wyu_SV48LfUO037tgWnGL3cEaXoV9cWbhI8GNT7iPg1C2JQ3-Sy6JKg/s400/IMG_6039.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fiery blooms of the crocosmia were a hummingbird favorite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wCL0sRXORWobhfIF-g87Sy0FJtaDHBIxOCX7bONsoxGRAxcUhEn-IJCRNU8dgy7MeUBr7DwV3bX-zzpSpRJ08NMUtmbppyeC9IgFcWwiIfehz_vptr2Zeg_UQjCCvPmpv0yk6uQN5XY/s1600/IMG_6198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wCL0sRXORWobhfIF-g87Sy0FJtaDHBIxOCX7bONsoxGRAxcUhEn-IJCRNU8dgy7MeUBr7DwV3bX-zzpSpRJ08NMUtmbppyeC9IgFcWwiIfehz_vptr2Zeg_UQjCCvPmpv0yk6uQN5XY/s400/IMG_6198.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rufous hummingbird feeds on one of several hummingbird-friendly flower species in Teddy & Roo's yard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFCQwFOXiGqzYx8gV08mJ93MdIMv4opb4Y2U-rFzRn7qyMhNLTGZV_Ojd5hkuv-zBtA9X-63eiC-KrVq5VXw0TQsfr4SsDVB16VB-UbidFlSWhfyTkspCGCeRQbRZ0ggn9v9MqAqxWtE/s1600/IMG_5505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFCQwFOXiGqzYx8gV08mJ93MdIMv4opb4Y2U-rFzRn7qyMhNLTGZV_Ojd5hkuv-zBtA9X-63eiC-KrVq5VXw0TQsfr4SsDVB16VB-UbidFlSWhfyTkspCGCeRQbRZ0ggn9v9MqAqxWtE/s400/IMG_5505.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male Anna's hummingbird perches on one of the feeders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvI6l1B4eMVTaSBfx96HMKY4RM6S7Ki2lFKBeCj1dZwuWWVx4SyzMRA19MKl8AQ_HTfCuLsOz7xA2hbQRxfWmfK7d6Qb1aS3HeguhfenVJV7Kav1_n0d_Y-2Hzi_bSv6GVKDSWN1PxVY/s1600/IMG_5510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvI6l1B4eMVTaSBfx96HMKY4RM6S7Ki2lFKBeCj1dZwuWWVx4SyzMRA19MKl8AQ_HTfCuLsOz7xA2hbQRxfWmfK7d6Qb1aS3HeguhfenVJV7Kav1_n0d_Y-2Hzi_bSv6GVKDSWN1PxVY/s400/IMG_5510.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hummingbird steadies itself as it lands on the feeder perch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqjzZYOVfNaLfv0DgFFhfWNMl3YC29FkB_fR8JUDQPyWCRAq54PbeVlK2W7FQANkIBN3jxltoqO5VHHM6x9TFYarGGEVsWJILhrBY2XEh2e6igZVtYUAW8tdU3thakfXONrpq_rQxB0/s1600/IMG_5519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqjzZYOVfNaLfv0DgFFhfWNMl3YC29FkB_fR8JUDQPyWCRAq54PbeVlK2W7FQANkIBN3jxltoqO5VHHM6x9TFYarGGEVsWJILhrBY2XEh2e6igZVtYUAW8tdU3thakfXONrpq_rQxB0/s400/IMG_5519.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full of sugar water, a juvenile Anna's hummingbird takes flight.</td></tr>
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I've broken down this post in to two parts for the purpose of imposing a sort of order on collection of photos: pictures of the birds at rest and pictures of the birds on the wing. You can click on the photographs to enlarge them. Enjoy!<br />
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<u>Perching Hummingbirds</u></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEBOvbC_mr11LBbnVQBwlQ3DIz9rVGgV8sXUDdp0WV8LsstzgvtOiRZt2mD4m6Lti_X6-_sl6xPFQTP0vKwy0zzJpTRP6eb4V1qmysnBV8LKjaWL9x27LJW3m7vxuP1YbMn_GPWat8vQ/s1600/IMG_5964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEBOvbC_mr11LBbnVQBwlQ3DIz9rVGgV8sXUDdp0WV8LsstzgvtOiRZt2mD4m6Lti_X6-_sl6xPFQTP0vKwy0zzJpTRP6eb4V1qmysnBV8LKjaWL9x27LJW3m7vxuP1YbMn_GPWat8vQ/s400/IMG_5964.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Settling on a crocosmia stem.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp78TIKdjeapr2LtDBYB6WdOu04zh31Z3nnhxAeO46-8OlIxHRon9wmiFoJJoE17_vZKHhvs0LkhJtdDNbLC6tXMXnokMwTVLWEdNHC_v_TzqNAiQp6rL2LPN0ne7U3BA219vjAPYG0Y/s1600/IMG_5452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp78TIKdjeapr2LtDBYB6WdOu04zh31Z3nnhxAeO46-8OlIxHRon9wmiFoJJoE17_vZKHhvs0LkhJtdDNbLC6tXMXnokMwTVLWEdNHC_v_TzqNAiQp6rL2LPN0ne7U3BA219vjAPYG0Y/s400/IMG_5452.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An unusually ruffled-looking youngster gleaming beside a crocosmia's red flowers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKppPWkehyEqE87lUE16StmmLXPTXV94co9-NTQ7csF1icO1O-8Exoi7PcBWv9CYeS1tp5XgbP_EZ5d2mRpmBKzmWgH9Mff-d4gYtc5uBj4rDhdr6_sk5nF7axzLBQYcYGjwZx9JqqDc/s1600/IMG_5595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKppPWkehyEqE87lUE16StmmLXPTXV94co9-NTQ7csF1icO1O-8Exoi7PcBWv9CYeS1tp5XgbP_EZ5d2mRpmBKzmWgH9Mff-d4gYtc5uBj4rDhdr6_sk5nF7axzLBQYcYGjwZx9JqqDc/s400/IMG_5595.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An arching stem of ivy makes a perfect perch.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOciYO6jARXm-aFQ5eRd4PSDUsT_bdft9mlHl2xqiGvoQRZJDLYEU2fKeiUzn8gai1mfyGycrw1T622ct7NU-6MdWximD6rRcpa21RokW6qV-_HdYPZifY5mE_F-hGJm9KiWeg0PAQ5ZQ/s1600/IMG_5973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOciYO6jARXm-aFQ5eRd4PSDUsT_bdft9mlHl2xqiGvoQRZJDLYEU2fKeiUzn8gai1mfyGycrw1T622ct7NU-6MdWximD6rRcpa21RokW6qV-_HdYPZifY5mE_F-hGJm9KiWeg0PAQ5ZQ/s400/IMG_5973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hummingbirds have tiny little feet. Here, one grasps the spent receptacle of a crocosmia flower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhPLfa9doE7gEdAlT4SlLANzTz2SzWDwAwPolCBfOD3dPwakmOnMYvK_0rWhtgKbwKdLrgHmJq8Uq9qeYwhLyJuRUc9Pz1SYxJOU4r3YEdkQ-TNSqk9KCSrMXSv-5xBhRa7-WnzlPDWI/s1600/IMG_5422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhPLfa9doE7gEdAlT4SlLANzTz2SzWDwAwPolCBfOD3dPwakmOnMYvK_0rWhtgKbwKdLrgHmJq8Uq9qeYwhLyJuRUc9Pz1SYxJOU4r3YEdkQ-TNSqk9KCSrMXSv-5xBhRa7-WnzlPDWI/s400/IMG_5422.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This resting hummer's head is dusted with pollen. In this way, it pollinates the flowers it feeds on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDs7z9DNj9j8gVXl7h75TCCOtJHmBz4QFLPjRUcd4ZQyol3Rx1gIpPXv5NX2HJtkpxpuBoTgm6SLq3cFsPIBvomFVqfYq75HICucEavP40wWqF0I16jPTF_25iv1XL-qhyphenhyphen-ORwZmNPBOU/s1600/IMG_5430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDs7z9DNj9j8gVXl7h75TCCOtJHmBz4QFLPjRUcd4ZQyol3Rx1gIpPXv5NX2HJtkpxpuBoTgm6SLq3cFsPIBvomFVqfYq75HICucEavP40wWqF0I16jPTF_25iv1XL-qhyphenhyphen-ORwZmNPBOU/s400/IMG_5430.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stretching hummingbird makes a fearsome-looking creature!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodr4Ko3GXtifX8Ddrmc9tyWVC-QoUot65uJef8nF3ANrpk-7qqAewzc7PCe7ez-r2MNgrYmZkljBBYGeuJgV9uFk1eFHxowjq2YVJdGhTh5_95hmrq70gbUpsHVCIdArKPizcsETWgaI/s1600/IMG_5548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodr4Ko3GXtifX8Ddrmc9tyWVC-QoUot65uJef8nF3ANrpk-7qqAewzc7PCe7ez-r2MNgrYmZkljBBYGeuJgV9uFk1eFHxowjq2YVJdGhTh5_95hmrq70gbUpsHVCIdArKPizcsETWgaI/s400/IMG_5548.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flashy male Anna's hummingbird settles on a conspicuous perch.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU41lUIgK9ODkqnNSBQ4b5kbEixiA706pAD8QBS93hyphenhyphenD-NcFH1qoJ7iQ-zOV8M1O69KVqoFlJxz98zmj7X7J4cIrFvuarDszGz7DsJ9Y1A_BA2NWSrSEjg4wf2Yl7xF_gPgkQeupUdRM/s1600/IMG_5559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU41lUIgK9ODkqnNSBQ4b5kbEixiA706pAD8QBS93hyphenhyphenD-NcFH1qoJ7iQ-zOV8M1O69KVqoFlJxz98zmj7X7J4cIrFvuarDszGz7DsJ9Y1A_BA2NWSrSEjg4wf2Yl7xF_gPgkQeupUdRM/s400/IMG_5559.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The iridescent head of the male Anna's is a showstopper!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJM8wfn0cEdpvLXUaU-Mpdd5gk_OvaSa9uZnQqkqJVHIXnlaGQVrwr5-krdPv2n-tdEBYm6P-clNjuWRBveOvTlaQ0b5Ts36FyV1UO9CJjTjoTbO6CnNMJWhiyI7PCV0TV0Fw7QH6VgEI/s1600/IMG_5561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJM8wfn0cEdpvLXUaU-Mpdd5gk_OvaSa9uZnQqkqJVHIXnlaGQVrwr5-krdPv2n-tdEBYm6P-clNjuWRBveOvTlaQ0b5Ts36FyV1UO9CJjTjoTbO6CnNMJWhiyI7PCV0TV0Fw7QH6VgEI/s400/IMG_5561.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male Anna's hummingbird sticking out his tongue.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kuWmOJoAQlYMOFXL69ZxpeXkYVC_5ivobEYMw1EGpMO40HGQnmglKC9ODdpFdiid0YWeyxXi7_AHW7R9O7N_6aDR9za8dv6m0E-4lLef3oBmJ6Kx5m6q32PZSZ603PWZ3pRGI1HII7o/s1600/IMG_5631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kuWmOJoAQlYMOFXL69ZxpeXkYVC_5ivobEYMw1EGpMO40HGQnmglKC9ODdpFdiid0YWeyxXi7_AHW7R9O7N_6aDR9za8dv6m0E-4lLef3oBmJ6Kx5m6q32PZSZ603PWZ3pRGI1HII7o/s400/IMG_5631.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This juvenile male's iridescent head feathers are just starting to grow in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB0qHZJ6pSHxddKA_42ircj0K74i12mQAI8zIf4rDqwok4PHWA6Zaj3XKUK5EYEfG3_XBXimZvZ-2KxRvIxRoLoA1hc2mRaTzVsb7O6xv_ILptCVynoCJ_z2TBNAKS_gM-ZQ60MAonjQ/s1600/IMG_5877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB0qHZJ6pSHxddKA_42ircj0K74i12mQAI8zIf4rDqwok4PHWA6Zaj3XKUK5EYEfG3_XBXimZvZ-2KxRvIxRoLoA1hc2mRaTzVsb7O6xv_ILptCVynoCJ_z2TBNAKS_gM-ZQ60MAonjQ/s400/IMG_5877.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battle over the feeders and flowers was fierce, so when the hummingbirds wished to rest, they usually did so out of sight, like this Anna's hiding in the shelter of a shrub.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrVBgsHbgCEzKDIB1bM4Awv_xqYJLM6ThOk7m1aDSWGlf2taIbX8_pkTyD2h3a-0F-SFYnxiz0AfghM_y5Qid2NEzbJx-DB7mljT2ZzK8JrHSR2_Ox-cVGKu4C9OVdUC1KEA7El6J8iU/s1600/IMG_5906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrVBgsHbgCEzKDIB1bM4Awv_xqYJLM6ThOk7m1aDSWGlf2taIbX8_pkTyD2h3a-0F-SFYnxiz0AfghM_y5Qid2NEzbJx-DB7mljT2ZzK8JrHSR2_Ox-cVGKu4C9OVdUC1KEA7El6J8iU/s400/IMG_5906.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This juvenile Anna's hummingbird rather anxiously tracks the noisy flight...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_CFRfXGnoopveH8pyFwSG2grrCYTwBSqFXrA3uhdxXug_U5jnHSexQKZonQ2nKQIhpsGe8R53zuOBAMd4u0PEvwKCnmieF1q1o_4RDHrPPVAB3kiVAPHwi3ObIkbWjbiMQkVa6JYvXA/s1600/IMG_5912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_CFRfXGnoopveH8pyFwSG2grrCYTwBSqFXrA3uhdxXug_U5jnHSexQKZonQ2nKQIhpsGe8R53zuOBAMd4u0PEvwKCnmieF1q1o_4RDHrPPVAB3kiVAPHwi3ObIkbWjbiMQkVa6JYvXA/s400/IMG_5912.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...of hummingbirds...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzGi2yKTmKP70jLP4fEF27EXknsKd0wrMa9mEiH-SLFdc6mgVr4Y7KQGHnBaQzr8V5cCJ9C-O-94Sg-AszTrjM8_k_Ky6jQBz5J_5KaicQVUGRRCXVCtY4EXKaWs5SFBIyeQD1skXVeM/s1600/IMG_5920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzGi2yKTmKP70jLP4fEF27EXknsKd0wrMa9mEiH-SLFdc6mgVr4Y7KQGHnBaQzr8V5cCJ9C-O-94Sg-AszTrjM8_k_Ky6jQBz5J_5KaicQVUGRRCXVCtY4EXKaWs5SFBIyeQD1skXVeM/s400/IMG_5920.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...chasing each other away from the contested feeders.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HKnulTB-MTxpHSSm6_09D-vMyiqyE7sp1rJkB6mVe-QUMr0RnCcygqgNgAmOIZxc4uacuZpFNmsdapRzu-13syCch0a1dTUbkB0VvrY2Z9jQL6VsDKcEquMvW8UDodPNRkpLH_GxqAk/s1600/IMG_5606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HKnulTB-MTxpHSSm6_09D-vMyiqyE7sp1rJkB6mVe-QUMr0RnCcygqgNgAmOIZxc4uacuZpFNmsdapRzu-13syCch0a1dTUbkB0VvrY2Z9jQL6VsDKcEquMvW8UDodPNRkpLH_GxqAk/s400/IMG_5606.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes a hummingbird can feed while clinging to stem.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tt8Cg8emRi1s6-wcxu_U19RwbCPE4vTdwxlLA78Jt1YXnJouoOkLj5Pia14L8vu-KuUUKBuVG3zgqSXBSX0PZRxmA4jgVEzt67z3Kgwn7LagRIhzEcaDKVIjZmirk90n11Oumz7zM4Y/s1600/IMG_6044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tt8Cg8emRi1s6-wcxu_U19RwbCPE4vTdwxlLA78Jt1YXnJouoOkLj5Pia14L8vu-KuUUKBuVG3zgqSXBSX0PZRxmA4jgVEzt67z3Kgwn7LagRIhzEcaDKVIjZmirk90n11Oumz7zM4Y/s400/IMG_6044.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A grip on a plant can help hold you steady while hovering!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Flying Hummingbirds</u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gCCqUO_D8EemM0r_fqO-TEBeN5xRXT52auczR4zZek8r8DmhJ9OB54VwT5692HKLLj5AIbKE0VoZdGmmZING7ZGmvN8d6hbBRxiJRtqAMuwZ__r7T-mEOUsJ5HCKn9nCF0BlmNth4zI/s1600/IMG_5652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gCCqUO_D8EemM0r_fqO-TEBeN5xRXT52auczR4zZek8r8DmhJ9OB54VwT5692HKLLj5AIbKE0VoZdGmmZING7ZGmvN8d6hbBRxiJRtqAMuwZ__r7T-mEOUsJ5HCKn9nCF0BlmNth4zI/s400/IMG_5652.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hummingbird maneuvering through the flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sYSGzVB52oMBzihdtv_nII1CmklZopcARJkPqyzTutfEyRP45SuGiVQ2APGguH4RtG_W5bfuKbpAntTHu6UjcVwcFSysueSO1Xk2liJpfPg5NhPaM7rhIAuvLasdRO5mKEe5tfKR2yU/s1600/IMG_5856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sYSGzVB52oMBzihdtv_nII1CmklZopcARJkPqyzTutfEyRP45SuGiVQ2APGguH4RtG_W5bfuKbpAntTHu6UjcVwcFSysueSO1Xk2liJpfPg5NhPaM7rhIAuvLasdRO5mKEe5tfKR2yU/s400/IMG_5856.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hovering rufous hummingbird.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU84r3NmHq55-R2Gh2XOae07X4Sy01mmQw_bbC7e6Q3bXfpwzC4avov3uT2o0kX23ro5JufsNDrsFztyi4aEfXFVemvIluHrnBoXRYcGrDf6w8TCerq1HVMNnYBcSJ7fJxuhUM89ZMzMI/s1600/IMG_5929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU84r3NmHq55-R2Gh2XOae07X4Sy01mmQw_bbC7e6Q3bXfpwzC4avov3uT2o0kX23ro5JufsNDrsFztyi4aEfXFVemvIluHrnBoXRYcGrDf6w8TCerq1HVMNnYBcSJ7fJxuhUM89ZMzMI/s400/IMG_5929.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Anna's hummingbird feeding on the wing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh6yjXHwVNMRWSDrpL2jcYNJbtL5m0ldrVU3FcsJqYSDoT-YjPjs_oju2ipyvrpmWcOc-v-Vqw_V2KP64SL8G_bQubr9F541dE41O5ZsgWLuRyH31Zq0ofWQhyQECGTkxQc19vTdtkFn4/s1600/IMG_6034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh6yjXHwVNMRWSDrpL2jcYNJbtL5m0ldrVU3FcsJqYSDoT-YjPjs_oju2ipyvrpmWcOc-v-Vqw_V2KP64SL8G_bQubr9F541dE41O5ZsgWLuRyH31Zq0ofWQhyQECGTkxQc19vTdtkFn4/s400/IMG_6034.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bold black-and-white undersides of an Anna hummingbird's tail feathers are in full display as it eases down to perch on a stem.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWo5ZxJKzIWVe5U0SYqsil4g16n6KD4iEFy21ci-gS1FD03GnX8A07dvk7aQxg4y1Iv6V4PSU0di0MGmY7-ObQvSog-GVuKP1Tab9vjrcHyMFuQeP50BthtF30f9IT5uL6ymiqnnSqJfI/s1600/IMG_5749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWo5ZxJKzIWVe5U0SYqsil4g16n6KD4iEFy21ci-gS1FD03GnX8A07dvk7aQxg4y1Iv6V4PSU0di0MGmY7-ObQvSog-GVuKP1Tab9vjrcHyMFuQeP50BthtF30f9IT5uL6ymiqnnSqJfI/s400/IMG_5749.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pollen is deposited on the top of this hummingbird's head as it feeds. It will pollinate these crocosmia as it moves from flower to flower.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNfPAcBdPhyphenhyphenSw6RmUgFQrqJgMPvooCNSk64cupUVh64zkRzEK-I4JZ2jqzagXwiEFRw0hn3UyPAWvbd_BzYGOfhyphenhyphenUnW4tKkiUZ81tbz_PHq0OEFwbYWnTJ-7mCRfOwOYGTdOyWuAkj2w/s1600/IMG_5408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNfPAcBdPhyphenhyphenSw6RmUgFQrqJgMPvooCNSk64cupUVh64zkRzEK-I4JZ2jqzagXwiEFRw0hn3UyPAWvbd_BzYGOfhyphenhyphenUnW4tKkiUZ81tbz_PHq0OEFwbYWnTJ-7mCRfOwOYGTdOyWuAkj2w/s400/IMG_5408.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An inquisitive hummingbird hovers over the photographer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0fS8Ox7QCvqH_Fr_IvLAn6EF5ZOpECqoZ-Jmi4nK1bjrg7ezd-1d61-ZRX1KAAeyots7kftCAYFtn7sfW488KDYhXxFik7MiDUW22CkK2uN3aLTLvT_ocxtJQQOSnNt_rTcG73pdjLo/s1600/IMG_5377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0fS8Ox7QCvqH_Fr_IvLAn6EF5ZOpECqoZ-Jmi4nK1bjrg7ezd-1d61-ZRX1KAAeyots7kftCAYFtn7sfW488KDYhXxFik7MiDUW22CkK2uN3aLTLvT_ocxtJQQOSnNt_rTcG73pdjLo/s400/IMG_5377.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hummingbirds can fly in every direction as well as hang still in midair!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAzP47lEEK9Yesuz5Ymt_JBTdLnD2t1wJsPDkkVJ7hhHMc5PztEQcje2_cWOHm9l1zoGSdgElsPqrCf7mUz99hwyAD9fLm-ug4nIgEv5oW_pzGsE_mZTx0DDwH_oUjN7FdamELPSDV6M/s1600/IMG_6037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAzP47lEEK9Yesuz5Ymt_JBTdLnD2t1wJsPDkkVJ7hhHMc5PztEQcje2_cWOHm9l1zoGSdgElsPqrCf7mUz99hwyAD9fLm-ug4nIgEv5oW_pzGsE_mZTx0DDwH_oUjN7FdamELPSDV6M/s400/IMG_6037.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This hummingbird is flying in reverse, backing away from the flowers where it has been feeding. No other bird species can fly backwards!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcnf0f1bzxSNh2gJky0gXaerJQDN5m2q8Y_bcIuPKvh6zcx7oLNTVSlPnr1LDx5x4tiecXsSJMxiXa9Gn4Rjbg-H6x77l4NEAcfY5hA1IehGj5CeCSah4xBD_S30LNx4-Xth3QUz4ZuY/s1600/IMG_5331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcnf0f1bzxSNh2gJky0gXaerJQDN5m2q8Y_bcIuPKvh6zcx7oLNTVSlPnr1LDx5x4tiecXsSJMxiXa9Gn4Rjbg-H6x77l4NEAcfY5hA1IehGj5CeCSah4xBD_S30LNx4-Xth3QUz4ZuY/s400/IMG_5331.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hummingbirds flap their wings in a figure-eight motion--you catch a glimpse in this photo of how the wing flexes and turns rather than beating up and down.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVFvEkY9SovEHohkd1871JRm4CJ4V4tLMeY3ubvzxM_FAP2h7xn-4k_GI6F_FqQ5XmxHh_AzFXmHsocOgHFi-119BijvsAPhu3rwIG_ps8Nqdsb9XAAEij4MTQ67AUbgEL1W44J8D8ek/s1600/IMG_5955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVFvEkY9SovEHohkd1871JRm4CJ4V4tLMeY3ubvzxM_FAP2h7xn-4k_GI6F_FqQ5XmxHh_AzFXmHsocOgHFi-119BijvsAPhu3rwIG_ps8Nqdsb9XAAEij4MTQ67AUbgEL1W44J8D8ek/s400/IMG_5955.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching a hovering hummingbird feed on flowers is one of life's great pleasures, in my opinion.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1SYT0yGVgFXlzx4BwVNOXYQ-2sdHWZ-xzkrpsYcZwQR1MSSOcSE2j7bs-mDJ8b-CZdcrp0n7SFU_yppVTGDZlTZQ_Br6Jnbp3n0NqZIv4iu0N7Sm-KPAKRvDHq4jI-bI63HhRcuBS2E/s1600/IMG_5852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1SYT0yGVgFXlzx4BwVNOXYQ-2sdHWZ-xzkrpsYcZwQR1MSSOcSE2j7bs-mDJ8b-CZdcrp0n7SFU_yppVTGDZlTZQ_Br6Jnbp3n0NqZIv4iu0N7Sm-KPAKRvDHq4jI-bI63HhRcuBS2E/s400/IMG_5852.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I find them so marvelous that I'm flattered when one of these gorgeous birds takes notice of me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPH8DDniGpgXwO-Nem0Lq4TbMqxuXYMmwAVqrLhKv4yqzjll_-jdqhddY3PFyNVghAXNH4DACc-hHu3c8N84tsGJSuo0v83HNYsm11uTktaj5sDQLDAd69MkJ3HrLGJnyYOpKKOGw1Hw/s1600/IMG_5347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPH8DDniGpgXwO-Nem0Lq4TbMqxuXYMmwAVqrLhKv4yqzjll_-jdqhddY3PFyNVghAXNH4DACc-hHu3c8N84tsGJSuo0v83HNYsm11uTktaj5sDQLDAd69MkJ3HrLGJnyYOpKKOGw1Hw/s400/IMG_5347.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their beauty and amazing maneuverability make hummingbirds one of my very favorite things to photograph!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography">Find more of my photographs on Facebook!</a></u></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-63140958275253438182016-06-23T13:50:00.002-07:002016-08-30T14:55:42.864-07:00Birds at Teddy & Roo's<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hI-nOXJG6Hw0oJO2Q6kKxeNcKF5aSQe7ATx-it0G_7bq-nbQAmVCymmVPDTf0ab-RVXGBNt2ipwI-wHe5mPjzW_37QP051gzoFR4XGL03ummJtCMTr6I7uTKYqPZ1_lo_yIHBK5VJ9s/s1600/IMG_1936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hI-nOXJG6Hw0oJO2Q6kKxeNcKF5aSQe7ATx-it0G_7bq-nbQAmVCymmVPDTf0ab-RVXGBNt2ipwI-wHe5mPjzW_37QP051gzoFR4XGL03ummJtCMTr6I7uTKYqPZ1_lo_yIHBK5VJ9s/s400/IMG_1936.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A decorative bird and a real bird silhouetted against the sunset.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQELbKzFF4Xeh-3ThoLPJFvdXbmxQYAepFLVNTs88SjNAPg5NGezVytAVg5IwifuvfeLg8K56Lz0lJOmsjAMz0-32syhlBtjPlGMIpW_jLqw9see4CmKmJYjetjGJrThE5DreQ2XAnxk/s1600/IMG_3770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQELbKzFF4Xeh-3ThoLPJFvdXbmxQYAepFLVNTs88SjNAPg5NGezVytAVg5IwifuvfeLg8K56Lz0lJOmsjAMz0-32syhlBtjPlGMIpW_jLqw9see4CmKmJYjetjGJrThE5DreQ2XAnxk/s200/IMG_3770.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A black-capped chickadee about to fly off<br />
with a seed it grabbed from the feeder.</td></tr>
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One huge bonus of <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/06/double-no-trouble.html">looking after the smooth collies, Teddy and Roo</a>,</u> is that there is some excellent bird-watching to be done at their house. This may be surprising, since unlike many of my other clients, they live well within in the confines of traditional suburbia, but T&R's people love birds and have a patio off their kitchen specifically adapted to cater to feathered residents of the neighborhood. Surrounded by shrubs that provide excellent cover, it features two feeders, four birdbaths, and loose seed distributed daily. I spent quite a bit of time over two stays hanging out on the fringes of the patio, attempting to win the trust of the birds in order to photograph them. That time was well-spent and I was rewarded with great pictures of the most common visitors to the patio. I've shared the best below, more or less in alphabetical order, though I saved the quail for last! As always, you can click on photos to enlarge them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcu-NtaUxFkkii4DaT1dEoubifb2I95O1QJUtzEbJ52J7_gXm5k4jUfDSiVmwJBDNd4OhWfQ5UlIdAIAuiBs2Oqm1vlcYRekbosmgoE7gkQx34Fa94aPYEikR0e2lCpS8jYUQZsU8NRw/s1600/IMG_3891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcu-NtaUxFkkii4DaT1dEoubifb2I95O1QJUtzEbJ52J7_gXm5k4jUfDSiVmwJBDNd4OhWfQ5UlIdAIAuiBs2Oqm1vlcYRekbosmgoE7gkQx34Fa94aPYEikR0e2lCpS8jYUQZsU8NRw/s400/IMG_3891.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bird-friendly patio</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>House Finch</u></div>
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The house finches were the hardest of the regular patio visitors to win over. I spent a lot of time waiting and waiting and waiting and passed up several possible shots early on in hopes that the skeptical finches would come to trust me. They were obviously keeping an eye on me because within minutes of me going back inside the house, the feeder would be swarming with them. It was frustrating, but I had to work with the finches on their timeline. So I spent lots of time sitting still, listening to the finches twittering away as they visited the other yards and fluttered overhead, hoping that one day they would come to tolerate me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_rcdFTGizfbehGHS7MH5pM4sHm1CXx_3ca-Cef-TXGMdve1XcTHiblkhdqy35oyiOyjIYs6X5oJtf5v6C8OyTtPoZUmJ5gsdqPT0f-koObjupFdbw3sCsnkNG-92YoPIzQBXmVr04ok/s1600/IMG_3459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_rcdFTGizfbehGHS7MH5pM4sHm1CXx_3ca-Cef-TXGMdve1XcTHiblkhdqy35oyiOyjIYs6X5oJtf5v6C8OyTtPoZUmJ5gsdqPT0f-koObjupFdbw3sCsnkNG-92YoPIzQBXmVr04ok/s400/IMG_3459.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male house finch checks me out from the shelter of the large rhododendron at the patio's edge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPqK8RhG4tbpxWgGnkGMfL-oaO6IeuJEtZp2YsGw0k5XdygrWamgHsNTfsSdib4-fJgTAk_5p7I-Qqx7q5Emjoirtf6qTZovETeDwQudbYd71UAcW2WJTRVXrkf8aeRd8MLu-u60je2U/s1600/IMG_3826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPqK8RhG4tbpxWgGnkGMfL-oaO6IeuJEtZp2YsGw0k5XdygrWamgHsNTfsSdib4-fJgTAk_5p7I-Qqx7q5Emjoirtf6qTZovETeDwQudbYd71UAcW2WJTRVXrkf8aeRd8MLu-u60je2U/s400/IMG_3826.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The males get the red coloring of their feathers from their diet. This very red individual clearly has access to the best food, an attribute that makes him attractive to female finches, who prefer to mate with the reddest possible male they can find.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDpr7C1BtcJ9ufK-ZLHFeENU3bQ9QFc2rathp9Py7hh7c2sMEaRznT4Ksvg103xERHjcC6KI_wEv5CT6sdwOfB15_Tw1tU-gJx_UMfvt2oVP7uLdOhB_q20nzM1BJrgGPEj3SA5v6fAI/s1600/IMG_3357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDpr7C1BtcJ9ufK-ZLHFeENU3bQ9QFc2rathp9Py7hh7c2sMEaRznT4Ksvg103xERHjcC6KI_wEv5CT6sdwOfB15_Tw1tU-gJx_UMfvt2oVP7uLdOhB_q20nzM1BJrgGPEj3SA5v6fAI/s400/IMG_3357.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male and female house finch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNJnRFb46ajvmfDcyvVh0ZyDt4XtjC8UN1CtDuO2Qxyrbn9DAazRmkJttjRdusL7UK_Z0BezNdFJRRVtPtEQAuZVkcZnjl3xW6hGiVJfo9ZtNnbarS6B7vtwNoUydncBfQpM88Km86BM/s1600/IMG_3888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNJnRFb46ajvmfDcyvVh0ZyDt4XtjC8UN1CtDuO2Qxyrbn9DAazRmkJttjRdusL7UK_Z0BezNdFJRRVtPtEQAuZVkcZnjl3xW6hGiVJfo9ZtNnbarS6B7vtwNoUydncBfQpM88Km86BM/s400/IMG_3888.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my very last day with Teddy & Roo, this finch family showed up with a baby in tow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrXMH6Lt84XyRWEk9UGnXFMpwtOdvqm4nMHCHEussfDmyeLXNjHkQUSDefmNqsXQO3LD2GTbeIt0ccOhOZVRWn6lYw9-fjZ-0ZOH9IilUCi8fTvRbnlGhYR4c9WGXFAaIGc5Cmvia25U/s1600/IMG_3890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrXMH6Lt84XyRWEk9UGnXFMpwtOdvqm4nMHCHEussfDmyeLXNjHkQUSDefmNqsXQO3LD2GTbeIt0ccOhOZVRWn6lYw9-fjZ-0ZOH9IilUCi8fTvRbnlGhYR4c9WGXFAaIGc5Cmvia25U/s400/IMG_3890.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile house finches have funny little "horns" of down on the top of their heads.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DwHu9CqLzZImrNYitYtOaQIEekYNa2S_PH534YdEtDpTy4jZ-EquM7r0WNpHqtUopsgS-JIJQXTz7pscZMdd7ylILfCRLxIJ779GzB8IjugTDtevVjzInV2UAyViiAssiXgzShNoBDY/s1600/IMG_3815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DwHu9CqLzZImrNYitYtOaQIEekYNa2S_PH534YdEtDpTy4jZ-EquM7r0WNpHqtUopsgS-JIJQXTz7pscZMdd7ylILfCRLxIJ779GzB8IjugTDtevVjzInV2UAyViiAssiXgzShNoBDY/s400/IMG_3815.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only once over the course of two stays with T&R did a finch allow me to take its picture on the feeder.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZK8a_lcNyBnTdEqZPiqhgtENJo8YPEyZ-3LvMxS75aPAWGzZWBGsuI8ZUoguhyphenhyphene0_nP8LzIhWhJyPGUtiO2HkUnwvJSrw1ibBHdR6LUV29hHy2t4scCC5XaQ2SIZ0ED5VqEMmbBUngOw/s1600/IMG_3816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZK8a_lcNyBnTdEqZPiqhgtENJo8YPEyZ-3LvMxS75aPAWGzZWBGsuI8ZUoguhyphenhyphene0_nP8LzIhWhJyPGUtiO2HkUnwvJSrw1ibBHdR6LUV29hHy2t4scCC5XaQ2SIZ0ED5VqEMmbBUngOw/s400/IMG_3816.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On this occasion, a male finch permitted me to photograph it from around the corner of the house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Northern Flicker (Red-shafted Race)</u></div>
<br />
The flickers were busy establishing their springtime territories and picking their mates while I was at Teddy & Roo's, so the air rang with their wild calls and the sound of their drumming. I saw them most often on top of chimneys around the neighborhood, but every now and then one would come down onto the patio to get a snack or take a drink.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZ59f4V8FdPKle6Bdw8-_pQomA9jyUQTIquQG-vALz4HQAPpPl0QoTqw-AjBUW5eVVhNGbMWVXOkLKx64MyaqFVmt1_KSH8tSkiULbpAt7ktNb4duP7lOHB98NT_6o09LeMDudJq2NtQ/s1600/IMG_2174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZ59f4V8FdPKle6Bdw8-_pQomA9jyUQTIquQG-vALz4HQAPpPl0QoTqw-AjBUW5eVVhNGbMWVXOkLKx64MyaqFVmt1_KSH8tSkiULbpAt7ktNb4duP7lOHB98NT_6o09LeMDudJq2NtQ/s400/IMG_2174.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female northern flicker is surprised to see me on the patio. Compared to the sparrows that were the most common visitors, she was huge!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Hummingbirds</u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Both Anna's and, more rarely, rufous hummingbirds visited the feeder and flowers at T&R's. The feeder was hung in the yard above the kitchen patio, so I had fewer opportunities to photograph them up close, through I saw them often when I went up to the backyard with the dogs.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYsMeCSzgWPC9lW2ukyC-6cBoCXx9TY25_brYR3N-fqiCW-DH9_hQ_hEI2yUVJueChFOV5NDoTbwtX4MB2SB7ZwVqllWdhiR1qGh24-_QQpqtGCaNWdz5-uxrKdbiTfwX3KyDpFuI7DM/s1600/IMG_3317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYsMeCSzgWPC9lW2ukyC-6cBoCXx9TY25_brYR3N-fqiCW-DH9_hQ_hEI2yUVJueChFOV5NDoTbwtX4MB2SB7ZwVqllWdhiR1qGh24-_QQpqtGCaNWdz5-uxrKdbiTfwX3KyDpFuI7DM/s400/IMG_3317.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male Anna's hummingbird sips nectar from flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjig9WlQXlaE8F9HxH16l-pr6h-EbrwVkFBjtzlrXKdNK634Jbg2zM2EOumsgxB82NF783LVyPukNSphyphenhyphenYWXG8v9m1tkXky-WaAMN_g5PrHf1yJiRVLAGFb47r6-mUQoIMc9BENLfqmvuw/s1600/IMG_3443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjig9WlQXlaE8F9HxH16l-pr6h-EbrwVkFBjtzlrXKdNK634Jbg2zM2EOumsgxB82NF783LVyPukNSphyphenhyphenYWXG8v9m1tkXky-WaAMN_g5PrHf1yJiRVLAGFb47r6-mUQoIMc9BENLfqmvuw/s400/IMG_3443.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female Anna's hummingbird at the feeder.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzIXFtk3O5xpx2j_s58wftt5gJE1ZGfd5CoRxfKFcDaGKuSR9EkMnPuKEW0h-jRSqI8OL-2XaHqKlq4Wv05GspPFgCLT8IaJDYo1i0ks0Tjo7eC9aufK7c39iDgw3s8fuPxs80ctngjI/s1600/IMG_3330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzIXFtk3O5xpx2j_s58wftt5gJE1ZGfd5CoRxfKFcDaGKuSR9EkMnPuKEW0h-jRSqI8OL-2XaHqKlq4Wv05GspPFgCLT8IaJDYo1i0ks0Tjo7eC9aufK7c39iDgw3s8fuPxs80ctngjI/s400/IMG_3330.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I managed to capture the brief tangerine flash of a male rufous hummingbird hovering near the feeder before it zipped off at high speed!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Dark-Eyed Junco (Oregon race)</u></div>
<br />
I initially didn't take many photos of the juncos that were some of the most common birds to visit the patio because juncos are also one of the most common visitors at my house and I have plenty of junco photos as well as abundant opportunities to add to my collection. That, however, was before the juvenile juncos made their appearance. I've <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/baby-juncos.html">long been in love with baby juncos</a></u> and I especially love to photograph them being fed by their parents. It's not always easy to do this in my own backyard, which is landscaped to resemble a forest clearing, allowing the juncos and their little ones to forage and hide in and around a variety of bushes and ferns. It was much easier to get pictures of the papa juncos feeding their babies at Teddy & Roo's, where the presence of the seed I scattered several times a day for the birds provided a reliable source of food for them with open sight-lines for me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_r1z31uOpPaDI4xYy4Vos8B3p48UMdMqLJJtP4xiGJmrgcq-r727DgDoNZ4UNuz-mZW7xJ95K-BUkDEvM6BYFiqoJFN2nUnDvm9aGJpZPFuUfvZNL_VIlX46IS358Q1Sq_hfFt2uvR1M/s1600/IMG_2154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_r1z31uOpPaDI4xYy4Vos8B3p48UMdMqLJJtP4xiGJmrgcq-r727DgDoNZ4UNuz-mZW7xJ95K-BUkDEvM6BYFiqoJFN2nUnDvm9aGJpZPFuUfvZNL_VIlX46IS358Q1Sq_hfFt2uvR1M/s400/IMG_2154.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female Oregon junco feeding on scattered seed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIqrXcvg4pQcWunwhzd7EW63JHrbnWhDQcF03OTA-wgC-Gy8aEfcDjjCX_0HztFG4oxbJVNk8mS3kasPpGC3dF5tL81e5y-DrZrlDVruv2MmSr4P0QwI1_3Boy1kxvVRcciXKjK2l88w/s1600/IMG_3323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIqrXcvg4pQcWunwhzd7EW63JHrbnWhDQcF03OTA-wgC-Gy8aEfcDjjCX_0HztFG4oxbJVNk8mS3kasPpGC3dF5tL81e5y-DrZrlDVruv2MmSr4P0QwI1_3Boy1kxvVRcciXKjK2l88w/s400/IMG_3323.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young junco waits near the edge of a protective shrub for its parent to return to feed it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0WrQXVYJXurQzl7IVHE45XOWhmyeSVJP6i7wjZEpvNIyulepOEyvA7H5x41nINqogwRN32UoQfEctcEpWdEUsHD2SeA35nrk9P9seWRS88bWDbCmyydGspciUFrJt4ueRpCajIB8T3I/s1600/IMG_3481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0WrQXVYJXurQzl7IVHE45XOWhmyeSVJP6i7wjZEpvNIyulepOEyvA7H5x41nINqogwRN32UoQfEctcEpWdEUsHD2SeA35nrk9P9seWRS88bWDbCmyydGspciUFrJt4ueRpCajIB8T3I/s400/IMG_3481.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male Orgeon junco with two youngsters.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0jyt6R_yUI4x_y64PapvB1NHyKK77xz3RBY-L-1P4eUNvS6NXca_hzhXQ5sOhBsrSddzJnx3SZmhVZ5D_QfOZFaffo48XNGgzObiWMU-9kPCbLMvxhLvAk5ajYhqixfDEPZvlby84Vs/s1600/IMG_3293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0jyt6R_yUI4x_y64PapvB1NHyKK77xz3RBY-L-1P4eUNvS6NXca_hzhXQ5sOhBsrSddzJnx3SZmhVZ5D_QfOZFaffo48XNGgzObiWMU-9kPCbLMvxhLvAk5ajYhqixfDEPZvlby84Vs/s400/IMG_3293.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Open wide!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jVD5VbS_wrzNhiKjsP78rjcmGijjoKAXKxgGbw0AhxYCnW5v51umpxU9ttDl3U5eEuj846izesm9oITF2EsXzLTyLjh7s7b5SBgqCQt48rQQeb2aDscUkgA5BxwPNA20bVKHxtaleC0/s1600/IMG_3314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jVD5VbS_wrzNhiKjsP78rjcmGijjoKAXKxgGbw0AhxYCnW5v51umpxU9ttDl3U5eEuj846izesm9oITF2EsXzLTyLjh7s7b5SBgqCQt48rQQeb2aDscUkgA5BxwPNA20bVKHxtaleC0/s400/IMG_3314.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've only once seen a female junco feeding a fledgling--it seems that the males do most of the childcare once the babies are old enough to leave the nest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNJy408Q3OiJ3lgYOWsB7WVSEkvjqFhyphenhyphenzwuCtUxEwD4yvkIM0kE1x6fHdNmIDs7JwtjlbjnuqQ5K80OqKmhPcmXCmqSR0z0kkZpSGDM2xImKbZBwtTi53yZtC37rdHs9ETAJnUT5hHZg/s1600/IMG_3828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNJy408Q3OiJ3lgYOWsB7WVSEkvjqFhyphenhyphenzwuCtUxEwD4yvkIM0kE1x6fHdNmIDs7JwtjlbjnuqQ5K80OqKmhPcmXCmqSR0z0kkZpSGDM2xImKbZBwtTi53yZtC37rdHs9ETAJnUT5hHZg/s400/IMG_3828.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This juvenile junco is starting to explore its environment instead of waiting in the shadows for its parent to return.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJAwHCJWrMWk6bCTtfUJglsvsj6Z8URfBmzYQDe1_WtxmOHrf4saHGqAnuDjfqU5_czQQ52bAqzO5cK9ybNvb4kBAcf6uaTunWyO_lHBSVFXwyySxwlNOvFuUa3NAOh9Hu_X5ju6ZLik/s1600/IMG_3751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJAwHCJWrMWk6bCTtfUJglsvsj6Z8URfBmzYQDe1_WtxmOHrf4saHGqAnuDjfqU5_czQQ52bAqzO5cK9ybNvb4kBAcf6uaTunWyO_lHBSVFXwyySxwlNOvFuUa3NAOh9Hu_X5ju6ZLik/s400/IMG_3751.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never got tired of watching the juvenile juncos being fed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbupv_ChCg1qEGWoh8cSgExm6fiG0WeezYn5BWby-Jo-QXkWse7Yyas1kWjs05QnzCnSAgNy-LivmEHaSUKLjbW03N-rRJwkJubmLxxDTdL_oehUzvJCRbk_RInct3tnXWqBdbprIXjk/s1600/IMG_3752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbupv_ChCg1qEGWoh8cSgExm6fiG0WeezYn5BWby-Jo-QXkWse7Yyas1kWjs05QnzCnSAgNy-LivmEHaSUKLjbW03N-rRJwkJubmLxxDTdL_oehUzvJCRbk_RInct3tnXWqBdbprIXjk/s400/IMG_3752.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fortunately for me, the adult birds only gathered a few seeds at a time before returning to feed their offspring, so I had many opportunities.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9gFNU5qVOP-WZD92_HmREQ6qEn8DF-dZtpLsOnuNojlsRIO6ZzLjVF2sZpSkrogq8UqWR5wkj72RmIpcvU61B2A5Yxg8xw0abBCM1iyGMVz2kRetRfWkFOuxR72DTauxTTt0_55Ww0Y/s1600/IMG_3780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9gFNU5qVOP-WZD92_HmREQ6qEn8DF-dZtpLsOnuNojlsRIO6ZzLjVF2sZpSkrogq8UqWR5wkj72RmIpcvU61B2A5Yxg8xw0abBCM1iyGMVz2kRetRfWkFOuxR72DTauxTTt0_55Ww0Y/s400/IMG_3780.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little one waited on the edge of a stone wall while its father foraged on the patio below.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggINnRwbGqRGfBOr3YgAaJz0QHHHcZvGjWGA2cn8QC-oaBSMA41XlIDy989Q4YTVBJ-Ttgz0TDrH2AB7S51bq6lMwGJpXROFEohweGVDaftABAWkWJnddvwPQPQWtWTuhlq-Xkqp_qmdQ/s1600/IMG_3785.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggINnRwbGqRGfBOr3YgAaJz0QHHHcZvGjWGA2cn8QC-oaBSMA41XlIDy989Q4YTVBJ-Ttgz0TDrH2AB7S51bq6lMwGJpXROFEohweGVDaftABAWkWJnddvwPQPQWtWTuhlq-Xkqp_qmdQ/s400/IMG_3785.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The juvenile junco is so eager to be fed that it has hardly left space enough for its returning parent to land.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YiWmkIYuaNvbJax-pVrfx-R50xZBoVmlwYi4Kt17GR6vZbdBWZvwEjsZ_lmk1WYdv7IUDUZXK9CW-2n46TuGQJf3K9obvzegaMv-hNyjlWduKvJM1nfVoJlBGLkwrt7koGybYBOz5_s/s1600/IMG_3787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YiWmkIYuaNvbJax-pVrfx-R50xZBoVmlwYi4Kt17GR6vZbdBWZvwEjsZ_lmk1WYdv7IUDUZXK9CW-2n46TuGQJf3K9obvzegaMv-hNyjlWduKvJM1nfVoJlBGLkwrt7koGybYBOz5_s/s400/IMG_3787.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crouching low and fluttering its wings, the junco begs to be fed by its father.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJf2Xt8tgV1XcXS6ItOVSQrSyEkEdCkzQkZu-6utfeIuMktCpxCek60aiQZ7atkvIToU96xku5CkQhhh5DlOxRrjc-fSEWLTK6IoyV1HPNPFdWvTLXDHkON6JDjb8t4D7wFfxGfBSxOM/s1600/IMG_3832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJf2Xt8tgV1XcXS6ItOVSQrSyEkEdCkzQkZu-6utfeIuMktCpxCek60aiQZ7atkvIToU96xku5CkQhhh5DlOxRrjc-fSEWLTK6IoyV1HPNPFdWvTLXDHkON6JDjb8t4D7wFfxGfBSxOM/s400/IMG_3832.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, little junco, Papa Junco has plenty of seed for you.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXScN1JQZqBIj7DDUoQGtuDvGPhrLFLYc3vyLhbPdZckk1Ox_C3F559EGH5rZPrjqC4AxqVIkuKx2eYqgLbU-TvId4Dn-80f8JTtMW5hyphenhyphenFwzFbHpBh1lJjk_S7Scj41_digjjQ_2hXU0/s1600/IMG_3853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXScN1JQZqBIj7DDUoQGtuDvGPhrLFLYc3vyLhbPdZckk1Ox_C3F559EGH5rZPrjqC4AxqVIkuKx2eYqgLbU-TvId4Dn-80f8JTtMW5hyphenhyphenFwzFbHpBh1lJjk_S7Scj41_digjjQ_2hXU0/s400/IMG_3853.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the time I finished my stay with Teddy & Roo, the oldest of the juveniles were starting to try foraging for themselves.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Golden-Crowned Sparrow</u></div>
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The golden-crowned sparrows were the most trusting of all the birds and quickly adapted to my presence. I was glad that I had those early opportunities to photograph them because not long after I started my second gig with Teddy & Roo, the golden-crowned sparrows departed for their summer residences in northern Canada.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh460MiRdm2QOw8Wzf83scAi75dgPF_J6RiQT2MwREJ7yN0FFOA8ULdmS6DIum9XOHRCsh9UKwMhtei85-_aUXCIxGZSgTJOL_f97KZKrS_Lkuct33UF_9vQlCYyhYesELw4pUXAXbRv28/s1600/IMG_2798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh460MiRdm2QOw8Wzf83scAi75dgPF_J6RiQT2MwREJ7yN0FFOA8ULdmS6DIum9XOHRCsh9UKwMhtei85-_aUXCIxGZSgTJOL_f97KZKrS_Lkuct33UF_9vQlCYyhYesELw4pUXAXbRv28/s400/IMG_2798.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reason for the name "golden-crowned sparrow" is self-explanatory!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXrGa6EgEMu1UslJWt3t-jehlLwp-cUS02j4_ZE_QXRg8KSXZUa0qZzSoNG9UWxR_js8U6ehCJEm4IoSgQ783rW6rR70T_dDY8eXAAwmLvnF-L5VAzg4yWI98giKJ2pKAeNo02ikNZBQ/s1600/IMG_2114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXrGa6EgEMu1UslJWt3t-jehlLwp-cUS02j4_ZE_QXRg8KSXZUa0qZzSoNG9UWxR_js8U6ehCJEm4IoSgQ783rW6rR70T_dDY8eXAAwmLvnF-L5VAzg4yWI98giKJ2pKAeNo02ikNZBQ/s400/IMG_2114.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A golden-crowned sparrow drinks from one of the water sources on the patio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3NO0CpiFWZ1onu2eB7x7W6wNdo9BxhGrnupfSpcIkKMQYDlL8ja37aDCcSHTd4pMmD2rGzd4VotO4TKKvtKrGIvOUzSExfkVwr-trflH85grylftReA_3bCpuxgTvZ7enW3BjHtMwZQ/s1600/IMG_2787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3NO0CpiFWZ1onu2eB7x7W6wNdo9BxhGrnupfSpcIkKMQYDlL8ja37aDCcSHTd4pMmD2rGzd4VotO4TKKvtKrGIvOUzSExfkVwr-trflH85grylftReA_3bCpuxgTvZ7enW3BjHtMwZQ/s400/IMG_2787.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding on the seed mix I'd scattered across the moss.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ8S_BBf3G6YuR8GjSI_YB-w9QXPvo7NLpsX3okuqaBBAeJCAjs_V-t1AnyczY_MM-Pc-p2EUweVQVLykN4YLqOAozYRZqeFcjxOkge4pDi1vke2W6J4G34lg98DOK6IqXh-oHKxuZgE/s1600/IMG_2797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ8S_BBf3G6YuR8GjSI_YB-w9QXPvo7NLpsX3okuqaBBAeJCAjs_V-t1AnyczY_MM-Pc-p2EUweVQVLykN4YLqOAozYRZqeFcjxOkge4pDi1vke2W6J4G34lg98DOK6IqXh-oHKxuZgE/s400/IMG_2797.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This handsome bird soon departed for the Far North. The areas where golden-crowned sparrows breed are so remote that very little is known about their summer behavior.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Song Sparrow</u></div>
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Song sparrows were busy and abundant on the patio and the repeated refrains of the males' songs echoed throughout the neighborhood. They quickly overcame their fear of me as soon as they figured out that the sound of my camera did them no harm and their lack of concern about my presence helped reassure other birds that I wasn't dangerous. I didn't make a particular effort to photograph the song sparrows because song sparrows are busy and abundant just about everywhere and I already have many pictures of them, though I was pleased to have a chance to observe the immature song sparrows--old enough to be fully independent of the adults--as they fed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7fFYse7QGyqrD-RKJfSCV8it7ow0ZP3LNNdEinboYBThWjSbktFPvV9K9Ai9FzQf7vEkcFnbctiqaWz14K_A52Jd4i_k9g6uOcYjBAVLY545ZEUBCohkXohrR8ZSOVZR2KKPKMjHyhc/s1600/IMG_2088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7fFYse7QGyqrD-RKJfSCV8it7ow0ZP3LNNdEinboYBThWjSbktFPvV9K9Ai9FzQf7vEkcFnbctiqaWz14K_A52Jd4i_k9g6uOcYjBAVLY545ZEUBCohkXohrR8ZSOVZR2KKPKMjHyhc/s400/IMG_2088.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A song sparrow with a seed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZhFvW6kkTj-KFoXvsHOGu9Sj5nr0I2Cyfhtrbi4Ewx0rlWGJRBuaJoGIHpI79yKtliFGLkYVTTlzKi1V4WXUlTpyzBO-ny5dVb4cPOmbu7XN8e6IBMbk91cJ7P68u9E7EJ7cqV9uRxw/s1600/IMG_3360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZhFvW6kkTj-KFoXvsHOGu9Sj5nr0I2Cyfhtrbi4Ewx0rlWGJRBuaJoGIHpI79yKtliFGLkYVTTlzKi1V4WXUlTpyzBO-ny5dVb4cPOmbu7XN8e6IBMbk91cJ7P68u9E7EJ7cqV9uRxw/s400/IMG_3360.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Song sparrows are attractively clad in shades of cinnamon and clay.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIYa0T0-zJ-cAJfwCI5CpWLxzZm2kDviBC_kFgnUmYE8o-VfwTOhrl2C6nmfIXpGmstTdzOyyK1vbug66UAFKvlOD5l6a2lsqGjx0VoZNlonI4d5yn4ZcKcVTfUOXBvyVZ3fSY9dbMiE/s1600/IMG_2057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIYa0T0-zJ-cAJfwCI5CpWLxzZm2kDviBC_kFgnUmYE8o-VfwTOhrl2C6nmfIXpGmstTdzOyyK1vbug66UAFKvlOD5l6a2lsqGjx0VoZNlonI4d5yn4ZcKcVTfUOXBvyVZ3fSY9dbMiE/s400/IMG_2057.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is considerable regional variation in the appearance of song sparrows and the ones here in the Pacific Northwest tend to be darker and browner with more heavily streaked breasts than ones found in the Eastern United States.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiPK4D75TmTbeVDzx-JE_EuLXzl1jVpecgcHmjiz3OHYtuA8_rnWX4K-7c4hZTnznnNfyP20deI92_YdtPAx5mQK9G7mKxHrl-k3FGPTuPiBEOCD8p2IaRMYQfr7KgSK0Y8tmd6zOJME/s1600/IMG_3326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiPK4D75TmTbeVDzx-JE_EuLXzl1jVpecgcHmjiz3OHYtuA8_rnWX4K-7c4hZTnznnNfyP20deI92_YdtPAx5mQK9G7mKxHrl-k3FGPTuPiBEOCD8p2IaRMYQfr7KgSK0Y8tmd6zOJME/s400/IMG_3326.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A juvenile song sparrow. It does not yet have the clearly differentiated stripes of color on its head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAi3Zrl2NnudZhSDk9eXfwME6nsQv8YmenqIKMyGadevHaotek73pFAP9rha9pwK_NUnRKfu1pQq2rsQmgr2j80__7Tdn_rkz9y4fx6CFWgZT4nTFnnV8pRtm8DJRPWa2HvpnqC3SNlmI/s1600/IMG_2781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAi3Zrl2NnudZhSDk9eXfwME6nsQv8YmenqIKMyGadevHaotek73pFAP9rha9pwK_NUnRKfu1pQq2rsQmgr2j80__7Tdn_rkz9y4fx6CFWgZT4nTFnnV8pRtm8DJRPWa2HvpnqC3SNlmI/s400/IMG_2781.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young song sparrow perched on a fence.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJEUbC7xa4qsAdyVlyttjiFePfjHm_H5nibw3oTPYxWggu9LSV_IYgqmHO4STDLKVjr-jHWxBpnBOLGFFc4Cf7guPiUYW1p6KSIhyvlr6gWGzQ3UOssMRN-KN0UrdCWF14EP3IjIzU-w/s1600/IMG_3461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJEUbC7xa4qsAdyVlyttjiFePfjHm_H5nibw3oTPYxWggu9LSV_IYgqmHO4STDLKVjr-jHWxBpnBOLGFFc4Cf7guPiUYW1p6KSIhyvlr6gWGzQ3UOssMRN-KN0UrdCWF14EP3IjIzU-w/s400/IMG_3461.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The juvenile song sparrow is primarily brown in appearance.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>White-Crowned Sparrow</u></div>
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White-crowned sparrows were frequent visitors to the patio and while I initially despaired of getting good photographs of them, my patience paid off. Strikingly attired with gray heads and breasts, strongly streaked brown backs with white wing bars, yellow-orange bills, and the bold black and white stripes on the heads that give the sparrows their name, the white-crowned sparrows stood out dramatically against the moss.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0zz7RiIbcCkwDMaQHa6MDqLJ3PqN6rxb8u_Y4VnrwF-HwP1sjB-mIbJbqXMhVNkn_ZhIhDm1F-zUkR9IoaLSnx8l2iT1xwZY19i-QrBFINYOl7PLrm7Pd-rUjAx8BJA03jQTG__1KxM/s1600/IMG_3321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0zz7RiIbcCkwDMaQHa6MDqLJ3PqN6rxb8u_Y4VnrwF-HwP1sjB-mIbJbqXMhVNkn_ZhIhDm1F-zUkR9IoaLSnx8l2iT1xwZY19i-QrBFINYOl7PLrm7Pd-rUjAx8BJA03jQTG__1KxM/s400/IMG_3321.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite photos from my entire stay with Teddy & Roo is this shot of a white-crowned sparrow, head feathers elevated, perched in a shrub and framed by bluebells.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ISCCxhFLgurCkQMPe4_vFhwPLFE7wFC-OuNB9gxA5u8KAVIqIOvPHhVBTgzaPKAFBskdmcuaTQRtjfzSFN3z-nzsAUaGR7lksuLsRqpvnfMcgfspD_5PlTHqZAs6VRbEMVWV3BQZog8/s1600/IMG_2142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ISCCxhFLgurCkQMPe4_vFhwPLFE7wFC-OuNB9gxA5u8KAVIqIOvPHhVBTgzaPKAFBskdmcuaTQRtjfzSFN3z-nzsAUaGR7lksuLsRqpvnfMcgfspD_5PlTHqZAs6VRbEMVWV3BQZog8/s400/IMG_2142.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In contrast to the pictures both preceding and following this photo, the sparrow in this image has its head feathers laying flat, giving the head a smooth and rounded appearance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUizHPXCQ7XVL5-HUeS9VxyOZoxBwspsGpXgk-ayLRNvZt844obnfaENCWUXMC4ADL5sGChT2bNh3GYnO5IVdIlmDK3njbBwgRycNq_m_tsawaxQVfQcfUmQNvq2IRfX_j4C3oKPl42EE/s1600/IMG_3259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUizHPXCQ7XVL5-HUeS9VxyOZoxBwspsGpXgk-ayLRNvZt844obnfaENCWUXMC4ADL5sGChT2bNh3GYnO5IVdIlmDK3njbBwgRycNq_m_tsawaxQVfQcfUmQNvq2IRfX_j4C3oKPl42EE/s400/IMG_3259.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A white-crowned sparrow with feathers fluffed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDV3wRVOsKtbwCJdz6CKNMY_hrv6KF2kSpp0QT_4fZFHSfn-WhOWmUE7_qUhLDFIgJ7JsqxUIBDRZWHtE4WJMuPYMcHeVcBQXEqbnJoT5ZJVV4avminqi569W4-tG1sICZYBexM6Clk6w/s1600/IMG_3303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDV3wRVOsKtbwCJdz6CKNMY_hrv6KF2kSpp0QT_4fZFHSfn-WhOWmUE7_qUhLDFIgJ7JsqxUIBDRZWHtE4WJMuPYMcHeVcBQXEqbnJoT5ZJVV4avminqi569W4-tG1sICZYBexM6Clk6w/s400/IMG_3303.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pausing to take a drink at one of the patio's several bird baths.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCKyHH7iY997qz7Rpf3e790-mKYYVDY7iRco4vB7c7UAT70DzP-oWuZ4_Ns9x3IbQ7kpCgAOvSoOvdzdkwgEdUXO2oxPpYD5fBLWKv3UMWFEaoTZRwBbeB0bMlIjbDn84dG9fT6VQXig/s1600/IMG_3373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCKyHH7iY997qz7Rpf3e790-mKYYVDY7iRco4vB7c7UAT70DzP-oWuZ4_Ns9x3IbQ7kpCgAOvSoOvdzdkwgEdUXO2oxPpYD5fBLWKv3UMWFEaoTZRwBbeB0bMlIjbDn84dG9fT6VQXig/s400/IMG_3373.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-crowned sparrows eat both seeds and insects. Although I usually saw them consuming seeds while visiting the patio, I did spy this bird subduing and consuming a bumblebee!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UnLiAjzImgKNjsbo8svKA8Hzt97YqDl67jHT1GpEkGui0Ys5VlowVa1TqQNQzbsWNOc_i90WU5etHR3MtL1BHvAusQPvGBqpqkNaDtgvXnc1f3E3hJFCe578ImiClrXLhKKhVSypqYE/s1600/IMG_3740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UnLiAjzImgKNjsbo8svKA8Hzt97YqDl67jHT1GpEkGui0Ys5VlowVa1TqQNQzbsWNOc_i90WU5etHR3MtL1BHvAusQPvGBqpqkNaDtgvXnc1f3E3hJFCe578ImiClrXLhKKhVSypqYE/s400/IMG_3740.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A white-crowned sparrow with a seed in its bill.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbH0RwC0j-RJxJwb5L6vB1lrFLSYRwYUCkBP3a26YbOWrnCP-RP_0bLZ-zEdlgmk1wkF7C94aD5npnLGCKMGOiXo6DsDXaQVsakrJnHtToqt8aRTNi_7itKCfdGkjCVXvLJAIsRffNip0/s1600/IMG_3328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbH0RwC0j-RJxJwb5L6vB1lrFLSYRwYUCkBP3a26YbOWrnCP-RP_0bLZ-zEdlgmk1wkF7C94aD5npnLGCKMGOiXo6DsDXaQVsakrJnHtToqt8aRTNi_7itKCfdGkjCVXvLJAIsRffNip0/s400/IMG_3328.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my other favorite photos is this one of a white-crowned sparrow taking a drink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Spotted Towhee</u></div>
<br />
I love spotted towhees, but they only came by T&R's house once or twice a day and they are wary birds under any circumstances who prefer to forage in tangles of shrubbery. If I wanted to get towhee photos, I had to already be in place when they came around. I was aided in my attempts by the fact that the towhees had paired off for the spring and the males and females would call back and forth to each other as they foraged. Tracking their calls gave me some idea of where the towhees were and if they were coming my way. Despite my efforts, the towhees disappointed me far more often than they rewarded me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOZ66ydECF1jq3e9420_pt77x1AdL0vbBbQ2Ptbqv0LUeR5pH9rmwhyktGvBupNhvZgQQ6sSQqrcjglwepRGDAcYd41l68Hxj3Ox_AGsEPAY9AIed9LOZtPbd084m_2MHZiDAtvDA4jY/s1600/IMG_2107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOZ66ydECF1jq3e9420_pt77x1AdL0vbBbQ2Ptbqv0LUeR5pH9rmwhyktGvBupNhvZgQQ6sSQqrcjglwepRGDAcYd41l68Hxj3Ox_AGsEPAY9AIed9LOZtPbd084m_2MHZiDAtvDA4jY/s400/IMG_2107.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A spotted towhee silhouetted against a blue sky, red eye blazing in the light. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-CopSzxRHQtV9C03KT6BNhlhnkmEFk76UMrikXAgiOXozqChhuHMAj5P7WcOBvDgqOEFXL9jzEL8ER_0_nTAgDnyj3rF6fXq0-UhlfQadu1BYIKzFyQW5B7trGFEmp3yNC_4dM1RjP4/s1600/IMG_3363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-CopSzxRHQtV9C03KT6BNhlhnkmEFk76UMrikXAgiOXozqChhuHMAj5P7WcOBvDgqOEFXL9jzEL8ER_0_nTAgDnyj3rF6fXq0-UhlfQadu1BYIKzFyQW5B7trGFEmp3yNC_4dM1RjP4/s400/IMG_3363.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After much waiting on my part, this spotted towhee hopped briefly into view. The subspecies (<i>Pipilo maculates oregonus</i>) found here west of the Cascades has very little spotting, to such a degree that "spotted towhee" can seem to be a bit of a misnomer!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>California Quail</u></div>
<br />
As happy as I was to get good photos of other birds, it was the quail that provided the greatest delight. I had not expected to ever have an opportunity to photograph quail--I haven't seen any for years--so I was extremely excited to learn that several quail were regular visitors to the patio. While I was at Teddy & Roo's, two pairs came several times each day, affording me many opportunities to photograph them. Easygoing birds, they soon adapted to my presence as long as I didn't move around too much and they didn't even mind when the dogs joined me on the patio, as long as they didn't move around too much, either! At first, four quail came together, but as the spring wore on, I saw individual males more often than the females and when a female did appear, the male would select a high perch for watching over her rather than feeding with her at the same time. Quail are incredibly handsome birds and it was so neat to have a chance to get to see them up close.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55n2R-9VjIcihufmG8Kq_5DfdcPRoK9-l5Wo1S64MZfzMIypxWY4HRZRcJdSRRS8flQSP3ShJBCwyTAPYsptcBSm51Bn84kALIZgs00u24BWvmitSPKv7tmXjGBx0uIPPJ6EaaKrRMto/s1600/IMG_1875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55n2R-9VjIcihufmG8Kq_5DfdcPRoK9-l5Wo1S64MZfzMIypxWY4HRZRcJdSRRS8flQSP3ShJBCwyTAPYsptcBSm51Bn84kALIZgs00u24BWvmitSPKv7tmXjGBx0uIPPJ6EaaKrRMto/s400/IMG_1875.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quail pair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBoZl5EkRT033GMFv6I5jpVs7y6hWiD1P53qH7tFGosN_J-flsT_4SpGwV8RzF0jEUWJqen5NpbCW3_T849dJbLBvuYGgA1STX6PyVVYydWatnLXuS1IwBX_KjnHf-y4Dv6SUIqZS3Ek/s1600/IMG_2094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBoZl5EkRT033GMFv6I5jpVs7y6hWiD1P53qH7tFGosN_J-flsT_4SpGwV8RzF0jEUWJqen5NpbCW3_T849dJbLBvuYGgA1STX6PyVVYydWatnLXuS1IwBX_KjnHf-y4Dv6SUIqZS3Ek/s400/IMG_2094.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male California quail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKct7A6dyx0LEJUIUv47DQCUaDVfquPUeHvdcJD9NM5M_XtwLd-9lXqrHg46D4sVGrcsfh9j5SQnSNj8eeWW6NVMJx_khCkqcHfkbmefMJX3D16ijjvDFLxYBmBu8IHUISxRBpH0u9Mw/s1600/IMG_1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKct7A6dyx0LEJUIUv47DQCUaDVfquPUeHvdcJD9NM5M_XtwLd-9lXqrHg46D4sVGrcsfh9j5SQnSNj8eeWW6NVMJx_khCkqcHfkbmefMJX3D16ijjvDFLxYBmBu8IHUISxRBpH0u9Mw/s400/IMG_1884.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female California quail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLujsL-vXzUKYGZdJYj4LGye2CC5yBz1-vpaAygcGzMiMnM9Rmfl7RT7_ZFoWfb0s6nyVk2uuUptWm_M0gaizCV1_jZt0bBLNnxpOWB6MY0Cgql4IUrecK7yXDG1p-25W30NUscW1h3V0/s1600/IMG_1871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLujsL-vXzUKYGZdJYj4LGye2CC5yBz1-vpaAygcGzMiMnM9Rmfl7RT7_ZFoWfb0s6nyVk2uuUptWm_M0gaizCV1_jZt0bBLNnxpOWB6MY0Cgql4IUrecK7yXDG1p-25W30NUscW1h3V0/s400/IMG_1871.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The males are incredibly attractive birds...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hGpqHNNZLekwjWaOO6Sa2Hp9ySGbnadQK1iEwNBjdodxuKg6avM0t9QdXAbCG0uEWHWZQokJVCNoQEvczWiGbn5yiQyScXpLbeiluVNPcRak4MhI4oYdsjcKdmX5ddWAjdwrAAOo7GU/s1600/IMG_2170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hGpqHNNZLekwjWaOO6Sa2Hp9ySGbnadQK1iEwNBjdodxuKg6avM0t9QdXAbCG0uEWHWZQokJVCNoQEvczWiGbn5yiQyScXpLbeiluVNPcRak4MhI4oYdsjcKdmX5ddWAjdwrAAOo7GU/s400/IMG_2170.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...though the females are beautiful, too, if not quite so splashily attired.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nO6eBryVAwP13_qTAf05vhtID7VbB4y2Iig0bJI4bnB1-Axo0snj2CBMyjKn8uqZ46gZggiIKsBKPmOF-MnJWolnx8uoO47-qNJVZkF3eJpqbfTbkKXFDhav-Y-ITHxroqOqw6ur-kc/s1600/IMG_2168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nO6eBryVAwP13_qTAf05vhtID7VbB4y2Iig0bJI4bnB1-Axo0snj2CBMyjKn8uqZ46gZggiIKsBKPmOF-MnJWolnx8uoO47-qNJVZkF3eJpqbfTbkKXFDhav-Y-ITHxroqOqw6ur-kc/s400/IMG_2168.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">A male eating the quail food I scattered by the handful on the patio several times each day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnR7bLqNo32h62Pci0YjYLU0NISlIwouXqyQn_iXLyAYVafCFtMu_-9dzRA08zO1ZL_iSz8Do9zYNgKY8y9ZvaPNMMwpo3o2zUQx66LuiT5CQ-byNin3_KiwYziL20xK165TLbHrNBhKg/s1600/IMG_1941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnR7bLqNo32h62Pci0YjYLU0NISlIwouXqyQn_iXLyAYVafCFtMu_-9dzRA08zO1ZL_iSz8Do9zYNgKY8y9ZvaPNMMwpo3o2zUQx66LuiT5CQ-byNin3_KiwYziL20xK165TLbHrNBhKg/s400/IMG_1941.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female regards me from a perch atop a horse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTwAxdXQYP_Sb5Oe1um2yGcNoXMI0pOj8zEW6135ky5yTaPOxQT5VhGw3zPTKrdpNOOfiQUQF4ojb9dtG9M-owMpMgB023NWjRmPhv41uldOYYhFcyWcGQFtRaGjV4VAnVLz5zDp-vXg/s1600/IMG_2135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTwAxdXQYP_Sb5Oe1um2yGcNoXMI0pOj8zEW6135ky5yTaPOxQT5VhGw3zPTKrdpNOOfiQUQF4ojb9dtG9M-owMpMgB023NWjRmPhv41uldOYYhFcyWcGQFtRaGjV4VAnVLz5zDp-vXg/s400/IMG_2135.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One day I heard a noise and looked up to see a male on the wall directly above me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigZkEHCq0idg2lw_vU0Z46p716iFMPO6wAaaUxdGfiZ7BrHzFw0rn6YDYuPrNnVLATlb8W8Qhggwz3xmNoz21dcQgz4sHUD63RZ69ElZePYUIung90LuvSCt_7xvXL8FUMCZFryPGmRk/s1600/IMG_3083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigZkEHCq0idg2lw_vU0Z46p716iFMPO6wAaaUxdGfiZ7BrHzFw0rn6YDYuPrNnVLATlb8W8Qhggwz3xmNoz21dcQgz4sHUD63RZ69ElZePYUIung90LuvSCt_7xvXL8FUMCZFryPGmRk/s400/IMG_3083.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The female stretches...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBj3mOzFETvzZwHAzxPaave2ITeGu0IxeOotIacNXAF8h-iYW8XSeDHGk55FP_nksdYbbCtRTWhfd2XB-rtlVcDSW4WlhZszkizbni6CZdY_cVdHGAmTDss8_10ASbr8cksKr0qdH0q0/s1600/IMG_3085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBj3mOzFETvzZwHAzxPaave2ITeGu0IxeOotIacNXAF8h-iYW8XSeDHGk55FP_nksdYbbCtRTWhfd2XB-rtlVcDSW4WlhZszkizbni6CZdY_cVdHGAmTDss8_10ASbr8cksKr0qdH0q0/s400/IMG_3085.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and then fluffs her feathers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwjSiL-UENRC66jzOEVFVZ7CYrp_6p10C-yVU1-ZYXaBnPVin_CosqIdcrULqFqgW3dNHUlLB4unDTiJ1pelvSEZn_4OD67CD-1Vql6rc-lgtY5LidxFp2G6vXhImVXuJ_ez9ZYHBJlU/s1600/IMG_3338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwjSiL-UENRC66jzOEVFVZ7CYrp_6p10C-yVU1-ZYXaBnPVin_CosqIdcrULqFqgW3dNHUlLB4unDTiJ1pelvSEZn_4OD67CD-1Vql6rc-lgtY5LidxFp2G6vXhImVXuJ_ez9ZYHBJlU/s400/IMG_3338.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The male quail takes advantage of a lofty sheep-top perch to survey the situation.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One day, I heard the quail making calls that I hadn't heard before. I soon found out the reason: mating season had begun in earnest! I was lucky enough to catch one of the attempts on camera.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzMR9p1_dkH6v6sTtDhmOo6f_C9bs3Cs4b22OIR5NAhK9BYpu56Z4J2VWlmh4NLIGMK3q3-uTkT6IY8kGIaTnH8pcXH4DM6A0CTTIxiCV9-SHvy9uFrYzEdOADwYoBd9yrbey1IepveQ/s1600/IMG_3339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzMR9p1_dkH6v6sTtDhmOo6f_C9bs3Cs4b22OIR5NAhK9BYpu56Z4J2VWlmh4NLIGMK3q3-uTkT6IY8kGIaTnH8pcXH4DM6A0CTTIxiCV9-SHvy9uFrYzEdOADwYoBd9yrbey1IepveQ/s400/IMG_3339.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The male clumsily mounts the female, failing to get his body properly aligned with hers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJhoZcAHQ2eeAcfdvNFWlxb0PJdtQgsn7T6sWRxiMthrd4q-dNt9kHmet0S1rO7IVdxdya0VS7qEixo7spsEA7neK5S5BJyKrfwycrXTZzRUAumEtoi7IvyByQIlxTtza9HSLNCqebEc/s1600/IMG_3340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJhoZcAHQ2eeAcfdvNFWlxb0PJdtQgsn7T6sWRxiMthrd4q-dNt9kHmet0S1rO7IVdxdya0VS7qEixo7spsEA7neK5S5BJyKrfwycrXTZzRUAumEtoi7IvyByQIlxTtza9HSLNCqebEc/s400/IMG_3340.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He solicits her for another attempt...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittzEb40ZORcK83yfxx7qNh_JE8s9mRu9mK-q_2y5ZkreATQCBG8hWAgjtRJLWxg6YMcpkjZthM6WJOvzFu_Fnt-gTU3mYH0GHXBS5swNSbEgT1hGlrNBfa3VjU5E6XK3xM2AwFUU4G2I/s1600/IMG_3341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEittzEb40ZORcK83yfxx7qNh_JE8s9mRu9mK-q_2y5ZkreATQCBG8hWAgjtRJLWxg6YMcpkjZthM6WJOvzFu_Fnt-gTU3mYH0GHXBS5swNSbEgT1hGlrNBfa3VjU5E6XK3xM2AwFUU4G2I/s400/IMG_3341.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but she would have none of it and leaped over him! They were soon canoodling together in a bush, though, and there's an excellent chance that there will be baby quail to photograph when I visit Teddy & Roo in July.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZlSZEkcKQOJcwwyxSzCWyIikqXTR7UMp7bSbdKJabLNMrTd_ysUw6wxgxkuyPtMrji_HvFLt6nI20FgW5gbHpFnTHPkXGFo63SlmJUNdVeIDwYfLyHkUpjVqBVPkcs2RItydYhL8Vhg/s1600/IMG_3079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZlSZEkcKQOJcwwyxSzCWyIikqXTR7UMp7bSbdKJabLNMrTd_ysUw6wxgxkuyPtMrji_HvFLt6nI20FgW5gbHpFnTHPkXGFo63SlmJUNdVeIDwYfLyHkUpjVqBVPkcs2RItydYhL8Vhg/s400/IMG_3079.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">The female quail and her mate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKbdj3WHWKqWsrZxphQRBGjMozDOqbMftamG_iIvgQLX5c-tC-oHn6hKfRsiQmp10aG97Fnj7-ecAnWlO0hTsoKf5NXphRmTM-PDwmJMNWDwpg0t70UOCfyOFSn-9xUKwwWukVToIub4/s1600/IMG_2160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKbdj3WHWKqWsrZxphQRBGjMozDOqbMftamG_iIvgQLX5c-tC-oHn6hKfRsiQmp10aG97Fnj7-ecAnWlO0hTsoKf5NXphRmTM-PDwmJMNWDwpg0t70UOCfyOFSn-9xUKwwWukVToIub4/s400/IMG_2160.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gorgeous male California quail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Northern Alligator Lizard</u></div>
<br />
The next animal is not a bird at all, but a reptile. I only recently learned that there is a lizard species native to the Western Washington, which is on the whole rather too cool and damp to support many reptiles. Once I'd heard of their existence, I naturally developed a great yearning to see and photograph a northern alligator lizard. As it so happened, one lived in the wall next to the patio at Teddy & Roo's! I kept a close eye on the crack where it was reported to live and was rewarded by a single sighting. I did manage to get a few photos of what is admittedly a rather unattractive lizard before it scuttled off and was never seen again!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifpfpui4BzEi9ml9O9uK25Js4cvXXYISBGq5BPLDPNLnZ9OFdvIZRSBjzkboXh1BhN6x0wAncliveaTUzYWyjWEXYTbJfnRy_7teAymFd2vLsG_no9pd7rwoTDsFKEfiLyDWqXgz6JOHg/s1600/IMG_3005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifpfpui4BzEi9ml9O9uK25Js4cvXXYISBGq5BPLDPNLnZ9OFdvIZRSBjzkboXh1BhN6x0wAncliveaTUzYWyjWEXYTbJfnRy_7teAymFd2vLsG_no9pd7rwoTDsFKEfiLyDWqXgz6JOHg/s400/IMG_3005.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A northern alligator lizard emerging from its home in a crack in a wall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORAl6HFN45-oFX1RnRrWRaD8b9rJbvNrF7J6O5U6TKLLiISD0JUuBZllHgusDuk2qrjIre4Ks05f1hkm0y_VOoLHEGPqQudFXeP1MWlzALXqgHMJm2nyPqPcOO7RR0v_J-ICEHfFeoQA/s1600/IMG_3032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORAl6HFN45-oFX1RnRrWRaD8b9rJbvNrF7J6O5U6TKLLiISD0JUuBZllHgusDuk2qrjIre4Ks05f1hkm0y_VOoLHEGPqQudFXeP1MWlzALXqgHMJm2nyPqPcOO7RR0v_J-ICEHfFeoQA/s400/IMG_3032.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This particular individual sports two tails. Northern alligators can drop their tails as a defensive maneuver and I suspect that this double tail is the result of an error made during either the dropping or regrowing process.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>More Animal Life at T&R's</u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9q9afRXCqjGVyf85ERmFUUOBahxQOu9M4qa1QDp3vtXF_-Dor3yLBk0aVEIxkVGHpwgoeiKI972Ou9bh5kXwqQgO3yc2bYjZAH8ICzd2MFVSDqxPPikxUouQm-98kvyt8Tb1XX5C-EQ/s1600/IMG_3311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9q9afRXCqjGVyf85ERmFUUOBahxQOu9M4qa1QDp3vtXF_-Dor3yLBk0aVEIxkVGHpwgoeiKI972Ou9bh5kXwqQgO3yc2bYjZAH8ICzd2MFVSDqxPPikxUouQm-98kvyt8Tb1XX5C-EQ/s400/IMG_3311.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One evening I spied a rabbit grazing on ground cover in the backyard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS3CnvxY7lvSkK7DIzfvunETxV-vyehIOdMI6xsqr07ZPnoi4cAYqhnnf3-eqwk7qYSwFTo4GoCsdBHevdnNQLZeLh-SuUkC5kumWRvYxFlQ4OLgxR1_ILGwo0RBRWbNJ7bKQDTpK0fs/s1600/IMG_3732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS3CnvxY7lvSkK7DIzfvunETxV-vyehIOdMI6xsqr07ZPnoi4cAYqhnnf3-eqwk7qYSwFTo4GoCsdBHevdnNQLZeLh-SuUkC5kumWRvYxFlQ4OLgxR1_ILGwo0RBRWbNJ7bKQDTpK0fs/s400/IMG_3732.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bumblebee visits a delphinium growing on the edge of the patio.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmVPsPv3XNF_HFv9zwxpcZ0PASlh05k3T0O0TwiOjLdxrglVrJc1Q2mgjiOkC4Q8tFeh0UxvkaDNlGh9kaxOP082FBHI9yo_yblXMWTpo4BzQUVnQkX4kEcuguNOJC1DlmRWZAMKWDzk/s1600/IMG_3486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmVPsPv3XNF_HFv9zwxpcZ0PASlh05k3T0O0TwiOjLdxrglVrJc1Q2mgjiOkC4Q8tFeh0UxvkaDNlGh9kaxOP082FBHI9yo_yblXMWTpo4BzQUVnQkX4kEcuguNOJC1DlmRWZAMKWDzk/s400/IMG_3486.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teddy keeping me company while I waited for birds. Roo preferred sleeping in a dog bed beside my chair over sunning himself in the dirt with his brother!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8P0eoyMZ2icx_GnmYApMgf4ftIuXI_pycA9CWNHb3OrQCMiKE5gzODaC9Wg8FeECcI7W3jvUCzLZ7YRSW4rDNLuX6Iy6-J9FDcotblk4pYCtOyJPkHPocu_20lTTu0sD1PUF75wi7tk/s1600/IMG_2934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8P0eoyMZ2icx_GnmYApMgf4ftIuXI_pycA9CWNHb3OrQCMiKE5gzODaC9Wg8FeECcI7W3jvUCzLZ7YRSW4rDNLuX6Iy6-J9FDcotblk4pYCtOyJPkHPocu_20lTTu0sD1PUF75wi7tk/s200/IMG_2934.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tall pink rhododendron, seen here with<br />
its flowers freshly washed with rain, sheltered<br />
the patio, giving cover for the birds and providing<br />
a delightful soundtrack of buzzing bees.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In summary, the birding at Teddy & Roo's was excellent and I spent many a pleasant hour on the kitchen patio, the grape vine creaking in the wind on the western wall while the nearby rhododendron, lush with blooms, hummed with bumblebees. I followed the progress of the birds through the neighborhood with my ears--the feeding call of the baby juncos, the squeaky song of the hummingbirds, the twittering of the house finches, the back-and-forth conversation between the male and female towhees, the drumming of flickers, the chuckle of robins, the quiet burbling of the quail as they foraged, and the whistles and chirps of the sparrows on the moss--and came to know their quirks and behaviors and personalities with my eyes as I watched them go about the business of feeding, drinking, squabbling, chatting, mating, and raising their broods. I feel lucky that I got to take some lovely photographs of this little slice of avian life.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-76005962248203026372016-06-01T16:24:00.000-07:002016-06-01T16:24:03.118-07:00Double No-TroubleI've been in the process of scaling back on my dog-sitting, for two reasons: first, it's been taking up so much of my time (not only with the gigs themselves, but the time it takes me to recover, which usually works out to one day of recovery for every two days spent sitting), leaving me with little energy to work on my other projects, and more importantly, because, as became apparent when I had a long stay with Cutie at the beginning of the year, Abbey can no longer tolerate having me away from home for long periods of time. The last thing I want is for Abbey to be stressed during these final years of her life and I want to be sure I spend most of my time with her. I made it known to my clients that while I would honor all gigs that had already been booked, I would henceforth only take week-long gigs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEfzhbJWMPYOHhyphenhyphentfFroQlC0yvYoI4UUBtC7R1XXkLI2AFkhJxRxLFCVoQcMmzAbtywKD18x3S9jRvKhuDbD93_YLpHkqWI-w0GlsUpxWCwc-N5tvQS0sKR3_6cjuI5rhiblRPbmeRB8/s1600/IMG_0264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEfzhbJWMPYOHhyphenhyphentfFroQlC0yvYoI4UUBtC7R1XXkLI2AFkhJxRxLFCVoQcMmzAbtywKD18x3S9jRvKhuDbD93_YLpHkqWI-w0GlsUpxWCwc-N5tvQS0sKR3_6cjuI5rhiblRPbmeRB8/s400/IMG_0264.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie has grown much more mellow and mature, but she still has a saucy side!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspAl0eG_EjZyG_lfmAn0EWD_N_Hrdz049clo9leTBdEYkOFtjdLZQLH7MqnmdGCzTvqY8YyuPIDbzcDq_sb_ezUciHgO-DCOXuDIJvjE2-eCX5iMHk2hoi3vnNAeFxk86YMP9TT2snkA/s1600/IMG_0252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspAl0eG_EjZyG_lfmAn0EWD_N_Hrdz049clo9leTBdEYkOFtjdLZQLH7MqnmdGCzTvqY8YyuPIDbzcDq_sb_ezUciHgO-DCOXuDIJvjE2-eCX5iMHk2hoi3vnNAeFxk86YMP9TT2snkA/s400/IMG_0252.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It rained and rained and rained and rained while I looked after Cutie in January-February. Don't be fooled by this woeful face--she was quite happy to lay out on the lawn while the rain poured down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The other part of my plan to cut back on the amount of dog-sitting I do was to take no new clients after Mr. Gorgeous and Goldie passed away. Both of them were very special to me and with the two of them heading for the Rainbow Bridge within a month of each other, it clearly marked the end of an era. I miss them a lot. I think of <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/10/goodbye-golden-girl.html" target="_blank">Goldie</a></u> whenever I look after her best friend and neighbor, Sable, and to be honest, I'm glad that Sable & Co.'s house is up on rise among trees that hide the lake even though it's just across the lane from Goldie's house because it would be so much harder to see the same view from the house without Goldie in it. I take Sable and Scruffy down to the lake and will stroll out on Goldie's dock with my camera, but it isn't the same at all. Those warm and wonderful days Goldie and I spent together last June seem more and more like a beautiful, golden dream...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUXpEOWWK_hTOukv9Uc3XHBUkuHjF7LNUPwqRywEDPrF5ZS2TQPM2NDxEgJisBr4p2ZRk6Bul66VwZYGWjEjaAMW24Tn1vpHjdHhq7y0SXESlj68qa1hD30GV9pgJFvrUEuPgCH0-wm4/s1600/IMG_1040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUXpEOWWK_hTOukv9Uc3XHBUkuHjF7LNUPwqRywEDPrF5ZS2TQPM2NDxEgJisBr4p2ZRk6Bul66VwZYGWjEjaAMW24Tn1vpHjdHhq7y0SXESlj68qa1hD30GV9pgJFvrUEuPgCH0-wm4/s400/IMG_1040.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I go down to the lake with Sable and Scruffy, but we don't sit on the dock together like Goldie and I did. Sable likes to chase the birds while Scruffy hunts for rodents in the long grass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEias751jYm6SrHeC3HdNPLPkVa9f81RzsroJtuuIC8sgU-pTYsRy_o7TPW4cHVAVqo5jYr4GPp18iV-GUBSE7d-hckPd0nAQevZAsl64NKbhFuTwgxKXZjXoJK8nNTapP8YRZcIq5wmv3w/s1600/IMG_1088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEias751jYm6SrHeC3HdNPLPkVa9f81RzsroJtuuIC8sgU-pTYsRy_o7TPW4cHVAVqo5jYr4GPp18iV-GUBSE7d-hckPd0nAQevZAsl64NKbhFuTwgxKXZjXoJK8nNTapP8YRZcIq5wmv3w/s400/IMG_1088.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I still have a wonderful time with the dogs, it's just a different wonderful time.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmikqJM0EjdBQz4MOopIXxllfr6_Z2U2iYHh0uP9YoM38MAHVPt7CD7HMTif09eBwWy9yrybpddYalLVFGCxCzcj7-U6xigvE1b1pzz-09wFH1vV3wMIcRoVsp_PwTWOWZcpQEfVHAKfs/s1600/IMG_0948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmikqJM0EjdBQz4MOopIXxllfr6_Z2U2iYHh0uP9YoM38MAHVPt7CD7HMTif09eBwWy9yrybpddYalLVFGCxCzcj7-U6xigvE1b1pzz-09wFH1vV3wMIcRoVsp_PwTWOWZcpQEfVHAKfs/s400/IMG_0948.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I'm with Scruffy and Sable, we spend a lot of time all piled together on the couch.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3XL8h2gQoaCE4lomQnq1Ug31kEfQlUzc1QCjMt__KqRi6wYL0Nqv1yW3T0XRRXIEKw7vY2s0xjXqCRcjcQIF_W0vYAgqoYiemNnqzR5JOwpL07nI-t9QBsqXCmrZtpCSBm5Z_qZV7no/s1600/204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3XL8h2gQoaCE4lomQnq1Ug31kEfQlUzc1QCjMt__KqRi6wYL0Nqv1yW3T0XRRXIEKw7vY2s0xjXqCRcjcQIF_W0vYAgqoYiemNnqzR5JOwpL07nI-t9QBsqXCmrZtpCSBm5Z_qZV7no/s200/204.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teddy & Roo's sire,<br />
Ch. Int. Ch. Kings Valley<br />
Master of the Gold, TC. HC.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then there's <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-requiem-for-mr-gorgeous.html" target="_blank">the loss of Mr. Gorgeous</a></u>, who I continue to miss. It's still hard for me to look at photos of him without feeling a deep grief that he is no longer living. So when I got a call a few months after his death from a potential new client with a pair of smooth collies, I immediately said yes. The difference between rough collies, like Mr. Gorgeous, and smooth collies, like my new clients, is simply a difference in the length of the hair: a smooth collie is a short-haired collie and a rough collie is a long-haired one. They are virtually the same otherwise and in fact the sire of my new charges was a rough collie. The new collies are also sable* and white, so they would be almost like Mr. Gorgeous...but not quite. I would have had difficulty taking care of a rough collie after Mr. Gorgeous' death, but smooth collies seemed like a great way to get my collie fix without trying to duplicate him.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* While sable usually means black, in dog coats it refers to fur of any color tipped with black and in collies it denotes a golden-brown coat where some of the hair has black tips.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQt6n3VnMRz4Hnu2WJghPxvJNI1fKda94Lxiz6486hSzjF0OQpStAfL-J1QYFm6UfKI-BxyzpzYWq3fhV9jwGbryV4v_djHrRnzgdvaazrD_CC-RhwRjn99ugOXDKo6esPZuM2e43w7Sg/s1600/IMG_3908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQt6n3VnMRz4Hnu2WJghPxvJNI1fKda94Lxiz6486hSzjF0OQpStAfL-J1QYFm6UfKI-BxyzpzYWq3fhV9jwGbryV4v_djHrRnzgdvaazrD_CC-RhwRjn99ugOXDKo6esPZuM2e43w7Sg/s400/IMG_3908.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what a smooth collie looks like.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3xOh35xlABWaQZ6R6kclUT5zqcuIdNul61g2lFvYGqfFrzJr2CkWuUCG5h1yn5yFYRkWgN9sAaRfx9DPzA0kvgpGcVMEcGP0HotRyllZoAMrxCnxigGjG4maeDy3_6jHH6RmYl4bbew/s1600/IMG_6532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3xOh35xlABWaQZ6R6kclUT5zqcuIdNul61g2lFvYGqfFrzJr2CkWuUCG5h1yn5yFYRkWgN9sAaRfx9DPzA0kvgpGcVMEcGP0HotRyllZoAMrxCnxigGjG4maeDy3_6jHH6RmYl4bbew/s400/IMG_6532.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Mr. G for comparison.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTCn3dULvE8caEGR11bz9Or69EnYyAxdwgGd09flne0f82NO7ZkLUYGqChlXqdBiVJvstQUTTqoDgOfXZuFGFnuPErcBA4xpiYafi31NTBRbW4ndyNCwHBstCLxV6MjaTlTayaPPJzWg/s1600/IMG_2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTCn3dULvE8caEGR11bz9Or69EnYyAxdwgGd09flne0f82NO7ZkLUYGqChlXqdBiVJvstQUTTqoDgOfXZuFGFnuPErcBA4xpiYafi31NTBRbW4ndyNCwHBstCLxV6MjaTlTayaPPJzWg/s400/IMG_2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They have the same elegance of a rough collie, but with short hair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The smooth collies are brothers from the same litter who I will call Teddy and Roo. Properly bred (unlike dear old Mr. Gorgeous), they are sensitive and intelligent as well as handsome, as collies should be. Now eleven years old, the brothers are primarily interested in sleeping, disinclined to going on long walks or spending much time out in the heat or the rain--dogs after my own heart, in other words! They give an alert bark if someone comes to the door or passes by and sometimes do a bit of crooning and yelping while playing, but are otherwise very quiet. Well-trained, they know a wide variety of commands and only sniff or go to the bathroom on walks when given permission to do so. Friendly though not lavishly affectionate, the pair of them can almost always be found together, often sharing the same pillow, one tawny body blending into another. (I would like to add that while T&R may be more intelligent and emotionally connected and well-bred, despite their elegant appearance and clean movements, neither of them have Mr. G's magnificent, floating trot.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxpOkLJLTY3UgCo7PXvxO2jGm3812_h1fqVDCXsRd8sgtXQS2LAoOjaGT5PsO_dbliU-ODQEW9M-lzejvdKfvVSRQqdHwDqSeXoqInKck8d4cuP7wCKbDt3a5zZQQDzYYbvQtfTUA3gM/s1600/IMG_1977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxpOkLJLTY3UgCo7PXvxO2jGm3812_h1fqVDCXsRd8sgtXQS2LAoOjaGT5PsO_dbliU-ODQEW9M-lzejvdKfvVSRQqdHwDqSeXoqInKck8d4cuP7wCKbDt3a5zZQQDzYYbvQtfTUA3gM/s400/IMG_1977.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys have very dainty little paws, given the size of their bodies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFi9yvU_pS92w0GUMp7PEwQaCVXYQc37NYQTit0fdCPPKA59O5ozIbs8AZJdrGR_it9b05U59pI4Zbqo5nWfEYw_jpv20M7LzfQqe5cETd8_9nKYJUF3DDN0CgohJ3h1VJdxBiNEKwJI/s1600/IMG_3846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFi9yvU_pS92w0GUMp7PEwQaCVXYQc37NYQTit0fdCPPKA59O5ozIbs8AZJdrGR_it9b05U59pI4Zbqo5nWfEYw_jpv20M7LzfQqe5cETd8_9nKYJUF3DDN0CgohJ3h1VJdxBiNEKwJI/s400/IMG_3846.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T&R cool off on the kitchen floor together after spending time out in the sun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jE1B1y6txG7lbwk_QakGYJDnunYHxobRUmRI4MgMtSBM-siNgpmRXP1GP4QG0iz9RKZqqCjfjDK9pElofzb74IgH2prkYqFejcy67K0sJpiKdZtDftzbnjS4SHz8AFaQOBEKXXjjrnM/s1600/IMG_3264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jE1B1y6txG7lbwk_QakGYJDnunYHxobRUmRI4MgMtSBM-siNgpmRXP1GP4QG0iz9RKZqqCjfjDK9pElofzb74IgH2prkYqFejcy67K0sJpiKdZtDftzbnjS4SHz8AFaQOBEKXXjjrnM/s400/IMG_3264.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where does one dog end and the other begin?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1cH9LuNomXTUfsmvb6X5OM6ubrbKGAgi_zakzXk58vEyXCAQVVHTRZjzZgSOpLGavP3S_9DZKUKu1IiEuW9tq4oK0oCCf51UYURmTgRIELrXZH-iW5k4-S133wLh3QZth-E3fl3M-Rg/s1600/IMG_1903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1cH9LuNomXTUfsmvb6X5OM6ubrbKGAgi_zakzXk58vEyXCAQVVHTRZjzZgSOpLGavP3S_9DZKUKu1IiEuW9tq4oK0oCCf51UYURmTgRIELrXZH-iW5k4-S133wLh3QZth-E3fl3M-Rg/s200/IMG_1903.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Despite being different dogs with different coats, there are definitely things that Teddy and Roo have in common with Mr. Gorgeous. These similarities include a love of pushing back and forth between your legs, a particular way of looking down their long noses with eyes soft and unfocused with pleasure while having their heads scratched, and taking very long drinks of water. What surprised me the most was that Teddy and Roo's various huffs and sighs and groans and emotion-based breath changes sound exactly like Mr. G's did--I've cared for enough dogs to know how much these noises can vary. It was exactly as I hoped: T&R are like Mr. Gorgeous but not too much like Mr. Gorgeous. While I thought of him often as I spent time in Teddy and Roo's company, it was without pain.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhviC43HWKoZfxevLbF9M8WpOVuJfN47ObJYPR9IjhQ__h80cwMW4g7I0DNzW6sJY744GQ6PlnrlbuoGNjuCqgwlL_T2909fVi-N8-BI1l998gTTUmHdTxkFW9z3yTar4GonoJdZn4X3j0/s1600/IMG_1984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhviC43HWKoZfxevLbF9M8WpOVuJfN47ObJYPR9IjhQ__h80cwMW4g7I0DNzW6sJY744GQ6PlnrlbuoGNjuCqgwlL_T2909fVi-N8-BI1l998gTTUmHdTxkFW9z3yTar4GonoJdZn4X3j0/s400/IMG_1984.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double No-Trouble.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Teddy and Roo are not just brothers: they are virtually identical. It takes practice to tell them apart! The biggest difference is the width of the white fur on the back of their necks: Roo's is wide while Teddy's is narrower with a line going up towards his head, which I thought of in my mind as "T for Teddy." Roo has a tiny snippet of white in the crease on his forehead, a very faint blaze on his muzzle, and slightly darker fur on the top of his head. Teddy's chest and shoulders are a bit broader, so from above his torso looks much more triangular as it tapers toward his waist. Still, at a glance it is not always easy to tell which dog you are looking at!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnLs_1A5fOvjCHGJWF5GDnktNUQ-PEMsAGdti-r7JNexbtHNAh7OtAuE7X__V1RGJKiLm1PdxD07dsbTDVM3nwTtFYsaPI4F_ljaij9rmI7tSdyXOJsIiKe7iH74l1H24v5O_Qs6FOuo/s1600/IMG_2915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnLs_1A5fOvjCHGJWF5GDnktNUQ-PEMsAGdti-r7JNexbtHNAh7OtAuE7X__V1RGJKiLm1PdxD07dsbTDVM3nwTtFYsaPI4F_ljaij9rmI7tSdyXOJsIiKe7iH74l1H24v5O_Qs6FOuo/s400/IMG_2915.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which is which?<br />
(Roo is on the left and Teddy is on the right.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyyEL0n1kQpnadLg5nlOXrJs0JIadZOMlN-7e5ErFn7AUZZf4ZrG6NZeOWXPUsVDPajxFqRBY9wSbJs7lXQ-6Ey9itwXmNYQDASWgMN9ULFPbTQ8qMSyGs5oFmtOOPS84YRibCp6Vhjg/s1600/IMG_3720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyyEL0n1kQpnadLg5nlOXrJs0JIadZOMlN-7e5ErFn7AUZZf4ZrG6NZeOWXPUsVDPajxFqRBY9wSbJs7lXQ-6Ey9itwXmNYQDASWgMN9ULFPbTQ8qMSyGs5oFmtOOPS84YRibCp6Vhjg/s400/IMG_3720.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not only do Teddy and Roo look the same, they could also often be found doing the same thing together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh584a41BO9FjKc4GbXtdfLY5QUTr_Os2aKt-M8TxFEmknHw9YY6cTpEaRmoDyvuMeOMyjO5FpyoRkseoFS-H5ZsStziPYsm8hyQyPIYWCv1YPtJQ-INL9i3IumhKXlZTOubfgFizn-Rgg/s1600/IMG_1745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh584a41BO9FjKc4GbXtdfLY5QUTr_Os2aKt-M8TxFEmknHw9YY6cTpEaRmoDyvuMeOMyjO5FpyoRkseoFS-H5ZsStziPYsm8hyQyPIYWCv1YPtJQ-INL9i3IumhKXlZTOubfgFizn-Rgg/s400/IMG_1745.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The white markings on their necks were also a little bit different when seen from the side, but it was confusing because T's markings are wide on his left side and narrow on the right while R's are wide on his right and narrower on his left. It could be difficult to remember in the moment. Fortunately, the boys have their names on their collars!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8F7MN9SRvm5X-lPhP8ret06SBNqYceeR-XY1FBVTDQIl0D-uqbi_6VdbvCdh43zSgcCGrp9ihcYB5RpGMcXDVyg4KztRV_YRwkgxT-4zGjf6_fVrjyHRjO2KF-rP_Zt5FmxyB41gI7I/s1600/IMG_2907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8F7MN9SRvm5X-lPhP8ret06SBNqYceeR-XY1FBVTDQIl0D-uqbi_6VdbvCdh43zSgcCGrp9ihcYB5RpGMcXDVyg4KztRV_YRwkgxT-4zGjf6_fVrjyHRjO2KF-rP_Zt5FmxyB41gI7I/s400/IMG_2907.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quickest way to tell them apart was from the top: I interpreted the markings in the white fur on the dog on the left as "T for Teddy." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDR_papA1cAY86nPEhS-GDp7Ai5qsOqwr7xywwysnae_p_MhZlIXIMumkrJm3wwXmBWynSTiXmLP1myvg2DkECjg9A0Nczs7asPeXY6GKYKIoxx4qdmhkY4rVehYC7dDNtVQ8cqew1qg/s1600/IMG_2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDR_papA1cAY86nPEhS-GDp7Ai5qsOqwr7xywwysnae_p_MhZlIXIMumkrJm3wwXmBWynSTiXmLP1myvg2DkECjg9A0Nczs7asPeXY6GKYKIoxx4qdmhkY4rVehYC7dDNtVQ8cqew1qg/s200/IMG_2011.jpg" width="133" /></a>Temperament-wise, while the dogs were similar overall in behavior, there are small differences. Teddy, who spent the first two years of his life in a different home where there was a great deal more chaos and competition from other dogs, is much more fixated on his food and rougher when taking treats. He also (at least during my first stay) was more likely to test my boundaries while on a walk, experimenting to see if I would enforce the rules about no sniffing and peeing in people's yards, though this experimentation was very gentle compared to even the best behavior of many dogs on the leash! He is also more likely to follow me around the house, though less likely to cuddle. Roo, though in some ways more aloof, is the dog who will join me on the couch and who is thrilled to be invited up on the bed. He likes playing fetch with toys (and loves a stuffed monkey in particular), while Teddy prefers to chase after Roo or steal his toys or play tug with me or get his rump rubbed while holding a toy in his mouth. Teddy's favorite way to be petted is to have a knuckle rubbed in his ear, eliciting a deep groan of satisfaction. Roo enjoys an ear-rubbing, but especially loves a firm scratch along the length of his back that ends in concentrated rump-scritching--the pleasure of repeated sessions can wind him up to the degree that he has to sing a little song about it. Both dogs love basking in the sun, chasing after me while I run around with toys, getting treats, riding in the car, and sleeping.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0FpzOA8Mo6FGqe45UjR6v0qza3IsnkVa5b1GKNA-uHhxNP3Obm2EAAok8FiS7-vexG2QU9GGmJCoenUqyWflOa3KGgxvT9LRPZPWj6qb3Qq8d7rk87ASiA93S2nozhwZwmtP8siIJrY/s1600/IMG_1948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0FpzOA8Mo6FGqe45UjR6v0qza3IsnkVa5b1GKNA-uHhxNP3Obm2EAAok8FiS7-vexG2QU9GGmJCoenUqyWflOa3KGgxvT9LRPZPWj6qb3Qq8d7rk87ASiA93S2nozhwZwmtP8siIJrY/s400/IMG_1948.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roo and his monkey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJ4EvxgFAHgjHXu0A-c8CjzRoGx98xuPcjDIUlB-HkqoB5Kyqxp2Wi2nn5RgBTyfaSIZQBetAytPr-NzquHnaHZ6JuMRQix4zkbw0vJSbqoD-uVqHjEIYx9Li7viBs7njTaDHbC60sL8/s1600/IMG_2000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJ4EvxgFAHgjHXu0A-c8CjzRoGx98xuPcjDIUlB-HkqoB5Kyqxp2Wi2nn5RgBTyfaSIZQBetAytPr-NzquHnaHZ6JuMRQix4zkbw0vJSbqoD-uVqHjEIYx9Li7viBs7njTaDHbC60sL8/s400/IMG_2000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh no! Teddy has stolen Roo's monkey from him!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunning together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZrzUW3D4xTwSZrJiiGhzdCrLeHk-TsOqePuzHuRydrmG6yz6KWjcjhWw6Yt-9V9krn4Zdfw2JtASFryble3cp3dO65GQEdFxHeWaT1JoHbEO-aUV2iuajfpWKO44-av9vRfKMUDI19Q/s1600/IMG_3284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZrzUW3D4xTwSZrJiiGhzdCrLeHk-TsOqePuzHuRydrmG6yz6KWjcjhWw6Yt-9V9krn4Zdfw2JtASFryble3cp3dO65GQEdFxHeWaT1JoHbEO-aUV2iuajfpWKO44-av9vRfKMUDI19Q/s400/IMG_3284.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping together.</td></tr>
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I think the greatest pleasure for all three of us during my recent stays with the boys were the evenings spent together in the dog beds. Teddy and Roo have beds in multiple rooms, but their favorites are the large cushions with bolstered sides placed next to each other in the master bedroom. I found myself missing the dogs because they were so often in the bedroom, so I decided to join them. That led to spending a couple of hours each evening sitting in the beds together. I would read and pet the dogs while they relaxed and snoozed. It got to be so that there was a certain amount of competition between Teddy and Roo as to which dog got to be in the bed where I sat. Teddy liked to claim that bed, but sometimes Roo would try to say it was his turn and they'd start play-fighting, but there was a little bit of an edge to it, so I would separate them, assure them that there was enough love to go around, and tell them to be seated. I generally let Teddy claim the coveted spot since it was the only time when he'd cuddle with me. As it turns out, he usually doesn't cuddle with anyone except one of the granddaughters of the family, so I was honored. Since Roo got into the practice of joining me in bed after an early breakfast for a couple hours of sleeping and snuggling, it seemed only fair that Teddy should get snuggle time, too. It made me so happy to see Teddy approach the dog beds, his ears held out to the sides, his eyes soft with love. I cherished the moments when I had a sleeping dog smashed tight against me on either side as I read.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisste-kBRO2RypYgYiBLY8ulDswEKxthkI50Opz9JpeC4XNMU7hs5y4aPY8ylMX0YxZ_7_zOyh7tdhSnx9jG-tE_kvVx158hl9gNjMD4FE7I_zGV7e1dfCFehNaI_fz-vAEdiHyEQmLuw/s1600/IMG_2790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisste-kBRO2RypYgYiBLY8ulDswEKxthkI50Opz9JpeC4XNMU7hs5y4aPY8ylMX0YxZ_7_zOyh7tdhSnx9jG-tE_kvVx158hl9gNjMD4FE7I_zGV7e1dfCFehNaI_fz-vAEdiHyEQmLuw/s400/IMG_2790.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dog beds where all three of us ended up spending so much time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUvBMncO9lcvnAquhvXK_SJuIeorT_rDlFvWzM_rp75BcF5o7AQZlQ31KPeMjv9SF55V5pquYrltKSqK5KDtwgUspwUkkyyTtnoULoIuiYPNXV15oB3MJikZ0-rPCMHDBMRJ4PJXSHiQ/s1600/IMG_3114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUvBMncO9lcvnAquhvXK_SJuIeorT_rDlFvWzM_rp75BcF5o7AQZlQ31KPeMjv9SF55V5pquYrltKSqK5KDtwgUspwUkkyyTtnoULoIuiYPNXV15oB3MJikZ0-rPCMHDBMRJ4PJXSHiQ/s400/IMG_3114.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A soft and loving look from Teddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwX53S92d6nowzpirAstwBTi8By6JPD9t5jAgq4iVF09giSmzk3m9ZhoqZjJlbe_yWdb8iqicQtf7raK346WsIudVoxkSqHxSXlj5cKszzm14mvfNjcPXlyy1y5CRTyKg_aB1Ff5fYOM/s1600/IMG_3141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwX53S92d6nowzpirAstwBTi8By6JPD9t5jAgq4iVF09giSmzk3m9ZhoqZjJlbe_yWdb8iqicQtf7raK346WsIudVoxkSqHxSXlj5cKszzm14mvfNjcPXlyy1y5CRTyKg_aB1Ff5fYOM/s200/IMG_3141.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from T&R's house.</td></tr>
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I'm very glad I made the decision to accept Teddy and Roo as new clients, even if it increases the amount of dog-sitting I do. They are lovely dogs, sweet and kind and easy to care for, not to mention handsome and unusual! (It's always fun to turn heads when you're out with canine clients.) There is the added bonus of a stunning view of the entire Seattle metropolitan area from their hilltop house and there is some excellent bird-watching to be had there, too, which I will cover in my next post. It makes me happy to have collies in my life again, but who are wonderful in their own right and who do not impinge upon or diminish the memory of Mr. Gorgeous. I look forward to spending more time with these beautiful boys with their long limbs and long noses, their high barks of excitement and low groans of contentment, two peas in a pod, double no-trouble.<br />
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<u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography">c.creatvity</a></u></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-19771316852223383182016-04-14T14:17:00.002-07:002016-04-14T14:17:58.142-07:00The Final Four (Months of 2015)I've been writing about 2015 in four-month chunks, so it's time to finish things off with a recap of September through December.<br />
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<u>SEPTEMBER</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRAYUc6nwQQaXaj3ebyCZ8HeYXs32ZUjRpzTc-HFHzbJXey3Le_KP3Oe-a_LEzpXbVJDlaRSgtID_DjBdkkv_Z0WiUqyNEDQR6W0V_viSSaZB2O-Iw4fH_9MjQkiNNqhsg1xDjQsChHU/s1600/IMG_7460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRAYUc6nwQQaXaj3ebyCZ8HeYXs32ZUjRpzTc-HFHzbJXey3Le_KP3Oe-a_LEzpXbVJDlaRSgtID_DjBdkkv_Z0WiUqyNEDQR6W0V_viSSaZB2O-Iw4fH_9MjQkiNNqhsg1xDjQsChHU/s400/IMG_7460.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I started off September by spending afternoons with Curly, the labradoodle puppy. His people were going to be gone all day, so I'd come around to feed him breakfast and play with him and take him out so that he wouldn't get too restless in his crate. He was going through his second naughty puppy phase (ages 7-9 months), so he was constantly, actively looking for trouble, especially the sort of trouble you could chew on! You couldn't take your eyes off of him for more than a moment! It was a considerable contrast to Mr. Gorgeous, who was then down to his final weeks of life. I went to visit him one afternoon in the middle of the month just to make sure I got to see him before he died and got to talk to his family about his impending passing. That was the same day that a woman backed into the side of my car in a parking lot, a simple low-speed fender bender that morphed into a nightmare when, after the fact, the person who hit my car accused me of hitting her! Despite being blatantly untrue (as the damage to our respective cars attested), it upset me to be accused of lying. If I had been to blame, I would have readily owned up to it. It was quite the learning experience. A few days later, I heard that Sandy passed away.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly the puppy, bouncy and lively and wanting to chew on everything!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous.<br />
You can see the blood on his hind foot from where he scraped open one of his nails while scuffing his paws because of his degenerative myelopathy. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxfVmpt64PdjbtRqaQ7yjFchCitT63U757NpSEYb3H8gPHGmkk-7VDRHWyXe1P4xAcaP3mAOw2GMyQTIKt1FhMNBWSu1XHp14IhCkj3aoxoNIINqIZC8tbtoZEKgjUPUvQbuiRm2V05Q/s1600/IMG_3110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxfVmpt64PdjbtRqaQ7yjFchCitT63U757NpSEYb3H8gPHGmkk-7VDRHWyXe1P4xAcaP3mAOw2GMyQTIKt1FhMNBWSu1XHp14IhCkj3aoxoNIINqIZC8tbtoZEKgjUPUvQbuiRm2V05Q/s400/IMG_3110.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie parted company with this life in mid-September.<br />
<a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/10/goodbye-golden-girl.html" target="_blank">You can read my tribute to her <u>here</u></a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warm, sunny weather meant our garden continued to grow like crazy! Despite our vigilance, the occasional zucchini got away from us and grew into a monster. Here's a big one next to Abbey for comparison!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took some nice photos of bees in September, like this tiny one about the size of a grain of rice...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCFSo75ADm0hJszTeom-QKCIMKpRXIIo4yGUOPTOjIcNnym3zttAaSjXmZfNQJpAUTThd70RTdgHt0R7BdfE5uOXmD9dwdgdk76KTm2PpZNMOHb05Hxk35vFkcO3yhV3nW0x2t7LSSsw/s1600/IMG_7079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCFSo75ADm0hJszTeom-QKCIMKpRXIIo4yGUOPTOjIcNnym3zttAaSjXmZfNQJpAUTThd70RTdgHt0R7BdfE5uOXmD9dwdgdk76KTm2PpZNMOHb05Hxk35vFkcO3yhV3nW0x2t7LSSsw/s400/IMG_7079.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and these honey bees at Mr. Gorgeous' house, as well as...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6innrdaXdSa5wiZOMZQBr8Flg15tYgJPGAEgahP55pH9RSIybCH8Tu2pP3GEFtAp1x9qS40Yp95_vA_Ds7r-h6P9BEy9dakHWXnvW-ijujXAXu6jkRk3n3wc2LZ7DEckeoE1QLaVExM/s1600/IMG_7037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6innrdaXdSa5wiZOMZQBr8Flg15tYgJPGAEgahP55pH9RSIybCH8Tu2pP3GEFtAp1x9qS40Yp95_vA_Ds7r-h6P9BEy9dakHWXnvW-ijujXAXu6jkRk3n3wc2LZ7DEckeoE1QLaVExM/s400/IMG_7037.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....insects that mimic bees, such as this drone fly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1_Y1vFbBDhwwl2WbSfcWvLVpk8gmPHWvlywdhNs1SEW5AzxfRrNSzEXI1tvfppgCZPuU27eFi0mUUfp2_ccFpwnbacOcvBnxeuZyeBNHooX4933pR6uPafDRVRaB4kjUL7gjbyk-ybM/s1600/IMG_7425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1_Y1vFbBDhwwl2WbSfcWvLVpk8gmPHWvlywdhNs1SEW5AzxfRrNSzEXI1tvfppgCZPuU27eFi0mUUfp2_ccFpwnbacOcvBnxeuZyeBNHooX4933pR6uPafDRVRaB4kjUL7gjbyk-ybM/s400/IMG_7425.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I observed a bald eagle observing me.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBEz0_CugKJbSZMJWKYAt_h5JZw40rEYlpp-maDVg-pAmr5F8Dojtn5e4zE-zJD_nANZ6Vryo-wb22juSO0-sneafbRtO3IrgFYPm5IgNtgErq5Yjph3QY6mP3EvfTZAV0TSfKttk8d7s/s1600/IMG_7797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBEz0_CugKJbSZMJWKYAt_h5JZw40rEYlpp-maDVg-pAmr5F8Dojtn5e4zE-zJD_nANZ6Vryo-wb22juSO0-sneafbRtO3IrgFYPm5IgNtgErq5Yjph3QY6mP3EvfTZAV0TSfKttk8d7s/s400/IMG_7797.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice photo of Abbey, who learned a number of hand signals that month.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: start;">And in the final days of September, I looked after Mr. Gorgeous for one last time and said goodbye.</span><span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9suwfnXhc-9AY3Fb_2YWx-IG9ECG4A3NPf879fQXgVQ9T3KQppA1uHavSEEPg6mdmS4sr-yA_lYVU8730gUoDuSzdTmWJUQRSQ70KjHI-jkFLlG-izOq7-Yh0DrdVwnNhWlNEtKE_2w/s1600/IMG_7735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9suwfnXhc-9AY3Fb_2YWx-IG9ECG4A3NPf879fQXgVQ9T3KQppA1uHavSEEPg6mdmS4sr-yA_lYVU8730gUoDuSzdTmWJUQRSQ70KjHI-jkFLlG-izOq7-Yh0DrdVwnNhWlNEtKE_2w/s400/IMG_7735.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was gorgeous to the last.</td></tr>
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One of the nights that I was there was when the full moon eclipse took place. This is what I wrote to my friends on that day:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge355yJ9X16UO51SI3lFvRp6Iy5-5DbgjWllJR4pDlUy5Y4cDeEpHmK124MuzNv54ODvsIr7A4St0HmNgvEdMUZJfgasxvB7JYFx5c0AXCHC-5mmkPi_IxsVjeEmYqCTIQLVKCWa5XmM4/s1600/IMG_7417.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge355yJ9X16UO51SI3lFvRp6Iy5-5DbgjWllJR4pDlUy5Y4cDeEpHmK124MuzNv54ODvsIr7A4St0HmNgvEdMUZJfgasxvB7JYFx5c0AXCHC-5mmkPi_IxsVjeEmYqCTIQLVKCWa5XmM4/s400/IMG_7417.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="text-align: center;"><i>I would have had a pretty great view of at least part of the eclipse if I'd made the effort, but I was putting that effort into Mr. Gorgeous And by "effort," I mean, "sitting on the couch in the TV room for a couple of hours and not going anywhere so he doesn't feel like he needs to get up and also to keep an eye on him to hopefully prevent him from having an accident in the house." Thanks to my efforts, Mr. Gorgeous got to spend three hours sleeping inside near me WITHOUT having an accident and now he's gone to bed. It may be years, but there will be another full moon eclipse. There will not be another Mr. Gorgeous.</i></span></blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_nvhsO3QRN1uAs4x949ng_9PaFJ4bl6nJcOBTeJoZUC-gqrxmbEulf0yl9AbApA19xDyiL9utqaolT8DNv-ZJ88Ek7c2y6jD-vY3f9FzExl06MtuZrrNLPhyphenhyphenP8yBkIkaUMQrr9nmFCw/s1600/IMG_7754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_nvhsO3QRN1uAs4x949ng_9PaFJ4bl6nJcOBTeJoZUC-gqrxmbEulf0yl9AbApA19xDyiL9utqaolT8DNv-ZJ88Ek7c2y6jD-vY3f9FzExl06MtuZrrNLPhyphenhyphenP8yBkIkaUMQrr9nmFCw/s400/IMG_7754.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My last photo of the one and only. <a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-requiem-for-mr-gorgeous.html" target="_blank">You can read my tribute to him <u>here</u></a>.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowkyHZInj1dJFDxtZRR2XucFyyTknjsTuWkKpUZ4-1noD2aKp4TX7T_5mXHAcldDBRF9L2kV67ud1nqm77TJJNteR5zVmkLzApB5VN9BHy-m0V1FxJ4OvMvlrwfKSBrevPONg0u7lip8/s1600/IMG_7756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowkyHZInj1dJFDxtZRR2XucFyyTknjsTuWkKpUZ4-1noD2aKp4TX7T_5mXHAcldDBRF9L2kV67ud1nqm77TJJNteR5zVmkLzApB5VN9BHy-m0V1FxJ4OvMvlrwfKSBrevPONg0u7lip8/s400/IMG_7756.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And so both a month...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUlFZI7NFHGgHh8XRkImDDDuR6_GqVt959Xl9ViluEcEOdlKBMyHVwVR6D9dE41ja84vU-3pscJvNGM4zmo9sbaaGkvt00337jL25FmjKeTV5NsUsIkNMC8w5MSkNtGPSMWKwycOV6n0/s1600/IMG_7750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUlFZI7NFHGgHh8XRkImDDDuR6_GqVt959Xl9ViluEcEOdlKBMyHVwVR6D9dE41ja84vU-3pscJvNGM4zmo9sbaaGkvt00337jL25FmjKeTV5NsUsIkNMC8w5MSkNtGPSMWKwycOV6n0/s400/IMG_7750.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....and an era came to an end.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>OCTOBER</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MeFuCzFFTwUTxKAHsuDlw_XID-OlLc8Y-ALWiskWwORjqA8sutxJ1_HVQYItTloC-ELlJY9lQ1w4SxcuJDc7p0iYCn5VBAxqveY5sDta1KbuBkyNMSmtsa0IqHYMonZwpj0GkMQsnWY/s1600/IMG_8406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MeFuCzFFTwUTxKAHsuDlw_XID-OlLc8Y-ALWiskWwORjqA8sutxJ1_HVQYItTloC-ELlJY9lQ1w4SxcuJDc7p0iYCn5VBAxqveY5sDta1KbuBkyNMSmtsa0IqHYMonZwpj0GkMQsnWY/s400/IMG_8406.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A variety of dog-related happenings went on in October, including time with Curly (ending 10/4), Mr. Gorgeous' death (10/6), Abbey's 11th adopt-a-versary (10/12), a short overnight stay with Pipsqueak (10/13-10/15), and Abbey's first and last experience trying on fairy wings (10/30). I also marked my 6th anniversary of living with chronic migraines (10/19) and made an especially cute veggie witch for Halloween (10/31), but October of 2015 was the Month of the Filling.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqloRMk47XrbScHbukFHOclwNhG69OCeQIwhs15UydBV6-uxdPx8kp7Gp_XV01NHA8AJo6YhaUuvCdIoJg1TcH77y78LOv91LD27c4OVrAShYw7xYeC1dE84hKYrJtOP0Yv0imtH0qdzg/s1600/IMG_7789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqloRMk47XrbScHbukFHOclwNhG69OCeQIwhs15UydBV6-uxdPx8kp7Gp_XV01NHA8AJo6YhaUuvCdIoJg1TcH77y78LOv91LD27c4OVrAShYw7xYeC1dE84hKYrJtOP0Yv0imtH0qdzg/s400/IMG_7789.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly was still busy chewing!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z2nAz8tNnvtJ7DvVD95pte19vnIoJyUr6cup1fdmTPiwQlFWSLr4U6hPPqoqF27_AmvgG47zDha27BnNOQozJz6ozHaUnpswlBjvzR1SzgumoqndYSgMPSM_pfdbbwDrK6VHmJ0oZGw/s1600/IMG_7881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z2nAz8tNnvtJ7DvVD95pte19vnIoJyUr6cup1fdmTPiwQlFWSLr4U6hPPqoqF27_AmvgG47zDha27BnNOQozJz6ozHaUnpswlBjvzR1SzgumoqndYSgMPSM_pfdbbwDrK6VHmJ0oZGw/s400/IMG_7881.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took Curly to play with Cutie! They had a blast together and I was so proud of how Cutie modified the intensity of her play to match Curly's size.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkVEK1wDBfLorkABGcFx9yq2k4zhj_hvQTxqnjdw0joirdpddCK4yJ2csk_Br0OfY1kx_IdmZZJmFFPczh-33vTnRIMJ89CX6LHLIg4EghBOEuSQaKLkcS75wKfZ23T8rxA7-epBcjz-M/s1600/IMG_8285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkVEK1wDBfLorkABGcFx9yq2k4zhj_hvQTxqnjdw0joirdpddCK4yJ2csk_Br0OfY1kx_IdmZZJmFFPczh-33vTnRIMJ89CX6LHLIg4EghBOEuSQaKLkcS75wKfZ23T8rxA7-epBcjz-M/s400/IMG_8285.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey's 11th Gotcha Day portrait.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6uc9R15ak_mDVnj5fvQc5_-6JX3NJuasmCUPQXFX4k44VNTl9E_rtN6BVaJt9f-KJn5jLVnZmn4DFNas85Ausz2zryGGaGQXVy1ugyTDC2sB8OszxUlNHEivKkolkMouCxNiv_NXySo/s1600/IMG_8299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6uc9R15ak_mDVnj5fvQc5_-6JX3NJuasmCUPQXFX4k44VNTl9E_rtN6BVaJt9f-KJn5jLVnZmn4DFNas85Ausz2zryGGaGQXVy1ugyTDC2sB8OszxUlNHEivKkolkMouCxNiv_NXySo/s400/IMG_8299.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQv6evmaaKBHvX2O8DmOYeeaXHmpxSKkwxpuah5-ueNA46_jO19A_asdDhgKjw1AZxXJwIwSFVz8thyvzrMMngSqCC8u3r8Rd67xGjOlt3LKtC_pXeRsE_KVfcGTeQYv1Dn0XOgEhKz8/s1600/IMG_8961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQv6evmaaKBHvX2O8DmOYeeaXHmpxSKkwxpuah5-ueNA46_jO19A_asdDhgKjw1AZxXJwIwSFVz8thyvzrMMngSqCC8u3r8Rd67xGjOlt3LKtC_pXeRsE_KVfcGTeQYv1Dn0XOgEhKz8/s400/IMG_8961.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While Abbey may like wearing shirts, she does NOT like wearing wings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ibVUK7YHFBrUKXDAcCURG96tSsZ4pZ-0gOqRQUIDmtJPAwqh7L8MHE3f4hrq7EtiIs505uGV1AjqKkr47mxzvH7O5hqVroJTytYL39aFY7IMUn81W1KCCfHr9r-wd_JlupfMK45draQ/s1600/IMG_8976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ibVUK7YHFBrUKXDAcCURG96tSsZ4pZ-0gOqRQUIDmtJPAwqh7L8MHE3f4hrq7EtiIs505uGV1AjqKkr47mxzvH7O5hqVroJTytYL39aFY7IMUn81W1KCCfHr9r-wd_JlupfMK45draQ/s400/IMG_8976.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every year, we put out a veggie witch for Halloween. It's been my job for some time now to do the decorating and this was one of my cuter efforts!</td></tr>
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It had been a year and a half since I'd last been to the dentist because between the migraines and the allodynia and fatigue and bad weather and dog-sitting, I'd had to cancel and delay appointment after appointment. To my chagrin, my teeth had suffered during that time and I needed six fillings. It's been an ongoing source of discouragement that my health issues have been so hard on my teeth, but I'm lucking to have a very understanding dentist. An example:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfOFcLyFwdz04MrjAM6BS2kVVDn6ZtslY9Z1O1MFxd_Cci8jFeutEqOfz3-KNoU26aT_2BxesXMk6g9UEeM_j0PSRQxVpflWJqLmjQcOZTl2Y_f5LQpGgTS5Zz2FzHEygZLV2ANwkR_E/s1600/IMG_8327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfOFcLyFwdz04MrjAM6BS2kVVDn6ZtslY9Z1O1MFxd_Cci8jFeutEqOfz3-KNoU26aT_2BxesXMk6g9UEeM_j0PSRQxVpflWJqLmjQcOZTl2Y_f5LQpGgTS5Zz2FzHEygZLV2ANwkR_E/s400/IMG_8327.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Last night, my brain thought it would be amusing to torture me with both can't-fall-asleep AND can't-stay asleep insomnia. The result is that today I am exhausted and nauseated and my skin is burning and I am in no shape whatsoever to get three fillings this afternoon. So I called my dentist's office two hours before my appointment and said, "Hi, I have an appointment this afternoon but I'm not feeling well..." and the receptionist said, "Oh, is this Colleen?" You see, they know me there. They know I often have to cancel appointments with just a few hours' notice and they are not only accepting of this, but really care about my well-being and always treat me with understanding and compassion. Everyone at the dentist's office--from the receptionists to my hygienist to the dentist--know that I am doing the best I can. This means so much to me!</i></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-fDkRB-kqctYjwyQDARR6wIjFjqbJ0M1vdTX4HeKIXKXYHqQs2LwureNT4UAScWE7amXsXVKKWxYGtoZczvST7MO2PM-RHYtPZsoZIOjpUVxT_aEGUvfkP84YEm7VljqH6SD-foKaRE/s1600/IMG_8726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-fDkRB-kqctYjwyQDARR6wIjFjqbJ0M1vdTX4HeKIXKXYHqQs2LwureNT4UAScWE7amXsXVKKWxYGtoZczvST7MO2PM-RHYtPZsoZIOjpUVxT_aEGUvfkP84YEm7VljqH6SD-foKaRE/s400/IMG_8726.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUM1YqLZP8Jx84Z1oK_uXTWEa_LqI1Hy9mM0Z3daHkUMEQ7n2XQrNtG0z8kK9BnyQTDymudb_6ADFZdG9Sblm0MtvGyZD8gISvt4Gg73gTxQ0kcwNHvOuMAn2XAiG_WXPudjgB8OjmIE/s1600/trigeminal_neuralgia.11114821_std.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUM1YqLZP8Jx84Z1oK_uXTWEa_LqI1Hy9mM0Z3daHkUMEQ7n2XQrNtG0z8kK9BnyQTDymudb_6ADFZdG9Sblm0MtvGyZD8gISvt4Gg73gTxQ0kcwNHvOuMAn2XAiG_WXPudjgB8OjmIE/s200/trigeminal_neuralgia.11114821_std.jpg" width="162" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trigeminal nerve branches.</td></tr>
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I had three cavities on each side of my mouth, so we decided to do the three on the right first and the the three on the left one week later. This seemed like a decent plan, but it turned out to be overly ambitious. Dental work and migraines do not get along in general, and while fillings are not usually a big deal, the lower branches of my trigeminal nerve (the upper branch is in a perpetual state of inflammation, thanks to my migraines) got irritated and hypersensitive. I couldn't tolerate heat or cold (and not just food--going outside when the air was cool was a problem!) and chewing anything firmer than a soft piece of bread was painful. Worse yet, the weather started impacting the sites! Any of these irritating factors could trigger a deep, sharp ache, usually deep down in my jaw but sometimes encompassing much of my face, that lasted for hours. I went back to the dentist multiple times to get my bite adjusted and to discuss this pain, but there was not much to do except to wait to see if the nerves would calm down. They did, eventually, after two months, but during the first four weeks or so in particular, I was miserable and had to spend most of my time in bed because the pain was eating up all of my energy.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>NOVEMBER</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa5fNnVW7QKyhFUEqXCcflYkckpkYTnnP5OloRUG7nDNVkM12Mld-tAtvwyXkN8ZzhCkV4tlyEIQ9x8Yj4qcSBwdK5MuEVnHZkV2DSs7y64joujW7Z2KISL_syfC03DxjPOiu8YpGSDk/s1600/IMG_8983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa5fNnVW7QKyhFUEqXCcflYkckpkYTnnP5OloRUG7nDNVkM12Mld-tAtvwyXkN8ZzhCkV4tlyEIQ9x8Yj4qcSBwdK5MuEVnHZkV2DSs7y64joujW7Z2KISL_syfC03DxjPOiu8YpGSDk/s400/IMG_8983.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Thanks to the filling-induced nerve pain, November didn't start off very pleasantly. There was a bright spot, though. One day, while getting out of my car as he was passing by on a walk, Curly recognized me! And not only did he recognize me, he went bananas with excitement! I liked that he knew it was me even though I was completely out of context and it was very affirming to have him be so happy to see me, especially when I hadn't been feeling well. In other health news, I restarted physical therapy on my neck at long last and received an official fibromyalgia diagnosis. This wasn't a big shocker, just a confirmation of something I'd suspected for a while after it dawned on me that most people don't get weird aching and stiffness and pain that come sand goes without any actual injury. It has been a background issue for years, ever since it was triggered by tapering off a medication a decade ago. It was constant and agonizing back then, but fortunately, it's typically only a minor irritation now, though sometimes it makes it hard for me to sleep and when I don't sleep well, all of my health suffers. In other notes, I finally had my car examined by the insurance company after more than a month of arguing with the person who'd hit my car and their insurance immediately decided that they would accept my claim (and my insurance denied theirs) because the physical evidence backed up my story that I was not at fault. It was a relief to finally have that contentious issue resolved.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc5Vdn40wxOyR7UyN5K5AnKl4GELq4zfazFUn3nKvrwaYuX8-ltXYpKxshnCERQpqC_lDkAKDCC6U8SsWWQT8YDIDoNxEkNokjfmU6jjafAeMFmOy0-UVSQktUZW35prTpal88GNt3DE/s1600/IMG_9027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc5Vdn40wxOyR7UyN5K5AnKl4GELq4zfazFUn3nKvrwaYuX8-ltXYpKxshnCERQpqC_lDkAKDCC6U8SsWWQT8YDIDoNxEkNokjfmU6jjafAeMFmOy0-UVSQktUZW35prTpal88GNt3DE/s400/IMG_9027.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey enjoys some late-fall sunshine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzr_06mVWPRUkaoBh5zqkkpjmDqsAGdeDrHfNPAt2U_BSVFOARBfFB-q7PdSMg6qH4xBhczgTz7b0Hwv7U6emjEGYzrwyGmEeOPzMEgO_HRLxmjgqVsFogETGeeKgVTytgOPrQEhj1Jk/s1600/IMG_2621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzr_06mVWPRUkaoBh5zqkkpjmDqsAGdeDrHfNPAt2U_BSVFOARBfFB-q7PdSMg6qH4xBhczgTz7b0Hwv7U6emjEGYzrwyGmEeOPzMEgO_HRLxmjgqVsFogETGeeKgVTytgOPrQEhj1Jk/s200/IMG_2621.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable and Goldie were best friends.</td></tr>
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I spent the third week of November in the company of Sable and friends. Sable, a border collie-black lab mix, was Goldie's best friend and next-door neighbor. She also lives with a Yorkie mix I'll call Scruffy and a calico cat, Beanie. Their owner used to be a set designer, so their house is incredibly cool, full of art and plants and whimsical details. The dogs are very friendly and a lot of fun, so despite my dental work still giving me pain, I enjoyed my time with them. I spent most of my hours there reading and snuggling with the dogs on the couch. I couldn't ask for a more pleasant way of passing the hours!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbZXhY8I9udMwvPUVGjRfLxzvmele4M5nls3AQiK6XFbODZG3nZF2anT91xhyphenhypheng4gFdkD_HXNPe7qQY1zLydaE4V1LM3XwQJFum-v7tf6-i9HdNAYz5KNi_B7skBOX6dEUyaFiNKfnV5U/s1600/IMG_9273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbZXhY8I9udMwvPUVGjRfLxzvmele4M5nls3AQiK6XFbODZG3nZF2anT91xhyphenhypheng4gFdkD_HXNPe7qQY1zLydaE4V1LM3XwQJFum-v7tf6-i9HdNAYz5KNi_B7skBOX6dEUyaFiNKfnV5U/s400/IMG_9273.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable and Scruffy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6G_TelDn5RcUUKC7GaXRZwinmUSYgZMR0kwrHRlKqRKyvylnoKHjNTSntTxcAcAFy6KqeoZZUKnw38hGyASr_J0BOXbHE3wRSMymz1LA4qeiDVVREdwwRZZFodvHSWue5M2xNI9NWgt4/s1600/IMG_9135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6G_TelDn5RcUUKC7GaXRZwinmUSYgZMR0kwrHRlKqRKyvylnoKHjNTSntTxcAcAFy6KqeoZZUKnw38hGyASr_J0BOXbHE3wRSMymz1LA4qeiDVVREdwwRZZFodvHSWue5M2xNI9NWgt4/s400/IMG_9135.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable likes to demonstrate her affection by mashing her face against yours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGbKo_RJc4AeL1x3cXsQT7Wy71rPgtc89cuN07brxvhZWJx6TlcdqUPdis9YUfOfWf-cFE3z9fcMTZ2C7PmolgIR3OXg1CnVEWnqyOGRX-t2zmlPu8wD5gWuj9L0Dv0VqnYK_nSjjvsQ/s1600/IMG_9186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGbKo_RJc4AeL1x3cXsQT7Wy71rPgtc89cuN07brxvhZWJx6TlcdqUPdis9YUfOfWf-cFE3z9fcMTZ2C7PmolgIR3OXg1CnVEWnqyOGRX-t2zmlPu8wD5gWuj9L0Dv0VqnYK_nSjjvsQ/s400/IMG_9186.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of her many endearing traits is that she likes to sprawl upside-down on your lap.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmwyKYPC-QzT0d1MmrcOW4ymGK5Dx7xBsOajfEzpvfHzC_xo-IHa7DxstRADWM4K63oY2OzxJE1ifRvZ6xAu_J_xwK_ToRc2MD-hpeK2aSbS6m-0lZPSN1Ltv4rbyC2GDlIl36d5i80o/s1600/IMG_9139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmwyKYPC-QzT0d1MmrcOW4ymGK5Dx7xBsOajfEzpvfHzC_xo-IHa7DxstRADWM4K63oY2OzxJE1ifRvZ6xAu_J_xwK_ToRc2MD-hpeK2aSbS6m-0lZPSN1Ltv4rbyC2GDlIl36d5i80o/s400/IMG_9139.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We all spent a lot of time on the couch!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPtMdWmiRUrqyuf_bi8rNoMwegL8EgcBl87WPth1XTtpvDDbUIrA_REydUOL7wBTFTtb9vC-taHhZr6BkSXt1pEOpxjWTUep4SgW0C_Tks36kkWUTk3OdrBVWllvWTBJPH3c2TCc9LjI/s1600/IMG_9204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPtMdWmiRUrqyuf_bi8rNoMwegL8EgcBl87WPth1XTtpvDDbUIrA_REydUOL7wBTFTtb9vC-taHhZr6BkSXt1pEOpxjWTUep4SgW0C_Tks36kkWUTk3OdrBVWllvWTBJPH3c2TCc9LjI/s320/IMG_9204.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This ceramic dog's head knob on the cupboard containing the dog food is one of the house's many delightful details.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgledBJNLOmL1EcNgtAgGDab4lI260rt76ERI33IUCBmeeEhlbt3IVV61DzUG9Ak43kOA1LAU0uwiqnGGYA7-TW0VN1lcrlRpsJjvpuG4zCmtzl-IRb71FKqGrlRhG89pACCYlo_wtdUtM/s1600/IMG_9241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgledBJNLOmL1EcNgtAgGDab4lI260rt76ERI33IUCBmeeEhlbt3IVV61DzUG9Ak43kOA1LAU0uwiqnGGYA7-TW0VN1lcrlRpsJjvpuG4zCmtzl-IRb71FKqGrlRhG89pACCYlo_wtdUtM/s400/IMG_9241.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable can be a whirlwind of motion one minute...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KHcV5rcZVhzVQza2gS6jJ0Fduhej5-9Adqegy663g3l4DNO0w45eF9duJlGoexDWdeGS6V0AUtAjQeNjOmBx2aZSymXFlkNsfc8tZSyteK0rHSmEnNoCU18RoUxJmkU0Gv453ZN3Sr4/s1600/IMG_9288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KHcV5rcZVhzVQza2gS6jJ0Fduhej5-9Adqegy663g3l4DNO0w45eF9duJlGoexDWdeGS6V0AUtAjQeNjOmBx2aZSymXFlkNsfc8tZSyteK0rHSmEnNoCU18RoUxJmkU0Gv453ZN3Sr4/s400/IMG_9288.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and sound asleep the next.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqeYLJvjPVlxeEcDB2LuppH-ZJN-Bcs_h9ftu4hioJ-aqbm374tXxPKlePFOpWDMspaCffKGtYDTGBAywaJaqBQoEt3rJRyGqsF1dJIhrafwk33nZUIrrYz1O5XGHYz27aSx5gVj_Arw/s1600/IMG_9378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqeYLJvjPVlxeEcDB2LuppH-ZJN-Bcs_h9ftu4hioJ-aqbm374tXxPKlePFOpWDMspaCffKGtYDTGBAywaJaqBQoEt3rJRyGqsF1dJIhrafwk33nZUIrrYz1O5XGHYz27aSx5gVj_Arw/s400/IMG_9378.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She and Scruffy are good friends who enjoy a bit of wrestling from time to time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pE3y1CT-JYMgeMsw4dfKEf_suqp2pslAUkbfOCchlq3vIaRlX8FymY8vhiqZv0XppCU4ADESpmLgPhWOODJ1dRfWCwLGJaWNROTK7Rev8JukZXax6Li3CSTqK-HeQaWirooNJj8RXzs/s1600/IMG_9400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pE3y1CT-JYMgeMsw4dfKEf_suqp2pslAUkbfOCchlq3vIaRlX8FymY8vhiqZv0XppCU4ADESpmLgPhWOODJ1dRfWCwLGJaWNROTK7Rev8JukZXax6Li3CSTqK-HeQaWirooNJj8RXzs/s400/IMG_9400.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scruffy is sweet, quiet, and rather timid. He needs a fair amount of reassurance from the people around him, but he's a formidable hunter when it comes to small animals.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKzR7_mxaHvwlj5PXz0Bi2I6GmQJkWqCEpL173otsf7WaNXC0hSkXq5hLf8biCURUdF6YZ1pBc4MlgyLYUumUqTcGyacDfxlIx9E3x2kp0aaYJw1DfURFiSdWp3fmVxoEABGEgL-ADJw/s1600/IMG_9309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKzR7_mxaHvwlj5PXz0Bi2I6GmQJkWqCEpL173otsf7WaNXC0hSkXq5hLf8biCURUdF6YZ1pBc4MlgyLYUumUqTcGyacDfxlIx9E3x2kp0aaYJw1DfURFiSdWp3fmVxoEABGEgL-ADJw/s400/IMG_9309.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beanie regarded me with a great deal of suspicion. I do not believe I was able to pet her on this first stay.</td></tr>
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After a quiet Thanksgiving with only my parents, I settled in for a long stay with Pipsqueak. There was only one major issue to mar this beginning: Abbey, in my absence, got up in the middle of the night, got into the trash, and had a severe case of wandering intestinal remorse all over the downstairs of our house. Prior to her experience with prednisone in February, Abbey had never once gotten into the trash, but she found it a fitting way to express her displeasure at my absence. Oh, Abbey!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhmQAsdcrwJdmsfhG3EwqR7IA96KhNd8HsFCPQuETPQmrTE5N0k6A1wJxOTfbnkw9Vzdn2Cyw9YhkyDxHRNU59s2Q6zGtCXHKzubtAjgeC8EVrtuFlX_Gk5xHkWZYMlHzNSf0hiN8iUM/s1600/IMG_9424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhmQAsdcrwJdmsfhG3EwqR7IA96KhNd8HsFCPQuETPQmrTE5N0k6A1wJxOTfbnkw9Vzdn2Cyw9YhkyDxHRNU59s2Q6zGtCXHKzubtAjgeC8EVrtuFlX_Gk5xHkWZYMlHzNSf0hiN8iUM/s400/IMG_9424.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silly Miss Abbey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The final days of November were notable for the freezing fog that created beautiful frost on every surface. We don't often have stretches of weather below freezing, so it was a cool opportunity to get some unusual photographs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMR0RW0I4WdMM8IkgAMDsZFUYL4f8myYLkuX76IbMbpV5E2BydqsGIwiUOYFxHORM6BTR5B8xfG36gBxV5X6fnaPDszulBjP2qvUR0AfcNrzfequc35jm_YkdoeSzcO2o5vlIFWNnkHc/s1600/IMG_9683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMR0RW0I4WdMM8IkgAMDsZFUYL4f8myYLkuX76IbMbpV5E2BydqsGIwiUOYFxHORM6BTR5B8xfG36gBxV5X6fnaPDszulBjP2qvUR0AfcNrzfequc35jm_YkdoeSzcO2o5vlIFWNnkHc/s400/IMG_9683.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>DECEMBER</u></div>
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Because Pipsqueak's family had never left her before and she's a sensitive little dog, we'd spent the better part of a year working up to the point where she was totally comfortable with me being there and her family being gone. All that hard work paid off: Pipsqueak adjusted to living with me without any apparent distress. She ate her meals without issue and took to sleeping under the covers with me. Pipsqueak's house is very calm and quiet, so it was a good place for continuing to recover from my fillings, though I missed seeing Abbey on a daily basis and she most certainly missed me. According to my parents, Abbey panted and paced and cried and barked and was constantly demanding to go outside and was not her usual mellow self at all. One day, my mother came home but couldn't find Abbey, but she could hear Abbey banging on something. She finally found Abbey in my closet. Abbey had managed to somehow squeeze in through a small opening, but then knocked the sliding doors off the track so she couldn't get back out again! She was very glad when I came home after two weeks away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGDsKlMAD5k-LuAEJIujWVBZYGs1pKn6D4Ue8oYFrA5OA5UlxSWc0asS5UbW10ErbCQ5lSYtFihP1WMBoHvje9DXeA_NBTqY4tDBTsWg2f7uOtenYjHb9qAr-xoZkvAZyTEVgYANiOuM/s1600/IMG_9849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGDsKlMAD5k-LuAEJIujWVBZYGs1pKn6D4Ue8oYFrA5OA5UlxSWc0asS5UbW10ErbCQ5lSYtFihP1WMBoHvje9DXeA_NBTqY4tDBTsWg2f7uOtenYjHb9qAr-xoZkvAZyTEVgYANiOuM/s400/IMG_9849.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She may be tiny, but she's also mighty!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi-LXXNAx0FoSDozVfN-lVsD8fAbhizwNdbeyr_8Ok_C72A4jM5ORd8OPuGrU53MESwcMbpMldWQhQ_qNBlEkxIkHSl8k9ZsEhyphenhyphenH2AjfHNiyvcV4pDtdYWMy_MjVsAvGtsaNsit7WchA/s1600/IMG_9459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi-LXXNAx0FoSDozVfN-lVsD8fAbhizwNdbeyr_8Ok_C72A4jM5ORd8OPuGrU53MESwcMbpMldWQhQ_qNBlEkxIkHSl8k9ZsEhyphenhyphenH2AjfHNiyvcV4pDtdYWMy_MjVsAvGtsaNsit7WchA/s400/IMG_9459.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All snuggled up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg33LqF7DetFRWlxknfMbeCzGRWVYMeuS7ts0yLCLMR02gV7uqNWv1lDaR8osKofw85CZaIo2rPzFT6t3tZzCSrHzfiGX4kQSDnDeNqQdUDrqkqTsIzCBwmvgiJVCR-UPZs36eWwkVsq1o/s1600/IMG_9861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg33LqF7DetFRWlxknfMbeCzGRWVYMeuS7ts0yLCLMR02gV7uqNWv1lDaR8osKofw85CZaIo2rPzFT6t3tZzCSrHzfiGX4kQSDnDeNqQdUDrqkqTsIzCBwmvgiJVCR-UPZs36eWwkVsq1o/s400/IMG_9861.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak and I spent most of our days in front of the fire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vdMmvpcBgQP4HmnGhohn_FG86i7FVRmJrhAVwybLZ6g-wMpnbQ5Zjd3h_Efqi8O7Ph36i3hZ-TZfiHFz7cOE605U8PgdpmsW47jHBaY7qSKsDLHP5K5T1GE5ika81CEdMHJsODDwCRk/s1600/IMG_9902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vdMmvpcBgQP4HmnGhohn_FG86i7FVRmJrhAVwybLZ6g-wMpnbQ5Zjd3h_Efqi8O7Ph36i3hZ-TZfiHFz7cOE605U8PgdpmsW47jHBaY7qSKsDLHP5K5T1GE5ika81CEdMHJsODDwCRk/s400/IMG_9902.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Abbey, happy now that I was home again.</td></tr>
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December was notable for the record-breaking rain. It wasn't the usual Seattle drizzle, either. It poured and poured and poured, hour after hour. Pipsqueak was not a fan and refused to go out and I didn't blame her! Many of these rainstorms were accompanied by very low barometric pressure, which made me miserable. As a result, even when my facial nerves started to calm down around the third week of December, I continued to feel unwell. Also, I managed to really hurt my back while mailing out this year's c.creativity calendars. Not, as you might think, from packing or lifting, but by stumbling into a hole in the dark when walking out of the post office! I had a very hard time sitting and rising for several days and had to enlist help to move all of my things back home from Pipsqueak's.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwlvA4TryOMpQu7TpjveoIBKlKcHYGzQVqUSxqGqqUmjar0s4W7EnQRxV3AFyip9lN_D041N3BneQZDKqQ8zyijER-nCZwEcPY7jQbLrIXVONMCEQdO1yNbcXB_4YFx0z0qnKZHLM5sE/s1600/IMG_0472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwlvA4TryOMpQu7TpjveoIBKlKcHYGzQVqUSxqGqqUmjar0s4W7EnQRxV3AFyip9lN_D041N3BneQZDKqQ8zyijER-nCZwEcPY7jQbLrIXVONMCEQdO1yNbcXB_4YFx0z0qnKZHLM5sE/s400/IMG_0472.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was my most successful year for calendars ever!</td></tr>
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One bright spot was the fact for the first time in years, I was not dog-sitting for Christmas. This meant that I had more energy than usual and was better to enjoy the festivities. Also, I got jeggings. This may seem like a funny thing to be excited about, but I have had a terrible time wearing denim in recent years because the texture of the fabric triggers sensory overload for me. Therefore, dressing like a normal person (and not one in pajamas covered in dog hair) is usually stressful and exhausting. However, these jeggings are soft and stretchy enough that I can wear them without being overstimulated and are loose and stylish enough that I look like I'm wearing ordinary jeans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnAOq_EVKzl6QVRbOJXqg_y_gWg4oXsTmjnB6Wt3-zi4DkiWA0IQiiyg7sFU5koz1aK4EDsurxFwuzXTC5fbX8x-fQe2X42zvujuIuiFPJltYiveEHc2G-Q6PQDKnjOikYEXuY7gs4Dw/s1600/IMG_9913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnAOq_EVKzl6QVRbOJXqg_y_gWg4oXsTmjnB6Wt3-zi4DkiWA0IQiiyg7sFU5koz1aK4EDsurxFwuzXTC5fbX8x-fQe2X42zvujuIuiFPJltYiveEHc2G-Q6PQDKnjOikYEXuY7gs4Dw/s400/IMG_9913.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey posing (unhappily) by the Christmas tree.</td></tr>
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Abbey gave me one more bit of trouble in December: I'd vowed, after our traumatic experience back in July (which I still haven't written about!) where she didn't recover properly from being sedaed, that I would not have her anesthetized unless absolutely necessary. I'd hoped it would be a long time before any such need should arise, but Abbey, being an old dog, decided to manufacture a new growth. A funny pinkish patch on her belly, it quadrupled in size within a matter of weeks. The vet didn't care for the feel of it, so off it came on the 30th, along with the large lipoma directly underneath it, just in case some cells had strayed from one to the other. It was a good thing we removed it, because it was a Level One mast cell tumor (but because it was removed completely, it shouldn't come back), and thankfully she suffered no ill effects whatsoever from the surgery. She was ready to walk herself out of the clinic and jump into the car under her own power to go home and didn't even seem to notice that she'd had surgery. As usual, I didn't need to put a cone on her because she left the stitches alone, though she did enjoy wearing the shirts I used to keep the stitches covered. The vet could tell that she hadn't licked them even once! I was proud of my girl! I was also very pleased that Abbey, now fully deaf, happily slept through the New Year's Eve fireworks without a single shake, pant, or whimper.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrjvIRo0Q7p23zcRZqA1C0G0rLT8MrHcDmOcuEAd7w89HbH079f9wsi99t1O0EpHs-sAsc8wYPLbu-0QB9RiotzowxOQvOE5rA5L4zwgPlRNGLajcshBV3gfTvJ0q8wNrewVMQx8ZdYs/s1600/IMG_9974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrjvIRo0Q7p23zcRZqA1C0G0rLT8MrHcDmOcuEAd7w89HbH079f9wsi99t1O0EpHs-sAsc8wYPLbu-0QB9RiotzowxOQvOE5rA5L4zwgPlRNGLajcshBV3gfTvJ0q8wNrewVMQx8ZdYs/s400/IMG_9974.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From surgery to sunbathing in a matter of hours!</td></tr>
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That brings us to the end of 2015 and my attempt to write about it in four-month chunks, a practice I think I will have to abandon in 2016, seeing as it is already April and I have more interesting things to write about than just about what I've been doing. If you missed the earlier installments on 2015, you can find them here:<br />
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/04/in-sickness-and-in-health-pet-sitting.html" target="_blank">January-April</a></u></div>
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-recap.html" target="_blank">May-August</a></u></div>
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Even if I'm not able to write as much as I like, I do regularly share photos on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography/" target="_blank">Facebook photography page</a>.c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-86644787604264532012016-01-18T14:48:00.001-08:002016-01-19T15:13:44.836-08:00A Requiem for Mr. Gorgeous<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu3sOroM_meXSCPKr-oZwZy-JZ-SdkEgSQAbINerAhd9PEi_lVR-o2U_YJhOQUKSu3MxCucSqkWq_AzOT1Cd70oQuB_IlOgfzsPD6GaUH7WHMVaC7gp8JwUG_sf5bT5N_3111OY9j_sA3/s1600/IMG_6340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu3sOroM_meXSCPKr-oZwZy-JZ-SdkEgSQAbINerAhd9PEi_lVR-o2U_YJhOQUKSu3MxCucSqkWq_AzOT1Cd70oQuB_IlOgfzsPD6GaUH7WHMVaC7gp8JwUG_sf5bT5N_3111OY9j_sA3/s400/IMG_6340.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm so sorry to have to report that on October 6th of 2015, the world became a less beautiful place. Mr. Gorgeous, my longtime collie friend, passed away.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His back legs were too weak for him<br />
to stand for long periods of time.</td></tr>
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It was time. While his degenerative myelopathy had progressed more slowly than is the case for most dogs, the inexorable degradation of his spinal cord had advanced to the point that he had only tenuous control over his bowels and his hind legs had become so weak that rising and standing and walking had become difficult. Despite having a hearty appetite, he was wasting away. Although his beautiful coat masked the severity of his thinness, he weighed only half of what he did in his prime. He really truly had become a shadow of his former self. He spent most of his time sleeping and sleeping and sleeping and sometimes seemed a bit befuddled when awake. Laryngeal paralysis (which is fairly common in large, old dogs) had reduced his bark to a whispery exhalation and it often left him anxious and overheated. Thirteen and a half is old for any dog, but especially for a dog his size. He was deteriorating, slowly but steadily, and soon the day when he would not be able to get up at all was going to be at hand. His family had been talking with me about trying to make the decision to help him cross over and I think I will share what I wrote because I believe in what I said and it just might help someone else someday.<br />
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1449006592768_3562"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My heart goes out to you as you face this distressing decision. I appreciate how hard it is because while he is very, very tired, in some respects he seems much as he ever was, though in truth, as I've gone back through all my photos of him in recents weeks, I'm reminded that he really has lost tremendous ground and no longer is doing many of the things he enjoyed. I've been thinking a lot of my other clients who passed away and will mention Sweetheart's story since it may help you come to terms with your decision. Sweetheart's family moved six months before she died, but I knew, that last time I saw her, that she would not live much longer. Her spirit was still so very bright, her personality still so very strong, but her body was exhausted. In the end, she got a terrible respiratory infection that she couldn't fight off. Her last days were spent in the hospital and they ended up having to put her down on Christmas Day. Most of us will die that way--sick and in the hospital. But you have a chance to let Mr. Gorgeous go when he isn't sick and suffering. (Though I suspect, given how much weight he's lost, he is, somewhere in his core, already sick, or, at the very least, failing.) A beloved pet's agony can make it easy for us to make the decision to end their suffering, but with Mr. Gorgeous, you have the chance to spare him that. You can give him the best day ever: all the grilled cheese and baloney sandwiches he wants, a trip to his favorite park, and then you help him shuffle off this mortal coil so that he may slumber that eternal sleep, as Shakespeare put it. Make no mistake, it chokes me up to write about it. And there is no way out of the grief that will follow. I lay down on the floor with him before I left the other night and told him everything I wanted him to know and sang him my favorite lullaby. Being Mr. Gorgeous, he wasn't all that interested, so I also gave him some extra cheese. He was pretty stoked about the cheese. And then I came home and cried. I do not envy what you have ahead of you and you are very much in my thoughts.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span> </blockquote>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1449006592768_3567"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My favorite poem is Robert Frost's "After Apple-Picking." It is not really about the end of the harvest, but about death. I thought of it during my recent days with Mr. Gorgeous (the apples on your trees helped jog my memory). I'm sharing it in particular because of the lines ".<i>..there may be two or three/ Apples I didn't pick upon some bough./ But I am done with apple-picking now</i>." We don't always have to pick every single apple for the harvest to be over. The frost has come, winter is nigh.</span></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You could see, when he slept, how little of him<br />
remained and how close he was to death.</td></tr>
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I took care of him one last time, nearly six years after he became my first dog client, a week before he died. We ambled around together and he went so far as to follow me all the way up to the top of his long yard each day as I photographed things. In the evenings, after making sure he'd pooped, we'd spend some time down in the TV room, just as we always had, though now I left the door open for him for a steady flow of cool air to keep him comfortable and a ready exit in case he had to hustle out in a hurry to answer nature's call. I also got some dry shampoo for dogs and spent a couple of days working it through his coat so he would look and smell his best at the end. He was far too frail to bathe and he'd become less and less tolerant of brushing as his skin grew more sensitive. The last thing I did for the Ancient Kitty was to give him a cornstarch bath after he'd lost the ability to clean himself and I remembered how good it made him feel to be clean and for me to be able to preform that service for him. Mr. Gorgeous' coat was one of his defining features, so I liked the idea that I could help him be at his most beautiful. I believe in death and dying well, so I felt it was an honor to care for him during his final days. I made sure I knew what his family wanted for him in the event that his death came before it was scheduled and was glad, not horrified, that they prepared his grave before they went, just in case. (Lest you judge them unfeeling for leaving, I will mention that it was a parent's death that forced them to go out of town.) I must admit, there were moments went it felt a little awkward because knowing that his passing was imminent forced me to confront how alive he was. "I hope you don't mind, buddy," I said to him as we sat together in the grass, "that I've been going around telling people it's time for you die." Honestly, though, I was truly glad to do it, and it gave me a chance to do what I needed to do for my goodbyes. I took some selfies with him, rather to his disgruntlement, and as I mentioned in the email above, that final evening, I got down on the floor with him and told him everything I wanted him to know, including that if the saying, "Heaven is the place where every dog you've ever loved comes to greet you," is true, I expected him to be in that number. My heart full, I fed Mr. Gorgeous some final pieces of cheese. His back legs slid out from under him while he was eating his cheese and he ended up on his rump, looking pathetic and confused, and after I walked out, I realized I couldn't stand for that to be my final view of him, so I went back and peeked through the window and saw him up and walking around and felt better. Then I went home and cried.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAgbNml9Z13TIvtL1vo0OF-UemZZh0rjGrUA0klOV03E9vn0dWf2r86jsQJj-N4n7y9-7VCc4hSwcJiMFBO7nUMiyNcTgvoopDYZr_s_yQHDMXOcwVH7zYHeuIF_Vgzx3B4cFHZ9nAcD2/s1600/IMG_7735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAgbNml9Z13TIvtL1vo0OF-UemZZh0rjGrUA0klOV03E9vn0dWf2r86jsQJj-N4n7y9-7VCc4hSwcJiMFBO7nUMiyNcTgvoopDYZr_s_yQHDMXOcwVH7zYHeuIF_Vgzx3B4cFHZ9nAcD2/s400/IMG_7735.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was still so gorgeous. It seemed impossible that such a perfect thing might die.</td></tr>
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His family informed me that he was eagerly eating cheese--his favorite thing--when the end came. He looked beautiful even in death and is buried beneath the huge old cedar tree next to house, the place where, in life, he surveyed his kingdom and whose branches he was perpetually collecting in his fur. I like knowing where he is and knowing, too, that as long as the tree stands, as it has for hundreds of years and may for many hundreds more, his bones shall mingle with its roots and he will be sheltered there long after everyone who knew him is gone.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous lies for eternity in this very spot where he so often watched over his world.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5He-A4IlmvayENsVlF0z2BsLTSY61rqg7V6Ejtb9WxiIrsGN4qg-Zi-toJecT7E8C8V9b_q0GrSHgpadt9NFX6BTbFYs4F1UqyYv0XJ78YporwDvCRN1hQozUdDNkRf6eeuzaj31Cejse/s1600/IMG_6506+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5He-A4IlmvayENsVlF0z2BsLTSY61rqg7V6Ejtb9WxiIrsGN4qg-Zi-toJecT7E8C8V9b_q0GrSHgpadt9NFX6BTbFYs4F1UqyYv0XJ78YporwDvCRN1hQozUdDNkRf6eeuzaj31Cejse/s400/IMG_6506+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He spent many hours under the cedar collecting its fallen branches in his fur.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1tFsRwyjYdyOgWDLKfEwEuGBU6wK1v2Hb87vmeYvfhhtXBS-xmyqtBSh-fQhAWaRge9HhYUls8kbSOWRgr2zYfL6dUv-z3oHbmnJn5MYeGMcRyveARLybV2c1LG4umyGsivBwgjzqqic/s1600/522334_3316970759080_33511692_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1tFsRwyjYdyOgWDLKfEwEuGBU6wK1v2Hb87vmeYvfhhtXBS-xmyqtBSh-fQhAWaRge9HhYUls8kbSOWRgr2zYfL6dUv-z3oHbmnJn5MYeGMcRyveARLybV2c1LG4umyGsivBwgjzqqic/s400/522334_3316970759080_33511692_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the base of the tree, he had a clear view of the upper reaches of his kingdom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q5IkLNH1YgXCY2xrNUj_zvprLYtJWu_GJPbfoI1euLVNNqrfI2KoCJfwVef_TEGb7jDLLqjPKIK66NyPxjTF2ZqLxc7jKZ7WjMDDsUhcMZ5bmtzeZ5e7_4Ch1iUh-8BKzHDvTdE_iA8X/s1600/IMG_3020_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q5IkLNH1YgXCY2xrNUj_zvprLYtJWu_GJPbfoI1euLVNNqrfI2KoCJfwVef_TEGb7jDLLqjPKIK66NyPxjTF2ZqLxc7jKZ7WjMDDsUhcMZ5bmtzeZ5e7_4Ch1iUh-8BKzHDvTdE_iA8X/s400/IMG_3020_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's there now, beside the rock below the huge cedar at the bottom of the drive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdqHLfgVy6jMEqXVGRxWRZt2CJUa4Sb31yNLkdt7BWg5vZckHLd61cKCwftros7yxkzLDVTclimoGzdgqI0Ta0wMDexCXmMz4xnJ3FQu2DVt_CMZdWzL9vj0sJ_JEOFF5jeK-gjOmBK2a/s1600/1522257_10202303601167401_208879090_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdqHLfgVy6jMEqXVGRxWRZt2CJUa4Sb31yNLkdt7BWg5vZckHLd61cKCwftros7yxkzLDVTclimoGzdgqI0Ta0wMDexCXmMz4xnJ3FQu2DVt_CMZdWzL9vj0sJ_JEOFF5jeK-gjOmBK2a/s200/1522257_10202303601167401_208879090_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous at 3 months.</td></tr>
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But enough about Mr. Gorgeous' death! It's time to talk about the life of this singular and magnificent beast. I would sometimes get asked, while walking him, "Is he a show dog?" and despite his great beauty, Mr. Gorgeous had very humble beginnings. He was <u><a href="http://www.whidbeynewstimes.com/news/22090669.html" target="_blank">part of a puppy mill bust</a></u> involving a couple who were breeding collies in terrible conditions, too many dogs packed in filthy pens. Mr. Gorgeous was lucky: he was just a pup, roughly four weeks old and still nursing, when the kennel was disbanded and the dogs seized. He and his mother and litter went to a foster home while the sentence for puppy mill owners was worked out; no dogs could be adopted out until the final terms were in place. Thus, Mr. Gorgeous was approximately three months old when his forever family came to look at the pup that his foster family called "Tank." Mr. Gorgeous was larger than your average collie and I thought perhaps the puppy mill was breeding them to unusually big and attractive (with perhaps smaller-than-average smarts), but apparently he was the big one in his litter--and perhaps a bit of a bruiser, too! So in July of 2002, little Mr. Gorgeous, sporting a baby-sized ruff and the out-of-proportion body parts common to all adolescents, was adopted by his forever family.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBHEEM7hyphenhyphenjigRYHaHCRliE9t5CJNaF4LvJ2rwHWmwD4XabR4T4-MWfy1LVJgJfWtIcqcLtQezc05V21bzfaOd12t7EDi5sekqBBcYQ9dOPXOagyzwLBeXmo45lr5SORqkL26zssmHwTYr/s1600/1527140_10202303600007372_778360178_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBHEEM7hyphenhyphenjigRYHaHCRliE9t5CJNaF4LvJ2rwHWmwD4XabR4T4-MWfy1LVJgJfWtIcqcLtQezc05V21bzfaOd12t7EDi5sekqBBcYQ9dOPXOagyzwLBeXmo45lr5SORqkL26zssmHwTYr/s320/1527140_10202303600007372_778360178_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The newly-adopted Mr. Gorgeous with "his" kids.</td></tr>
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I didn't come into Mr. Gorgeous' life until December of 2009. I understand that he had a fair amount of pep and was even known to jump around a bit when he was younger, but by the time I knew him, the wild days of his youth were over and he had entered a more sedate stage of middle age that tended to involve all four paws on the ground--even his counter-surfing days were largely behind him. He still got up on the furniture now and then in those first years, though!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqDMh8GlcIHi529EK0b1w5Wocui0mJ0MJZEnZUK8ANxDeDiY615KxCZtrcs0j90s9SVI_2S5MofP7NtGwp5S74rjvYTfQL3IqF5ByQaC7VV1b7S8CvJBCrwqCB-wRJqu4LbByTrBGtmda/s1600/IMG_7424.JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqDMh8GlcIHi529EK0b1w5Wocui0mJ0MJZEnZUK8ANxDeDiY615KxCZtrcs0j90s9SVI_2S5MofP7NtGwp5S74rjvYTfQL3IqF5ByQaC7VV1b7S8CvJBCrwqCB-wRJqu4LbByTrBGtmda/s400/IMG_7424.JPG.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the first photo I took of<br />
Mr. Gorgeous--the first of thousands!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCC9wQfNmicLBLxKtmqhIvhtLzk24Cl1wI9U5Z6LmMdvzd1ljOvbbfGUFXfldr5f84M8I83sLcZkxZSu6wd9U2nsYYLpiIexxNdAHjLfZaECXush3pg3JQxvWBPynOGRhBMxX93oAXNoJJ/s1600/IMG_8023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCC9wQfNmicLBLxKtmqhIvhtLzk24Cl1wI9U5Z6LmMdvzd1ljOvbbfGUFXfldr5f84M8I83sLcZkxZSu6wd9U2nsYYLpiIexxNdAHjLfZaECXush3pg3JQxvWBPynOGRhBMxX93oAXNoJJ/s400/IMG_8023.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A naughty Mr. Gorgeous, interrupted while napping on the couch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM_zoXqowZ0ihyZknluMghGe1axHsaEBGoZqKX8YMASBqGifM_8Ug76aLOxThrIcJrhS8yDwYKUfv_Ppisng6zbJCKU-Wc2ZPlHDJu4wiKa7TL4k8oGiRUOQiOcjpB0AasGl9ZwMClxfZ/s1600/IMG_7686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM_zoXqowZ0ihyZknluMghGe1axHsaEBGoZqKX8YMASBqGifM_8Ug76aLOxThrIcJrhS8yDwYKUfv_Ppisng6zbJCKU-Wc2ZPlHDJu4wiKa7TL4k8oGiRUOQiOcjpB0AasGl9ZwMClxfZ/s400/IMG_7686.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One time in the first days of our acquaintance, I couldn't find Mr. G. anywhere. At long last I discovered him in this chair in the music room. I suppose he liked being part of a symphony of browns.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWEFz4FQXrxjLIyuJb13Rp8oS3Z0jAb7221EMLLTjur1WHkzna7083bvqnq8dK1Gq5Jg-AgFMu9f-s0BT-1gmD1SeamT-nQ_oKAigN-mOvnwrD6VSgKo9zhohyphenhyphenf-qJwHJTzl4qKnEy0w/s1600/IMG_4833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWEFz4FQXrxjLIyuJb13Rp8oS3Z0jAb7221EMLLTjur1WHkzna7083bvqnq8dK1Gq5Jg-AgFMu9f-s0BT-1gmD1SeamT-nQ_oKAigN-mOvnwrD6VSgKo9zhohyphenhyphenf-qJwHJTzl4qKnEy0w/s200/IMG_4833.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So pretty.</td></tr>
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Mr. Gorgeous is a pseudonym I picked for this blog, but it was a name that fitted him perfectly. He was quite simply one of the handsomest dogs I've ever seen. Properly bred collies are usually 22"-26" inches at the shoulder and 50-75 pounds, so at roughly 27" and 80 pounds in his prime, Mr. Gorgeous was bigger than most members of his breed and his magnificent coat was second to none. His fully pricked ears and swinging gait made him look graceful and alert and his somewhat distant gaze gave him a regal air. Alas! Few and far between were the thoughts that passed through Mr. G.'s elegant noggin and I'm afraid most of those thoughts were directed toward trifling concerns such as rabbits and baloney and wanting to pee on things. Rough collies are supposed to be extremely intelligent and deeply sensitive; Mr. Gorgeous was...not. His range of expressions and emotions were rather on the narrow end--he was the sort of dog who looks out upon the world and says, "Huh." To be fair, he may have been smarter and more emotional than he let on, but if so, he was quite unconcerned about letting those thoughts and feelings be known. His main mode of expressing affectionate was to plod around after whoever he liked and while I pride myself on being able to read dogs well, most of Mr. Gorgeous' opinions not related to food (all of them expressed by looking at me fixedly with his mouth open) remained inscrutable to me. He was not the sort of dog who wagged his tail (Mr. Gorgeous' typical greeting when you came in the house was to lift his head as if to say, "Oh, hey. It's you," and then return to his nap) and if you wanted him to save you if you fell in a well, you'd better hope there were bunch of squirrels and cats and rabbits down there with you!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1-WCsSNXuXRMt3Kwg5rCIP9uuEtwBZp3sMWOjhUQZ8hGPcOuyYcbQeyhQbDpCjSnhWnMFXJyN-MKd858lK4AtJdUbKHUVhWhUbB8Mx_iePjTbvR8IQXdIiKyz-fgCp-A4EqZoYC5qwY/s1600/IMG_4984+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1-WCsSNXuXRMt3Kwg5rCIP9uuEtwBZp3sMWOjhUQZ8hGPcOuyYcbQeyhQbDpCjSnhWnMFXJyN-MKd858lK4AtJdUbKHUVhWhUbB8Mx_iePjTbvR8IQXdIiKyz-fgCp-A4EqZoYC5qwY/s400/IMG_4984+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous looks out over the world and thinks, "Huh."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sblcMpw1QP6vuEyxxlioeGPZ0L81Z_qD_tyTA0zezPJaGfY4PMhwHLst6hqcDk7o5PbbD3DhtPRIbri36N8a3QkSCSj5_4DIIc7QHeUGYw0OgdVjZ0Qk5oHRyUynjnfIH4dw1XSL4O0/s1600/IMG_9045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sblcMpw1QP6vuEyxxlioeGPZ0L81Z_qD_tyTA0zezPJaGfY4PMhwHLst6hqcDk7o5PbbD3DhtPRIbri36N8a3QkSCSj5_4DIIc7QHeUGYw0OgdVjZ0Qk5oHRyUynjnfIH4dw1XSL4O0/s400/IMG_9045.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was rather detached about matters.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7jKQzZuCbVqSVFm0qqJ0wzkPMcbaGe4fCbXtoB4rcvl9uOMDXOLu2MDMLc-4JTg_Q9o7CpEgb_WehDNuOSPwb3MstPReRCrqYbxx8Nwi1hyDbjnZQiDjuqCsuSB934rPrEE6YJ6sXdAd/s1600/IMG_2698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7jKQzZuCbVqSVFm0qqJ0wzkPMcbaGe4fCbXtoB4rcvl9uOMDXOLu2MDMLc-4JTg_Q9o7CpEgb_WehDNuOSPwb3MstPReRCrqYbxx8Nwi1hyDbjnZQiDjuqCsuSB934rPrEE6YJ6sXdAd/s400/IMG_2698.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Was he indifferent? Or merely inexpressive?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr92oOelYuNRTUAiEVWsRLkaVbqgwIzJRkCrqizJ7MCwptD9r8JfUjrHsIwu_NkXD-_zbLbd7UpTK8gp2t_D-0JP2GtSjQTlPImUOjIqaxj0fTzFgOywT3EtceARcO7NXvsD_ny6T3tN4/s1600/IMG_7730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr92oOelYuNRTUAiEVWsRLkaVbqgwIzJRkCrqizJ7MCwptD9r8JfUjrHsIwu_NkXD-_zbLbd7UpTK8gp2t_D-0JP2GtSjQTlPImUOjIqaxj0fTzFgOywT3EtceARcO7NXvsD_ny6T3tN4/s400/IMG_7730.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or perhaps he was simply content.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMIuX6KaFW_uyp54Lz7meZOojEr_BI3pg5dkxOdlSk6SwZN7jpgzTbfNNd_PL6QCJYwMWvOLjJBj1x-LQnwTaETsE-RuTLC3Y7oPU8lzScjWvEd9dbjQC9xsV46MRa-KfZnZfxMLSu9k/s1600/IMG_9653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMIuX6KaFW_uyp54Lz7meZOojEr_BI3pg5dkxOdlSk6SwZN7jpgzTbfNNd_PL6QCJYwMWvOLjJBj1x-LQnwTaETsE-RuTLC3Y7oPU8lzScjWvEd9dbjQC9xsV46MRa-KfZnZfxMLSu9k/s400/IMG_9653.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's no need, of course, for every dog to be a genius. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJbTckTBLqOrsaimmnaWchbqcV4sfeJRqgXw4S_4L5eNrABlVIgXavC0Y8aZmBtuAwiEXklkFqf4WhpbXhqy5oqpzXrXW47kMvPfb-5v4N7URsVCok4zrILvYQjm4IHOs616nIZpXqys/s1600/IMG_8095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJbTckTBLqOrsaimmnaWchbqcV4sfeJRqgXw4S_4L5eNrABlVIgXavC0Y8aZmBtuAwiEXklkFqf4WhpbXhqy5oqpzXrXW47kMvPfb-5v4N7URsVCok4zrILvYQjm4IHOs616nIZpXqys/s400/IMG_8095.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whatever his IQ might have been, he had the brainpower to oversee his territory...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE54gsOGN5mPnv1mgkOdhyXcRnmQjW-8l83hSZHmdlW8Z2LJDLgL_T_EtKTYxUhCHe2PRtwpgkiXsGEWsa44GaSdB8l5WRsrA2JmzF63knHsiXN5-_cfFHAEwuMf_fwauuTyY-Ixiogm4/s1600/IMG_6530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE54gsOGN5mPnv1mgkOdhyXcRnmQjW-8l83hSZHmdlW8Z2LJDLgL_T_EtKTYxUhCHe2PRtwpgkiXsGEWsa44GaSdB8l5WRsrA2JmzF63knHsiXN5-_cfFHAEwuMf_fwauuTyY-Ixiogm4/s400/IMG_6530.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....take advantage of opportunities when he felt so inclined...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK70jQefjVAZlMpI_pFt9Yrt7U8Q1ZZVMJgQnzsFUsyxIQ6ckf0tVoK7UTwchEs2E8q1qorNFEPAJtjjMWhgkFiv7nReyE7p15madHtZN6TeyhkXtsgYa_9QCWz6iUrD7jqd1PVjbxsXs/s1600/IMG_7674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK70jQefjVAZlMpI_pFt9Yrt7U8Q1ZZVMJgQnzsFUsyxIQ6ckf0tVoK7UTwchEs2E8q1qorNFEPAJtjjMWhgkFiv7nReyE7p15madHtZN6TeyhkXtsgYa_9QCWz6iUrD7jqd1PVjbxsXs/s400/IMG_7674.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and follow the humans to and fro should he be interested in doing so.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8XAVxdGbZES2looESeZeR8w8os67HCvhGNQ1YSxWMmQS7-lSuK8MR2bNSeu0Bw0osOHU5_n1XWmqmNWHU0pq97nU8x8KY7r4UNImuGK17jLeLyjKZdJtu8QvqLTmPn95tno8YW1uYFLE/s1600/IMG_7918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8XAVxdGbZES2looESeZeR8w8os67HCvhGNQ1YSxWMmQS7-lSuK8MR2bNSeu0Bw0osOHU5_n1XWmqmNWHU0pq97nU8x8KY7r4UNImuGK17jLeLyjKZdJtu8QvqLTmPn95tno8YW1uYFLE/s400/IMG_7918.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was so beautiful that all he had to do was exist and that was enough.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIglK41HGG2J45Ah22DlFoafo2uC19MpRGTlB5sVX-AxkIy2bNP23dBK6W6LqzrivNWI0hN5IUppZiex82xUbobXwrzZXZAzG8Wfw7Y1SZoNCMhe8IVcGKaoFJthTCbUlsM3dlAWcMZvE/s1600/IMG_6138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIglK41HGG2J45Ah22DlFoafo2uC19MpRGTlB5sVX-AxkIy2bNP23dBK6W6LqzrivNWI0hN5IUppZiex82xUbobXwrzZXZAzG8Wfw7Y1SZoNCMhe8IVcGKaoFJthTCbUlsM3dlAWcMZvE/s200/IMG_6138.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who is the fairest of them all?</td></tr>
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So maybe Mr. Gorgeous was more fluff than brains, but what magnificent fluff it was! (A little girl once asked in an awestruck voice, "Is that a <i>lion</i>?") Wherever he went, Mr. Gorgeous turned heads. I liked taking him for walks along the busy waterfront parks near his home and I loved hearing the whispers of amazement that preceded his progress and followed in his wake. I would often stop and ask people (who would invariably query, "Is that a Lassie-dog?") if they wished to pet him, which they always did, and Mr. Gorgeous, while not especially gregarious, had an amiable nature and was not above being admired. He greeted his fans politely, would deign to be petted for a few minutes, and then he'd move on. While he was not nearly as excited about people as most dogs are, he <i>did</i> like children. He would patiently submit to being petted by toddlers and I remember fondly the time when we encountered a family at a park with two kids who were very nearly the same age as <i>his </i>kids--both off at college by that point--were when they adopted him. He put his ears in happy position and simply could not get enough of their attention. It was probably the most animated I ever saw him while interacting with people!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2IufnC-UhK9-IRLAwVZuFSdRqfVtTsWwTs2J2IaVBBsT2Jr6EOvR3TNRdCKsmw09oPl31Gb1UaQFgEMFIu80St-lej70TY1U09bcyZd4kMp_N4PPLnCQNjiKdqypwMHqExv3HOAPe4Q/s1600/IMG_7813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2IufnC-UhK9-IRLAwVZuFSdRqfVtTsWwTs2J2IaVBBsT2Jr6EOvR3TNRdCKsmw09oPl31Gb1UaQFgEMFIu80St-lej70TY1U09bcyZd4kMp_N4PPLnCQNjiKdqypwMHqExv3HOAPe4Q/s400/IMG_7813.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handsome.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtxIUQqyBKOzRC59lbQSY-4V_v7VNr7lC4mx_YKoNv5Md5B4lKOLb90SbMOlScgeOJezPrZxUmPCeawfTvaor4aFU3YQbESwt_RDiNR0GBVU7CJVYudJW0Wvs0c6D3SQUytYWsn6lhmQ/s1600/IMG_6135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtxIUQqyBKOzRC59lbQSY-4V_v7VNr7lC4mx_YKoNv5Md5B4lKOLb90SbMOlScgeOJezPrZxUmPCeawfTvaor4aFU3YQbESwt_RDiNR0GBVU7CJVYudJW0Wvs0c6D3SQUytYWsn6lhmQ/s400/IMG_6135.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSdHMZJTo8KfVnIUe46KZbmSwSzkOIBPT-mjdcSZ0vpmGLK3rC__W5iHBjG58zaPjyIflso33iSqo5EOEImS6RK9DIG9ZhyNxM-cbAhw4ZZp1pWO5ys36flKfvgRtGFA1tkyaq5897tU/s1600/IMG_6531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSdHMZJTo8KfVnIUe46KZbmSwSzkOIBPT-mjdcSZ0vpmGLK3rC__W5iHBjG58zaPjyIflso33iSqo5EOEImS6RK9DIG9ZhyNxM-cbAhw4ZZp1pWO5ys36flKfvgRtGFA1tkyaq5897tU/s400/IMG_6531.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striking.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHS4cJNv7kqfgI0LQ2wtUP6kwSshR_DKgKa1DJxG6iKRnge30VYjf_M7f75VEQ1GNomGX3oupd3jkioWAVSvUxo1-NsBNQ5M8sr_Y7r17GJGNykziJqHfU-qsdPDPfl5STTUm7nDJjeU/s1600/IMG_6559.JPG+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHS4cJNv7kqfgI0LQ2wtUP6kwSshR_DKgKa1DJxG6iKRnge30VYjf_M7f75VEQ1GNomGX3oupd3jkioWAVSvUxo1-NsBNQ5M8sr_Y7r17GJGNykziJqHfU-qsdPDPfl5STTUm7nDJjeU/s400/IMG_6559.JPG+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arresting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOZAEWCsTNzt_UA-2rvzezPIT06xrOsovknhOlqWP9QA1SFkEGvy3VHVfzO3PtFfl0Qs3BRe58igQQq5L-R5nfBjTY0nVd_ZREnp_xuDWVVMnp7F32_tXXiPZP7WbIoF01wXseyYKF08/s1600/IMG_6372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOZAEWCsTNzt_UA-2rvzezPIT06xrOsovknhOlqWP9QA1SFkEGvy3VHVfzO3PtFfl0Qs3BRe58igQQq5L-R5nfBjTY0nVd_ZREnp_xuDWVVMnp7F32_tXXiPZP7WbIoF01wXseyYKF08/s400/IMG_6372.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI20adgDSx8syTl2HsDyIzckp9aJJdoyFn6ByIjlZKbYdwIluq8E1QfLqZqXCogEB1DMZptmRwNUbjYsy7hoZqJvlgUfxKkhGVpfMbgHKScBmTXy0HSbURmEfKyY7EthlsYXxUxd3FjBE/s1600/IMG_3387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI20adgDSx8syTl2HsDyIzckp9aJJdoyFn6ByIjlZKbYdwIluq8E1QfLqZqXCogEB1DMZptmRwNUbjYsy7hoZqJvlgUfxKkhGVpfMbgHKScBmTXy0HSbURmEfKyY7EthlsYXxUxd3FjBE/s400/IMG_3387.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous.</td></tr>
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In addition to being so good-looking, Mr. Gorgeous also had this marvelous floating trot. If you could persuaded him to stop marking things while on a walk (no small task), he would shift into a different gear and this trot would emerge, loose and swinging, a majestic gait for a majestic dog! He had a variety of speeds, including the slow plod he used when meandering around the grounds and the sudden dive he'd make toward an entrancing scent while on a walk. Up until arthritis and then the degenerative myelopathy slowed him down, he could run, too. There was the bounding "get back here, you rabbit!" sprint that he used when chasing wildlife, but the best run was the one he'd do alongside your car when you drove in. I loved when I came to the house and he was waiting at the gate at the top of the long drive. He would run down the length of it beside your car, an activity suffused with joy. I always intended to get a video of him doing this and I always forgot, or it was inconvenient, and then it was too late.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/NKXpFY05YWk/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NKXpFY05YWk?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">An example of Mr. Gorgeous' lovely trot.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwx1B6gs0OUp8Hj5xpiTZ-ci4-B9P4Vcp5_kw89hIBBqcweuTascPnfDRbkiEz-Q2eY_-LW3Qw0zBdqqY4q_my1KstjrlO4jIwDUBMMUCTZC1tPQu9tDSYRh93PCx35t9Ka_5ce-78qeX/s1600/IMG_8117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwx1B6gs0OUp8Hj5xpiTZ-ci4-B9P4Vcp5_kw89hIBBqcweuTascPnfDRbkiEz-Q2eY_-LW3Qw0zBdqqY4q_my1KstjrlO4jIwDUBMMUCTZC1tPQu9tDSYRh93PCx35t9Ka_5ce-78qeX/s320/IMG_8117.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px; text-align: center;">Waiting at the gate at the top of the drive, ready to run the length of it with whoever will be driving in. I wish I had a video to go with this photo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjPDZ_5b8hV7j__7uZYz5z2hiu7eUKzXUBfwQ_d13ZPIS-dCbN8W7WYBIyy6zAhBhdb7ZatIUmtkNfGfHJIJvVhXiD7cNZyuIdWLI59R13Umds8xUqvgX48_86x_da0FzToWDdYSkviBK/s1600/IMG_3247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjPDZ_5b8hV7j__7uZYz5z2hiu7eUKzXUBfwQ_d13ZPIS-dCbN8W7WYBIyy6zAhBhdb7ZatIUmtkNfGfHJIJvVhXiD7cNZyuIdWLI59R13Umds8xUqvgX48_86x_da0FzToWDdYSkviBK/s200/IMG_3247.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to see me!</td></tr>
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Mr. G. and I were good friends. He was always at least moderately pleased to see me when I showed up and definitely liked that I allowed him to push his way through my legs first in one direction and then another, a habit that his owners tried to discourage but that I must confess I enjoyed. We played together, too; indeed, I'd forgotten how playful he was in those early years until I went back through my photos to choose ones for this post. His favorite game was a sort of slow-motion keep-away: I'd throw a toy for him to fetch, he'd retrieve it, but before it could be thrown again, I'd first have to chase him as he jogged leisurely away from me, head held high. He thought it was particularly fun when I switched directions on him! I was always happy to pet him, too. He liked being scratched under the chin, which would make him stretch his neck out and groan, and he especially loved having the inside of his ear rubbed with a knuckle, prompting deep sighs and contented moaning. He would express his affection by loyally loitering in my vicinity, trailing after me as I roamed around his massive yard with my camera, waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I went up or outside the guesthouse when I went in, and settling with a thump by my chair when I was at the kitchen table or using the computer at the desk.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVCiJRI5ZnZGgbGnfIvsHkttKDC8q_EzdeblixlkDa-LWrgUCGsNttUYKAhBTW_n6SEIAWp1pRPw1-Z5jSIANpBc2KAu_GO58T0JbrrQS1dWH3zbdOEClimVMbLfv_9G6e4gFpWb43aOf/s1600/IMG_4694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVCiJRI5ZnZGgbGnfIvsHkttKDC8q_EzdeblixlkDa-LWrgUCGsNttUYKAhBTW_n6SEIAWp1pRPw1-Z5jSIANpBc2KAu_GO58T0JbrrQS1dWH3zbdOEClimVMbLfv_9G6e4gFpWb43aOf/s400/IMG_4694.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous pushes himself forward though my legs and says hi...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuQ7haAwb3XbGFqUe3nPPk-ZW__ObJLL2keB8wQcAFqml-S_qOhax4bjlyl7gywQ_fVl_KWbpGBKVctYOQth1SWLB4B8ao-3eyCaG9c9zzDYNLWkJJRtnkKNkaRHH5lBJQMO_uN7Ra9t2/s1600/IMG_7885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuQ7haAwb3XbGFqUe3nPPk-ZW__ObJLL2keB8wQcAFqml-S_qOhax4bjlyl7gywQ_fVl_KWbpGBKVctYOQth1SWLB4B8ao-3eyCaG9c9zzDYNLWkJJRtnkKNkaRHH5lBJQMO_uN7Ra9t2/s320/IMG_7885.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and then pauses on the way back to get a good rump scratching.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A clip of Mr. Gorgeous at play.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyHodSDptSk7BxpwRM7FvunSnvON_zsWpfhBk7tHWJfi6IAjZnZEvrwM0fURIZl9_yB9OGuXu2HEL2tCcUscyNoSH2-Y5IlTjiFJQNIwF_0wp8TRhoU1bzBUV02u_X_Yj6f6rvhPQ0jM4/s1600/IMG_7844_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyHodSDptSk7BxpwRM7FvunSnvON_zsWpfhBk7tHWJfi6IAjZnZEvrwM0fURIZl9_yB9OGuXu2HEL2tCcUscyNoSH2-Y5IlTjiFJQNIwF_0wp8TRhoU1bzBUV02u_X_Yj6f6rvhPQ0jM4/s400/IMG_7844_2.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing keep-away with his kitty.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7eHwDgX9I_kyT2CuQMTC46W9ryoXTiDr0o2_eLfSeE-auB8vFIypeChQ1Tit44q1_rVieKPbzQzzJcDU5ZJQsF7h6eYmx9WhH4mcJncuWW3Z9p6yzTyBDrEj8n9UrKy1oTuUdHd9nTCj/s1600/IMG_2670_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7eHwDgX9I_kyT2CuQMTC46W9ryoXTiDr0o2_eLfSeE-auB8vFIypeChQ1Tit44q1_rVieKPbzQzzJcDU5ZJQsF7h6eYmx9WhH4mcJncuWW3Z9p6yzTyBDrEj8n9UrKy1oTuUdHd9nTCj/s400/IMG_2670_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While he was not obsessed with it in the way many dogs are, Mr. Gorgeous occasionally would like to play a game of fetch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PEYTaV5JCmxsOhe_JGIanv4pGQrXY-enchjVQNd2OzKTpM55I14hmdeysgy0cm2T3Va_YYuUdWD6WL6jUHTopO4vQektoF_E_t70ETXVC56x3fjSCiSgB2GyVOEC3hkz0B0geZsnsk5I/s1600/IMG_7625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PEYTaV5JCmxsOhe_JGIanv4pGQrXY-enchjVQNd2OzKTpM55I14hmdeysgy0cm2T3Va_YYuUdWD6WL6jUHTopO4vQektoF_E_t70ETXVC56x3fjSCiSgB2GyVOEC3hkz0B0geZsnsk5I/s400/IMG_7625.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fluff in motion!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4r_gd3-133TSEFX_cGQECbARNCFpNz9zbw0FX2fnHIKoK_QHrI6NcsMDK9rmxZ7FH5G7xpXJpciOIonFl5SwtLUhHIZDgFbr-9lpyTHfpdUA8oOrQqwneKdeRH2-adlsAChdob1lvVjt/s1600/IMG_4581+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4r_gd3-133TSEFX_cGQECbARNCFpNz9zbw0FX2fnHIKoK_QHrI6NcsMDK9rmxZ7FH5G7xpXJpciOIonFl5SwtLUhHIZDgFbr-9lpyTHfpdUA8oOrQqwneKdeRH2-adlsAChdob1lvVjt/s400/IMG_4581+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous and a toy against a green backdrop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgYgCFhQ9g98otecBZJoOOpwNqY6HR92VB5pZZAOFl2E4hGQmUeDs22NIHLqW0YJ1p0dW3oETWsg_QmwVds5z2FZCCwwuhic1CGMI3UI8OJSO9QCh4O7_6rUgEhLWwFSTX9izMmoOoXCn/s1600/IMG_9676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgYgCFhQ9g98otecBZJoOOpwNqY6HR92VB5pZZAOFl2E4hGQmUeDs22NIHLqW0YJ1p0dW3oETWsg_QmwVds5z2FZCCwwuhic1CGMI3UI8OJSO9QCh4O7_6rUgEhLWwFSTX9izMmoOoXCn/s400/IMG_9676.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He loved a good ear rubbing.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXXdtbWWQg9G5LxzY0B60-2Fu-5I0ihAsU7oZEYND7OxqPNR9v4bFX0IrjY967v9wXjkm7EDbwTm1P4MdJcRYYC_OwZ8LXqqo5JUQ3R7j1zVmMxO_ImYG5kgvvRvdPJdyF4vcXdsNvy0/s1600/IMG_7688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXXdtbWWQg9G5LxzY0B60-2Fu-5I0ihAsU7oZEYND7OxqPNR9v4bFX0IrjY967v9wXjkm7EDbwTm1P4MdJcRYYC_OwZ8LXqqo5JUQ3R7j1zVmMxO_ImYG5kgvvRvdPJdyF4vcXdsNvy0/s400/IMG_7688.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was very fond of his ears.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9aLmJijbOfXkgY6Dj_HsQ1KvKvf0AusaQgA-buoOgQdL9Z9n8TrXgEpLrq59XZwsqxD1bXxeqoUh2r5kGio2T0V1OkloGi5QDcyyuBxIMjdCEiTj-fWnw6zz6v-zIZ0DpeHV7DHRub-I/s1600/IMG_7175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9aLmJijbOfXkgY6Dj_HsQ1KvKvf0AusaQgA-buoOgQdL9Z9n8TrXgEpLrq59XZwsqxD1bXxeqoUh2r5kGio2T0V1OkloGi5QDcyyuBxIMjdCEiTj-fWnw6zz6v-zIZ0DpeHV7DHRub-I/s320/IMG_7175.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While he wasn't very animated in expressing his affections, he did like to stay nearby.<br />
Here he is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pPrp8MXTbapx5dFw1_NN3fHhzq39233wMqzpw3SQRMNmyrGCs8EHWQ6Lm89ETBd9GHAxlm7NhrWPpo0PwfYk3y7MeunyvXlWMQowzdTr1L1vYeKZT4WXa60ROy4rIkJvCZ641zxG_Eh1/s1600/IMG_5527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pPrp8MXTbapx5dFw1_NN3fHhzq39233wMqzpw3SQRMNmyrGCs8EHWQ6Lm89ETBd9GHAxlm7NhrWPpo0PwfYk3y7MeunyvXlWMQowzdTr1L1vYeKZT4WXa60ROy4rIkJvCZ641zxG_Eh1/s320/IMG_5527.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...outside the guest house...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirT7_9-X97Fgn3BebX2ieIWqbjyrQ6mhzzt-Y91ak3BOmHevV3muAAToEj5S0phkPW3dUneWLA16o4pNwanLoLgWQzZdcYhAE92oTiftQlUWYFEyrF1MbWBp7F4bFf90UYuyiIMtgLsxor/s1600/IMG_6057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirT7_9-X97Fgn3BebX2ieIWqbjyrQ6mhzzt-Y91ak3BOmHevV3muAAToEj5S0phkPW3dUneWLA16o4pNwanLoLgWQzZdcYhAE92oTiftQlUWYFEyrF1MbWBp7F4bFf90UYuyiIMtgLsxor/s320/IMG_6057.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....beside the kitchen table...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYl7bvEColWKnwsrgx7aGN-1Gdw2Wp21PNv7oGSWer8LS2uGakqP_ObTTmvBMPsGFYxFzo7GZG3V0oRAabDdUF9ijs4DwjU3qpgo-L9d-k7Xg94SqLqeWFU7rrvgb-HrkqScOzeGzfZQ8/s1600/IMG_0479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYl7bvEColWKnwsrgx7aGN-1Gdw2Wp21PNv7oGSWer8LS2uGakqP_ObTTmvBMPsGFYxFzo7GZG3V0oRAabDdUF9ijs4DwjU3qpgo-L9d-k7Xg94SqLqeWFU7rrvgb-HrkqScOzeGzfZQ8/s320/IMG_0479.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and just behind the computer chair.</td></tr>
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When I spoke to him, I seldom called Mr. Gorgeous by his real name; to me, he was Buddy. Occasionally that was shortened to "Bud," especially if I was trying to get him to stand still while I was brushing him, and he was also "Funny Buddy," "Fluffy Buddy," or "Big Fluffy."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Watcha doin', Buddy?"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eQGh1kev2KRFk4bqpwcK7g4l4hULKZX6bQEYxLHzlOJZYpESNR6qdJuOxCJKB2EHGyaMRTceiUw5Y24MvFplRbLeV87p9VxisWKvSJlp_Pxrm41F5s5UpmMLY6lG4eWS2QMys4NYRJ8/s1600/IMG_4515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eQGh1kev2KRFk4bqpwcK7g4l4hULKZX6bQEYxLHzlOJZYpESNR6qdJuOxCJKB2EHGyaMRTceiUw5Y24MvFplRbLeV87p9VxisWKvSJlp_Pxrm41F5s5UpmMLY6lG4eWS2QMys4NYRJ8/s400/IMG_4515.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>"Who's my Fluffy Buddy?!"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaH7C2aIU1fTimmGZjilgJXjmxUbIPZF9QPGKMQe-UhF9LImkZGczpgNKOMwknupvdSkP5pBdoUXYM1rpeMqIM6KWcVI2u7JPb16DfTXqYu2n1wJO9XNH-AI3bJ59o-NnPEA9X8t9K7CI/s1600/IMG_4115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaH7C2aIU1fTimmGZjilgJXjmxUbIPZF9QPGKMQe-UhF9LImkZGczpgNKOMwknupvdSkP5pBdoUXYM1rpeMqIM6KWcVI2u7JPb16DfTXqYu2n1wJO9XNH-AI3bJ59o-NnPEA9X8t9K7CI/s320/IMG_4115.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
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<i>"Hey, Bud, get back here, you still have cedar branches in your fur!"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFKFR6bCqK4FdXMFeetkFLVNvj9_xzmCx6hRh9ecID3mz5xNyJ4lZMvLpkZXP_hp5yNzdGSHGzyiQlveB4gaF4FcpLRfTFpDoXR9Urluetk0kzrqALWB3Bs1J32MbJ0XtejsuQOg4qZU/s1600/IMG_4933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFKFR6bCqK4FdXMFeetkFLVNvj9_xzmCx6hRh9ecID3mz5xNyJ4lZMvLpkZXP_hp5yNzdGSHGzyiQlveB4gaF4FcpLRfTFpDoXR9Urluetk0kzrqALWB3Bs1J32MbJ0XtejsuQOg4qZU/s320/IMG_4933.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>"How's it going, Big Fluffy?"</i></div>
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We were good friends, he and I.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVxg5YqCiI8yvm5qT7y8VDFDPFqqJr4bULEgqsxYupbl8brVK_qZCBxUzqsF-PmmkJw5WK0fW-rqV2uIXemXO-7lhQfFFq4UOWA_ev65WlEaCRa2_B4QGqRGLx9xLGNjq6b2VPZBIoLw/s1600/IMG_4577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVxg5YqCiI8yvm5qT7y8VDFDPFqqJr4bULEgqsxYupbl8brVK_qZCBxUzqsF-PmmkJw5WK0fW-rqV2uIXemXO-7lhQfFFq4UOWA_ev65WlEaCRa2_B4QGqRGLx9xLGNjq6b2VPZBIoLw/s200/IMG_4577.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. G. was polite but reserved with most dogs.</td></tr>
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Mr. Gorgeous was not especially interested in other dogs, but got along with them well enough. More often than not, other dogs were scared of him because of his size. Little did they know that he was a total pushover! One time we encountered a tiny longhaired chihuahua whose coloring, incidentally, was very similar to Mr. G.'s. This little scrap of fluff took one look at the giant mountain of fluff and let out a shrill series of "Don't even think about it!" barks, startling and scaring poor Mr. Gorgeous, who shied away fearfully. That little dog, smaller than Mr. Gorgeous' head, was more than a match for him! Because he was largely indifferent and rather submissive to other dogs, Mr. Gorgeous was a good match for my Abbey, who does better with large, mellow, male dogs. I took them on a few walks together over the years. His dispassionate response also made it possible to host another dog in his house, like the time when a family emergency meant that I needed to double up with him and Goldie. Every now and then, though, a dog would come along that matched whatever it was that he required in a play partner (if he saw other dogs playing, Mr. Gorgeous would often let out a series of excited, high-pitched barks, but if you let him loose, often as not he would just try to hump them) and they would run and run and it was a beautiful thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICIZK9SI84KI-gubkpZL9m94IgqAjHFWXoHEyqwUa8NDkZH7Th_ngH9Q58BP2R_Zaiap072kVA8TLm-dGU3P1OvO6BD7-M0htuW-tIXlhkwDJ_KJaVAt93RaGS1FIlmiwtcRD0UUiqw06/s1600/IMG_3286_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICIZK9SI84KI-gubkpZL9m94IgqAjHFWXoHEyqwUa8NDkZH7Th_ngH9Q58BP2R_Zaiap072kVA8TLm-dGU3P1OvO6BD7-M0htuW-tIXlhkwDJ_KJaVAt93RaGS1FIlmiwtcRD0UUiqw06/s400/IMG_3286_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Beauty and the Beast" is what my mother calls this photo of Abbey and Mr. Gorgeous!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifls4xhOGFIDf88ixoeradWxSbkvn22wGmkoqW7dpgPA_jll_6ujQWxXCRplLItfX0e-tfkoHLqdb2o8oF8Si6H9vHruDQ9pgPTlSYIl__KqHoB-qfMHktJfgrBJsYJBAz60BBJl2QqjFE/s1600/IMG_9543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifls4xhOGFIDf88ixoeradWxSbkvn22wGmkoqW7dpgPA_jll_6ujQWxXCRplLItfX0e-tfkoHLqdb2o8oF8Si6H9vHruDQ9pgPTlSYIl__KqHoB-qfMHktJfgrBJsYJBAz60BBJl2QqjFE/s400/IMG_9543.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous was highly tolerant of, if not overly interested in, other dogs, including guests in his house like Goldie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY-oHEtRCAi5xxlunah34k5K5D9L3QfCv8J-BJQnGLp6PCHXI7tB-nTzpQEg8HdZdO3p89GX4rwtsjtVicayysSy8k-MrwHSWYYkKWh837H40EgZaJR6LstiOGbuw2C186lqtsTLbkTbz/s1600/IMG_8840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY-oHEtRCAi5xxlunah34k5K5D9L3QfCv8J-BJQnGLp6PCHXI7tB-nTzpQEg8HdZdO3p89GX4rwtsjtVicayysSy8k-MrwHSWYYkKWh837H40EgZaJR6LstiOGbuw2C186lqtsTLbkTbz/s400/IMG_8840.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He seldom played, but when he did, it was a beautiful thing!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2duWpjh3zZR60wZwoelHlBqeK2fxMGvPTzRfA1yBl85lmB_vpRlUKUd8h0QwPryigFMkGdgrwSAMViYHYFq1vLoJxpWEZVrbD9toJeej1Ip8fmhvzJyly-2d25CK400VZXWkeNKDZ0KU/s1600/IMG_4292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2duWpjh3zZR60wZwoelHlBqeK2fxMGvPTzRfA1yBl85lmB_vpRlUKUd8h0QwPryigFMkGdgrwSAMViYHYFq1vLoJxpWEZVrbD9toJeej1Ip8fmhvzJyly-2d25CK400VZXWkeNKDZ0KU/s200/IMG_4292.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking rather silly while <br />
chomping on a rawhide stick.</td></tr>
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It may be hard to believe, but Mr. Gorgeous was capable of looking ridiculous. This was especially true when he'd had his annual shaving. Underneath all that fur was a surprisingly narrow dog! When the fur was long, it was a magnet for debris of all kinds. In addition to picking things up laying on them, he also loved to scratch his face in the bushes and get sticks and leaves in his coat that way. I did not witness it myself, but the photo his owners sent me of Mr. Gorgeous sporting a huge branch in his fur made me laugh! It also cracked me up that after living with wood floors all his life, Mr. Gorgeous still worked hard every day to fluff them up. In fact, he would ignore a perfectly good dog bed in favor of the wood floor that remained so stubbornly flat and hard despite his best efforts!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9bstzrjQtqDiADyc6yiFNlugZWckP8AFErzY-YUpddFsydEbKkh9GOijBJ1IzVrw7Eu7jAywnFDqKpBoAlScXSB5rI-Oz1wzpj6AXjVYUHIlUMvU0YYmxKOd-uaDh7t9L_3jiQ3cpU6v/s1600/IMG_5416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9bstzrjQtqDiADyc6yiFNlugZWckP8AFErzY-YUpddFsydEbKkh9GOijBJ1IzVrw7Eu7jAywnFDqKpBoAlScXSB5rI-Oz1wzpj6AXjVYUHIlUMvU0YYmxKOd-uaDh7t9L_3jiQ3cpU6v/s400/IMG_5416.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very narrow dog dwelled beneath the voluminous coat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwIwcEEWjjM2fKu_Doykfs-liQz38tVRCGvTCRpHwQlzeEXLTyWTE3Kynuk5h_1EFbkHID4lsguhXXzRatchpJ0qzqta3uBT3k4jZ0vvsbKXz_ersXFK3nkED3cmjnZIXNK5rWgZdnZ_a/s1600/IMG_0383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwIwcEEWjjM2fKu_Doykfs-liQz38tVRCGvTCRpHwQlzeEXLTyWTE3Kynuk5h_1EFbkHID4lsguhXXzRatchpJ0qzqta3uBT3k4jZ0vvsbKXz_ersXFK3nkED3cmjnZIXNK5rWgZdnZ_a/s400/IMG_0383.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When long, it picked up all kinds of debris...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzY-A8vG5bU3SDIY1KDYj2ChkaHp7a3xBmu38ogLt4xejPEjvS5zlkDMF4g5temlDymMUKE_DNkmTSA1d_tLiYCPDw2riXNrXKPTgsNq78aNKoUiWVaZOV8XCIrKx81A1NiL_6GagVKZ5D/s1600/935244_10200762162912408_180961878_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzY-A8vG5bU3SDIY1KDYj2ChkaHp7a3xBmu38ogLt4xejPEjvS5zlkDMF4g5temlDymMUKE_DNkmTSA1d_tLiYCPDw2riXNrXKPTgsNq78aNKoUiWVaZOV8XCIrKx81A1NiL_6GagVKZ5D/s400/935244_10200762162912408_180961878_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...including, on one occasion, this large branch!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyWOrTM36DYMwhfwGou5EYfLKeIEqtmS8NQ4wAsbgmIIZ1MIFPoZZrM-Ze-cYr3UIihEagEDUcEv6-rOLzkIBUNfz-kNWxY_IeTuLC3ad9KTzydPW_a13V56_pDwz8-cLvKZHOk2xQiHZ/s1600/IMG_8320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyWOrTM36DYMwhfwGou5EYfLKeIEqtmS8NQ4wAsbgmIIZ1MIFPoZZrM-Ze-cYr3UIihEagEDUcEv6-rOLzkIBUNfz-kNWxY_IeTuLC3ad9KTzydPW_a13V56_pDwz8-cLvKZHOk2xQiHZ/s400/IMG_8320.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His habit of rubbing his face in all the bushes didn't help.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cistLf8HnK6aucKi8aLbZfRaewDBOjjN4FRm-kce3AMue3_GfrLR2vMVDT3WHW7W3qzdnW6cm0tFmQaYM-31FBxs6IymF68LeyHphutccfZW94aViALqCESWkd0K2N5CMLR93wZB0cH9/s1600/IMG_6122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cistLf8HnK6aucKi8aLbZfRaewDBOjjN4FRm-kce3AMue3_GfrLR2vMVDT3WHW7W3qzdnW6cm0tFmQaYM-31FBxs6IymF68LeyHphutccfZW94aViALqCESWkd0K2N5CMLR93wZB0cH9/s400/IMG_6122.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous' thick coat wasn't quite as elegant-looking from rear.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_CCZXbeHGO02fY2V36-FbLe5_pCIMD9N0kZXRKQEHwFissc-RKSKYzzQAnM0gxZLlO0nfnVV041FNEUAGalTsieZzpR6jPkORDBMw0Z57KlIpQNsmTyg0KBtfYDmO9UWx6vtR0AZwYk/s1600/IMG_5939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_CCZXbeHGO02fY2V36-FbLe5_pCIMD9N0kZXRKQEHwFissc-RKSKYzzQAnM0gxZLlO0nfnVV041FNEUAGalTsieZzpR6jPkORDBMw0Z57KlIpQNsmTyg0KBtfYDmO9UWx6vtR0AZwYk/s400/IMG_5939.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like how he appeared to float in the grass on the raft of his fur.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7UoKDioZyftXi0aTEF0_LZMpVjsWuxw-Igea2yOtPAu3k-pj2e-yCEXYeurVoRAV4nvT9dkdeSIdLNn2LKuE2gOEVq-VZVwAsLHsoRO0xHFRUJ7D-rdHwVo08HPE24rh1qghQKlxqDA/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7UoKDioZyftXi0aTEF0_LZMpVjsWuxw-Igea2yOtPAu3k-pj2e-yCEXYeurVoRAV4nvT9dkdeSIdLNn2LKuE2gOEVq-VZVwAsLHsoRO0xHFRUJ7D-rdHwVo08HPE24rh1qghQKlxqDA/s400/IMG_0239.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sound asleep on his very favorite piece of hard, flat floor. In all those years, it never fluffed once.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXqKuRPh3-YNn8W_7dDA4Z4CIXyInIG6ljUOYHaTW94mgyfQThm_c3PmhUj6ulnioMFSM_R_-FqcoV88HnuE6SYg4iMR9SaexiBzfvr_wHxSE5biR8GJywXzCwQGOwz1Dkg8VbTyqgMU/s1600/IMG_6373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXqKuRPh3-YNn8W_7dDA4Z4CIXyInIG6ljUOYHaTW94mgyfQThm_c3PmhUj6ulnioMFSM_R_-FqcoV88HnuE6SYg4iMR9SaexiBzfvr_wHxSE5biR8GJywXzCwQGOwz1Dkg8VbTyqgMU/s400/IMG_6373.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He did love this bed, at least!</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/SOR7z7WBP_A/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SOR7z7WBP_A?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Mr. Gorgeous attempts to fluff the floor. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This clip was shot toward the very end, when he didn't have much feeling in his hind legs, so he's rather tottery.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCPI3t7EmHXreQCRvKykK5PQzM2EQCR3mhx3PxHdM_XFhviEvhVWKLTocwJhGaQ8K_ThYokwdMoOsE7uFZOa7ElHCOPjhyzLfHaIGY9QgjeFrOaOT2eNOSM4p4MqPj3K_KqdSVWCvtOs/s1600/IMG_6990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCPI3t7EmHXreQCRvKykK5PQzM2EQCR3mhx3PxHdM_XFhviEvhVWKLTocwJhGaQ8K_ThYokwdMoOsE7uFZOa7ElHCOPjhyzLfHaIGY9QgjeFrOaOT2eNOSM4p4MqPj3K_KqdSVWCvtOs/s200/IMG_6990.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. G. looks really happy<br />
in a lot of these photos,<br />
but the truth be told, he's<br />
just wandering around<br />
with his mouth open.</td></tr>
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Other idiosyncrasies included his habit of laying down to drink his water; his tendency, when you opened a door that he was staring through to let him in or out, to suddenly decide that he needed to think it over; the way he would bark wildly if outside after dark, making in necessary to keep him in the house, unless he was on leash, after the sun went down; and the way he would stare accusingly at you if his meal did not meet his standards (he liked a little extra something, be it cheese or meat or broth, on it, though what he accepted as a proper offering would change). For a dog so focused on food, he was actually quite picky and refused many dog treats. If he did eat them, it was usually after dropping them on the floor and thinking over whether or not he was interested. For some reason, he found me irresistible when I used a broom, so whenever I swept, Mr. Gorgeous inevitably tried to hump me, which was not something he did at any other time. One of his more lamentable talents was his uncanny ability, despite my best efforts, to drop the mushiest possible poop in the hardest possible place to clean it up. This often meant rough concrete or, his speciality, someone's ornamental grasses. He was also given to wandering and while it never happened when I was taking care of him, if he could escape his yard, he would. Don't worry, his owners told me, if he gets out, he'll go to the park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPp-CfRG0j_NU9XUlpcQQ99D3RwhyAMalSy_Wq5y5VhW_Bs26zzhs38woNf8WzeeTjRGbf9dXUJPe4ggyru1BZDacjDQyiCdOgc6XYPb_f_rT4zq6TpR-0KsmFLyN4CYutOAkYWVr9SibW/s1600/IMG_0348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPp-CfRG0j_NU9XUlpcQQ99D3RwhyAMalSy_Wq5y5VhW_Bs26zzhs38woNf8WzeeTjRGbf9dXUJPe4ggyru1BZDacjDQyiCdOgc6XYPb_f_rT4zq6TpR-0KsmFLyN4CYutOAkYWVr9SibW/s400/IMG_0348.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He preferred to drink his water, no matter what kind of bowl it was in, while laying down.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgmQdV05xm9SR_4vpZbiQrRKIWrxFz12HZYOC4lEBILwI_j8u4w9qLyGeSghJwF0CsarzX0WPZ0wprclnujqs-xQR3c8fGei1LblkG2Z8y57q9up2yp98x5IdtQcqYcCbg2irygz4kiYl/s1600/IMG_5884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgmQdV05xm9SR_4vpZbiQrRKIWrxFz12HZYOC4lEBILwI_j8u4w9qLyGeSghJwF0CsarzX0WPZ0wprclnujqs-xQR3c8fGei1LblkG2Z8y57q9up2yp98x5IdtQcqYcCbg2irygz4kiYl/s400/IMG_5884.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I wanted out until you opened the door, but now I have to rethink it."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZXW9p3QqlgU-rU_qCvQe3xpfqkNqZAv0qsRPSvWJ4j4KHn9xoo702BrANu8BBkhWN-PjqSYbxXBsEYIyuL1bbwqeU7M3SpP93AyDaPsf4yf7be1Go-kBemnEdC16fTyQnseitnr5zhGjn/s1600/IMG_8736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZXW9p3QqlgU-rU_qCvQe3xpfqkNqZAv0qsRPSvWJ4j4KHn9xoo702BrANu8BBkhWN-PjqSYbxXBsEYIyuL1bbwqeU7M3SpP93AyDaPsf4yf7be1Go-kBemnEdC16fTyQnseitnr5zhGjn/s400/IMG_8736.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barking his fool head off.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fUq_FzOyX1uKiSt7ZWLE3Q-HSWyg73t9wTpNSrcyR8UWGszqyUeSYUjR1cBy4AdZxnLmgeO4daVjqbXK9wf4l7l08EwO3zu-6NcN15t8GbiFBIXXU0WHEvowMNlNoLJtzRv-l3WiX5yv/s1600/IMG_8392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fUq_FzOyX1uKiSt7ZWLE3Q-HSWyg73t9wTpNSrcyR8UWGszqyUeSYUjR1cBy4AdZxnLmgeO4daVjqbXK9wf4l7l08EwO3zu-6NcN15t8GbiFBIXXU0WHEvowMNlNoLJtzRv-l3WiX5yv/s400/IMG_8392.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous liked these green-and-white dental chews (seen by his front paw), but only after they'd been left sitting on the floor for a while. One time, I found one stuck in his fur!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXydOM6IEoUtyFxYHJv1ZtWa4ISPXMTHosvCrVjZBsRn-8MSBm8YTbNC-p6cMeF54PtcKBk-QfDUFn-8blbtIsZJJArJsvkv-GOPRq7zi7IGatEFRNO3rBFrYimsZiNi4kKa6WUtLX6WDH/s1600/198943_1826163089820_7034141_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXydOM6IEoUtyFxYHJv1ZtWa4ISPXMTHosvCrVjZBsRn-8MSBm8YTbNC-p6cMeF54PtcKBk-QfDUFn-8blbtIsZJJArJsvkv-GOPRq7zi7IGatEFRNO3rBFrYimsZiNi4kKa6WUtLX6WDH/s400/198943_1826163089820_7034141_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He liked to face backward while riding in the car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvPndUmXXL-a94gPwrinAA8xoU8N_pU9LhLgFRXOdktCn9jEN3WONPm80wb_ZwXeRKx-CMAMxs4BGeSyocJjSJzDoU2VruOVHTvpmQvSlpEQtBC28wrLY6ggaCrIwO1rj6fe9mKi4FCz-/s1600/IMG_6153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvPndUmXXL-a94gPwrinAA8xoU8N_pU9LhLgFRXOdktCn9jEN3WONPm80wb_ZwXeRKx-CMAMxs4BGeSyocJjSJzDoU2VruOVHTvpmQvSlpEQtBC28wrLY6ggaCrIwO1rj6fe9mKi4FCz-/s400/IMG_6153.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because he might wander--or swim!--off, I usually left him behind when I went down to photograph things in the unfenced lower reaches of the yard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgklnIfPQz_c8s5eIQGfOt-xcgaz_Ur1tIMfP9kiykRfs6fNpBx0FFW1le5Ich-4zyPD5TaplF9hXik9LoDqq8MVGW4PJNeyPVY-i90jOWvaWi-gpx5dRUqSHF28BfcP4OWfGc3JVqyDmH/s1600/IMG_2561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgklnIfPQz_c8s5eIQGfOt-xcgaz_Ur1tIMfP9kiykRfs6fNpBx0FFW1le5Ich-4zyPD5TaplF9hXik9LoDqq8MVGW4PJNeyPVY-i90jOWvaWi-gpx5dRUqSHF28BfcP4OWfGc3JVqyDmH/s200/IMG_2561.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's where he wanted to be most of all.</td></tr>
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Oh, the park! It was his favorite place. While it was a little more than a quarter mile away if you walked there via the streets, it was less 500 feet away as the collie swims, should Mr. Gorgeous find himself unsupervised in the lower yard by the lake. However he could get there, Mr. Gorgeous wanted to go and quite a few times when I went there with him on a sanctioned visit, he was recognized by other regular park goers who had brought him home at one time or another when he'd wandered off! It's a very nice park, with docks surrounding a swimming area and a separate little bit of beach where a dog might sniff and pee on things and some stretches of grass, including a space where the locals often let their dogs off leash. There were always people to visit (the highlight of those many interactions that he and I had there has to be the time when three tipsy Russians made a great fuss over him, taking his photo and offering him booze and regaling me with the tale of how they'd recently met a couple who were traveling with a miniature donkey that rode with them in the cab of their truck--Mr. Gorgeous was second only to that donkey in their minds as far as amazing animals they had seen and the only time I saw Mr. Gorgeous happier among strangers was when he was petted by that particular young family I mentioned earlier in this post) and dogs to greet and plants to sniff and waters to test and things to pee on (he was an inveterate marker). We often went there at sundown and after we'd made a circuit or two of the park, I'd sit on one of the benches on the dock and detangle his fur with my fingers.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xF6vRT1Ts61IH5uAMQZzfPs5lyAh7OI8P-lIQGtBEML2PDGwdq3YA7WhxzY0IQfjK0ItWQykLsNiimTEQmyoNodxe2IVjHsDJGZai7si9AaPFVhGaOjIsMDGB3fhrYxvOjvKCq5uZTQL/s1600/207290_1877136004111_299086_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xF6vRT1Ts61IH5uAMQZzfPs5lyAh7OI8P-lIQGtBEML2PDGwdq3YA7WhxzY0IQfjK0ItWQykLsNiimTEQmyoNodxe2IVjHsDJGZai7si9AaPFVhGaOjIsMDGB3fhrYxvOjvKCq5uZTQL/s400/207290_1877136004111_299086_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous' beloved park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3sAmlYzjpswuWbrey5QM_K1a74J-0RnIa7_CEJUvfUFzaSlDsFIEvBuH6TvpnfjLwidjdjXwgAzYSqnFOf123IPfnEbTtjW-UiApoCvnq1x1bEudbCLBhp_LEN27qHa6OLv_TbaxPTjA/s1600/IMG_3016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3sAmlYzjpswuWbrey5QM_K1a74J-0RnIa7_CEJUvfUFzaSlDsFIEvBuH6TvpnfjLwidjdjXwgAzYSqnFOf123IPfnEbTtjW-UiApoCvnq1x1bEudbCLBhp_LEN27qHa6OLv_TbaxPTjA/s400/IMG_3016.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We often went there at sunset.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6CY7GE-yNuQ3SK6kNMl3gHuphCjC90ejgfYyvlm49bUaMPKMyCatnP9SPguzGRthO8zzCk-FpaH_PFwDHE7M6uZLL8X7Hlk6f4Tt03W7MDyJbv0HxvF9tdCKZvcJT5k4asw4MtggIDej/s1600/IMG_7002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6CY7GE-yNuQ3SK6kNMl3gHuphCjC90ejgfYyvlm49bUaMPKMyCatnP9SPguzGRthO8zzCk-FpaH_PFwDHE7M6uZLL8X7Hlk6f4Tt03W7MDyJbv0HxvF9tdCKZvcJT5k4asw4MtggIDej/s400/IMG_7002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was sand and grass and water, with so many things to sniff and dogs and people to meet!</td></tr>
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One of my other favorite places to take him, on days when I wasn't feeling up to the steep hike up from the house on the way out and then again up from his preferred park on the way home, was a very flat park not too far down the road that was also popular with local dog owners. It was at that park that I met Lady and her owner and it was through Lady that I got to know Sweetheart and through Sweetheart I got to know Cutie! (I will add that Mr. Gorgeous' family recommended me to Goldie, who passed my name on to Pipsqueak, Little Buddy, and Sable & Co. In other words, Mr. G. is directly responsible for my entire dog-sitting business.) From Mr. Gorgeous' point of view, the best thing about that park were the light posts set every few yards along the path, a most excellent place for reading and sending pee-mail! I also liked that park because of the bald eagles that lived and nested in the trees and, more practically, because it was conveniently located adjacent to the lively waterfront downtown parks but the parking was free and always available. There was another nearby lakefront park with boardwalks over wetlands that I was very fond of and which Mr. Gorgeous enjoyed. Because he was good in the car and his equanimity could be relied upon, it was fun to take him to different parks all over the city to add variety to our walks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eePH5ze7U0vPWTD_k0ufRXrV17BhOKREVdjUD5e9nBRxw8GdxTAEZKlIieBHsbFWm-uucTVhBOAOh-4OVesfrPlkYrx4XhnNEesLGkofX6KnqmMC4xRBHoAm1Wf3NxsarTsjpMtdcCY/s1600/IMG_8874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eePH5ze7U0vPWTD_k0ufRXrV17BhOKREVdjUD5e9nBRxw8GdxTAEZKlIieBHsbFWm-uucTVhBOAOh-4OVesfrPlkYrx4XhnNEesLGkofX6KnqmMC4xRBHoAm1Wf3NxsarTsjpMtdcCY/s400/IMG_8874.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rainbow rises over our second-favorite park on a damp day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMn35lP51S33cVWe1aCb0po7oiAFTJPpvL_ZYAIPMBlFGxARfANOJaGcOXzJ8NuE0Tl0TEuVztGMHcgiG50QpRmERfNyj-dDxJEzbyfIB3EcZXa3Hbn-ppH7bzss_Q8owgDju1UcM3Gis/s1600/IMG_8881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMn35lP51S33cVWe1aCb0po7oiAFTJPpvL_ZYAIPMBlFGxARfANOJaGcOXzJ8NuE0Tl0TEuVztGMHcgiG50QpRmERfNyj-dDxJEzbyfIB3EcZXa3Hbn-ppH7bzss_Q8owgDju1UcM3Gis/s400/IMG_8881.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wintry sunset at the park. You can see the short light posts along the path that Mr. Gorgeous so enjoyed marking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJc9vQ3x_OST1EMONQtBLZU4dBEXtacEw1BSexyOjKzbjOPB5EfkMmeFUQaKzU7q0L6OCH_WmhxqiPJlU8FNgjNiSQQMWuSdDpPon4mUW3poYeWkgSvWkcJ3a7myAz0kr1CF0NypJCAGA/s1600/IMG_7300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJc9vQ3x_OST1EMONQtBLZU4dBEXtacEw1BSexyOjKzbjOPB5EfkMmeFUQaKzU7q0L6OCH_WmhxqiPJlU8FNgjNiSQQMWuSdDpPon4mUW3poYeWkgSvWkcJ3a7myAz0kr1CF0NypJCAGA/s400/IMG_7300.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A collie in the grass at another one of our favorite parks near his home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikorXQyQJZSGUvYNEPwGnPiKkr_Rv7LZWMklQ-en-HXLpLklEjxWSndLvGkioh0BTlpdd6-zbAwjfSjYptin9hLI_d7Q996YSWVoiEl-wFxdesrRyCkNzdHf2dODrMraIxAyjScOAgv7A/s1600/IMG_8918_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikorXQyQJZSGUvYNEPwGnPiKkr_Rv7LZWMklQ-en-HXLpLklEjxWSndLvGkioh0BTlpdd6-zbAwjfSjYptin9hLI_d7Q996YSWVoiEl-wFxdesrRyCkNzdHf2dODrMraIxAyjScOAgv7A/s400/IMG_8918_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous waits for me to finish photographing things from one of the viewing platforms. He always got lots of attention from passersby while waiting!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmLvC0y5mheF-Vvn0l79SKCCn4Ft89VStneFA5cCq6MK_zekmRn0YQtRagSUP4gUSs0UDAUxYmFYj92SUCrkUprbKKmdBek011nytvdk66dgGkA4F1Oiwhi2PBnVJ9VdwmnAU0XmrN4g/s1600/IMG_3223_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmLvC0y5mheF-Vvn0l79SKCCn4Ft89VStneFA5cCq6MK_zekmRn0YQtRagSUP4gUSs0UDAUxYmFYj92SUCrkUprbKKmdBek011nytvdk66dgGkA4F1Oiwhi2PBnVJ9VdwmnAU0XmrN4g/s400/IMG_3223_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up until Mr. Gorgeous could no longer get in the car, we drove all over the area to add variety to our walks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2hcEKyEK3X0aJ5gIvQVWG8rlvneYp3fGOLb3Nkny4STwnElkTTyhGMVKHki1k_1lbW4uWpcduUEiNY83USfI6gI4-mhGcu3zz1LRfM52WD8eKs6zMFOdhH7mghp92rReLRpX2pD0FxE/s1600/IMG_8248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2hcEKyEK3X0aJ5gIvQVWG8rlvneYp3fGOLb3Nkny4STwnElkTTyhGMVKHki1k_1lbW4uWpcduUEiNY83USfI6gI4-mhGcu3zz1LRfM52WD8eKs6zMFOdhH7mghp92rReLRpX2pD0FxE/s200/IMG_8248.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I dipped these mosquito larvae out<br />
of one of the ponds to photograph.</td></tr>
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It must be said, I owe a tremendous artistic debt to Mr. Gorgeous. During our walks, I took thousands of photographs of flowers and trees and leaves and shrubs and sunsets. I took many thousands more in his yard. I photographed objects in his beautiful house. I photographed the weather in all seasons as it rolled across the lake. I photographed the dozens of bird species that visited his yard and documented all kinds of insects. And I took thousands of photographs of Mr. Gorgeous. I started with a point-and-shoot camera, upgraded to a DSLR with a macro lens, and then added a telephoto lens. I spent hours roaming his property with my camera in hand and Mr. Gorgeous in tow. I kept my camera handy at all times when I was in his house because you never knew when you might spot a flock of swans flying by or eagles circling overhead or a sunset that evolved into something ever more spectacular as each minute passed. It was not unusual for me to take several hundred photographs every day while I took care of him. My photo catalogue would be so much poorer had I never known him!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPCulvykluQSLbw0hIZ-tZzDArwBUvXyqHfPRukcySBn0v_308wnbl6fvJbvL-Yh3ejFfJAvKRdXnvoOPlSdMHNd_GvfLJHlQ4YKOuSUToc_lYdbKincUmzIMlFVPoy_lB1Ns-EpZUwo/s1600/screen+grab.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPCulvykluQSLbw0hIZ-tZzDArwBUvXyqHfPRukcySBn0v_308wnbl6fvJbvL-Yh3ejFfJAvKRdXnvoOPlSdMHNd_GvfLJHlQ4YKOuSUToc_lYdbKincUmzIMlFVPoy_lB1Ns-EpZUwo/s400/screen+grab.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photographs taken on May 6, 2013 at Mr. Gorgeous' house include tulips, leaves, chess pieces, flowers, water bubbles, and flowering tree branches. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoPWKa6UlMISux_7dyCS1Ex2tmiUo7ogLqtCxJKXoZDhwbxB-rLMPq-aoIGp9Qhi0NVBABrcq8agOKdFeUN5ct_y_xe7s3SNoCpV7RF6piR64LlB9b12NcZXCTdZtbtT6nPpOUzMe4K8/s1600/screen+grab+2.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoPWKa6UlMISux_7dyCS1Ex2tmiUo7ogLqtCxJKXoZDhwbxB-rLMPq-aoIGp9Qhi0NVBABrcq8agOKdFeUN5ct_y_xe7s3SNoCpV7RF6piR64LlB9b12NcZXCTdZtbtT6nPpOUzMe4K8/s400/screen+grab+2.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photographs taken on September 27, 2015 include koi in one of the ponds, apples, grasses, zinnias, a dried artichoke flower, two kinds of hover flies, roses, a backlit leaf, a spider, berries, Mr. Gorgeous, and bees from his beehive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCAfZdWaQ2TivYiemK2K-1ovkr4NFUXZRo2qzIq0fydavryCDmyy5DPdEbhNP02CW_RWxyyb9N9jEcdFEILcY5BdKHuDKJIHYyyvqFXO6u_-nJZvUl0kbhcIOAHF-dhVGsSJPKTvlN-4/s1600/IMG_6547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCAfZdWaQ2TivYiemK2K-1ovkr4NFUXZRo2qzIq0fydavryCDmyy5DPdEbhNP02CW_RWxyyb9N9jEcdFEILcY5BdKHuDKJIHYyyvqFXO6u_-nJZvUl0kbhcIOAHF-dhVGsSJPKTvlN-4/s400/IMG_6547.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you, Mr. Gorgeous, for being so photogenic and living in such photogenic surroundings!</td></tr>
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<br />
I also took some photos of the two of us together over the years.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQfgqFmuxKv_Np8QQsWmPYe2t4_vLNj6QRpXWlt6x0gyBgeIusB8d2eiSqMhJ-MEza08NGPkLM53pfamYiiHyO71f4_hC3mLJUtgn5Sy4aNquU4icTzsAzPwwSJFXMWrVXKP9jgAcUI2t/s1600/IMG_7907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQfgqFmuxKv_Np8QQsWmPYe2t4_vLNj6QRpXWlt6x0gyBgeIusB8d2eiSqMhJ-MEza08NGPkLM53pfamYiiHyO71f4_hC3mLJUtgn5Sy4aNquU4icTzsAzPwwSJFXMWrVXKP9jgAcUI2t/s320/IMG_7907.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">On the dock at sunset in February of 2010.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoRHyy6CTjP3eRoKptVTMuA-SHOrjphN48Ym3KCgzfE37LIO3pZxOTxAcucZB6V2QXQBhrGEykJ9BElIkatPrNCZZkIMswv_DzhKh0u5WHRfJs92V6QpFQ3s1TclB51Kx7kmFgSONLvmK/s1600/IMG_8031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoRHyy6CTjP3eRoKptVTMuA-SHOrjphN48Ym3KCgzfE37LIO3pZxOTxAcucZB6V2QXQBhrGEykJ9BElIkatPrNCZZkIMswv_DzhKh0u5WHRfJs92V6QpFQ3s1TclB51Kx7kmFgSONLvmK/s320/IMG_8031.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">In April of 2010.<br />
He didn't actually like having his head so close to mine, but sometimes I made him so we could get a photo together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipRzLiVSYvxQ_uy9JSmIXAVzKYBHQbVXVJj2sslADn_S8BX8i8FxVzylOSR1-e9tNWhEQwhBOfzCvOc_V_X6T71loLBtDGo-Dc-zb475cNkVQ89001QtCbm_Afkd-zJQBx8ok3L6bTWfm/s1600/IMG_2709_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipRzLiVSYvxQ_uy9JSmIXAVzKYBHQbVXVJj2sslADn_S8BX8i8FxVzylOSR1-e9tNWhEQwhBOfzCvOc_V_X6T71loLBtDGo-Dc-zb475cNkVQ89001QtCbm_Afkd-zJQBx8ok3L6bTWfm/s320/IMG_2709_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">February 2011.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObmxUAnkhw8yBKEjKRQjNYCkjk37OztcWXjr_BBLa1L-g551Y95nwGat-4y_bEzEoe_5D59zxWx6JHT-tRMqwCfM5zSEALrilX4DBI1BTpu3nGiwqL0WS5Ql_d1YfY35F2s9S3A-NzgY/s1600/IMG_8890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObmxUAnkhw8yBKEjKRQjNYCkjk37OztcWXjr_BBLa1L-g551Y95nwGat-4y_bEzEoe_5D59zxWx6JHT-tRMqwCfM5zSEALrilX4DBI1BTpu3nGiwqL0WS5Ql_d1YfY35F2s9S3A-NzgY/s320/IMG_8890.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">February 2012.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KxuNzLkylwnQo1-t9IsRt6e4iDEcfi_gTV2pPzE9YIyos4Z2NSIaiLSEHArQG2MwC3N0UsIldu4RKYJ0Y0jUBMa0UR1PbFH7nEMxeGCzVAqnix4ws0hXeReau9iRtWMcvqvAkJBZf5g/s1600/IMG_9642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KxuNzLkylwnQo1-t9IsRt6e4iDEcfi_gTV2pPzE9YIyos4Z2NSIaiLSEHArQG2MwC3N0UsIldu4RKYJ0Y0jUBMa0UR1PbFH7nEMxeGCzVAqnix4ws0hXeReau9iRtWMcvqvAkJBZf5g/s320/IMG_9642.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">August 2012. We'd just been swimming together in the lake!</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOFGYUXVs5V8eJqwT4IeN4G_UPKKOfo85Z-k5g51ufKFJLhRTpsLGixjhUR_gh437zGvWq1IuDTMA5UB_ALsE4bfNBRoXwAu3zNVoERCUlcY1lM9nFo7dJOnnu_eX9d2Twg_8z-LwZIo/s1600/IMG_4786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOFGYUXVs5V8eJqwT4IeN4G_UPKKOfo85Z-k5g51ufKFJLhRTpsLGixjhUR_gh437zGvWq1IuDTMA5UB_ALsE4bfNBRoXwAu3zNVoERCUlcY1lM9nFo7dJOnnu_eX9d2Twg_8z-LwZIo/s320/IMG_4786.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">In January of 2013 I captured our reflections.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_8DwNOUf5HdlKMhCPKl7D37qTOU-tqAtVoDU-fc58DytKpXWLpvKP8Axf_mLNN5TKslWJ3j4jpNTc-PkHUAjY_gVNlbr2Od1kD-nFnSwTRU3b83jTpVPrxqkt81uHjfe5nCMpD_lH9F_/s1600/IMG_9836+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_8DwNOUf5HdlKMhCPKl7D37qTOU-tqAtVoDU-fc58DytKpXWLpvKP8Axf_mLNN5TKslWJ3j4jpNTc-PkHUAjY_gVNlbr2Od1kD-nFnSwTRU3b83jTpVPrxqkt81uHjfe5nCMpD_lH9F_/s320/IMG_9836+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">May of 2013.<br />
(There's a big gap in selfies after I replaced my point-and-shoot with a heavy DSLR that usually had a large lens on it.)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQluVZcXQF-nC1Ns-xOHaS5TGQYLdumeIs7EiTC7fiiQGzJi3_IX1ZO3FvJdb52M_E55M2Q_0aWMVo6KuK_t0KMfvzWt6Df-PP5TASD2yGqrLFafjCVEeoCovTvcRUNyUdEqejdpxz_y1W/s1600/IMG_2083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQluVZcXQF-nC1Ns-xOHaS5TGQYLdumeIs7EiTC7fiiQGzJi3_IX1ZO3FvJdb52M_E55M2Q_0aWMVo6KuK_t0KMfvzWt6Df-PP5TASD2yGqrLFafjCVEeoCovTvcRUNyUdEqejdpxz_y1W/s320/IMG_2083.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I took this one in May of 2015.<br />
He was clearly in decline at that point and I was worried I might not see him again.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvWj-aKaUzsbK_MABvLPBcQBYhdmVDUF78eWrbt6UZXlx8IBLSAFuxbdkFPqCFXncObDDu5GOnhZS49qh0uEZixJMxly9BupShN3mBHehLVTzYTTWYr6Ry_s8N8PsUrDqw-285_kcngcA/s1600/IMG_7747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvWj-aKaUzsbK_MABvLPBcQBYhdmVDUF78eWrbt6UZXlx8IBLSAFuxbdkFPqCFXncObDDu5GOnhZS49qh0uEZixJMxly9BupShN3mBHehLVTzYTTWYr6Ry_s8N8PsUrDqw-285_kcngcA/s320/IMG_7747.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">September 30th, 2015.<br />
I knew this was our last day together, so I made him take selfies with me. It wasn't easy to do with my heavy DSLR in one hand and trying to wrangle an unenthusiastic Mr. Gorgeous with the other, but I got what I needed.</td></tr>
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It's rather hard to bring this post to a close because it means bringing Mr. Gorgeous to a close. Nevertheless, we've come to the end.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAxFYZJ-381Mp0V-SjsBjVFLx0BxtQZNJ6e2sblBA0QAgivja4NcR9cbL2S6WOBenfUXv8zyevp5pqxGST37c05ZuiEKHdg-rgSb4CYld0-15yQ0rkoK_B5Wf7lkrpOkFPG_9K6tY7u1i/s1600/IMG_7759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAxFYZJ-381Mp0V-SjsBjVFLx0BxtQZNJ6e2sblBA0QAgivja4NcR9cbL2S6WOBenfUXv8zyevp5pqxGST37c05ZuiEKHdg-rgSb4CYld0-15yQ0rkoK_B5Wf7lkrpOkFPG_9K6tY7u1i/s400/IMG_7759.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the final photograph I took of Mr. Gorgeous.</td></tr>
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I believe that death is an important part of life. I believe that it is okay for Mr. Gorgeous to have died. He'd had a long and absolutely wonderful life. Talk about a lucky dog: he didn't just have a yard, he had property! It was full of things to sniff and rabbits to chase and bushes to scratch his face in and trees to shelter under. He also got taken on daily walks, he could rely on getting tasty tidbits in his food, and he had comfortable dog beds even if he often preferred the floor. Despite being poorly bred, he was in robust good health until he reached old age and even his degenerative myelopathy progressed far more slowly than most cases do. We should all be so lucky to have a life such as Mr. Gorgeous lived! It's also okay to miss him, to be heartbroken, to find difficulty grasping that there is no more Mr. Gorgeous. It's easy to pretend that he's still at his house, leaving his regular trail of drool droplets, trying to drink out of toilets, barking at the geese to get off his lawn, dragging in more cedar branches, and attempting yet again to get the hardwood floor down in the TV room shaped to his liking.<br />
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But Mr. Gorgeous' sun has set. The harvest is over, winter is here. And yet, the spring will come. It will not be as beautiful without Mr. Gorgeous to ornament the season, but it will be spring nonetheless.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sin3ciQngiQtA_v2iJCEH029kfBJ5OG0tGMroi0XkW4bwoT7bs1GzPX7re5kn0393W4JlL7wkVEAyaH_0d4Nlluepvq_t1K_U-aeGUTSIxsp4klmGhcZNgiim_rb3P6-9uyPjZ_Vcq-r/s1600/IMG_7726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sin3ciQngiQtA_v2iJCEH029kfBJ5OG0tGMroi0XkW4bwoT7bs1GzPX7re5kn0393W4JlL7wkVEAyaH_0d4Nlluepvq_t1K_U-aeGUTSIxsp4klmGhcZNgiim_rb3P6-9uyPjZ_Vcq-r/s400/IMG_7726.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my buddy.</td></tr>
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And in that spring, and in the seasons and years that follow, I will continue to think of and miss my dear collie friend, the one and only Mr. Gorgeous.</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-8602531897808483292015-10-18T15:03:00.000-07:002016-03-22T18:08:52.920-07:00The RecapThis year has passed swiftly! It keeps charging on ahead, far out-pacing my ability to write about things individually and as they happen. This post is intended to cover the second trimester of this year, from May through August, following up my <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/04/in-sickness-and-in-health-pet-sitting.html" target="_blank">earlier report</a></u> on happenings between January and April.<br />
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<u>MAY</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQaMocHhKai2xVuPbS8SYZgEt86D2K1kLW8OO-1g03UiDm_EVReu1YWjlGAn7OD58Gh0icZpF8nwk2P4zZMkoFAF2xTiJGbasvf2NrPTRqXRSZ2jda5kD2q8aXl5vd2ZxRafq7vCm50qR/s1600/IMG_9699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQaMocHhKai2xVuPbS8SYZgEt86D2K1kLW8OO-1g03UiDm_EVReu1YWjlGAn7OD58Gh0icZpF8nwk2P4zZMkoFAF2xTiJGbasvf2NrPTRqXRSZ2jda5kD2q8aXl5vd2ZxRafq7vCm50qR/s320/IMG_9699.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The first few months of 2015 had several new and unpleasant migraine features, including an extended migraine that didn't respond to treatment and onset of bizarre swelling in my neck when exercise and migraines coincided. May started off with another new bit of neurologically-induced unpleasantness: I started itching. Shifting patches and spots on my skin would itch, moving here and there, with only my thighs--my inner thighs in particular--itching consistently. The seams on my soft sweatpants made my legs itch even more fiercely whenever I moved. The skin itself was unblemished by any sort of spot or rash. An antihistamine provided no relief. Soon, my entire body was not just itching, but burning. Imagine the feeling of a nasty allergic rash (comparable for me with the way I will itch if I walk through a field of long grass during the summer with bare legs) and a really bad sunburn. Any drag of fabric across my skin felt like sandpaper, any place where there was pressure on my body (such as my back against a chair) burned and stung. Every movement hurt. Even not moving hurt. The backs of my eyes itched and when I blinked it felt like the undersides of my lids were coated with sand. I could only tolerate the very softest, loosest clothing. An ordinary cotton T-shirt, for example, felt unbearably harsh and scratchy against my flesh. I often lifted my shirt to stare at my skin with disbelief: it seemed impossible that it wasn't angry red and ridden with hives. But in truth, it was not my skin that was itching and burning: it was my brain. What I was suffering from is a neurological condition called allodynia, a manifestation of oversensitivity of the nervous system characterized by over-excitability of pain nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord. I'd had a few episodes of postdrome allodynia in the past, but in those cases, the itching, confined to my thighs, had lasted less than a day. Unfortunately, this round of allodynia was more lasting. At one point this spring, I suffered from non-stop, severe allodynia for two weeks straight. It was miserable. In addition to being horrendously uncomfortable, I was also exhausted and didn't feel well in a general sort of way. I was unable to concentrate or experience pleasure. Even my go-to solution for all of life's ailments, a long shower, was too painful to endure. The treatments available for allodynia overlap with those for migraines (allodynia often occurs hand-in-hand with chronic migraines, but it can be experienced with other neurological conditions as well), so I was already taking what I could. I upped my dose of gabapentin, but mainly had to just sit it out, which is what I did for most of May.<br />
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Despite the allodynia, not all of May was bad. For example, I got to spend some more time with little Pipsqueak before the itching started in. I also finished up taking care of Cutie, who'd I'd been walking since February while her owner recovered from surgery. And during one of those last days with Cutie, <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2012/05/holy-mole-y.html" target="_blank">I saw another shrew-mole</a></u>! Shrew-moles, for those who are not aware, are little mole-like critters that burrow at or just under the surface. As their name implies, they embody the evolutionary link between shrews and moles. I photographed one in our lawn a few years ago and have been quite taken with them ever since. And of course there was the <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-great-hooded-merganser-duckling.html" target="_blank">Great Hooded Merganser Duckling Rescue</a></u>!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4j5V4ZgW-t2Z763svuqlo0znQ65Eb8L70GVNYQMYoorzJlfrIG3SCo3fHgC76iagc2dDlULpjIbpkjhaXueOaWk97xMjNogaWoAcCLqk5Xq26cXyDs_ElaL_fPH-MesPrPQhFswmkcXq1/s1600/IMG_9613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4j5V4ZgW-t2Z763svuqlo0znQ65Eb8L70GVNYQMYoorzJlfrIG3SCo3fHgC76iagc2dDlULpjIbpkjhaXueOaWk97xMjNogaWoAcCLqk5Xq26cXyDs_ElaL_fPH-MesPrPQhFswmkcXq1/s400/IMG_9613.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak invites me to join her by the fire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdzqu-lpcAUGXw8vwEIM9zz7tv34z4lMlOoHDU-U3ErfPWZsRlHRQTcuzH0dgifYk3Rcq0HtCpanPNf8ak16iLsqpKT_7Hpd2Csc1HBA_VYdFRRQuihKY1vuL70Y7sNgksMfg6y4Tppjc/s1600/IMG_9729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdzqu-lpcAUGXw8vwEIM9zz7tv34z4lMlOoHDU-U3ErfPWZsRlHRQTcuzH0dgifYk3Rcq0HtCpanPNf8ak16iLsqpKT_7Hpd2Csc1HBA_VYdFRRQuihKY1vuL70Y7sNgksMfg6y4Tppjc/s400/IMG_9729.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie is also a white dog, but outweighs Pipsqueak by 80 pounds!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAze1XtWe9nWsl3iy9Aaq-6Ja-3FlEVlZp5CbVWwyGlySYUhyxKXrnaBkB0qLFH-0MNIP834ABcnRpeGRkwmJ2fWQab8YkAqzhV0tSBNWvXxOSSffdMmMGc02_aR4JqELjFiFy6K7ULAl/s1600/IMG_9807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAze1XtWe9nWsl3iy9Aaq-6Ja-3FlEVlZp5CbVWwyGlySYUhyxKXrnaBkB0qLFH-0MNIP834ABcnRpeGRkwmJ2fWQab8YkAqzhV0tSBNWvXxOSSffdMmMGc02_aR4JqELjFiFy6K7ULAl/s400/IMG_9807.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie photographed while having an opinion about a perceived invader to her territory.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCOu6jrWimG65NafgQwt0Fkdq7HqvM4NuLHza7ezrqJi-LgXDHp1y1OwLoLR5UKYMueIEx30RvgOcxfSG8CPkG9gc73KR-o5FPhpmbxl_UM_L-jZkqZBAQeVKgctf3hECyls3axlgFEZy/s1600/IMG_9979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCOu6jrWimG65NafgQwt0Fkdq7HqvM4NuLHza7ezrqJi-LgXDHp1y1OwLoLR5UKYMueIEx30RvgOcxfSG8CPkG9gc73KR-o5FPhpmbxl_UM_L-jZkqZBAQeVKgctf3hECyls3axlgFEZy/s400/IMG_9979.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While Cutie misses very little, I was the one who spotted this tiny shrew-mole, just a few inches long, making ditches and tunnels in the bark.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg668Q-YRfxrXq8ulmMnF1RNAAY-XUYODv-5U-DN_6XT3Zr0qeV2mytBtn7B-AN7zU9PO4-vcZp-KQ5Za5ZH1pA9Mi4zEakiM1i-Fwunv8pA-D4GAajZ1n89y1AMU4_zRbDN7Q6PPEOyR1h/s1600/IMG_0042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg668Q-YRfxrXq8ulmMnF1RNAAY-XUYODv-5U-DN_6XT3Zr0qeV2mytBtn7B-AN7zU9PO4-vcZp-KQ5Za5ZH1pA9Mi4zEakiM1i-Fwunv8pA-D4GAajZ1n89y1AMU4_zRbDN7Q6PPEOyR1h/s400/IMG_0042.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby mergansers. Read all about their rescue <u>here</u>!</td></tr>
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In mid-May, I had my first overnight stay with Pipsqueak. She was still pretty shy the first day, leaving her perch on the couch only when necessary, but by the third and final night, she went so far as to sleep on the bed with me! Besides bonding with Pipsqueak, I spent a lot of time watching the birdlife in her yard, where a great many babies were being brought up. At first, Pipsqueak would merely watch me through the window when I went out to photograph the birds and flowers, but she eventually felt brave enough to come out and join me, hanging out happily in the grass as I attempted to photograph the chickadee parents flying in and out of the birdhouse and the various hummingbirds visiting the feeder.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQexC2I84X2oLQZUusTZwVpQJ7gZGZoQbUhWB3t7iEw3fG3TEY8E4rYjm0hoEN0yz-7TWilNtcMuA5B0iwx2cyniuwWWk1S0IjuFWldSodATQKdKOFjn9v5xNJvHbR1iSN_vVYeGaAIFSD/s1600/IMG_0481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQexC2I84X2oLQZUusTZwVpQJ7gZGZoQbUhWB3t7iEw3fG3TEY8E4rYjm0hoEN0yz-7TWilNtcMuA5B0iwx2cyniuwWWk1S0IjuFWldSodATQKdKOFjn9v5xNJvHbR1iSN_vVYeGaAIFSD/s400/IMG_0481.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak peers at me from her customary perch at the end of the couch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC4sL4bWPHz3hOuR1c0rLDjZJ935K5sWVFcmh-A5beOghssEhKeeYihKs67GQBRJ-zmTUosZZ9DzHeDpMMf-ThOVvz4h2CfNm_n0KXzpDDHTRZXLAH33XCAUfT_HFFA54AhJjiwpao0yb/s1600/IMG_0415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC4sL4bWPHz3hOuR1c0rLDjZJ935K5sWVFcmh-A5beOghssEhKeeYihKs67GQBRJ-zmTUosZZ9DzHeDpMMf-ThOVvz4h2CfNm_n0KXzpDDHTRZXLAH33XCAUfT_HFFA54AhJjiwpao0yb/s400/IMG_0415.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While she was initially still shy, she was always ready for a belly rub!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSw_5r-t-2-Y-exebFppKxz0s47HNu2a7xtShIJK8HTZNmEi1rufI0thHxZSYaQpFVu7eAMhZtbWpJ_YFO6GNRaCQU-GgO6-qpnLmlIt97jsxl2GjyEIK0a6NoWmBt3PEZxJi2o_dX7fd9/s1600/IMG_0062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSw_5r-t-2-Y-exebFppKxz0s47HNu2a7xtShIJK8HTZNmEi1rufI0thHxZSYaQpFVu7eAMhZtbWpJ_YFO6GNRaCQU-GgO6-qpnLmlIt97jsxl2GjyEIK0a6NoWmBt3PEZxJi2o_dX7fd9/s400/IMG_0062.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She never turned down a treat, either!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiMm1xIZbrXPMTQhYV19vh2SKkFN8DlaEAf-SjD7BwcwOvns-qc3N2Q6OcHBKwn-Eey6bs-LJOo-MKqJq2MwKwt6zhyphenhyphenTAPvYAGQW41kXGiIS2sXgLRBGxwd0pK4WLcIBXbKymWHoHsdTV/s1600/IMG_0313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiMm1xIZbrXPMTQhYV19vh2SKkFN8DlaEAf-SjD7BwcwOvns-qc3N2Q6OcHBKwn-Eey6bs-LJOo-MKqJq2MwKwt6zhyphenhyphenTAPvYAGQW41kXGiIS2sXgLRBGxwd0pK4WLcIBXbKymWHoHsdTV/s400/IMG_0313.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the time I left, Pipsqueak was feeling at ease in my company.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajO9ncIFFTAfNAbO7mEyQl20lE0dCsEyfOeMyIN3Yw-D5WZb_zCfnD6uYnA3IbGbs-LxYc7Edx27me3jQIs_r-o-wTP6zF9UdQCc6GRQ_JSwQZ_XcguIczqQ0MFHEYlOx-9K-ZBpYDKd5/s1600/IMG_0597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajO9ncIFFTAfNAbO7mEyQl20lE0dCsEyfOeMyIN3Yw-D5WZb_zCfnD6uYnA3IbGbs-LxYc7Edx27me3jQIs_r-o-wTP6zF9UdQCc6GRQ_JSwQZ_XcguIczqQ0MFHEYlOx-9K-ZBpYDKd5/s400/IMG_0597.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This adult chestnut-backed chickadee pauses in the branches with a mouth full of insects before swooping into the birdhouse to feed its young.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xzhyphenhyphen4uCNIRqqoExCoLnFAQv4-s1TvVEV6t4_N9prL7eKCE5gv1R2wsavleh0WKtfTtvLQv7Q0iZnGEqlEf7LqivZtDZ-eWylR8uzDe4AMAqd0Zz2DuJJjP0KKl8VkEbv98j-M6AZiDz9/s1600/IMG_0645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xzhyphenhyphen4uCNIRqqoExCoLnFAQv4-s1TvVEV6t4_N9prL7eKCE5gv1R2wsavleh0WKtfTtvLQv7Q0iZnGEqlEf7LqivZtDZ-eWylR8uzDe4AMAqd0Zz2DuJJjP0KKl8VkEbv98j-M6AZiDz9/s400/IMG_0645.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Several hummingbirds jousted for the feeder, including this male rufous hummingbird.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKYKyFuJivAbml7Kvdkn8kPK0Za0i-6OyI1QO2Gp3BMTw5Q9Mz9xOlWz8yFEYx2shzlQ8XRN8tUp99zHNjyXJxSRmWv5UUw0gSdZF4-FzUOXGHUDV6djj1rzWlJMvqaqlvJG_kxPpp0IK/s1600/IMG_0116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKYKyFuJivAbml7Kvdkn8kPK0Za0i-6OyI1QO2Gp3BMTw5Q9Mz9xOlWz8yFEYx2shzlQ8XRN8tUp99zHNjyXJxSRmWv5UUw0gSdZF4-FzUOXGHUDV6djj1rzWlJMvqaqlvJG_kxPpp0IK/s400/IMG_0116.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gorgeous clematis flower.</td></tr>
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I also spent a week in May with the positively ancient Mr. Gorgeous. His degenerative myelopathy had significantly weakened his back legs and he spent most of his time sleeping. His bowel control had weakened, too, so much so that he was consigned to sleeping the garage at night, where at least it was possible use a hose to assist with the cleanup. He still looked gorgeous when he was awake, though. I photographed various other animals, of course, and was particularly fascinated by the bees and the new beehive on his property!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiM3s_NBskt_nehfUhEvVoF7zpQVFiiXR1_cuHBWWgf3I2PDvXYZiQhao2Ul70JJSgFOBVCy2b6hN3IEIo7RyfSg-nv2eWKz_9L04khqEmTFBoLBMhG4gjL5wzqu6a75geFtXO3o6gwj2i/s1600/IMG_0948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiM3s_NBskt_nehfUhEvVoF7zpQVFiiXR1_cuHBWWgf3I2PDvXYZiQhao2Ul70JJSgFOBVCy2b6hN3IEIo7RyfSg-nv2eWKz_9L04khqEmTFBoLBMhG4gjL5wzqu6a75geFtXO3o6gwj2i/s400/IMG_0948.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Creeping paralysis of the hind end made Mr. Gorgeous' back legs very weak and unable to support his weight for long while standing--they are seen here collapsing as he drinks water from his bowl. He had developed a flat-footed waddle when he walked because he didn't know where his feet were and sometimes he scuffed his paws or tripped over them. Still, his case had progressed far more slowly than most cases of degenerative myelopathy do.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgyPkG3yTXW-Y2nxPl19BgYDiOrZ_9bwmcs4ZrkuPMlKyAl09uUeoQmDYYDRKChpFLAAiy2GlHvIF0gHS7wTNo0p4z1YSKRgBjf_6xhEh2FJi4i5671WQBVoqQzTmrNC-2xySEb7vSz3H/s1600/IMG_0837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgyPkG3yTXW-Y2nxPl19BgYDiOrZ_9bwmcs4ZrkuPMlKyAl09uUeoQmDYYDRKChpFLAAiy2GlHvIF0gHS7wTNo0p4z1YSKRgBjf_6xhEh2FJi4i5671WQBVoqQzTmrNC-2xySEb7vSz3H/s400/IMG_0837.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It seemed that the less he was able to walk, the more Mr. Gorgeous ran in his sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx14-C_EJwogqx1ehmqDZRKAPcEQRHmXjmuIWNh-6kivlzN138bNEi_bd_7XenMhm_Iw7p0K6YD9yjuQffk26BM8CPGVXgYNWuQcLVDi-kjuPCub6svT3xsm6gNHYRRLwisupnZAaIvr_d/s1600/IMG_1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx14-C_EJwogqx1ehmqDZRKAPcEQRHmXjmuIWNh-6kivlzN138bNEi_bd_7XenMhm_Iw7p0K6YD9yjuQffk26BM8CPGVXgYNWuQcLVDi-kjuPCub6svT3xsm6gNHYRRLwisupnZAaIvr_d/s400/IMG_1000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He sure was handsome, whether or not his back legs worked properly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGJC6iCJMKZWnBD-JJzbnxOPoj3ovBfYESAuYNPLDeLLUld2evzpsWy1TIu7s5Nq8YveWAAO0l_9rKzvx2Y1P4HfZ4EmM1nGFcJirwDxMX6u99UeNEGTga2ScKiADch0fD-_GqPtMDWLw/s1600/IMG_2081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGJC6iCJMKZWnBD-JJzbnxOPoj3ovBfYESAuYNPLDeLLUld2evzpsWy1TIu7s5Nq8YveWAAO0l_9rKzvx2Y1P4HfZ4EmM1nGFcJirwDxMX6u99UeNEGTga2ScKiADch0fD-_GqPtMDWLw/s400/IMG_2081.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous was ancient, though, and hard to wake. He'd gotten to the point that when I spotted him sprawled flat somewhere, I found myself stopping, heart in mouth, to watch for signs that he was still breathing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUGp0K89fXuohiJrjCqh02-VYkYWuRyCon0_K-AkjA0zBKV3sZ3ObY8ZRIOLA0OtaCiL87RpsKsFadVwVdbrl6VzQd-jAKN8j-GrfTbuiSkrUqXIDjOqRHf4lRNNZh1bfdy_oRmRn4425/s1600/IMG_0851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUGp0K89fXuohiJrjCqh02-VYkYWuRyCon0_K-AkjA0zBKV3sZ3ObY8ZRIOLA0OtaCiL87RpsKsFadVwVdbrl6VzQd-jAKN8j-GrfTbuiSkrUqXIDjOqRHf4lRNNZh1bfdy_oRmRn4425/s400/IMG_0851.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got this nice shot of a rabbit while looking after Mr. G.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzn9cG8jgHTp09cTNQTK4HZ7FEjADu_UzRURH5jeFQ18Q9N63T3O4hhbQIcBGYWJ4lroxeFf2mhAYcpz-ti3PUUEN4NpQel1U46rhwP1aKHiMmCL7ZFR7RHRoK0w2W78F0p7djrUml9uH3/s1600/IMG_0985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzn9cG8jgHTp09cTNQTK4HZ7FEjADu_UzRURH5jeFQ18Q9N63T3O4hhbQIcBGYWJ4lroxeFf2mhAYcpz-ti3PUUEN4NpQel1U46rhwP1aKHiMmCL7ZFR7RHRoK0w2W78F0p7djrUml9uH3/s400/IMG_0985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Steller's jay allowed me to get close enough to get several good shots!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJUVkt0XSRB-u_6-xjDn53Sdzo_A9hvLSN9LQ90T3CYyOCx1MSvMQd_fsh-FtxM6tgGu3U4mMgL3eqbUxmttMLNjE-V1_OQJFBp9E_n98LZvRgOJGzIPjqCbFmLRGaztZw5hw0iN9Nyl-/s1600/IMG_0734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJUVkt0XSRB-u_6-xjDn53Sdzo_A9hvLSN9LQ90T3CYyOCx1MSvMQd_fsh-FtxM6tgGu3U4mMgL3eqbUxmttMLNjE-V1_OQJFBp9E_n98LZvRgOJGzIPjqCbFmLRGaztZw5hw0iN9Nyl-/s400/IMG_0734.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love bees, so it was cool to have access to a hive. I spent several hours lying on my stomach a few feet away from the beehive, trying to get good shots as they buzzed in and out. I'm not afraid of bees, so for me it was a cool opportunity!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy7LKNOt5re-iSOpicmsdq7ZK0r17ptbXeJUisKb17ucRF4YPBRcxchXAueekUZpIyINDzeQNdctTzDwKI0ui7eNJ3ronhQdqlNbgJoHRRK2nN833OnD0M-hjHdB9eHzqWpvfYZaZdYnJ/s1600/IMG_1560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy7LKNOt5re-iSOpicmsdq7ZK0r17ptbXeJUisKb17ucRF4YPBRcxchXAueekUZpIyINDzeQNdctTzDwKI0ui7eNJ3ronhQdqlNbgJoHRRK2nN833OnD0M-hjHdB9eHzqWpvfYZaZdYnJ/s400/IMG_1560.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incoming! A honeybee with full pollen baskets returns to the hive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPHLbjQX1Grt70JJOq7n01PlJshLT17Txwn7IcyFzr99hMJ1GtRdMIFoY4Z10chYuM_5gQvc074sv-s4G5UvxSepqPyWQ4V1FUYObjkjC5oKW8NxfKE-llaJSRHlQVDMFY1_GxM8n6g3o/s1600/IMG_2038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPHLbjQX1Grt70JJOq7n01PlJshLT17Txwn7IcyFzr99hMJ1GtRdMIFoY4Z10chYuM_5gQvc074sv-s4G5UvxSepqPyWQ4V1FUYObjkjC5oKW8NxfKE-llaJSRHlQVDMFY1_GxM8n6g3o/s400/IMG_2038.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bee fans its wings at the entrance to the hive to help circulate air through it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8d5im17bmR62SzI5clozRBq361Iqfn9MfS_nnnBJiZ0CWcR3hj6v5rXPzvig8hCbBdR39L40UDlijnbG9PvWgCqg0T245OavlpfbS8zyd3nFPx5aLiAfsBK0bEuwVOxnj7MlgGI0O1-_G/s1600/IMG_2283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8d5im17bmR62SzI5clozRBq361Iqfn9MfS_nnnBJiZ0CWcR3hj6v5rXPzvig8hCbBdR39L40UDlijnbG9PvWgCqg0T245OavlpfbS8zyd3nFPx5aLiAfsBK0bEuwVOxnj7MlgGI0O1-_G/s400/IMG_2283.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here's a picture of Miss Abbey, just because.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>JUNE</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSii0RBCCEo7vbOiRjpxcOUb-CXiLhlzVjKzSm0UFMdlfnZZfIMFree4chXEiShre84ZRm8iJr2l-Wo6B42kQguEl_xXFpEJlVyL3Tzmt6FE4QfFCJZNfFqtPq-OuM1PI7UeDwpcMeEqn/s1600/IMG_2396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSii0RBCCEo7vbOiRjpxcOUb-CXiLhlzVjKzSm0UFMdlfnZZfIMFree4chXEiShre84ZRm8iJr2l-Wo6B42kQguEl_xXFpEJlVyL3Tzmt6FE4QfFCJZNfFqtPq-OuM1PI7UeDwpcMeEqn/s400/IMG_2396.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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June in Seattle is often referred to as "Juneuary" because it is known for being depressingly cool, gray, and rainy, but this year, June was sunny and hot! I found myself in just the right place to enjoy the 90-degree days: Goldie's house by the lake. Each morning before the sun got uncomfortably hot, I'd slather on some sunscreen and Goldie and I would make our way down to the lake. I, of course, was looking for birds to photograph. Goldie was looking for dead fish to eat. I don't know why there were so many, but a steady succession of dead yellow perch floated their way ashore and by scouring the beaches three house to either side of her own twice a day, Sandy was eating as many as half a dozen eight-inch perch per day. She was not alone in being interested in the fish: the bald eagles, great blue herons, and crows were all busy fishing, too. Yes, crows catch fish! It became one of my favorite things to watch. I was not immune from this fish fever, though my interest was in trying to photograph the fish I could see swimming in the lake. This did not work very well, but I persisted on trying! Prior to about eleven o'clock, the lake was usually still and I could see fish below the dock. After eleven, a breeze usually picked up, roughing the surface of the water, and that's when the birds would start fishing. By noon, it would be too hot for me to be out in the sun, so Sandy and I would go in to stay cool. We'd head back down to the lake around an hour before sunset, when the fierceness of the sun had abated and it was possible for me to be outside without applying sunscreen again from head to toe. During the weekends, every single person who owned a boat was out on the lake and so it was rather noisy, but I still enjoyed sitting on the dock with the breeze blowing, watching the boats go by and the eagles fish and the sun go down. Sometimes I even went in the lake myself. On one very special evening, I invited my own dog over for a swim. She loves to swim, but she's prone to a condition called swimmer's tail that causes temporary tail paralysis after vigorous activity in cold water. Our cold, deep lakes seldom get warm enough for her to do much swimming, but the conditions were perfect. Abbey had an absolute blast! My allodynia had finally gone away at the start of this gig, so I was physically more comfortable, too. The whole stay felt much more like a vacation than a job!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRBMfFstPfhpN7KQnb3YWaUPffCKValIX7_KJJamptLtgWtA17Xmi5gTiHG7Vr58nZMDF-LxpoKE0HVDgg5J7QaUhHU12CUEUfwOn-_4t8aorkh6HK6FS8nypZSdIEzluzZfIG68BeVar/s1600/IMG_3382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRBMfFstPfhpN7KQnb3YWaUPffCKValIX7_KJJamptLtgWtA17Xmi5gTiHG7Vr58nZMDF-LxpoKE0HVDgg5J7QaUhHU12CUEUfwOn-_4t8aorkh6HK6FS8nypZSdIEzluzZfIG68BeVar/s400/IMG_3382.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie surveys the lake on yet another beautiful day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4T401dGb744EY3vHsKfxzxapRVZO1-bho4yqrtPpxT8iGxp4nXmcwU-0eapdHZ1nBZj0-zvgATwUzNABHMrSeiOaLGZEUWBmtC0lZXM-69f-Vly471rXtzHnl5J3ZflPofz3xyydviV9/s1600/IMG_3243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4T401dGb744EY3vHsKfxzxapRVZO1-bho4yqrtPpxT8iGxp4nXmcwU-0eapdHZ1nBZj0-zvgATwUzNABHMrSeiOaLGZEUWBmtC0lZXM-69f-Vly471rXtzHnl5J3ZflPofz3xyydviV9/s400/IMG_3243.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both Goldie and I frequently went wading.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNdGhiOD92Z4gUitcTByh7jtEyvva-kAEZqoNczDa7ho2G0cCoFh5YIux1Zb6zIPVB4BKVrbmE6ZFHneVDZ0YDnM1gNilMyxtZ3SzByre7XDjP2OtFnObtcXVcAhl71O3a03cRRHafU2F/s1600/IMG_2582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNdGhiOD92Z4gUitcTByh7jtEyvva-kAEZqoNczDa7ho2G0cCoFh5YIux1Zb6zIPVB4BKVrbmE6ZFHneVDZ0YDnM1gNilMyxtZ3SzByre7XDjP2OtFnObtcXVcAhl71O3a03cRRHafU2F/s400/IMG_2582.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset reddens Goldie's coat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYx3ravsLaU-jaMrY6nPH9D4USrCoOewixeIx1W5P8F0bRk2CDEAvSeg3w2VxOUSViPXZuto0JsN_WXXiAVHnzxuxItaW5wvZtyTdkPjOJUDw7hjtEhSS4AZVydycnj7QJ_h_0ZZtjTMRl/s1600/IMG_3131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYx3ravsLaU-jaMrY6nPH9D4USrCoOewixeIx1W5P8F0bRk2CDEAvSeg3w2VxOUSViPXZuto0JsN_WXXiAVHnzxuxItaW5wvZtyTdkPjOJUDw7hjtEhSS4AZVydycnj7QJ_h_0ZZtjTMRl/s400/IMG_3131.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a good time all around.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4wHd8ffsoPTq60_O-sWW5QLS73snYH5LSKwwcRME3Fwp37_tFjkpn23qWk-ytDnhsXayWM4ECM8zREzABLI5YQTGrnf5nB_CZ4M0WIZ3Jgwiqiln7mNACLpa45mQX7ena9z2DKK5t0tK/s1600/IMG_2645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4wHd8ffsoPTq60_O-sWW5QLS73snYH5LSKwwcRME3Fwp37_tFjkpn23qWk-ytDnhsXayWM4ECM8zREzABLI5YQTGrnf5nB_CZ4M0WIZ3Jgwiqiln7mNACLpa45mQX7ena9z2DKK5t0tK/s400/IMG_2645.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSxTE4jDI6I9pJs6tSdFwkGIXs2o0ex6u2E3LzT_NKg76zVBlAD0Oa_rRzMdMnomBYBkjK0RsXZjlGQRZM37MnfLsNqGyBc4_GHeMfxbwBSW7UF1T8AjCz_pkBNXO4bJtJNn5mb7V2dc4/s1600/IMG_3168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSxTE4jDI6I9pJs6tSdFwkGIXs2o0ex6u2E3LzT_NKg76zVBlAD0Oa_rRzMdMnomBYBkjK0RsXZjlGQRZM37MnfLsNqGyBc4_GHeMfxbwBSW7UF1T8AjCz_pkBNXO4bJtJNn5mb7V2dc4/s400/IMG_3168.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey had a fantastic time swimming!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_1O4Qrchz6h6dqPAR76QwXTHHZk5ZyqpZtmOTKPiX8oEXwvT-Ae73kppZfxUnCErqvzvMhgLzkLDnAIuSFOJlAbV5LcUpwxXCR58VP3UNbpHcKeLC8y6k3IQld6dKtUIA3wljAXa3xGi/s1600/IMG_3151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_1O4Qrchz6h6dqPAR76QwXTHHZk5ZyqpZtmOTKPiX8oEXwvT-Ae73kppZfxUnCErqvzvMhgLzkLDnAIuSFOJlAbV5LcUpwxXCR58VP3UNbpHcKeLC8y6k3IQld6dKtUIA3wljAXa3xGi/s400/IMG_3151.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This wakeboarder was just one of many people taking advantage of the warm days by getting out on the water.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOI0NndFB4ZpRjd3EbEuFEOa0hAAl6OnU4XbcZj1zg7qOfG-ebYBvapzpecL_mXfn4UJ7F_ZScKHVlujondmEmo4XQeiXQ0Af99Rn1sveybxdq_byivuyVA2Ds8rFncGfIeI_It0_oCPq/s1600/IMG_3225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOI0NndFB4ZpRjd3EbEuFEOa0hAAl6OnU4XbcZj1zg7qOfG-ebYBvapzpecL_mXfn4UJ7F_ZScKHVlujondmEmo4XQeiXQ0Af99Rn1sveybxdq_byivuyVA2Ds8rFncGfIeI_It0_oCPq/s400/IMG_3225.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My attempts to photograph fish in the water weren't very successful, but I did like how this photo of underwater foliage turned out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZC2h3I7zYKCEDIuW8N8T4_9sR3cpKNusgaBPbXek48GDdypnUwTmNlCxm4gBwXN3e-BH5aUMZqV0Zl3jmhc_0zUalRrkg9wLe1pcdzNaKsWpSewjwI6yp_0HfIpXDuCIQXS2Mi1VYTKRh/s1600/IMG_2470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZC2h3I7zYKCEDIuW8N8T4_9sR3cpKNusgaBPbXek48GDdypnUwTmNlCxm4gBwXN3e-BH5aUMZqV0Zl3jmhc_0zUalRrkg9wLe1pcdzNaKsWpSewjwI6yp_0HfIpXDuCIQXS2Mi1VYTKRh/s400/IMG_2470.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were fish everywhere, including on the roof of the shed down by the lake where a bird must have dropped it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic4TuNpt6JJbiv8dICkLzKtI-vcVMh0Pb5IV_7KBHiqN4rxeOllG3E_bINyPF3olZtGVpokUWYYqiuTt3hZQ6QvqJ4LyhWCl654PZTSK_EsBddZUG42XyYZHpLe_04dmWqwCecZtIWysj/s1600/IMG_2635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic4TuNpt6JJbiv8dICkLzKtI-vcVMh0Pb5IV_7KBHiqN4rxeOllG3E_bINyPF3olZtGVpokUWYYqiuTt3hZQ6QvqJ4LyhWCl654PZTSK_EsBddZUG42XyYZHpLe_04dmWqwCecZtIWysj/s400/IMG_2635.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie feasted on fish wherever she could find them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSny-wb7k-fWbBKocE1TAV1m3rUyj5GqZUoiHD8YA8LeNSLCgZy_QniyOfh7JGQ8W47sLZGJAVMVQL-HpNnwmd_meGQrNxGLzDEveBCKKBxf4Txc-wtQPrWDT8h9JUnO706JskiGmx2tV/s1600/IMG_3147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSny-wb7k-fWbBKocE1TAV1m3rUyj5GqZUoiHD8YA8LeNSLCgZy_QniyOfh7JGQ8W47sLZGJAVMVQL-HpNnwmd_meGQrNxGLzDEveBCKKBxf4Txc-wtQPrWDT8h9JUnO706JskiGmx2tV/s400/IMG_3147.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another snack comes floating in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9XbD8zu3xBO_-mMQsUyPJQDrIMlfmNDCESIDjxMRnaiERR-C9C6W3nfQJZshMSiLiHQeStQEJ1GG30PEBXEp4Mg7ph6BekQKjArGb9dghFEt1-wfXidFUNtV0TFljUFLltRHNnh-boDE/s1600/IMG_2371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9XbD8zu3xBO_-mMQsUyPJQDrIMlfmNDCESIDjxMRnaiERR-C9C6W3nfQJZshMSiLiHQeStQEJ1GG30PEBXEp4Mg7ph6BekQKjArGb9dghFEt1-wfXidFUNtV0TFljUFLltRHNnh-boDE/s400/IMG_2371.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fishing crow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-B7l-weypUexMbEccyP25TZLbMi_HJnqqr4YWBtsPGTcZVrCXpiGnhGdiDZYedUS1HsrNTJ5XCRGf8wzKkEsaXvzQDBR3LT-b847pvnWCutT_ZL_0dSX6cbe5hGeZMckS6iKUnA-jUFox/s1600/IMG_3504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-B7l-weypUexMbEccyP25TZLbMi_HJnqqr4YWBtsPGTcZVrCXpiGnhGdiDZYedUS1HsrNTJ5XCRGf8wzKkEsaXvzQDBR3LT-b847pvnWCutT_ZL_0dSX6cbe5hGeZMckS6iKUnA-jUFox/s400/IMG_3504.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This crow snagged a yellow perch, seen bouncing here on the dock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-S5PURe1JkBCy1k_r3EQeeMG7OGQp4SkXGPM-RVNEQ1GM1MleqZATKyNbR4rvh0k5hxqQgyZL2MPS3KS5-uGGe3xDrBAFFDQViqrCoQ2V3yrhCYr_z25FIYmOBqRYs2DNpsoxUPVQSYv/s1600/IMG_3511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-S5PURe1JkBCy1k_r3EQeeMG7OGQp4SkXGPM-RVNEQ1GM1MleqZATKyNbR4rvh0k5hxqQgyZL2MPS3KS5-uGGe3xDrBAFFDQViqrCoQ2V3yrhCYr_z25FIYmOBqRYs2DNpsoxUPVQSYv/s400/IMG_3511.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Examining its catch. The crows usually stuck to the little three-inch sticklebacks!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrU4OH8RwvFaK2LSezisyq0H2BVp7bTL8WZPdTHDuL3YvmUjmWUVFxKdVcrJYZuvWAYgh_xezDIMF_OI6Ne3YeZrvNqlysoJhbNGKJqVlN83ESowcaxS3kCLM8WzxGbV_DNSr43aEkLJ0T/s1600/IMG_2619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrU4OH8RwvFaK2LSezisyq0H2BVp7bTL8WZPdTHDuL3YvmUjmWUVFxKdVcrJYZuvWAYgh_xezDIMF_OI6Ne3YeZrvNqlysoJhbNGKJqVlN83ESowcaxS3kCLM8WzxGbV_DNSr43aEkLJ0T/s400/IMG_2619.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An immature bald eagle with a fish in its talons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEc-JyvS4hDotvAcdmYXmRN8GZ9SXHACyowAa7f9WE2lAAsIgI74zotWYdxrKOMR37Bx7abIPvdg2HiczAq9lt756BP5XCGZL9boZ23kY2oJ5tMMTPje4aKyehDQaVTDxas4Gl8IqnLnQf/s1600/IMG_3408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEc-JyvS4hDotvAcdmYXmRN8GZ9SXHACyowAa7f9WE2lAAsIgI74zotWYdxrKOMR37Bx7abIPvdg2HiczAq9lt756BP5XCGZL9boZ23kY2oJ5tMMTPje4aKyehDQaVTDxas4Gl8IqnLnQf/s400/IMG_3408.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bald eagle flying with a fish in its beak!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHVbMOPAntY3V5hMhG6H0qE0ecGakVIEjzAGFuJ978r5dfpqdZo39YRN0BgsG3EUkv_UMyii6qoY2b_EprZ6TbiwI99RmjmVvnIMUn0C-Gv2q1g3fxxEPmNV1fkSqwWHPvgjYGIWXu_kV/s1600/IMG_3451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHVbMOPAntY3V5hMhG6H0qE0ecGakVIEjzAGFuJ978r5dfpqdZo39YRN0BgsG3EUkv_UMyii6qoY2b_EprZ6TbiwI99RmjmVvnIMUn0C-Gv2q1g3fxxEPmNV1fkSqwWHPvgjYGIWXu_kV/s400/IMG_3451.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This great blue heron had the hardest time choking this fish down.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1_9C8NK-IZfOHyOsFdaki7dB6Joeqs-VyErljq1ftoaIWkOpfY6O8lP2bh1bNStVMYBvE3VNXWtDHzN0swWYVuSDeN4xObBI83MxakxeAsnRsvkmsg7jvqgxrWnxD05lfFdtJH2284Xx/s1600/IMG_3352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1_9C8NK-IZfOHyOsFdaki7dB6Joeqs-VyErljq1ftoaIWkOpfY6O8lP2bh1bNStVMYBvE3VNXWtDHzN0swWYVuSDeN4xObBI83MxakxeAsnRsvkmsg7jvqgxrWnxD05lfFdtJH2284Xx/s400/IMG_3352.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the birds were busy raising families and protecting them from other birds. The crows worked hard to drive off the eagles whenever they landed in the trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFD96Kl50Oi_Iz77XiQYH7cld11x1Tdz_NbQ2p5TD5ZeWuLUq3bfPYMGZZ7LrZdPIlmsVqHywUWKRnK73K00baWc42v6y4Co6SdwFcxq5DxW9OKmYG0ed2Em3wUj_XpHKo3-bakc1q0KF/s1600/IMG_3016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFD96Kl50Oi_Iz77XiQYH7cld11x1Tdz_NbQ2p5TD5ZeWuLUq3bfPYMGZZ7LrZdPIlmsVqHywUWKRnK73K00baWc42v6y4Co6SdwFcxq5DxW9OKmYG0ed2Em3wUj_XpHKo3-bakc1q0KF/s400/IMG_3016.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Canada goose with goslings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuQEmqMNr-BzZOXJxi19uymHgUzR7Acd3pgGJApBH1s8MxJm9JEgo1SkOFEy6tkYS5_QmAHb5kfoOfvEJXbkC5JSs3EYh_ppQOpUynp3NAjR3cbs3Sf2H6AhywH6TFyDBqT3zBGFd279m/s1600/IMG_2842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuQEmqMNr-BzZOXJxi19uymHgUzR7Acd3pgGJApBH1s8MxJm9JEgo1SkOFEy6tkYS5_QmAHb5kfoOfvEJXbkC5JSs3EYh_ppQOpUynp3NAjR3cbs3Sf2H6AhywH6TFyDBqT3zBGFd279m/s400/IMG_2842.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This immature spotted towhee has bits of insects all over its beak where a parent bird regurgitated them.</td></tr>
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<br />
Eventually, the wonderful, vacation-like gig with Goldie came to an end. It meant I had some time to be at home with my own dog. I'd been away quite a bit so far this year.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXTr4fKtqIn4liSackB3FE3xIkPEnd5G3yV0CJ2uLAhaXdh1b32ftbnGgQwiDIMsscpQmvoFxpktsvqH2kOlUvq_6n2lToySXL3RBUW30bN_4X8GB9wcNPfXOTZy8U2-T5jN16m6kAy6i/s1600/IMG_3611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXTr4fKtqIn4liSackB3FE3xIkPEnd5G3yV0CJ2uLAhaXdh1b32ftbnGgQwiDIMsscpQmvoFxpktsvqH2kOlUvq_6n2lToySXL3RBUW30bN_4X8GB9wcNPfXOTZy8U2-T5jN16m6kAy6i/s400/IMG_3611.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey and I have some fun with fusilli.</td></tr>
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<br />
But more dog-sitting was on the agenda because I got a new client! My neighbors, who are friends with Mr. Gorgeous' owners and the Ancient Kitty's owners, got a black labradoodle puppy and gave me the call to help out. I haven't spent time with puppies since my childhood dog was a baby, so playing with this little fellow, who I'll call Curly, has been a lot of fun. Just three months old when his family brought him home, he couldn't be left alone for long periods of time, so my job was to come by to let him out and play with him (and take his photo) for a while if his people were going to be gone for more than a few hours. He's a fun little guy and there were lots of puppy zoomies involved.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLNqhbyqpnB5mj-kl_HxZvdKdk6K_DUMy1L1GzHtVEUwwcdKENloL_h2Qy7-6A14NyoFTCUvV0Xv5JEyT0D4eBDW0pc7FS-anigtBCkF7qErXEJOpnz7uM1n7hdUP88CPZqBgFs-ehQuH/s1600/IMG_3735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLNqhbyqpnB5mj-kl_HxZvdKdk6K_DUMy1L1GzHtVEUwwcdKENloL_h2Qy7-6A14NyoFTCUvV0Xv5JEyT0D4eBDW0pc7FS-anigtBCkF7qErXEJOpnz7uM1n7hdUP88CPZqBgFs-ehQuH/s400/IMG_3735.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuoq2vI4Je8nsmUdEmD6_ua6Ggp99y5cFdqeZWCbTBHWB2waBXVnYVfN6mxAc7ZDxlgUvtw3La1lUWapAt_ZjcdnS4VtAHfD70fImfH6Ma9VDhcxsDXOlTYYKSOXLqCcoSYTCYkvqXheW/s1600/IMG_3742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuoq2vI4Je8nsmUdEmD6_ua6Ggp99y5cFdqeZWCbTBHWB2waBXVnYVfN6mxAc7ZDxlgUvtw3La1lUWapAt_ZjcdnS4VtAHfD70fImfH6Ma9VDhcxsDXOlTYYKSOXLqCcoSYTCYkvqXheW/s400/IMG_3742.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's a black labradoodle puppy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9k7nSF0OcqiWuzN23XVJ8KsB4loYgTd9fT3HyIJWZ5_Z4t0H9a6N4pDPD8v1U-WkJ3hD6c-YGdntwKdywr7cbCmXd_tyYUBfu5-cxCfiYUiTZy8hd725GtisTk-q9YWMN8BtbkeY55NP/s1600/IMG_3774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9k7nSF0OcqiWuzN23XVJ8KsB4loYgTd9fT3HyIJWZ5_Z4t0H9a6N4pDPD8v1U-WkJ3hD6c-YGdntwKdywr7cbCmXd_tyYUBfu5-cxCfiYUiTZy8hd725GtisTk-q9YWMN8BtbkeY55NP/s400/IMG_3774.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of running and pouncing is involved in being a puppy.</td></tr>
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<u>JULY</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7G1p7U5GYJ7CmfoIMtzeV4tBKojiiwUOGnaJxnZz3pQaqDhzuT7UevtvEe80GHyKdv47wjx9yrf_tQtaOl-ITR5q-49IDr7Dqq8UciMIEGkLZVostryaU3CFMuh3q7ZGma3n3pEJTDSaH/s1600/IMG_3953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7G1p7U5GYJ7CmfoIMtzeV4tBKojiiwUOGnaJxnZz3pQaqDhzuT7UevtvEe80GHyKdv47wjx9yrf_tQtaOl-ITR5q-49IDr7Dqq8UciMIEGkLZVostryaU3CFMuh3q7ZGma3n3pEJTDSaH/s400/IMG_3953.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The beginning of July saw me back at Goldie's house for another beautiful weekend. Little did I know that this would be our last time together. Goldie passed away in September. (Read my memorial tribute to her <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2015/10/goodbye-golden-girl.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>.) This final visit, though short, was lovely, as stays with Goldie always were, so I have no regrets about how we spent our final days together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHJSJXoSXcKw-jPShlL4U1BF-2d9cd0mwmBsa9w3mMTWxDqBtHuQyMhohz2zCltGaub7BHeWdyJ5iTRU_87SyWVf5TN-W_guxj-UdAT8K-2E_U37rBobKc0KrBCZl8Lkmq0-sGP8u8nPD/s1600/IMG_4098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHJSJXoSXcKw-jPShlL4U1BF-2d9cd0mwmBsa9w3mMTWxDqBtHuQyMhohz2zCltGaub7BHeWdyJ5iTRU_87SyWVf5TN-W_guxj-UdAT8K-2E_U37rBobKc0KrBCZl8Lkmq0-sGP8u8nPD/s400/IMG_4098.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet girl.</td></tr>
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July 9th proved to be a momentous day that altered the course of the summer (and very nearly upended Abbey's life and therefore mine). The events will get a post of their own, but in summary, Abbey underwent a procedure to removed twelve years of hair and wax from her ears, had a bad response to it, had an even worse response to the medication the vet gave her to ease her vestibular distress, entered a state of extreme sedation that she was not able to come out of, spent two nights in the emergency animal hospital, and returned home weak, wobbly, occasionally incontinent, and virtually unable to eat or drink. It took her about five weeks to completely recover, so I spent most of July taking her out every hour or so to reduce accidents, feeding her small portions of soft food and giving her water through a syringe every few of hours, and doing my best to care for her. The slowest thing to come back was the strength and mobility of her tongue and mouth, so it wasn't until August that she was able to eat her usual dry kibble and lap up water from her bowl again. It was a very scary time! Thankfully, my senior girl is otherwise very healthy, so she managed to bounce back.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMpgZDT-dgfNdlIeUHJtlrihHpi0KVV1W07aJTfbjukONSskcjnBtr_YmlZRgij8C1aZdXtqJ9RW4iVhHvQqM14rpi7Hgws5DVB9UbTy50M9j3N68nhLv_2QtEzl-z2ScbB26dpxRahWV/s1600/IMG_4265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMpgZDT-dgfNdlIeUHJtlrihHpi0KVV1W07aJTfbjukONSskcjnBtr_YmlZRgij8C1aZdXtqJ9RW4iVhHvQqM14rpi7Hgws5DVB9UbTy50M9j3N68nhLv_2QtEzl-z2ScbB26dpxRahWV/s400/IMG_4265.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weak, wobbly, and unable to eat without assistance.</td></tr>
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There was one really awesome thing about July, though: the air conditioner. Heat makes me really sick, so rather than see me spend another summer confined to the couch, my parents gave me an air conditioner for Christmas. It was installed in my bedroom while I was taking care of Goldie, so I came home to sweet, cool relief! July proved to be the hottest month on record in Seattle, with highs routinely in the high 80's or even the 90's, but thanks to my air conditioner, I did not suffer a single extended heat migraine. As it turns out, Abbey loved the air conditioner, too. She spent most of her recovery sprawled on my bed with the AC blowing on her. In the mid-afternoon, when it got too hot for me to be in other parts of the house, I could retreat into my room with a laptop or a book and relax in my cool sanctuary. It also allowed me to sleep in comfort. The air conditioner definitely made the summer of 2015 doable. It would have been so hard to be trying to look after Abbey while suffering heat-induced migraines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgmLTpgle7CJ-Q6zZuSeGvKrtrUeimWp89DonX2UZ1JYk2rM0d-0krhSoPxQuDjfH2hbN7I7jutR48MUIoeGomtVZbg1dxT8VtoWbSxSqILyIBDjd6hBKCV-UQeF0ABG8YhmQQXDKHO-B/s1600/IMG_3858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgmLTpgle7CJ-Q6zZuSeGvKrtrUeimWp89DonX2UZ1JYk2rM0d-0krhSoPxQuDjfH2hbN7I7jutR48MUIoeGomtVZbg1dxT8VtoWbSxSqILyIBDjd6hBKCV-UQeF0ABG8YhmQQXDKHO-B/s400/IMG_3858.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey and the AC.</td></tr>
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<u>AUGUST</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic40fzM3AiIfmbzSpzzoTFpXdA6tLPrn3s7JdQY9icj9cCa7Th5L-2LAdtP6YrCwC8WhBLrX0KV837kdm5FAp7vzl8qSrSVijiP2XVIWhSs9sOrFssXOKSDt7-HTn67r_JJU-2dW1n2wig/s1600/IMG_6054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic40fzM3AiIfmbzSpzzoTFpXdA6tLPrn3s7JdQY9icj9cCa7Th5L-2LAdtP6YrCwC8WhBLrX0KV837kdm5FAp7vzl8qSrSVijiP2XVIWhSs9sOrFssXOKSDt7-HTn67r_JJU-2dW1n2wig/s400/IMG_6054.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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August was another hot month spent largely in my air conditioned bedroom, with a few notable exceptions. I spent a few hours with Curly on a couple of occasions and two mornings with Pipsqueak. I also picked blackberries at a friend's house, though I spent more time photographing the chickens than picking berries...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOglboa4kD1sAnP6p-9svOoJBzYziKEPpgh0d15HGxTipeLOTgvdt0gjrv2pwn7QdqyFKI8kG6N42VSfZ1zS5D06SOGiaExOHtf3lx8m1Y8uTMq9a0fpDzSs_MfyvETEL9X2NDacU7Wc82/s1600/IMG_4610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOglboa4kD1sAnP6p-9svOoJBzYziKEPpgh0d15HGxTipeLOTgvdt0gjrv2pwn7QdqyFKI8kG6N42VSfZ1zS5D06SOGiaExOHtf3lx8m1Y8uTMq9a0fpDzSs_MfyvETEL9X2NDacU7Wc82/s400/IMG_4610.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curly in nutty zooming puppy mode.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p6lLWodhdYTifs7d65WfqFjEYIrIFlWinTRoPhjmg61QeK90eEYoEazfqR0vLOGT7kFqeThcu2XcpLb-731I7SutJrkQ4avm9SroouBMNJInn6l2hXTdtdLPETEiDj5HLkXlug8eiclJ/s1600/IMG_6376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p6lLWodhdYTifs7d65WfqFjEYIrIFlWinTRoPhjmg61QeK90eEYoEazfqR0vLOGT7kFqeThcu2XcpLb-731I7SutJrkQ4avm9SroouBMNJInn6l2hXTdtdLPETEiDj5HLkXlug8eiclJ/s400/IMG_6376.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's all four paws off the ground as Curly chases after his Kong.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekVUCPctD8ELOM1wdNHCGYtlg4P4sxrVqosJF_6vf9qWjlYqoTey8Ct6AKPSEJH2WZYdJiBIiNxdL3F4NAsU0Q2P3h3sVZeK5O6qwXsq5vFZfo1_tw3WaNOiBOs1vLyHzq2rmYELaI-pK/s1600/IMG_5057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekVUCPctD8ELOM1wdNHCGYtlg4P4sxrVqosJF_6vf9qWjlYqoTey8Ct6AKPSEJH2WZYdJiBIiNxdL3F4NAsU0Q2P3h3sVZeK5O6qwXsq5vFZfo1_tw3WaNOiBOs1vLyHzq2rmYELaI-pK/s400/IMG_5057.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak welcomes me with a wagging tail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59m6gN6LYxveRg8-Wl0ZH8D_vYBhbQh7XcKvG0trVuOGNvGti4ua1mApiyZap8KTS8flY2WY7u-WypMKXgh4ZBn65STlC_EH-AWA_0RlSpeKLUV4Dfp7bt0X84XZi-3qzYvlB_RvbclR6/s1600/IMG_5290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59m6gN6LYxveRg8-Wl0ZH8D_vYBhbQh7XcKvG0trVuOGNvGti4ua1mApiyZap8KTS8flY2WY7u-WypMKXgh4ZBn65STlC_EH-AWA_0RlSpeKLUV4Dfp7bt0X84XZi-3qzYvlB_RvbclR6/s400/IMG_5290.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's nothing like doing a little sunbathing after breakfast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThrDLSzZwoxvmpSA56Euzdl3z5Js94xwo6lBZmhUjYWSbjQYf__96IJdal6HW87OIHh_ukkY2pLtdkgadzPAGL8gsPYaJq2LbH_94-UvEW0RSxd6HodKFJtETSmXYpTfKUoxMejKdQ8Nf/s1600/IMG_6296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThrDLSzZwoxvmpSA56Euzdl3z5Js94xwo6lBZmhUjYWSbjQYf__96IJdal6HW87OIHh_ukkY2pLtdkgadzPAGL8gsPYaJq2LbH_94-UvEW0RSxd6HodKFJtETSmXYpTfKUoxMejKdQ8Nf/s400/IMG_6296.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Pet me more!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtblbdB-HlSMbjdDFyakK0l8RaigL2FD3ATxVLRVFLuCiNeuF38FE01xYH5X7D4s4vRHXyD2ruwOdjNOMgwaF3xByjWLhqn_DujKjvelZBR8esm5g5CV3TC9dMt5nyg1CSqjdrZhjQKrx/s1600/IMG_4766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtblbdB-HlSMbjdDFyakK0l8RaigL2FD3ATxVLRVFLuCiNeuF38FE01xYH5X7D4s4vRHXyD2ruwOdjNOMgwaF3xByjWLhqn_DujKjvelZBR8esm5g5CV3TC9dMt5nyg1CSqjdrZhjQKrx/s400/IMG_4766.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chickens.</td></tr>
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The main event in August was our annual trip to the Northwest Washington Fair to see the draft horses. There is also the inducement of equine drill teams, pony chariot races, trick riders, livestock barns, and the festive small-town county fair atmosphere. The only downside of attending the fair was that the stimulation set my itchy allodynia in motion again. (You can read about a previous year's trip to the fair with lots of photos of the draft horses and other elements of the horse show <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-awesomeness-of-enormous-equines.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IXDVhTam0fENHaBBViSltnC9AfjMkQQ1_o8QKIp7yB7f-jvhkLwZcdLW08Gd5WF7DlsaIyPgcjXJCLd09uysnIO_v6_9_mYmUEFgbiTnjC-yC2QgwOajWJBY67IhL7DwtjFkv-cxo2Fc/s1600/IMG_5462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IXDVhTam0fENHaBBViSltnC9AfjMkQQ1_o8QKIp7yB7f-jvhkLwZcdLW08Gd5WF7DlsaIyPgcjXJCLd09uysnIO_v6_9_mYmUEFgbiTnjC-yC2QgwOajWJBY67IhL7DwtjFkv-cxo2Fc/s400/IMG_5462.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Baker looms behind a carnival ride.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6frocEB_WlDhKZCIQTbImt58eIJkPGoxxEdmnxPlvAUjqRwLBnR-YS3EaXU0fBUIl-Al6gk5clRzFfbzHwVdKcPaY2FZOPB-r2Ouye7O2QfDWSHoKF_0EUi0aq3Y5c1eVSe4vbSNeIqvK/s1600/IMG_5535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6frocEB_WlDhKZCIQTbImt58eIJkPGoxxEdmnxPlvAUjqRwLBnR-YS3EaXU0fBUIl-Al6gk5clRzFfbzHwVdKcPaY2FZOPB-r2Ouye7O2QfDWSHoKF_0EUi0aq3Y5c1eVSe4vbSNeIqvK/s400/IMG_5535.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fair has multiple barns filled with animals, like these baby goats, all raised and being shown by 4-H kids.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhgjyfWemgkiXQX9fx6-XJJ5ednAEytTIDrV6002RO2-MYyT4uLY0pXQ4pDi4UtVmA5Oe8cYyH7txRh2208R6XhkmPpR-J8ybcqLuo57cANk_hamNuorbaTyASi-9SESla2vjNaC6Xo0-S/s1600/IMG_5645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhgjyfWemgkiXQX9fx6-XJJ5ednAEytTIDrV6002RO2-MYyT4uLY0pXQ4pDi4UtVmA5Oe8cYyH7txRh2208R6XhkmPpR-J8ybcqLuo57cANk_hamNuorbaTyASi-9SESla2vjNaC6Xo0-S/s400/IMG_5645.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handsome dappled Percherons are hitched to a wagon for part of the horse show. </td></tr>
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All summer long, I'd been working away at a reading challenge put on by the Seattle Public Library. The "bingo" sheet featured twenty-five categories of books and the goal was to either complete a row or, if you were so inclined, all twenty-five. Because I am a voracious reader, I set my sights on reading a book for every category. It was a lot of fun to make my choices and to have shipments of books regularly arriving in the mail! I gobbled up books during the portion of my days spent in the air-conditioned comfort of my room. (A small brag: I read seven other books this summer in addition to these twenty-five because I had a few weeks where I hadn't gotten the last couple of books yet and I needed to fill my time somehow...) I finished the very last book on the 1st of September, the perfect way to end my summer!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzTUOlhRvJKkNy7r6Hv0ZXz7FLmjzAxAUzop_Z7eeLFJYDZlJ3up5qX_pJW68EzoSCcNWluOu9droIirzR3u3QKn2R9qcYGt0urHAorn6vJgkGirdBdmSk6UkFQSw6Ctl63jDVhm5yvYu/s1600/IMG_6437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzTUOlhRvJKkNy7r6Hv0ZXz7FLmjzAxAUzop_Z7eeLFJYDZlJ3up5qX_pJW68EzoSCcNWluOu9droIirzR3u3QKn2R9qcYGt0urHAorn6vJgkGirdBdmSk6UkFQSw6Ctl63jDVhm5yvYu/s400/IMG_6437.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The twenty-five books I read this summer for a reading challenge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrE2404SAqCEnq2v1XcXbJMSjdA6UEbS4Iy6Hzyen37Py9El0e3738YTecbuAJ0ZFGlRyH7Fl0z8SLv7Ub-8yOf5-w9P99cswr2E09jFa12GgdOr_sXf-IACUPVJec-qUTrQ-L1uNTmKs/s1600/2015ReadingBingo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrE2404SAqCEnq2v1XcXbJMSjdA6UEbS4Iy6Hzyen37Py9El0e3738YTecbuAJ0ZFGlRyH7Fl0z8SLv7Ub-8yOf5-w9P99cswr2E09jFa12GgdOr_sXf-IACUPVJec-qUTrQ-L1uNTmKs/s400/2015ReadingBingo.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is my completed bingo sheet showing my book choices. Click to enlarge if you actually want to make it legible!</td></tr>
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Some of my favorites were "H is for Hawk," "The Way We Never Were," "The Luminaries," "Pioneer Girl," "The Little Friend," "Cloud Atlas," and "A Brief History of Time," but I enjoyed reading all of the books. I'm such a fast reader that I end up doing a lot of rereading because there's simply no way that I can realistically get a new book every time I finish reading the previous one. I enjoying rereading books, but I'd forgotten how fun it is to get a bunch of new ones. I'll have to keep that in mind this winter and perhaps set up a new challenge for myself!</div>
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In summary: the four-month period between May and August contained six dogs, a duckling rescue, fishing crows, the emergency vet, an air conditioner, allodynia, record highs, twenty-five books, a county fair, and was, on the whole, an enjoyable summer.<br />
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<br />c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-50928749730643912782015-10-07T17:46:00.000-07:002015-10-07T17:46:15.354-07:00Goodbye, Golden Girl<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpM8TcEBiHLyszJSNVhu_JdIWu2F72Pulyc-7wpbcqeNleUBr7-FNMc3m0oQdCNzGRmJSAHzQqkaAMvVHsxI40hCYLnEYsqWpghqqroaI4MNzsUuLvNoJEC4_5QjA8a8Mmby-UpCV65_q/s1600/IMG_6128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpM8TcEBiHLyszJSNVhu_JdIWu2F72Pulyc-7wpbcqeNleUBr7-FNMc3m0oQdCNzGRmJSAHzQqkaAMvVHsxI40hCYLnEYsqWpghqqroaI4MNzsUuLvNoJEC4_5QjA8a8Mmby-UpCV65_q/s400/IMG_6128.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie</td></tr>
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One of the worst occupational hazards of being a dog-sitter is losing clients and it is with a heavy heart that I must share that dear, sweet Goldie has passed away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7Fnrnsw2wfx9gC_uC5Ab8I5mOzdLeczhrEEiH_YueCu48E92rmqkkAENjswr-sMgssKldfU6zQU_tVGm8yx9uLURAs2MDVGwD-ZSJBXltlWeHblQLG0cHpcIhiOohnta57suGA_TRjqW/s1600/IMG_5095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7Fnrnsw2wfx9gC_uC5Ab8I5mOzdLeczhrEEiH_YueCu48E92rmqkkAENjswr-sMgssKldfU6zQU_tVGm8yx9uLURAs2MDVGwD-ZSJBXltlWeHblQLG0cHpcIhiOohnta57suGA_TRjqW/s400/IMG_5095.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was pretty, loyal, playful, and kind.</td></tr>
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I am thankful that this wasn't a complete shock, but it happened awfully fast. In July, she had her nose checked out because she was getting occasional nose bleeds. There was significant inflammation in her nasal passages, so she was given steroids to see if it could bring the inflammation down. She had a horribly bad reaction to the steroids that included the loss of use of her limbs--there was initially a fear that she might be paralyzed. She did make a partial recovery, but remained very weak, unable to move much without assistance, and not herself. Then she developed lesions and sores on her legs and paws that wouldn't heal and were determined to be cancerous. Goldie didn't complain, but she was clearly miserable and her body seemed to be shutting down. Her family made the hard decision to end her suffering and said goodbye to their beloved girl on the 17th of September. She was twelve years old. While the medication crisis seems to have sped up a cascade of health issues, I do think she was already unwell. When I'd taken care of her in June, six months after I'd seen her last, I was shocked by how OLD she looked. She'd slowed down considerably and put on weight. While increasing arthritis was clearly a factor, my guess now is that things were already starting to go wrong inside. That thought is of some consolation to me. I also would never want her to suffer, so I would not want her to have been forced to live longer in hopes of a recovery that wasn't coming.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucVCMozG5cDxeUwmPnZNUryEY-GN-4nH4nUjO80iDWnLxBPCyIiPnqbcZCvEeFk7JdEPrChbafk7z1Uz0rmiAn9bJOgZiqaViO5SQkB6LldgjHcE813rfY6tac_ritl9Di8Tre41s01DI/s1600/IMG_4985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucVCMozG5cDxeUwmPnZNUryEY-GN-4nH4nUjO80iDWnLxBPCyIiPnqbcZCvEeFk7JdEPrChbafk7z1Uz0rmiAn9bJOgZiqaViO5SQkB6LldgjHcE813rfY6tac_ritl9Di8Tre41s01DI/s400/IMG_4985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles in better days.</td></tr>
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It still doesn't make it easy to have to say goodbye, though.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6etXFztq96H2dHLC6MdffsCpkibuC4K9vVtj7O1z1S1Hn4LUk5lwbQ6D-tFdHk9ZZq2LsJxgO89mLYbqS5yNlfrLI2mO1Z-41BmaORrodjgCcdetKjc_JU5hQO1yRW75vLF1ZJFLlawI/s1600/IMG_4105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6etXFztq96H2dHLC6MdffsCpkibuC4K9vVtj7O1z1S1Hn4LUk5lwbQ6D-tFdHk9ZZq2LsJxgO89mLYbqS5yNlfrLI2mO1Z-41BmaORrodjgCcdetKjc_JU5hQO1yRW75vLF1ZJFLlawI/s400/IMG_4105.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I did not know that this picture I took of Goldie wading around with me in the lake would be the last photograph I'd ever take of her.</td></tr>
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I only looked after Goldie for two years before her passing, but I came to love her fully during that too-brief time and have so many wonderful memories of her. She was playful, joyful, loyal, quiet, and kind. Her favorite things included playing with her favorite rope-and-ball toys...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQa1W6tHDbahX7neG0XRGJtNXdGxbX9AFrHWGKP-pKbO3UZDLYUv7YTHe_br7dlOrz31Lw-uMgVp1ujVOI3eQDuGr_2C9u0hUkc0PMQ4mpU9Sb-gGgD9VCMfzK9S9PyOVMdv59_cH-zBxG/s1600/IMG_9879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQa1W6tHDbahX7neG0XRGJtNXdGxbX9AFrHWGKP-pKbO3UZDLYUv7YTHe_br7dlOrz31Lw-uMgVp1ujVOI3eQDuGr_2C9u0hUkc0PMQ4mpU9Sb-gGgD9VCMfzK9S9PyOVMdv59_cH-zBxG/s400/IMG_9879.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my very favorite photograph of Goldie!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYAxgIxlzyiHu428h59luH9wvnfyaFU7TbQyt596j_z4irZWwLTmLTBcBXadaDUWnZdKQrgqimuHKU7d_KCaFNEIDo8QmC8WoIGuzvCBtQ8jOi1GbYTfOcMj8HwVbikVEC2i6nrQzKZih/s1600/IMG_9773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYAxgIxlzyiHu428h59luH9wvnfyaFU7TbQyt596j_z4irZWwLTmLTBcBXadaDUWnZdKQrgqimuHKU7d_KCaFNEIDo8QmC8WoIGuzvCBtQ8jOi1GbYTfOcMj8HwVbikVEC2i6nrQzKZih/s400/IMG_9773.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She had so much fun with these toys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBxVkVYCDBgxSAnHvW5-j9_8JW7ipWK2zKD-cjKd0FlRJZlTHS-kCFlXc6xQki9sH6H0xmDNzA7r8NbwM1aExiyUSXfpGTiZeGWqmN-NSE_F4gdq1dSsfQ1yqgMRjc5XOrKa2X3JOx0Nv/s1600/IMG_6055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBxVkVYCDBgxSAnHvW5-j9_8JW7ipWK2zKD-cjKd0FlRJZlTHS-kCFlXc6xQki9sH6H0xmDNzA7r8NbwM1aExiyUSXfpGTiZeGWqmN-NSE_F4gdq1dSsfQ1yqgMRjc5XOrKa2X3JOx0Nv/s400/IMG_6055.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They were great for tossing, tugging, chewing, fetching, and rolling on both inside and outside the house.</td></tr>
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...rolling in the grass...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YHO09RiuqTaD41bBF1qHnHKJKWq8VV4chwmXp7_8d7o_yA3oYDhyphenhyphenl4SWZfF-zDG8A5rHKDwUGI-Y4Si3xjq0KAb1_S8xXH-CnaVwDNo87G7rXrDjRPLixl6LUaOUenm89QdkAJE2os2F/s1600/IMG_6220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YHO09RiuqTaD41bBF1qHnHKJKWq8VV4chwmXp7_8d7o_yA3oYDhyphenhyphenl4SWZfF-zDG8A5rHKDwUGI-Y4Si3xjq0KAb1_S8xXH-CnaVwDNo87G7rXrDjRPLixl6LUaOUenm89QdkAJE2os2F/s400/IMG_6220.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm sure there is no other dog in the world who got as much joy from rolling around in the grass!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XnhGC3FG8CjUOrjI2e4GBEe8-iHm5QvgxWfxsGRUQwntOKoH83ihD4j7KENAoU0FP0EVfiB49c2AFCorpO8eYfAtvsQ2WG4uGct4bXL935bj78WoB3FB0nPqiQAVKDIoHjlIKFsjX9v8/s1600/IMG_9826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XnhGC3FG8CjUOrjI2e4GBEe8-iHm5QvgxWfxsGRUQwntOKoH83ihD4j7KENAoU0FP0EVfiB49c2AFCorpO8eYfAtvsQ2WG4uGct4bXL935bj78WoB3FB0nPqiQAVKDIoHjlIKFsjX9v8/s400/IMG_9826.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She'd wriggle and roll and pedal her legs as if riding a bicycle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGM2wbKq9ft6SjaJRPytucjB1HFJY9hM2KxUcnAG6MH7c8ENSJAaJhlr7dCuQJBs2zXN9dbhTYskW4PX3KxXvWtsrEsYaSxCKGGQ1sZnlZfFov0fFYH_sEAZYv7Rs43LXrN8xMaYRHfViw/s1600/IMG_4720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGM2wbKq9ft6SjaJRPytucjB1HFJY9hM2KxUcnAG6MH7c8ENSJAaJhlr7dCuQJBs2zXN9dbhTYskW4PX3KxXvWtsrEsYaSxCKGGQ1sZnlZfFov0fFYH_sEAZYv7Rs43LXrN8xMaYRHfViw/s400/IMG_4720.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie would roll in wet grass until she was absolutely sopping.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEgW8ySgSVyJXxDoSyQ67Ssc_5ae3AGhngr4y9_d-HuLyilJ7YGWZJhyphenhypheniqaKvPDcnby9aUdQ3_1NIUuTVGeVJ70iKJsNk4ofMcbBcwX0NlAvPwFa5wnvgl_RK7Q6Go3xyBXbBkFcH5mQy/s1600/IMG_2356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEgW8ySgSVyJXxDoSyQ67Ssc_5ae3AGhngr4y9_d-HuLyilJ7YGWZJhyphenhypheniqaKvPDcnby9aUdQ3_1NIUuTVGeVJ70iKJsNk4ofMcbBcwX0NlAvPwFa5wnvgl_RK7Q6Go3xyBXbBkFcH5mQy/s400/IMG_2356.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't she look happy?</td></tr>
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...wading in the lake...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tE8Wh76BmOzY-6OUkKwWIBRfI4PKLPgxxYrNni2kfdyKja0QrOTKDDNHCqlzCbEiLD0c6nZDeeYOzEqehQhTH7SWjYXo1Lu5tIinnt7OTLLGy3Jft4Jrdbp66lrYROxcwbkm46xSql8b/s1600/IMG_3144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tE8Wh76BmOzY-6OUkKwWIBRfI4PKLPgxxYrNni2kfdyKja0QrOTKDDNHCqlzCbEiLD0c6nZDeeYOzEqehQhTH7SWjYXo1Lu5tIinnt7OTLLGy3Jft4Jrdbp66lrYROxcwbkm46xSql8b/s400/IMG_3144.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer or winter, rain or shine, Goldie was always ready to get in the lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3yiZcclYelAoYNYGMkOFdQUxy6R2zfHtwEsqtZmXP6Jc6YmUexQxCTydJZe9HIb0WoNJ6g19r8rQmiPMDYMYzmLFAVdaYpjhaVl8C1lDhRLbNSOXCYEDOzsvfZEj0Qs7jU4nzA26xyrx/s1600/IMG_6325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3yiZcclYelAoYNYGMkOFdQUxy6R2zfHtwEsqtZmXP6Jc6YmUexQxCTydJZe9HIb0WoNJ6g19r8rQmiPMDYMYzmLFAVdaYpjhaVl8C1lDhRLbNSOXCYEDOzsvfZEj0Qs7jU4nzA26xyrx/s400/IMG_6325.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blowing bubbles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XtCdNwhURtaK-Ncx5oq_5_SKpszGMmgeZOejlBEEdY4zbgCKPbdMoqaJF5aBON2LxYN5GeV_OmS2zHHr8Cjxfo2GLC0up1_SQx0Hgy15-rLFHbDxNwT4wl6m_lGi5LuWlHMBeWVX2mUw/s1600/IMG_3245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XtCdNwhURtaK-Ncx5oq_5_SKpszGMmgeZOejlBEEdY4zbgCKPbdMoqaJF5aBON2LxYN5GeV_OmS2zHHr8Cjxfo2GLC0up1_SQx0Hgy15-rLFHbDxNwT4wl6m_lGi5LuWlHMBeWVX2mUw/s400/IMG_3245.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a warm summer day, you might as well just take a load off in the water!</td></tr>
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...playing with her best doggie friend...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7QSCoH2d0VboGxK0iduSPY-4bKOhrpe3OjLGWxoLwG4CyTMj1HhbRmbS1LlgRqmqwz2XCpN3DQmnGlTMN-Y6vli3vDPL0lUUDs7vJ_r0OCvDfltUDUmBkcjyQqYNRi0xjgTIxtuHy55E/s1600/IMG_4676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7QSCoH2d0VboGxK0iduSPY-4bKOhrpe3OjLGWxoLwG4CyTMj1HhbRmbS1LlgRqmqwz2XCpN3DQmnGlTMN-Y6vli3vDPL0lUUDs7vJ_r0OCvDfltUDUmBkcjyQqYNRi0xjgTIxtuHy55E/s400/IMG_4676.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie and her friend and neighbor, Sable, would play together for hours at a time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUfQJSHeVrz2gpVTrCPaCZKreDqxiTNKuRXjPwNTKYOvWr3KHZO1ElxIXnwbqpWgcaOCP9O9s5e8Juy35O6HcU3yZcNM9mTzcNy11ZDWOqYJa8C8HGd7WM1uOACVAECjVbsPRposbNa0D/s1600/IMG_1529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUfQJSHeVrz2gpVTrCPaCZKreDqxiTNKuRXjPwNTKYOvWr3KHZO1ElxIXnwbqpWgcaOCP9O9s5e8Juy35O6HcU3yZcNM9mTzcNy11ZDWOqYJa8C8HGd7WM1uOACVAECjVbsPRposbNa0D/s400/IMG_1529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mostly they chased one another, but they did a bit of wrestling, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjR6Z3GyfPAt5ZCDbLygkF1SQJ_yG77InCujw2BVqKygzLTcHS_mVcnfMHUNyQsNtuc6ATKHhZVKjGWJ6QtFqSmX7fJLiIfubHCwKO8v9OK_JjRnjl2TsvACEdfil4HaEKrXpOg4MrRse/s1600/IMG_2183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjR6Z3GyfPAt5ZCDbLygkF1SQJ_yG77InCujw2BVqKygzLTcHS_mVcnfMHUNyQsNtuc6ATKHhZVKjGWJ6QtFqSmX7fJLiIfubHCwKO8v9OK_JjRnjl2TsvACEdfil4HaEKrXpOg4MrRse/s400/IMG_2183.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lake often figured in their games.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
...and being brushed and petted.<br />
<br />
I will fondly remember teaching her how to walk on a leash after living as a free-roaming country dog for most of her life...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXJDxRGjICGm7WGtYHSv5qaXiHFLmD5m_y4JiuCnUuBuMAn3vGnGB58Qa1_TSI8zzpl2kehmHpDegMbQGymZWeT0xhjlRNEQE4IlND_ww7hjLSzzTtpPcVAzm9TRGvd0kBJ6u_BDDQlGY/s1600/IMG_4355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXJDxRGjICGm7WGtYHSv5qaXiHFLmD5m_y4JiuCnUuBuMAn3vGnGB58Qa1_TSI8zzpl2kehmHpDegMbQGymZWeT0xhjlRNEQE4IlND_ww7hjLSzzTtpPcVAzm9TRGvd0kBJ6u_BDDQlGY/s400/IMG_4355.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the help of a head halter, Goldie quickly learned to walk on a leash without pulling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...taking her to the dog park...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrr3HRlZp0f43WzicFiLHZQBEHImd1KMnEfeUJsKiBjynNlrd3e1O8qtcJCc7o0aujvuzH2dGQc20lS2kQ6iA-qMjgRbGvXBIHtOn4nAO94xhKSOq5-eILr9ky8zOXm2dz_sZp6Q4LpQDX/s1600/IMG_5000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrr3HRlZp0f43WzicFiLHZQBEHImd1KMnEfeUJsKiBjynNlrd3e1O8qtcJCc7o0aujvuzH2dGQc20lS2kQ6iA-qMjgRbGvXBIHtOn4nAO94xhKSOq5-eILr9ky8zOXm2dz_sZp6Q4LpQDX/s400/IMG_5000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was the perfect kind of dog to take to the dog park.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...watching her play with her best doggie friend...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0loK4ULuOIYQTjHkSE8C7mapl_IJ1TilLoBlIVp80CMZDRTxUF4-RlVOOqm8zSFpxZDa95AvxvliUGlO_tt3C0qPESqOM_qUGRwopLb3nqrAo7IDDI9thzMwJVYmw88raDsFsGe-GvxV/s1600/IMG_1395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0loK4ULuOIYQTjHkSE8C7mapl_IJ1TilLoBlIVp80CMZDRTxUF4-RlVOOqm8zSFpxZDa95AvxvliUGlO_tt3C0qPESqOM_qUGRwopLb3nqrAo7IDDI9thzMwJVYmw88raDsFsGe-GvxV/s400/IMG_1395.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As much fun as she had at dog parks, nothing compared to playing on her own property with Sable when her family moved to the house on the lake!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteFa34we82D5dYPBFhRadWpaTL1oa0kKKBiFrqG5iKgPANR_u2ZpP1A8O0Xx4MIEMWISmVoBfcKZESZ0_R4Et1HhokCRFLALRjMNiLu3G_BQgvqxpySU99E0rObpoxGmEHDPN-70NQuC_/s1600/IMG_1336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteFa34we82D5dYPBFhRadWpaTL1oa0kKKBiFrqG5iKgPANR_u2ZpP1A8O0Xx4MIEMWISmVoBfcKZESZ0_R4Et1HhokCRFLALRjMNiLu3G_BQgvqxpySU99E0rObpoxGmEHDPN-70NQuC_/s400/IMG_1336.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their game was simple: Sable would give Goldie a mock-bite on the neck and Goldie would chase her in mock-fury.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mVQTdSEB1V9MbdU0AmSiiSO3hE6hEhrx3thjjynd_KAuZCrtLoiXO5-uDRewEAASaArnWNrgA_QJXPpUl5BLWyEOh2bBX-OhkjYuU5IVK78d4IXYCizUaqBXH6xb14ldcCOAlPPFtSDF/s1600/IMG_2614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mVQTdSEB1V9MbdU0AmSiiSO3hE6hEhrx3thjjynd_KAuZCrtLoiXO5-uDRewEAASaArnWNrgA_QJXPpUl5BLWyEOh2bBX-OhkjYuU5IVK78d4IXYCizUaqBXH6xb14ldcCOAlPPFtSDF/s400/IMG_2614.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was an arrangement agreeable to both. Goldie and Sable often took a break from their game to say hello to me on the dock before running off to play some more.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...how astonishingly quiet she was (I could take care of her for weeks at a time and never hear a single peep out of her!), how well-mannered, and the sweet way she once very politely requested reassurance during a thunderstorm...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XgshDwGb5sh4JHXL8Wa7TWgZiRsRgEtXgId6Nc9ZgysKM23FEoTUq-kSAacuI8EsBbGyocJqlKSxDOMHCjWMjlq7pLOzQhVc-V2IoJlKoytPPzGkJ3MNbpdFUeRAs4xuN1vVZmzsTcP6/s1600/IMG_0100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XgshDwGb5sh4JHXL8Wa7TWgZiRsRgEtXgId6Nc9ZgysKM23FEoTUq-kSAacuI8EsBbGyocJqlKSxDOMHCjWMjlq7pLOzQhVc-V2IoJlKoytPPzGkJ3MNbpdFUeRAs4xuN1vVZmzsTcP6/s400/IMG_0100.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the house, Goldie was calm, quiet, and polite. She had wonderful manners.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KhMgd45QhKZYYi4EeNjvOQlEqyFs-Gyxf2LEH1XIz9B_91U5-EFmbdH6LHPovNukXjyoaak674D8T8Rj-klkHCxuTElWzkNItrQAEignhH_R0K9kjJo7GMMUDNAIp-c4dROGBRGNG34o/s1600/IMG_2091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KhMgd45QhKZYYi4EeNjvOQlEqyFs-Gyxf2LEH1XIz9B_91U5-EFmbdH6LHPovNukXjyoaak674D8T8Rj-klkHCxuTElWzkNItrQAEignhH_R0K9kjJo7GMMUDNAIp-c4dROGBRGNG34o/s400/IMG_2091.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dog needs a break now and then from all that rolling and romping!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...those funny flyaway wisps of fur that rose from her ears...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGZln7HVzktaAbAS07Nyfx5hTxHXaPXdJp428v8TxTEse479jl8WB3RTeNpHZyP1uPunGdQ1UyVv_wAaKTBRuGzuluoDf1CrrZqbpzyFEH-ycu3WavrBPMBwxgGMbwf4GitWpdQkNMnjt/s1600/IMG_9495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGZln7HVzktaAbAS07Nyfx5hTxHXaPXdJp428v8TxTEse479jl8WB3RTeNpHZyP1uPunGdQ1UyVv_wAaKTBRuGzuluoDf1CrrZqbpzyFEH-ycu3WavrBPMBwxgGMbwf4GitWpdQkNMnjt/s400/IMG_9495.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fur on Goldie's ears and head was very silky and fine and prone to standing on end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxpMfqFjpyI4NEmNVmg_UXfv2KVqWVgaruz9ynvX6uffwHF50Wg-Vfh33uLeGNQCEwhGRc86Roag93OsOg1PUcyVRr81-gR-M-p91kZKQX3i6Pxs0Z4MbFXcJ_8BjJdoa5_qd7UpwlGTd/s1600/IMG_2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxpMfqFjpyI4NEmNVmg_UXfv2KVqWVgaruz9ynvX6uffwHF50Wg-Vfh33uLeGNQCEwhGRc86Roag93OsOg1PUcyVRr81-gR-M-p91kZKQX3i6Pxs0Z4MbFXcJ_8BjJdoa5_qd7UpwlGTd/s400/IMG_2006.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These flyaway wisps gave her a perpetually disheveled (and slightly goofy) look.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fzWTglgN_TzalbMfOnC2VTjUAP2ckwFSjyY8Brxipi802KvnjC92dPGKuky9Yb64_c0ncXIb22Ok4GNSDKP7swMS6lF4zQgdyJEY9qMGIOXdYG3y-lfdae7OAKQLHvPEqiTWCuRZc0RF/s1600/IMG_4656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fzWTglgN_TzalbMfOnC2VTjUAP2ckwFSjyY8Brxipi802KvnjC92dPGKuky9Yb64_c0ncXIb22Ok4GNSDKP7swMS6lF4zQgdyJEY9qMGIOXdYG3y-lfdae7OAKQLHvPEqiTWCuRZc0RF/s400/IMG_4656.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The effect was quite charming.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
...the way she carried her tail straight up when she was excited...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sAhs1VSIpy1xnbMUk1auCSS10s0rgWWAtpVJ3we8GbtPh35ExxSmzUUpSj06u1WbJIAuUcDYi_d-uLi66BOu-R-dVx4bO0e1md_OmWlel2IF9GByC9cXzbN4YsRNz5qnIy9DhsJZ0YG6/s1600/IMG_6176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sAhs1VSIpy1xnbMUk1auCSS10s0rgWWAtpVJ3we8GbtPh35ExxSmzUUpSj06u1WbJIAuUcDYi_d-uLi66BOu-R-dVx4bO0e1md_OmWlel2IF9GByC9cXzbN4YsRNz5qnIy9DhsJZ0YG6/s400/IMG_6176.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TAIL UP! Goldie's tail points to the sky!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...our twice-daily strolls down to the lake... </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhqg5aAdH32H_vORYACdT0xYz6r1tg4vslhq0EC8IgZXiODhspbR4uaIgPKfcLK_5g_Kpp1VSwQnzsDyM08HbB4FbmudoBUN43C4A22cW8kEloZaLQ1hzwkBkNy3KaIzl8T8qSbkvuTUt/s1600/IMG_1764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhqg5aAdH32H_vORYACdT0xYz6r1tg4vslhq0EC8IgZXiODhspbR4uaIgPKfcLK_5g_Kpp1VSwQnzsDyM08HbB4FbmudoBUN43C4A22cW8kEloZaLQ1hzwkBkNy3KaIzl8T8qSbkvuTUt/s400/IMG_1764.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, due to her canine obligations, Goldie would have break off to do some errands as we made our way down to the dock, but she always joined me eventually!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5poxKYqTEv7ngnerzLK1Erm4VJ-KwtHv1wMTfUwV4O0yDF6Tpb7nmTg4EcVs4apYDeiJEZ5gbofMZROm7QFGcIsKWwPNTxUUJcCIjhhlq22kOXmVNouCVxZaoNdOYNaCqq5NXjUV4BFj3/s1600/IMG_5284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5poxKYqTEv7ngnerzLK1Erm4VJ-KwtHv1wMTfUwV4O0yDF6Tpb7nmTg4EcVs4apYDeiJEZ5gbofMZROm7QFGcIsKWwPNTxUUJcCIjhhlq22kOXmVNouCVxZaoNdOYNaCqq5NXjUV4BFj3/s400/IMG_5284.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a routine: every morning, as soon as I got up, we'd go down to the lake together to see what there was to see.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-OfpGVMBprGYP9nVF-MuQKXUkxIi5z88P-NCYHBk0N8VLOPkxn_APkyZ75JQbX5nbGm_1ycDCV0a8aEVzf56TmgdXcwJxdJj-UGsNG9WPyuZWRnZorgOkZFio663ha9adMcdNVKKBl9E/s1600/IMG_5699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-OfpGVMBprGYP9nVF-MuQKXUkxIi5z88P-NCYHBk0N8VLOPkxn_APkyZ75JQbX5nbGm_1ycDCV0a8aEVzf56TmgdXcwJxdJj-UGsNG9WPyuZWRnZorgOkZFio663ha9adMcdNVKKBl9E/s400/IMG_5699.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every evening, as the sun approached the horizon, we'd make our way down to the dock again to watch the night come.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NTL0YuW2H_LHpNO1DQRcviFwiJZypYot6ikda6I647vnnJZa6usQe1dP9a6ZhASkwUmSBqzwQOmmtTUGW7Qgc56PRnrpIor7TqaqMFJShTCiP1byQp_jmmC2Bg5grwhPX0Gm-Zd61hlB/s1600/IMG_2386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NTL0YuW2H_LHpNO1DQRcviFwiJZypYot6ikda6I647vnnJZa6usQe1dP9a6ZhASkwUmSBqzwQOmmtTUGW7Qgc56PRnrpIor7TqaqMFJShTCiP1byQp_jmmC2Bg5grwhPX0Gm-Zd61hlB/s400/IMG_2386.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie and I both loved those strolls to the lake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
...and her expressive face, so often lit with a smile.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZGvHt9dZBTfyHW8QheCqyl11qLvR9GFm3KSwztPdZHY-5oVEy8v0UxFyB5K2U6OUlKzU525wpUUGMCWmvPDHouI4uTj2VspzCToAtM0EZQbroioBufab-l5cpPSnArPaLa1TwZykbJ0-/s1600/IMG_2046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZGvHt9dZBTfyHW8QheCqyl11qLvR9GFm3KSwztPdZHY-5oVEy8v0UxFyB5K2U6OUlKzU525wpUUGMCWmvPDHouI4uTj2VspzCToAtM0EZQbroioBufab-l5cpPSnArPaLa1TwZykbJ0-/s400/IMG_2046.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie found many things to be happy about. It was in her nature to be pleased by the world.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhVQdrhyphenhyphentc0LX9QfasRzEmrSDkxPNw16D7njDX5lQ_svkj8CSDUzIEkUZr0hlHnpVlA1ReadJeox5cKCNW-umRCzOPh7jOoW5A3mNOLQN6uYq-js_T9BPqm0zpBsde0LCuoX5NWJBsdJ_/s1600/IMG_3490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhVQdrhyphenhyphentc0LX9QfasRzEmrSDkxPNw16D7njDX5lQ_svkj8CSDUzIEkUZr0hlHnpVlA1ReadJeox5cKCNW-umRCzOPh7jOoW5A3mNOLQN6uYq-js_T9BPqm0zpBsde0LCuoX5NWJBsdJ_/s400/IMG_3490.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was seldom without a smile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10rbMoo1z2N5o997_-6CZtm3pHYw1MAgNjUp2o5ORs1I9IMuZfeXfXBDVNFCQ0BuaEVMboRRvEBzLPtgaA9Qy6pBGMirQjQW5BPW1EMBwnE2AeUfiAPi0P5SnzCe2Xuo1JEw1cYlx40Xz/s1600/IMG_1002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10rbMoo1z2N5o997_-6CZtm3pHYw1MAgNjUp2o5ORs1I9IMuZfeXfXBDVNFCQ0BuaEVMboRRvEBzLPtgaA9Qy6pBGMirQjQW5BPW1EMBwnE2AeUfiAPi0P5SnzCe2Xuo1JEw1cYlx40Xz/s400/IMG_1002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a good girl!</td></tr>
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The moments I loved most with Goldie were those spent sitting on the dock together.<br />
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I'd have my camera with me, perpetually on the lookout for interesting birds to photograph, and once she'd made her rounds, checking the beaches for any washed-up snacks, she'd settle by me, looking around and sniffing the wind.<br />
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If the birds were scarce or the light was ebbing as the sun went down, I'd start petting her.<br />
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It is something of an obsession of mine, when petting an animal, to work out any mats or tangles I find and because Goldie was a long-haired dog who went in the water daily, there was always plenty of fur to work through and unbind!<br />
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She loved this and didn't make the slightest protest if I accidentally pulled her fur while trying to break apart mats or tangles. She'd stand perfectly still and if I stopped, even for a moment, she would press her head against me in a mute appeal for more.<br />
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That is what I'll remember: the pressure of her head against my torso, her golden coat burnished to amber by the setting sun, my fingers buried deep in her fur, the dark blue of the lake, crows flying to roost high overhead, the wind carrying away the orange streamers of her loosened fur, my love for her, her love for me.<br />
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Farewell, dear girl. I'll miss you forever.<br />
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<br />c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-79158506161242656732015-09-14T15:20:00.001-07:002015-09-14T15:20:23.639-07:00Things I Liked in 2014<div style="text-align: center;">
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It took me ten months to put this blog together, but here at last, in September 2015, is the summary of what was best about 2014.<br />
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As is too often the case, there was a lot of stuff not to like in 2014. There was the sprained ankle in January, the appallingly bad weather in February and March (in fact, we received above-average--and often WAY above average--rainfall in all but three months of 2014), too much dog-sitting in April to allow me to work on any of my other projects, a major gastroparesis relapse that started in May and lasted until October, and an unusually warm summer with temperatures in the eighties, which sounds lovely except hot weather makes me really sick. Things started to improve in the fall when it cooled down, except for when it was windy or rainy (and fall is naturally a windy and rainy time of year), and some weeks of depression in October. I spent far more time than I would like in 2014 feeling too sick or worn out or just too busy to do the stuff I love, especially writing. I also wasn't well enough to spend much time with the horses; I think I may have ridden Drifter only half a dozen times in 2014. In the past, being around the horses was one of the only things that made me forget I have any kind of disability, but in 2014, being around the horses made me feel stressed and overwhelmed and tired. The last time I attempted to ride, in June, I got on Drifter's back at the start of my lesson only to discover that I'd used up all of my energy grooming him in the hot stable, and burst into tears. I went a few times to groom and hang out with Drifter without riding in the fall, but the Year of the Horse this was not. However, there were still some brights spots, so without further ado, here are the Things I Liked in 2014:</div>
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<u>Books</u><br />
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I read more this year than I have in years' past, which was a definite highlight. The downside was that I was reading more in a large part because the summer's heat kept me confined to the family room couch. If I lay there with a fan blowing on me and drank lots of water and didn't move any more than I had to, I wouldn't feel sick, so I often read for eight hours a day. I was able to read more difficult books this year than I've been able to in recent years, in part because what was often keeping me from being more active was my gastroparesis, not my migraines. So the reasons WHY I read more in 2014 are perhaps not the happiest, but as a lifelong avid reader, it's hard to get too down about getting a lot of reading done. This is an overview of some of the best books I read:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfH8F7t-fcUvQD4wbSotLxg4xjv8SWxx-wj6fAnKlC5AtfrXRYMuZHvHc6TNL5Kb_t1SJDM4LId6x3CZ9aOShM0muQ_h3tokNkjJuasPMuHgVzYz0RtWt6QhgeWDLxnTrtgUPVkaeSJHU8/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfH8F7t-fcUvQD4wbSotLxg4xjv8SWxx-wj6fAnKlC5AtfrXRYMuZHvHc6TNL5Kb_t1SJDM4LId6x3CZ9aOShM0muQ_h3tokNkjJuasPMuHgVzYz0RtWt6QhgeWDLxnTrtgUPVkaeSJHU8/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" width="133" /></a>The best book I read in 2014 would be <u>Americanah</u> by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. A well-written story of love, race, and immigration, it allows us to see America through the eyes of an intelligent Nigerian woman who is struck by the subtle ways that differences in language, culture, perceptions, and expectations come together to form a country both different from her native land and from the America of her imagination. Most particularly interesting were her wry observations on race because a black African has a very different sense of self, culture, and color identity in the United States than a black African-American. I'd been doing a lot of thinking on the subject of race in America in 2014, so this was a very timely read. But despite the potential weight of the topics--immigrant struggles, racial challenges--and the amount I learned from it, it is a book that went down easily. I highly recommend it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcucTZyNE80kh7zKS-8K5pAxIEpDYADXI0BSEIKC07G4-iFBY6i62ns7zlhUX8VrKaZMiVOwJmOHQg1cO50hnGYRRMqQVEzlLWqmwAU2-1EFV90sjjZcInOVxzVNnWOC8mOoja1WyTuiC/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcucTZyNE80kh7zKS-8K5pAxIEpDYADXI0BSEIKC07G4-iFBY6i62ns7zlhUX8VrKaZMiVOwJmOHQg1cO50hnGYRRMqQVEzlLWqmwAU2-1EFV90sjjZcInOVxzVNnWOC8mOoja1WyTuiC/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" width="126" /></a><u>Everything is Illuminated</u>, by Jonathan Safran Foer, was one of the most compelling and unsettling books I read in 2014. I was in college when it was published in 2002, so I missed the furor that broke out around it at that time and I approached it knowing only that the title and author seemed vaguely familiar. The story purports to be a comedy about a American Jew seeking to find the Ukrainian Gentile that saved his grandfather from the Nazis. The story is told through the back-and-forth exchange of letters from the young Ukrainian tour guide who is to help the American with his search and the novel that the American (a writer named Jonathan Safran Foer) is writing about his ancestors. I was originally a bit skeptical as I didn't find the translator's mangled English and attempts to pass himself off as a playboy very amusing and the novel sections were bawdy, romantic, fantastical, and strange, but I stuck with it and was rewarded by a book that unexpectedly unfolded to become one of the most devastating, affecting, and emotionally destabilizing books I've read about the Holocaust in a long time. The blurb on the back cover from the Washington Post Book World says, "Read it, and you'll feel altered, chastened--seared in the fire of something new." It's an apt description, especially the word "chastened." It's a brilliant feat of writing. Lots of people absolutely hated the book when it came out and I can see why, but it managed to punch me in the gut and left me gasping for air for some time after I finished it. I can't think of a higher compliment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRal17DljJAwc1jyOu_4SyZQ9G2FePFIne3Q_lAyxnysIJZ1nADhojeqeSeRqIcieEcYb3QRp8rmVLiLaDrstNR1QnESEDflC-dJbn9milrA3GVKQM_AcNUYMPmqJTGWrYAMpcVuDtEOqd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRal17DljJAwc1jyOu_4SyZQ9G2FePFIne3Q_lAyxnysIJZ1nADhojeqeSeRqIcieEcYb3QRp8rmVLiLaDrstNR1QnESEDflC-dJbn9milrA3GVKQM_AcNUYMPmqJTGWrYAMpcVuDtEOqd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" width="132" /></a>The other most devastating and affecting book I read this year was Andrew Solomon's nonfiction work, <u>Far From the Tree</u>. The book profiles what it's like for families when their children are profoundly different from their parents, especially in ways that are stigmatized. This includes children who are deaf or dwarves, have autism or Down syndrome, who are prodigies or psychopaths. I learned about the book when Solomon was interviewed on NPR's "Fresh Air." They talked about a number of the categories he covered, including children conceived through rape, and then they discussed his interviews with the parents of Dylan Klebold, one of the Columbine killers. Show host Terry Gross shared a quote that stuck with me and made me seek out the book. Klebold's mother said, <i>"While every mother in town was praying that her child was safe, I had to pray that mine would die before he hurt anyone else...I gave the hardest prayer I ever made, that he would kill himself, because then at least I would know that he wanted to die and wouldn't be left with all the questions I'd have if he got caught by a police bullet. I've spent so many hours regretting that prayer. I wished for my son to kill himself and he did." </i>The entire book was as moving, unsettling, and challenging as that passage and I ended up learning a great deal about myself: about my attitudes toward difference, about my acceptance of disabilities, and even my definition of disability, which is of interest to me, since I have a disability myself. There was also a lot to learn from this book about love and acceptance of seemingly unbearable realities, a subject that is of interest to me as well. Although long, it was accessibly written and I early devoured it in no time at all. I found it to be a profound and very important work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcCE3IYsn6jkBog4MxTBGnHS1uiqr8Csdwj6eb6O4sar3sBTidFadnsVfqY2MBkiHXRg5RVmHdsJ8VI2fgWmCwt9ds7W8igfPuoVjGe_3TB1RfgVo0nIVIpbepc49ATJabd-nVieSD7GN/s1600/Unknown-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcCE3IYsn6jkBog4MxTBGnHS1uiqr8Csdwj6eb6O4sar3sBTidFadnsVfqY2MBkiHXRg5RVmHdsJ8VI2fgWmCwt9ds7W8igfPuoVjGe_3TB1RfgVo0nIVIpbepc49ATJabd-nVieSD7GN/s1600/Unknown-2.jpeg" width="126" /></a>On a lighter note, I very much enjoyed <u>Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children</u> and <u>Hollow City</u>, by Ransom Riggs, and am eagerly awaiting the next book in the series. The books grew out of a whimsical notion by the author as he looked at vintage photographs, many of which featured strange looking children in weirdly enigmatic scenes, clumsily edited so they appeared to be defying the laws of nature: what if these photos were real, if these stilted images were in fact revealing an alternate world, one where the children of bygone days could indeed levitate or disappear? And thus a world full of peculiarly talented children concealed in time loops to hide from hollowgasts was born. In the books, a modern teenage boy, Jacob, finds that he has inherited the task of protecting from destruction the children, the bird/women that shelter them, and both the real and magical worlds. This journey takes him from suburban Florida to a remote Welsh island to war-torn 1940's era London. It's a strange and clever conceit bolstered by likable characters and a nail-biter of a plot!<br />
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Other books that I read and enjoyed in 2014: <u>Netherland</u>, by Joseph O'Neill; <u>Dear Life</u>, byAlice Munro; <u>The Signature of All Things</u>, by Elizabeth Gilbert; the <u>Divergent Trilogy</u>, by Veronica Roth (not my usually sort of books, but highly entertaining!); <u>The Homesman</u>, by Glendon Swarthout; <u>White Teeth</u>, by Zadie Smith; <u>Caramelo</u>, by Sandra Cisneros; <u>The Valley of Amazement</u>, by Amy Tan; <u>Mountains Beyond Mountains</u>, by Tracy Kidder; <u>Empire Falls</u>, by Richard Russo; <u>The Museum of Extraordinary Things</u>, by Alice Hoffman; <u>The Orchardist</u>, by Amanda Coplin; and <u>A Constellation of Vital Phenomena</u> by Anthony Marra.<br />
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<u>Television</u><br />
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2014 was the year when I stopped watching many shows that I had been following because I just couldn't handle the excitement. After enjoying a show for several seasons, you start to get invested in the characters and the story lines and I found myself unable to handle the stress of worrying about the welfare of characters I had come to like or following new and convoluted twists in plot lines. By and large, I didn't have energy to waste on emotionally demanding TV. With a few exceptions, most of the television shows I enjoyed this year allowed me to preserve an emotional remove.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9JBBMLAZdOvlrD7fyXm6jttuLRA0zE8yaGHwUm8gPIuM7EfJlWUBmbRpPWfIBtpkERE0maAYjP_WstV2j5RFsRbyTHAOUT26ZJqNHav0fX4QHnxm2ErigZ3Blzu3qYeJQ6q_n02aLIgK/s1600/Unknown-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9JBBMLAZdOvlrD7fyXm6jttuLRA0zE8yaGHwUm8gPIuM7EfJlWUBmbRpPWfIBtpkERE0maAYjP_WstV2j5RFsRbyTHAOUT26ZJqNHav0fX4QHnxm2ErigZ3Blzu3qYeJQ6q_n02aLIgK/s1600/Unknown-7.jpeg" width="200" /></a>Over the course of ten months or so, I worked my way through the first eight seasons of "Law & Order." I'd take my nighttime medication, watch an episode, and then go to sleep. It was very soothing. (Reading keeps me awake, so it's best if I don't crack open a book around bedtime!) I found "Law & Order" perfect for my needs because the episodes are formulaic without being dull, the recurring characters are interesting but don't demand much emotional investment, most of the crimes are committed off-camera so there's little violence or gore, and at the end of each episode, justice is almost always served. There are no edgy cuts between scenes or other distracting visual effects, there isn't an overly amped-up soundtrack, and most of the show is made up of people talking to each other. For me, that's just perfect! I'm really hoping that Netflix will put up the rest of the seasons soon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSne5CgnKvCPeVzqTZqURkOuy0PmCwEEZcHurfz-BMXPYN1tQCf-8QiBd0Y89fLPFE5irFPxBILUaDjwpkd1TXxlpcHvnJ7FgRYIv_EwXjGsogzR368Y8_5v7vf0JsytVPZbKIn4ywQZYv/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSne5CgnKvCPeVzqTZqURkOuy0PmCwEEZcHurfz-BMXPYN1tQCf-8QiBd0Y89fLPFE5irFPxBILUaDjwpkd1TXxlpcHvnJ7FgRYIv_EwXjGsogzR368Y8_5v7vf0JsytVPZbKIn4ywQZYv/s1600/images.jpeg" width="200" /></a>It's always a struggle to find light fare that will work within the limitations imposed by my migraines and my taste. I have minimal interest in sitcoms, for example, because sitcom humor almost always centers around humiliation and I do not find humiliation funny in the least. That means I am unamused by a lot of the television shows and movies that are considered funny, which is a pity since I could stand to have a little more laughter in my life. However, I got lucky when I stumbled upon the Comedy Central game show "@midnight". The basic premise is simple: three comedians compete for points earned by making wisecracks about ridiculous things found on the internet. I have laughed out loud at least once during every single episode! It airs four nights each week and I catch it the day after on Hulu. I haven't missed a single episode and am bummed whenever the show takes a break. It's often rude--I have to warn my mother not to come into my study while I'm watching it--so it's not a show for those who are easily offended, but it can be an awful lot of fun and it definitely is a bright spot in my day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQCySQZwXvh0agP2MAKEdtDaHzngPxHKO_vejq7L8FQhmcPp5PMLoOxJ6uXVq2TOfxKcqH10Jd2R3sdVaskoAQiTWom_QhOqHsVJQF-I7dKplSsLWOrFdW1HuH-VxkRP02ZDIjQKryUw2/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQCySQZwXvh0agP2MAKEdtDaHzngPxHKO_vejq7L8FQhmcPp5PMLoOxJ6uXVq2TOfxKcqH10Jd2R3sdVaskoAQiTWom_QhOqHsVJQF-I7dKplSsLWOrFdW1HuH-VxkRP02ZDIjQKryUw2/s1600/images.jpeg" width="200" /></a>I never would have considered watching the kids' cartoon "Adventure Time" if the show and its creator hadn't been written about in the New Yorker, but as I was casting about for lighter fare to watch in the fall of 2014 after finishing up all the "Law & Order" episodes available on Netflix, I decided to give "Adventure Time" a try and really came to enjoy it. It's loopy, charming, and weird; I like, for instance, that episodes often end abruptly, right in the middle of the story, without any explanations or resolution. Sometimes an episode's plot will be resolved more traditionally (climax leading to falling action leading to denouement), but without the usual need common to children's fare for there to be a moral to the story. On other occasions, everyone learns an important lesson, though there's often some ambiguity built into the lesson learned. I like this unpredictability and general lack of preachiness--it makes the cutesy elements of the strange and magical land where the action takes place much more tolerable, especially since there's no guarantee in this world that something cute will be wholly good or something bad or ugly will be wholly evil. Creative, off-beat, funny, trippy, bizarre, effervescent, ambiguous, and good-humored, "Adventure Time" has turned out to be a hit!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKkX-LeVwlQYTB7dKDK87L1guO-mriGWSnvLdyGYa5_NXaVg2XeyI0hVBHb6DsYTirJC5FiXFoXd75GP4iJMOSgYXXUIXh99E46bqdRfsYZ27ediXQc0hsMSxKtSDjKy826w_WHQbVltd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKkX-LeVwlQYTB7dKDK87L1guO-mriGWSnvLdyGYa5_NXaVg2XeyI0hVBHb6DsYTirJC5FiXFoXd75GP4iJMOSgYXXUIXh99E46bqdRfsYZ27ediXQc0hsMSxKtSDjKy826w_WHQbVltd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" width="200" /></a>Occasionally, I do have the energy to invest in a more intense show and I was so excited for the second season of "Orange is the New Black"! I'd gobbled up the first season after seeing enough of my friends rave about it and ended up getting totally hooked on this female prison comedy/drama. I approached the second season with high hopes and it did not disappoint. "Orange is the New Black" has been written and talked about extensively by others, so I won't go into detail in describing what the show entails. What I will add is that while there are many things to love about this show, the thing I like the very most is that the characters, both how they are written and acted, seem like real people. It's one of the highest compliments I can give a production.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-wwmtal-jSKk4sTy9ON0YBYqTuwAip7dEPu8g2ZqNkzm4YKJBJMOaDBBz3zI4j6dS15PoT9DEs4jLbfJZtuCrB0LRm58WKw7q8E4rgSc7FrDDHmSVycZaqyGlaewc9nS4r16ii3yjWqe/s1600/Unknown-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-wwmtal-jSKk4sTy9ON0YBYqTuwAip7dEPu8g2ZqNkzm4YKJBJMOaDBBz3zI4j6dS15PoT9DEs4jLbfJZtuCrB0LRm58WKw7q8E4rgSc7FrDDHmSVycZaqyGlaewc9nS4r16ii3yjWqe/s1600/Unknown-8.jpeg" width="200" /></a>The other intense show that I enjoyed this year was "Vikings." I have to confess that I haven't watched the second season yet because the prospect is too daunting given my current energy levels, but I was absolutely riveted by the first season, so I'll get to the later seasons eventually! The show centers around the legendary Viking hero, Ragnar Lothbrok, and brings alive the world of 9th century where he would have lived. (While the men purported to be his sons are established historical figures, Ragnar may be a fictional hero.) We learn about navigational sunstones and the flat-bottomed ships that allowed the Vikings to exact devastating raids upon English kingdoms, how the religious beliefs and formal power structures of Viking society contributed to the legendary violence and lust for battle that allowed the Norsemen to go on to pillage all of Europe, and what day-to-day life might have looked like. Make no mistake, though: those historical lessons are couched in with plenty of drama, complete with betrayals, battles, strife and bonding between kinsmen, and no small amount of sex! Ragnar is played with such charisma by actor Travis Fimmel that it seems wholly possible that such a man could have existed and accomplished the stories of legend. And while Travis Fimmel the 21st-century man (and former underwear model) doesn't much interest me, when he's in Ragnar mode and smiles his deliciously devious, charming, twinkling smile, well, that's a pretty darn reason for watching the show all on its own.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAfUk7rd_uuw6FalEHiY2dd_6yD6k1P4bbJXWuLBWdraUrSSo261f5dP-f2PMwpdvbbRiu7Ng95P_1zYqb3P5VGW0hHDTcZ45iTECbhYA7kYP57fqdmE_2nRYnlbKYAaB3mvazuwF9L4Z/s1600/81MJB4gX-5L._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAfUk7rd_uuw6FalEHiY2dd_6yD6k1P4bbJXWuLBWdraUrSSo261f5dP-f2PMwpdvbbRiu7Ng95P_1zYqb3P5VGW0hHDTcZ45iTECbhYA7kYP57fqdmE_2nRYnlbKYAaB3mvazuwF9L4Z/s1600/81MJB4gX-5L._SL1500_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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On a completely different note... I count myself very lucky to have been dog-sitting at a house with a large HD TV when Nature's "Legendary White Stallions" aired. I regularly watch Nature programs online (there's no TV at my house) and while I have a very large computer screen, it's only about a quarter of the size of the one where I first got to see this beautiful program about the Lippizaner stallions of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna. This wasn't the first time I'd heard of the Lippizaners: I read Marguerite Henry's <u>White Stallion of Lipizza</u> when I was a kid and was so taken with the story that my parents took me to see a performance by the horses when a Spanish Riding School tour came to Seattle. However, I hadn't thought about them in ages and I'm an even bigger sucker for shows about horses now that I ride myself, so it was an absolute delight to catch this program. Not only does it show the horses being trained and performing at the riding school, it also shows the entire life of a Spanish Riding School Lipizzan from birth until retirement. The shots of the young horses running free across the hilltops and the white mares ambling through the sun-dappled, tree-dotted meadows at the Piber Federal Stud farm are exquisite! I highly recommend it for horse lovers.</div>
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<u>Movies</u><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD03zqkP0g82FoWuN6V_AeSDZ2rXm18YjZ5_cxTZruzSbFz7Vhp5OER_HGY0Td9X9Sdm6TzFtDnANvNMTdHM-AOcTUp3oyBKTW9vzTiU0YsrCnifXT-R6aLVg4Cvl4QFC8GvtE-j2cW-b/s1600/Unknown-9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD03zqkP0g82FoWuN6V_AeSDZ2rXm18YjZ5_cxTZruzSbFz7Vhp5OER_HGY0Td9X9Sdm6TzFtDnANvNMTdHM-AOcTUp3oyBKTW9vzTiU0YsrCnifXT-R6aLVg4Cvl4QFC8GvtE-j2cW-b/s1600/Unknown-9.jpeg" width="145" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stitch! So cute! So naughty!</td></tr>
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I almost hesitate to admit this because I don't think of myself as a Disney sort of person and don't want to be thought of as a Disney sort of person...but I've come to realize that when I'm feeling sick and down and am in need of cheering up, animated Disney movies work extremely well for that purpose. I watch whatever animated Disney movies are currently available on Netflix, so in years' past that has meant "The Princess and the Frog" and "Tangled," both of which I enjoyed. Neither are currently available for streaming, so I turned to what was: "Lilo & Stitch." I knew the movie was set in Hawaii and there was a naughty alien involved, but that was it. It turns out there is a little bit more to the story than that, but the reason to watch "Lilo & Stitch" is to enjoy the adorably naughty Stitch being naughty. Yeah, yeah, there's some larger message in there about family and togetherness and the main characters are not only female but also of color, but let's get back to Stitch, okay? It cheers me up to such a degree that there were some weeks in the fall of 2014 when I watched it more than once. Maybe I'm sort of a Disney person after all?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3f3F9ADoHnqPglIajjK-0Nrmxmrht9fsqzOXphaAIkfgfxCbZQI0YVOtqpITQDbr894bWW_gsT2GQTZ_C00o81XETHvNqsTmwyjmtLuediqc4CdY3eKsc_lYzJt1Vnvg6qryT0c2SfcXz/s1600/51CfBpEhRrL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3f3F9ADoHnqPglIajjK-0Nrmxmrht9fsqzOXphaAIkfgfxCbZQI0YVOtqpITQDbr894bWW_gsT2GQTZ_C00o81XETHvNqsTmwyjmtLuediqc4CdY3eKsc_lYzJt1Vnvg6qryT0c2SfcXz/s1600/51CfBpEhRrL.jpg" width="141" /></a>There's no doubt as to whether or not I'm a "Mary and Max" type of person. I'm all in favor of it! This decidedly quirky claymation picture details the relationship between two awkward, lonely pen pals: a young Australian girl with a large birthmark on her face and an older man with Aspberger's in New York City. Through the course of the movie, Mary grows up, experiencing many heartbreaks as well as a few small triumphs, and Max remains exactly the same, despite hospitalizations, winning the lottery, and being tried for manslaughter. It's absurd, deadpan, charming, and tender. It also reminded me that my dream job would to be a set dresser for stop-motion animation productions! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWG3DdLqhihK8ojQkMHBK-a0EO39l91gkE9N5u-tzfdDEazMHo9f6GxfkLo5-cfv61bXNgFbXAiH72tRqhnwyyMC95mchWDJSjh2zJXqQytKMQUfl1irHknSVcWEARBR0x-P2p_Pep8Zg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWG3DdLqhihK8ojQkMHBK-a0EO39l91gkE9N5u-tzfdDEazMHo9f6GxfkLo5-cfv61bXNgFbXAiH72tRqhnwyyMC95mchWDJSjh2zJXqQytKMQUfl1irHknSVcWEARBR0x-P2p_Pep8Zg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" width="138" /></a>Also, you should watch "Exit Through the Gift Shop." It's so much more than the summaries suggest! I think it's even better to watch it without knowing too much about it, so I'm not going to tell you all the reasons why you should see it except to think that it is merely a film about street artist Banksy would be a mistake.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJg6xU06G-GzkPiaT65HRThLk33JrM4XDw0VRKbUds43artFMm_4iS2QkLPgLctt3j6wx8J3ukmVaaatDxzsKoFhe8f2IA98gijJnyGFrBUEBV-amG-QQB7YACyaSOX1z93EUZkNiXQ-5/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJg6xU06G-GzkPiaT65HRThLk33JrM4XDw0VRKbUds43artFMm_4iS2QkLPgLctt3j6wx8J3ukmVaaatDxzsKoFhe8f2IA98gijJnyGFrBUEBV-amG-QQB7YACyaSOX1z93EUZkNiXQ-5/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" width="141" /></a>I'm just a little bit too young to really have understood or been impacted by the AIDS crisis; by the time I was in high school, treatments had improved to the point where people where no longer dying. My understanding of the early years of AIDS has mostly been historical, so what made the documentary "We Were Here" so meaningful to me is that it made me fully grasp for the first time exactly how heart-wrenching and devastating AIDS was: what it would mean to have your entire community gutted, what it was like to watch everyone around you die, what it was like to survive. "We Were Here" follows the story of five individuals who were living in San Francisco during the AIDS epidemic and whose lives were forever changed and scarred by the unspeakable losses they witnessed and endured. It's a devastating movie, but I am so thankful to have watched it. I definitely recommend it, especially for members of my generation who were spared the knowledge of the worst of the scourge.</div>
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<u>Music</u><br />
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"Breathe Your Last" - Jameson Burt</div>
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My cousin made my list of Things I Liked in 2013, but I'm giving him another shout-out this year. Seriously, folks, this guy is talented! "Breathe Your Last" is off of his "Carnivore" EP. "Carnivore" is available on iTunes and you can <u><a href="https://soundcloud.com/jamesonburtmakesmusic" target="_blank">check it out on Soundcloud</a></u>.<br />
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"Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" - The Shirelles</div>
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Back when I was a kid, I spent about three years listening to oldies on the radio, so when I stumbled upon PBS' "60s Girls Grooves" show while channeling-surfing, I ended up getting completely sucked in. It was fun to see the groups performing in archival footage from the era and reminded me how much great music there was going on at that time. The song that really struck a chord with me was the Shirelles' "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow." I'm hardly alone in liking it--it reached #1 on the charts after its release and has made many "Greatest Songs" lists--but I have difficulty describing why, exactly, it resonated with me so much, though it has something to do with Shirley Owens' voice. (I also really like the Shirelles' song, "Mama Said.") If you have had little exposure to music from the early 1960's or your knowledge of girl groups of the era starts and ends with the Supremes or you just haven't listened to oldies recently, I recommend taking a minute to play "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow."</div>
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<u>Websites</u></div>
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There are two websites I'd like to highlight as important to me in 2014. The first has been edifying, the second...not so much. Well, I HAVE learned that toilets in kitchen are an actual thing. It's amazing what information the internet can bring to you!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgr-zjnGXz0oIdYAwnvb6OEwnBS595mhTD4fmwwxlrVN4t81KoMHHw2JfUX-3sd4wuztnAUhy9rQMD7zbp6nUWhUkCeDqelH0qQ0U8pLBaX_MwumF9uwGZsv0peoskNlxKlgSXrzcb3b6/s1600/xBGD-Header-Logo_Final2-3.2-inch.jpg.pagespeed.ic.F1wG7EbX4W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="73" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgr-zjnGXz0oIdYAwnvb6OEwnBS595mhTD4fmwwxlrVN4t81KoMHHw2JfUX-3sd4wuztnAUhy9rQMD7zbp6nUWhUkCeDqelH0qQ0U8pLBaX_MwumF9uwGZsv0peoskNlxKlgSXrzcb3b6/s320/xBGD-Header-Logo_Final2-3.2-inch.jpg.pagespeed.ic.F1wG7EbX4W.jpg" width="320" /></a>A year or so ago I really started trying to up my game in understanding the dynamics of race, power, diversity, and oppression. I had all the nice white liberal ideas about race (racism is bad, racism still exists, I am not a racist person), but realized I could do better. Delving into racism is hard stuff if you're white and you're not used to it, but whenever I get tired of having to think hard about racism, I remind myself that it's a lot more tiring to have to experience racism on a day-to-day basis, that my ability to shut off my exposure is one of the types of privilege I have access to. I also learned that if an idea makes me uncomfortable and defensive, I need to sit with that discomfort and instead of defending my beliefs, ask myself, "Why does this upset me so much?" Those moments of discomfort are your prime areas for growth. I've also learned that it is critical is to listen to what black, brown, and marginalized people have to say. This does not mean just reading what a white person has to say about what black/brown/marginalized people have to say, no matter how well-written or well-reasoned or well-researched. This means going to the source. The #1 source for me, the one that has taught me the most, is <a href="http://www.blackgirldangerous.org/" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Black Girl Dangerous</a>. BGD seeks to give voice to queer people of color, a group that is discriminated against not just because of race, but also because of their gender and/or sexuality. Most of these people are seriously angry and they have every right to be. It can be hard to listen to people expressing their anger without getting defensive, but it's worth it to stifle your knee-jerk rebuttals and really hear what they have to say about their lived experience and how traumatic it is. Do I agree with every single thing I read? No, but I make sure I sit with that discomfort and take a long, hard look at why I don't and have learned a lot along the way.<br />
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On the lighter side, my favorite web site when I needed a laugh is <u>Terrible Real Estate Agent Photosgraphs</u>. The premise is simple: absolutely terrible photos from real estate listings are given deadpan captions. I try not to check in too often because they are especially delightful when the cumulative effect of so many dreadful photos hits and you find yourself giggling out loud on a dreary winter afternoon... I recommend checking the website out!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://terriblerealestateagentphotos.com/post/64475190450" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNdIdAv4Nil2LubYh48yU2Mc9WIgiLT_PM8ZJU8qGcO57Bsg-ofFqCakbgu6ztlUJbKo3pM53sH5nQ7s-8nOoQ_-i-a8brtDE8_We8UpTi9dOM4TgB7iPHwZidkrmAzZCEpkhicJlNlF9/s400/tumblr_mus4e2za4Z1rrqskho1_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://terriblerealestateagentphotos.com/post/64475190450" target="_blank">"After days of waiting this agent's patience is finally rewarded. Weak with thirst, a pair of wild mattresses appear at the watering hole."</a></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Dogs</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiv-r2wcdsgOIjcLHOF_pr5OpV3w4bvQVXwBLqqIW7s7Mh66Zt7E1V5SiEHgQCOnVXv-hcSfU6L1QIRbGdw2exLmTd4IFbz-D_UobFqAVQFXc9ovWy_o-MqmhG1DYs8ZTrKdIeKkx26JY7/s1600/IMG_9572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiv-r2wcdsgOIjcLHOF_pr5OpV3w4bvQVXwBLqqIW7s7Mh66Zt7E1V5SiEHgQCOnVXv-hcSfU6L1QIRbGdw2exLmTd4IFbz-D_UobFqAVQFXc9ovWy_o-MqmhG1DYs8ZTrKdIeKkx26JY7/s1600/IMG_9572.jpg" width="200" /></a>I've long admired the pet portraits that many of my favorite dog bloggers have ordered from <a href="http://shop.yellowbrickhome.com/" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Yellow Brick Home's Pet Shop</a> and had resolved to eventually get one of not just Abbey, but of every dog I dog-sit. I decided these would be memorial portraits; sadly enough, I had occasion to commission two of them in 2014 after Sweetheart passed away at the end of December of 2013 and Lady in January of 2014. Kim, the artist, was wonderful to work with and I was so pleased that the Pet Shop also now offers prints of the original portrait. This meant I got to send a copy of the portrait to Sweetheart's and Lady's owners. Lady's owner in particular was deeply grateful for this tribute to her beloved dog and send me a Glassybaby votive in the color "wet dog" in return. This votive holder, representative to me of the deep bonds we form with our dogs and through our dogs, even after they have parted from us, stands next to my beautiful portraits of Sweetheart and Lady.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibv5VuB0A4V7fyJ6zc4GtX_OVmLww0Zi-9UBvdLffRxSYNQW2wykGDLfZT78_2aHjQpozQjdDyJtMpiTTQzdZg5UQ9VWTzBr1qg_Ri6qP0b969xqMqquLeAgFphEm5tDwZ1zuIBF3-Ay3o/s1600/IMG_8907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibv5VuB0A4V7fyJ6zc4GtX_OVmLww0Zi-9UBvdLffRxSYNQW2wykGDLfZT78_2aHjQpozQjdDyJtMpiTTQzdZg5UQ9VWTzBr1qg_Ri6qP0b969xqMqquLeAgFphEm5tDwZ1zuIBF3-Ay3o/s1600/IMG_8907.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweetheart, by Yellow Brick Home</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CS_ePIc9HZjw828RJGBfWJ2-D_xTCstHFpx5TpQ5vMXdqPm8oBzlWbPq9ju5J0XQgL3Gif5U8c7jJe34HPsejyed6rDnzHiNHZtP8qG021zK7Nt-tT4oAF7iqByHc5PVlYes_wtt5tzq/s1600/IMG_9570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CS_ePIc9HZjw828RJGBfWJ2-D_xTCstHFpx5TpQ5vMXdqPm8oBzlWbPq9ju5J0XQgL3Gif5U8c7jJe34HPsejyed6rDnzHiNHZtP8qG021zK7Nt-tT4oAF7iqByHc5PVlYes_wtt5tzq/s1600/IMG_9570.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady, by Yellow Brick Home</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfx5GV9tI8p-Wu1lu-kNR-HokljOLqIItxf8InWJHpQafFjEv3AczbtXw8BoHnz1WOaZEH4vBrBug_mzhipUwPbu8v5te-FQ79CWf43xDu77y2zLuTlYQNs4iYruIpsleX6vLlofuDA4Cz/s1600/IMG_3891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfx5GV9tI8p-Wu1lu-kNR-HokljOLqIItxf8InWJHpQafFjEv3AczbtXw8BoHnz1WOaZEH4vBrBug_mzhipUwPbu8v5te-FQ79CWf43xDu77y2zLuTlYQNs4iYruIpsleX6vLlofuDA4Cz/s1600/IMG_3891.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Yellow Brick Home portraits and memorial votive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfyqdT_jWcv9tBDycFimfNq0DMgtcQ3v_Br-j8cKE9zOOeYFV_GrmkbHziMmU8ix-jEj5xi8ErSdIPPvq45Q0BCKbmfQndONSGBGq1ZEvxVaN93KNxl7G-HH-PMqwyhsbXnt5xd0cdUUT/s1600/10525892_692624510773775_4228337011102947323_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfyqdT_jWcv9tBDycFimfNq0DMgtcQ3v_Br-j8cKE9zOOeYFV_GrmkbHziMmU8ix-jEj5xi8ErSdIPPvq45Q0BCKbmfQndONSGBGq1ZEvxVaN93KNxl7G-HH-PMqwyhsbXnt5xd0cdUUT/s200/10525892_692624510773775_4228337011102947323_n.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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I've really come to love the fantastic dog portraits of German photographer <u><a href="http://elkevogelsang.com/" target="_blank">Elke Vogelsan</a>g</u>, who can be <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/elke.vogelsang" target="_blank">found on Facebook under the name Weiselblitz</a></u>. While she does beautiful work for clients, I especially love the photographs of her own pups, a trio of Spanish greyhound mixes named Scout, Noodles, and Ioli. She often makes use of a wide-angle lens to create distorted images of her long-muzzled pups with humorous results. The photographs reveal the great relationship Vogelsang has with her own dogs, but the rapport she develops with clients' dogs during photo shoots is evident in the way the personality of each dog shines through. While much of her work is light-hearted, she also can create beautiful, elegant images, often using the fair-coated Scout as her muse. I'm always delighted to see a new Weiselblitz photo popping up in my Facebook feed!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTC8euMHpYJ8bA8TZ5nvtFMeYpsnpcJSzjdrmLYyPMdIyUGA8-xeyvuqA9K2mHEkQCntoJABQMrtdY9CcFEc6vdQoDCei0ZgyQ29yja9I0RbjBlPxpbCLznom9hmpNGdlnzsf18cBliyW/s1600/11051830_818446961524862_3894227595795039927_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTC8euMHpYJ8bA8TZ5nvtFMeYpsnpcJSzjdrmLYyPMdIyUGA8-xeyvuqA9K2mHEkQCntoJABQMrtdY9CcFEc6vdQoDCei0ZgyQ29yja9I0RbjBlPxpbCLznom9hmpNGdlnzsf18cBliyW/s400/11051830_818446961524862_3894227595795039927_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scout, Noodles, and Ioli<br />
© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1dZzoiZCKW3siJN7Weimerl3C2Bk9xcfHCTPhayf_XgP-5ogd99RZHWwX2NfKml5KIR650D_kb90DW_hQtuQCnfsVm2wPtbx9SQqvHY_wzuQ9qcz2qkWYG7rCm3zKxF4ol1sfeFVhWIS/s1600/11076283_807916172577941_972071806742340803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1dZzoiZCKW3siJN7Weimerl3C2Bk9xcfHCTPhayf_XgP-5ogd99RZHWwX2NfKml5KIR650D_kb90DW_hQtuQCnfsVm2wPtbx9SQqvHY_wzuQ9qcz2qkWYG7rCm3zKxF4ol1sfeFVhWIS/s400/11076283_807916172577941_972071806742340803_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noodles, Scout, Ioli<br />
© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXNFi6z1QspZ1nbiyA2E4ehXBAZshZ1rx7U3xSuKOUkozV9GbA4y7ETdcl-0c3t1KcfzQMYl_AOYukqqTrwpo_3PpEpbZefbpoka5rz8CDRsZGIB0HEhpxQgETr5_Su1cahriH0i-4EGHq/s1600/10246714_677376958965197_7902204637671485616_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXNFi6z1QspZ1nbiyA2E4ehXBAZshZ1rx7U3xSuKOUkozV9GbA4y7ETdcl-0c3t1KcfzQMYl_AOYukqqTrwpo_3PpEpbZefbpoka5rz8CDRsZGIB0HEhpxQgETr5_Su1cahriH0i-4EGHq/s400/10246714_677376958965197_7902204637671485616_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aBp6L5Ld43NT3KogRrd30tTKWrG58RNERen7gVwrbVGgNdAvrDtMjO7-0NeDUcgRuzGIYeq-7FbMVyCBebMT-HlUo7cvTSWbkTyzWlsbWWV6o89V0s9NDpqwxvZqYGruYQHvu4JGP0qC/s1600/11021267_797207526982139_4554689961308624009_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aBp6L5Ld43NT3KogRrd30tTKWrG58RNERen7gVwrbVGgNdAvrDtMjO7-0NeDUcgRuzGIYeq-7FbMVyCBebMT-HlUo7cvTSWbkTyzWlsbWWV6o89V0s9NDpqwxvZqYGruYQHvu4JGP0qC/s400/11021267_797207526982139_4554689961308624009_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMJ7CF3CFk9t2pjpqvIxvalPHPUfgqgy2SeLrXVElyHkuGKbdEsNbeVdr28M1Z6ThtXkbYK4I9dvCfsqqrEJeLJ6wERJDIcX1wIpoO7575-7dOT2ihI3x5_F6FWKAinuEUUXolUlSe98f/s1600/10687034_747721998597359_3553425582176061543_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMJ7CF3CFk9t2pjpqvIxvalPHPUfgqgy2SeLrXVElyHkuGKbdEsNbeVdr28M1Z6ThtXkbYK4I9dvCfsqqrEJeLJ6wERJDIcX1wIpoO7575-7dOT2ihI3x5_F6FWKAinuEUUXolUlSe98f/s400/10687034_747721998597359_3553425582176061543_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVU2pm8rvTgh0t31WEcQolOxZD2z76HX8LVMCtmQYhCU-T7gm8C2A-_m2BipGCbz7rM3STDYDTDEZ4be0YJzwj_u_47ooV1C1ROLD6N9l3qgMgYBt1nXUXqHO0EHEoagD1XaHimvga1CFT/s1600/11219076_827361363966755_1833887570567917794_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVU2pm8rvTgh0t31WEcQolOxZD2z76HX8LVMCtmQYhCU-T7gm8C2A-_m2BipGCbz7rM3STDYDTDEZ4be0YJzwj_u_47ooV1C1ROLD6N9l3qgMgYBt1nXUXqHO0EHEoagD1XaHimvga1CFT/s400/11219076_827361363966755_1833887570567917794_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g2AkQeWGyZi4Pok4G6ePO8h1X4SuUvUi-pJD2AwgKC1f1Sqh0S30OTGqrM9SlNb68MFvAeX7PWVzQBEudhMQ4M4ha5fIFX97dU6JBc3vwttiaQo7Hw-eGZTRdsi3KQYlZ-BrQ9g6sPTH/s1600/10171843_662404117129148_6228939402453531981_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g2AkQeWGyZi4Pok4G6ePO8h1X4SuUvUi-pJD2AwgKC1f1Sqh0S30OTGqrM9SlNb68MFvAeX7PWVzQBEudhMQ4M4ha5fIFX97dU6JBc3vwttiaQo7Hw-eGZTRdsi3KQYlZ-BrQ9g6sPTH/s400/10171843_662404117129148_6228939402453531981_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-t8xHvWPWMbSN-G1RYMmDAhIZ1sk9PFO_anD4lPOwzAoe0yWiLv80bWxoafR_Sa5LgZ7dgQHSrTPeMBVQBAyaqrT2LmKPs_dXeqJ_mvqAHOEKbcmrMEAIDeczdxBT0aVRy5l0UvWXf9a/s1600/11149282_818350578201167_1794056183274911261_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-t8xHvWPWMbSN-G1RYMmDAhIZ1sk9PFO_anD4lPOwzAoe0yWiLv80bWxoafR_Sa5LgZ7dgQHSrTPeMBVQBAyaqrT2LmKPs_dXeqJ_mvqAHOEKbcmrMEAIDeczdxBT0aVRy5l0UvWXf9a/s400/11149282_818350578201167_1794056183274911261_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her other favorite animal subject? Horses!<br />
© Elke Vogelsang</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HPIXiwzoKowLGmn3aJP4MHFX_8QSODh1rFe1_rlY6GMluyVwYSTfvFShZx00X8yULPR_DBYwT6LrByXGUPMN_N-yXl4r54BB0uJNfS3r7D9Dj0hf_gy2cjH2QyoCzmd3jomqdoQYWpDU/s1600/10247457_439883962826680_4962790986838688626_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HPIXiwzoKowLGmn3aJP4MHFX_8QSODh1rFe1_rlY6GMluyVwYSTfvFShZx00X8yULPR_DBYwT6LrByXGUPMN_N-yXl4r54BB0uJNfS3r7D9Dj0hf_gy2cjH2QyoCzmd3jomqdoQYWpDU/s200/10247457_439883962826680_4962790986838688626_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mila and Murphy, the Velvet Burritos</td></tr>
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What happens when you take an evolutionary paleontologist, add a couple of pit bull mixes with velvety coats, and mix it all up with a big sense of humor and an enormous love for pets? <u><a href="http://www.thevelvetburritos.com/" target="_blank">Velvet Burritos</a></u>, of course! I <a href="https://www.facebook.com/murphythepitbull" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">follow them on Facebook</a> and while I enjoy all of the posts, which discuss such diverse topics as drive-by squeezings, oxytocin comas, the effects of Flap Juice, and Burrito Wrangling, it's the "scientific" ones that I like best of all. Murphy recently went to live with his dad, but the seal-shark-panther-hippo mix known as Mila (a.k.a. the Sausage Shark, a.k.a. the Phocid Queen), she of the Naughty Monkey Eyes, Spikes of Glory, and Proto-Flaps of Destiny, is still living with the scientist who is researching the elusive beast known as the <i>Protomiladon velvecanthus</i>. This is one of my very favorite posts:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/murphythepitbull/photos/pb.251574058324339.-2207520000.1431472557./448956045252805/?type=3&theater" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Cba7YJ2gRQTHoYp5jKWhmphAIWpFfFuIuBlJCMK-L38A0Oz1zF8rchV1IPTewADyWzTV4aNk16uftA99j05aoVWG_oA5J6kBw4YPbgepgKPKgY_W0EwRI76y56UaHllIlIrL4B-lXhHZ/s400/10986728_448956045252805_8638878002529110091_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/murphythepitbull/photos/pb.251574058324339.-2207520000.1431472557./448956045252805/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">Protomiladon velvecanthus <br />© Velvet Burritos</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The Protomiladon velvecanthus is generally a very gregarious animal that lives in small groups, each referred to as a 'shiver' of Protomiladon due to their phylogenetic affinities with sharks. Biologists studying the behavior of this unusual chimera species have observed that individuals will participate in ridiculously ostentatious ritualistic display of rolling and thrashing around whenever they find a new pool of mud or an undisturbed but excessively mucky river bank. While this is an activity that is usually done in front of other P. velvecanthus, it is a solo ritual meant to both coat their robust sausage-shaped bodies in mud for its cooling properties, and establish their rank in the group. The more absurd and erratic the display, the higher the individual animal is ranked. Biologists have noted that the highest ranking individuals will frequently snort, sneeze, bark and generally make pig-monster sounds in all directions when they have achieved the climax for their display behavior. If a Protomiladon is disturbed or startled whilst fully engaged in their thrashing display, they will enter a manic state of semi-enraged derangement that will be directed at the nearest object or living animal. This has been known to cause mass hysteria among the other members of the shiver, and can be very dangerous if a human or unwitting animal is caught in the middle of the resulting stampede. The Great Sausage-Shark Stampede of 1854 was believe to have been triggered by a group of rowdy prospecting gold miners that accidentally stumbled upon a large shiver of Protomiladon engaged in a thrashing ritual at their favorite bathing grounds. Historians believe that this event was the primary contributor to the end of the California Gold rush in 1855." </i>(<u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/murphythepitbull/photos/pb.251574058324339.-2207520000.1431472557./443019455846464/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">Here is great one about Murphy</a></u>.)</blockquote>
If this sort of thing strikes your fancy, I highly recommend the Velvet Burritos. You might just learn some new scientific facts about felid-pinniped hybrids, caring for your house walrus, the canine division of WWE, and positive-reinforcement training. At the very least, you can get seduced by the one-and-only Mila of Troy!<br />
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<a href="http://corglife.me/episodeguide" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUkQOGaFBPiwxky-7ICS4uKmO1RbfgbEU_eSQktBO95U7xUXa5NK-NyDsFF0jHiFENu5q9Xx-hkEZBiZieUsLDvk1v9VCMNKAo87o-pqJF7-Q0gAjCcDNRhBKCE9vXkek1178pblL4UeAs/s320/tumblr-title-otis-sidebar.jpg" width="278" /></a></div>
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Another dog-related thing I've enjoyed in 2014 was "<u><a href="http://corglife.me/episodeguide" target="_blank">Corg Life</a></u>," a comic about a man and his corgi, Otis. It has short, charming stories about Otis and his love of ALL of his fox toys (don't throw any away!), the one thing he doesn't like about the vet, his superpower of detecting cheese about to be eaten, only cuddling on HIS terms, balls balls balls balls, and more. Dog lovers should check it out!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Photographs</u></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_r2YZp87f4Akxlm6TLt-AIbMqdRt580kDD4NpEk4v39VdT3OY2Vqec7R8LaGks6f1u9R8xgXf7wBeza8-5-469smkJZtjI5LEsOveLidkEGcu5yJPbuOEYSTpnXaJsCrghmQGXuOd_w-/s1600/ef70-200_28usm_1_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_r2YZp87f4Akxlm6TLt-AIbMqdRt580kDD4NpEk4v39VdT3OY2Vqec7R8LaGks6f1u9R8xgXf7wBeza8-5-469smkJZtjI5LEsOveLidkEGcu5yJPbuOEYSTpnXaJsCrghmQGXuOd_w-/s200/ef70-200_28usm_1_l.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canon EF 70-200mm 1/2.8 L IS II USM</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I took 13,269 photographs in 2014, but what was most significant for my photography was the acquisition of my Canon EF 70-200mm 1/2.8 L IS II USM lens. It's hard now to believe that I ever went without it! It's the main lens that I use, the default one I keep on my camera. I had wanted it in particular to use for birding and I snapped photos of 70 different species of birds with it, which in turn led to seven out of the 13 blogposts I wrote in 2014 were dedicated to birds. It has also been great for photographing dogs! This lens has been worth every penny and I'm so glad I bought it.<br />
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Below is a selection of some of my favorite photos from 2014:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oE_dHCs-5_YMErhZStJlAP7-zyLw-QQCAkOS09C8IzXQNsy7LuFjdJTsGJcIHwXlcEpWEeWTzgfNY3akmBOEpcnj89M5DLs4M-botLkLJFLKheaLvR38iZ-CaqKGRT_Zh6el87aMhkMY/s1600/IMG_2697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oE_dHCs-5_YMErhZStJlAP7-zyLw-QQCAkOS09C8IzXQNsy7LuFjdJTsGJcIHwXlcEpWEeWTzgfNY3akmBOEpcnj89M5DLs4M-botLkLJFLKheaLvR38iZ-CaqKGRT_Zh6el87aMhkMY/s400/IMG_2697.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Robin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cgFCJhdWZMWktR7c0DwEveDmcobm4dM5DSmiw6C4jtdPIW24Nk001xd_FjtrNeAubDGeY4KXUsWkrc5OTzJaBIzOd5bGxOlSx7nycC78BXxYWpAe17Pu-ne6JDwuSU1Mop83GKHa9Dvm/s1600/IMG_5471.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cgFCJhdWZMWktR7c0DwEveDmcobm4dM5DSmiw6C4jtdPIW24Nk001xd_FjtrNeAubDGeY4KXUsWkrc5OTzJaBIzOd5bGxOlSx7nycC78BXxYWpAe17Pu-ne6JDwuSU1Mop83GKHa9Dvm/s400/IMG_5471.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermit Thrush.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWAmMiWyn6ptIi8vfuVzUC2ZmO58ek4p_hZb3uc13dtuKnmt1qjN9vKQLVLuiWP3VnX5f5qafnSwjr1gfqdwXZ26ruglbCijUL-2ui3Nfyg5YYvbS4IDTJe_DKmCbrP4TzaUSg_KGITpA/s1600/IMG_8424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWAmMiWyn6ptIi8vfuVzUC2ZmO58ek4p_hZb3uc13dtuKnmt1qjN9vKQLVLuiWP3VnX5f5qafnSwjr1gfqdwXZ26ruglbCijUL-2ui3Nfyg5YYvbS4IDTJe_DKmCbrP4TzaUSg_KGITpA/s400/IMG_8424.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female Red-Winged Blackbird.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim86mEYSiHF9bxYJG2tUWq5R75ZuVPjxoLKPd8YUf_iQ5tod8ZLZJC8r4vnhx5MTDmwj6blDXEMyrYVm_G97sTNAngkZ0wmfCOYAVOgH7gcNPbQ0A3W1qKD3xTksF6svMFcIkNjo5OIpDa/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim86mEYSiHF9bxYJG2tUWq5R75ZuVPjxoLKPd8YUf_iQ5tod8ZLZJC8r4vnhx5MTDmwj6blDXEMyrYVm_G97sTNAngkZ0wmfCOYAVOgH7gcNPbQ0A3W1qKD3xTksF6svMFcIkNjo5OIpDa/s400/IMG_2937.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile Dark-Eyed Junco.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBn1Wzkd91uXHsPJFnKW1XLuSvOmbP9AkumxcliS55sOyVSfQwGlHKDWeph-lrjcel4Z_RwlNsRVsQ_I2HEGpveviR4plKijsAep3_Nyb6LSgbbqraO_ZbsITfmizVwylQYyZhfaf3KNb/s1600/IMG_3488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBn1Wzkd91uXHsPJFnKW1XLuSvOmbP9AkumxcliS55sOyVSfQwGlHKDWeph-lrjcel4Z_RwlNsRVsQ_I2HEGpveviR4plKijsAep3_Nyb6LSgbbqraO_ZbsITfmizVwylQYyZhfaf3KNb/s400/IMG_3488.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spotted Towhee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqF-Z5e4YDrQzew85P58eNVaCod7QlSala2KEqSS5zIt8Db6BI7SDwDFRbQ-nr6vDeIKQz-EWpZ30hi7jiS9UrUsPwu8U3F3ARUq7P9mCVWCGOj2I8ZMum2hllqFu4fvrTKXVqlIfnk78u/s1600/IMG_4068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqF-Z5e4YDrQzew85P58eNVaCod7QlSala2KEqSS5zIt8Db6BI7SDwDFRbQ-nr6vDeIKQz-EWpZ30hi7jiS9UrUsPwu8U3F3ARUq7P9mCVWCGOj2I8ZMum2hllqFu4fvrTKXVqlIfnk78u/s400/IMG_4068.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Wood Duck.<br />
Without the 200mm lens, this wood duck would have been completely out of range!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImg2j-c4X1bNvXUgaCsjel5AZ8UskxfmrT82Sn9ohBJN8_I4hCWG5yyFYLLsSYYGQRD6L3veXR5j_mpQSAvwazL4yJvqiX7Xo2TKiEO24TsdV0otKd4aBi6E_-Rz6D2fYPs5F-r7G5pnd/s1600/IMG_1748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImg2j-c4X1bNvXUgaCsjel5AZ8UskxfmrT82Sn9ohBJN8_I4hCWG5yyFYLLsSYYGQRD6L3veXR5j_mpQSAvwazL4yJvqiX7Xo2TKiEO24TsdV0otKd4aBi6E_-Rz6D2fYPs5F-r7G5pnd/s400/IMG_1748.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken feathers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5d2nnpxb0l5A-8qah8z6V74lFmuvPgRPwgLoi8QDVtazbff-tYAkVr-yAjwpIDpUw9f9aIYhX6dTG7EFNkSNumL6ZL0CLSVmQd8On6rsUeVAXYPDI57d-UGqKOCDiPTCbz9BXprx1Hp10/s1600/IMG_3796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5d2nnpxb0l5A-8qah8z6V74lFmuvPgRPwgLoi8QDVtazbff-tYAkVr-yAjwpIDpUw9f9aIYhX6dTG7EFNkSNumL6ZL0CLSVmQd8On6rsUeVAXYPDI57d-UGqKOCDiPTCbz9BXprx1Hp10/s400/IMG_3796.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Varied Thrush feathers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY4SOq5Dx2_zgc7vyLRQUwKkeXnBm4nmr3sVMYpvZw4SHlN9kzfcIg8aCQ6pfWxKwlHytyNe4ofmN-uz-a_DLhKDe5_uDz1yubXWhCrxcKFrq6JpVKyXJDHh_5AaYUkIpgK4THphb7vo0/s1600/IMG_5971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY4SOq5Dx2_zgc7vyLRQUwKkeXnBm4nmr3sVMYpvZw4SHlN9kzfcIg8aCQ6pfWxKwlHytyNe4ofmN-uz-a_DLhKDe5_uDz1yubXWhCrxcKFrq6JpVKyXJDHh_5AaYUkIpgK4THphb7vo0/s400/IMG_5971.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stellar's Jay feather.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Dqy5hMrILwrd9l5LAkDq0pAOx3bekQqC8useW8bBY1XkLeg4pZ_NW2XxFPrBBml5MPPZe-p8ulK_Zf_wjrEwBu5ulX9qRjBPSPcHnvXk2EajjMhSTIacdJHTtH1sCwyezjM-0EMsnEJy/s1600/IMG_1651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Dqy5hMrILwrd9l5LAkDq0pAOx3bekQqC8useW8bBY1XkLeg4pZ_NW2XxFPrBBml5MPPZe-p8ulK_Zf_wjrEwBu5ulX9qRjBPSPcHnvXk2EajjMhSTIacdJHTtH1sCwyezjM-0EMsnEJy/s400/IMG_1651.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkToTu9cJI0oPQ9EOJC2vUerWDPVgg9yO2OM0WznVXGiOTLbuK6_1kB4rjG7M2IOS1Mh9toxcek8wJYvDQNWOtjBLsquj7K14ms6T-sztV9elnVEMnTughNyREkw4wyY3dmNhPDe0Hzso/s1600/IMG_1580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkToTu9cJI0oPQ9EOJC2vUerWDPVgg9yO2OM0WznVXGiOTLbuK6_1kB4rjG7M2IOS1Mh9toxcek8wJYvDQNWOtjBLsquj7K14ms6T-sztV9elnVEMnTughNyREkw4wyY3dmNhPDe0Hzso/s400/IMG_1580.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby goat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngSbg3fYPDhabJWepFwljT0EqARFXUpM9lCqH1_eQDXe0k7d2iRBzrMWNPOlQlDU85VbRjhvgeml5QLDYl3rhIHTcL-mnKBLrZ4fG7_PbQ9zy2lL0NtL-U69r1C7AVzvmsOi7qF0Iw1Uy/s1600/IMG_0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngSbg3fYPDhabJWepFwljT0EqARFXUpM9lCqH1_eQDXe0k7d2iRBzrMWNPOlQlDU85VbRjhvgeml5QLDYl3rhIHTcL-mnKBLrZ4fG7_PbQ9zy2lL0NtL-U69r1C7AVzvmsOi7qF0Iw1Uy/s400/IMG_0030.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muskrat.<br />
Photographed at a distance through a thicket, this critter is another that would have been impossible to photograph without the new lens.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsYQ81AjMg5mu02pDX_EFTaw_xyiBdo7lWm8rikkLVR4BZKeevQpj2Lrtc01pgSl197d5gqhnuO-VD6v4R7sxqO-WROZAehq-dhS_fhDasUfMokQ78jg3gtHRkq9nCR1vkEiwhh0hzqkB/s1600/IMG_8376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsYQ81AjMg5mu02pDX_EFTaw_xyiBdo7lWm8rikkLVR4BZKeevQpj2Lrtc01pgSl197d5gqhnuO-VD6v4R7sxqO-WROZAehq-dhS_fhDasUfMokQ78jg3gtHRkq9nCR1vkEiwhh0hzqkB/s400/IMG_8376.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-Eared Slider.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6v7GxZpI23GnfCp6Hrv1vGCgZW2dXYppFNYBQKORKiEWKtrGV1Y4OEfR1w0d_A-vWUJgVkuu3pc3Y4lmewtJkhlaK9CZqkrGuqsk6CucRgTLkEAfArPEBN5Z1dAoRQaxUAEf63O5pq02/s1600/IMG_3206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6v7GxZpI23GnfCp6Hrv1vGCgZW2dXYppFNYBQKORKiEWKtrGV1Y4OEfR1w0d_A-vWUJgVkuu3pc3Y4lmewtJkhlaK9CZqkrGuqsk6CucRgTLkEAfArPEBN5Z1dAoRQaxUAEf63O5pq02/s400/IMG_3206.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squirrel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlHsEI3_K0u_HJiLqA9EA-uwZ01XpVAJsCkxmAI3hhSzT5C83zldyBnZ2KpUWCTuOJEoO_AXYFTxbj2GWTGAPMrmwyT8Q5n_yJ-PJFNZhDqOJ-igH-7iHkxdgTU-Zq2lnV-XFVOLxHkyl/s1600/IMG_5278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlHsEI3_K0u_HJiLqA9EA-uwZ01XpVAJsCkxmAI3hhSzT5C83zldyBnZ2KpUWCTuOJEoO_AXYFTxbj2GWTGAPMrmwyT8Q5n_yJ-PJFNZhDqOJ-igH-7iHkxdgTU-Zq2lnV-XFVOLxHkyl/s400/IMG_5278.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby rabbit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVqskOgYjgGWnmnNrgN7fdxPrlgyhhGm8afPqXfXSEZZL2GDcd3I4uLkx1bAXbFD4arOUpMeHyEJQl2w86nNnxGSzQUR9aOnZBlvvyWQahlv7w_jyzjImPr0DvkSOALqsdxoNsmAW8_hO/s1600/IMG_9366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVqskOgYjgGWnmnNrgN7fdxPrlgyhhGm8afPqXfXSEZZL2GDcd3I4uLkx1bAXbFD4arOUpMeHyEJQl2w86nNnxGSzQUR9aOnZBlvvyWQahlv7w_jyzjImPr0DvkSOALqsdxoNsmAW8_hO/s400/IMG_9366.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJa-bSLjTIPXC7ag5G09bN2y7mal0c5U7bFxu9asH_LTw21pE9W5sLWKujih55If6MMcrBkTyznGDytj9B8MGUiJdqGgTfOqRgzOJ3qcfgj9W3UkpWNRgFGfvaA9QXSzdiidXRpfgM9SO/s1600/IMG_1306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJa-bSLjTIPXC7ag5G09bN2y7mal0c5U7bFxu9asH_LTw21pE9W5sLWKujih55If6MMcrBkTyznGDytj9B8MGUiJdqGgTfOqRgzOJ3qcfgj9W3UkpWNRgFGfvaA9QXSzdiidXRpfgM9SO/s400/IMG_1306.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three bees.<br />
Yes, the little insect on the right is also a bee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM11oG_5s_MIvLxGGmLFHXOO3wfAK2kmud5Rzj9XviPvghqh3ZjQKInHjn5EFwBaFA5sgxqOZRJksXlh382RwUlJFK5XsVodVPoqjRtm9yntpoR9oTsAzcgSvGlSPpS5Pa45W33WwO4REl/s1600/IMG_3604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM11oG_5s_MIvLxGGmLFHXOO3wfAK2kmud5Rzj9XviPvghqh3ZjQKInHjn5EFwBaFA5sgxqOZRJksXlh382RwUlJFK5XsVodVPoqjRtm9yntpoR9oTsAzcgSvGlSPpS5Pa45W33WwO4REl/s400/IMG_3604.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paper Wasp.<br />
One of the single coolest things I photographed in 2014 was this paper wasp carving a caterpillar that she'd killed into chunks and carrying the pieces off to her nest to feed the larvae.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SqG6k5irsKkvfaPdZtfdD7bQRg-K2oXdEwv1GY1tg7h0wN46SbIW-SWxUfsjGU0vYXTnkHS3XxL4c1c7S-dCUxNTxMzX5gqHyci6UA1yu-J4a6ZZ7TMc0T7OdzCXtyhf6bFri1WuWvaz/s1600/IMG_5094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SqG6k5irsKkvfaPdZtfdD7bQRg-K2oXdEwv1GY1tg7h0wN46SbIW-SWxUfsjGU0vYXTnkHS3XxL4c1c7S-dCUxNTxMzX5gqHyci6UA1yu-J4a6ZZ7TMc0T7OdzCXtyhf6bFri1WuWvaz/s400/IMG_5094.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robber fly with prey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5Ffbygu2o6B8Df0tBAWryBX7G6cy5oZdDedMd_7X5EtoTB8vQX2HpXqpMrNff6E6Rb9Wr2XZaWaG56QqDQFB5g4qu-Rx2amHxOWdbDUFolx-7lJKoU8_yjwtQNvOw3maI63Nej9kJ9Gu/s1600/IMG_6109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5Ffbygu2o6B8Df0tBAWryBX7G6cy5oZdDedMd_7X5EtoTB8vQX2HpXqpMrNff6E6Rb9Wr2XZaWaG56QqDQFB5g4qu-Rx2amHxOWdbDUFolx-7lJKoU8_yjwtQNvOw3maI63Nej9kJ9Gu/s400/IMG_6109.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honeybee taking a drink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTVjR2rWBzRpPmCAUX4q0isjYVPk8eq1ioJX-BjvVPb44jU9KmlG8shdphvpgWZbBGr-ZGPOt7ibKSKXNnDjdFLdBlJoAu3bYCdvFZ9Oxe-lis2FNimh7gJulYQJMdBPRzPLVBd8oNc4H/s1600/IMG_4579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTVjR2rWBzRpPmCAUX4q0isjYVPk8eq1ioJX-BjvVPb44jU9KmlG8shdphvpgWZbBGr-ZGPOt7ibKSKXNnDjdFLdBlJoAu3bYCdvFZ9Oxe-lis2FNimh7gJulYQJMdBPRzPLVBd8oNc4H/s400/IMG_4579.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghostly hydrangea bloom skeletons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv182yI4BomdLuxja8HHxNeWFzERrvPZFgH-qR_hmYUVr0gdG6N5_u16i9NHCs0xNgFO1017-fjppuy0nnaQp9uaus0bEqY6n8eolvJpNDDYGwRvs652YRcfnWmQlPdUDTmBLb1I3Gitf5/s1600/IMG_6693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv182yI4BomdLuxja8HHxNeWFzERrvPZFgH-qR_hmYUVr0gdG6N5_u16i9NHCs0xNgFO1017-fjppuy0nnaQp9uaus0bEqY6n8eolvJpNDDYGwRvs652YRcfnWmQlPdUDTmBLb1I3Gitf5/s400/IMG_6693.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn silk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpq7ZAYgQDxAJbUzOptCwVHP8FMMMYtxIiLzTyBeN3Bdq8A2lhIGMuX6qGHXnIhW3l5QCwQqnHsrojjcpsZBf1j6nCHc-63-eLE4Bu5ies6vD_PbY3YcO0zt_biYyr5508AGtkYbKjre-/s1600/IMG_9809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpq7ZAYgQDxAJbUzOptCwVHP8FMMMYtxIiLzTyBeN3Bdq8A2lhIGMuX6qGHXnIhW3l5QCwQqnHsrojjcpsZBf1j6nCHc-63-eLE4Bu5ies6vD_PbY3YcO0zt_biYyr5508AGtkYbKjre-/s400/IMG_9809.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahlia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8fYeEKeDDfDpKUtsX_E2INwuvtBOL-NJ841aB3M-uuPiBHpBcN4nwfzYo9NfzC71zuUELDN4lQDORjHNO8tJ3kXyT2pDDkqYgcBOJBk_pHsboHEjUFropo6fW6yX8lGcBigjXoOvGvvF/s1600/IMG_6408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8fYeEKeDDfDpKUtsX_E2INwuvtBOL-NJ841aB3M-uuPiBHpBcN4nwfzYo9NfzC71zuUELDN4lQDORjHNO8tJ3kXyT2pDDkqYgcBOJBk_pHsboHEjUFropo6fW6yX8lGcBigjXoOvGvvF/s400/IMG_6408.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A particularly amazing sunset.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCaj9s9hT3ImeUkRCTFARWj9S1k50ls3R3uig_ZWSDw46xrO9GtMRQMBnVRVpCG2wWN96PcswnZX_Itx5o55uoB3IuHP1Kz7jUBDDlZ4WHH-21PHhYk9ZySzN3n7DIQ4eIbnsaWugvm8h/s1600/IMG_1292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCaj9s9hT3ImeUkRCTFARWj9S1k50ls3R3uig_ZWSDw46xrO9GtMRQMBnVRVpCG2wWN96PcswnZX_Itx5o55uoB3IuHP1Kz7jUBDDlZ4WHH-21PHhYk9ZySzN3n7DIQ4eIbnsaWugvm8h/s400/IMG_1292.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streamers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh1n1D7wN123RGsg4RwQbYsu5_qhIf_Z-zw36HLpelCcHShk9co628nS1NDlBMPsqCf3cE5zoqPL6sJB7VyWs3xywDnwBAbVgNnbKQKyGqTu0JRCDP5OgPSEokrLm3bm9h90hiESoyRO4/s1600/IMG_4883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh1n1D7wN123RGsg4RwQbYsu5_qhIf_Z-zw36HLpelCcHShk9co628nS1NDlBMPsqCf3cE5zoqPL6sJB7VyWs3xywDnwBAbVgNnbKQKyGqTu0JRCDP5OgPSEokrLm3bm9h90hiESoyRO4/s400/IMG_4883.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabziIkte2Fkkj2joSIxx3y-MaQXb-PJlW9xWMJujFlPbGjLJq8d7bnGkIJAkLyCoiFfBBQ-u1S_gugY28Qz3tzO8VKdaLtF9g-52EHCMfIJxldejMVbWP5kAfKdmRLNa0FV_LfNh2Q6LI/s1600/IMG_0367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabziIkte2Fkkj2joSIxx3y-MaQXb-PJlW9xWMJujFlPbGjLJq8d7bnGkIJAkLyCoiFfBBQ-u1S_gugY28Qz3tzO8VKdaLtF9g-52EHCMfIJxldejMVbWP5kAfKdmRLNa0FV_LfNh2Q6LI/s400/IMG_0367.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIenDSjVXORlW16Op7ZJAf1ctaD0WT6LaP7ghBlkUW1jwXBtY6Djeao4UJBw-1E_UY2bTDDTrK2n8_TaVdpW9nR8UQX_rvMlhQH0n_-VMRyipZ2sy2VyJmsQHGy1e1bD5QGEs1lZnopSeq/s1600/IMG_1002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIenDSjVXORlW16Op7ZJAf1ctaD0WT6LaP7ghBlkUW1jwXBtY6Djeao4UJBw-1E_UY2bTDDTrK2n8_TaVdpW9nR8UQX_rvMlhQH0n_-VMRyipZ2sy2VyJmsQHGy1e1bD5QGEs1lZnopSeq/s400/IMG_1002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMMTQf3r85jI4qRqYYCDWK7BqEu7CAxpgJIWtAdkq_MLLnbe0Ot4Wx_IEUlIeKM_HmtrqAwvs3u7IZYZAJ1ZD-HhtcQzbGf9Llk7-Jz4H2X7NQ351Yx9XB-K3QluxoCzgvLoorsVOqlcS/s1600/IMG_2140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMMTQf3r85jI4qRqYYCDWK7BqEu7CAxpgJIWtAdkq_MLLnbe0Ot4Wx_IEUlIeKM_HmtrqAwvs3u7IZYZAJ1ZD-HhtcQzbGf9Llk7-Jz4H2X7NQ351Yx9XB-K3QluxoCzgvLoorsVOqlcS/s400/IMG_2140.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldie and her best friend, Sable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQ_G2oAN1P5o4OxclfuAL8fp2-jRLsVhAxFdCDGskLrm6f6GDpxNjOC0YsFGRd-_wHxCMDo0HCKSPCpC6X8-Sln0QUFe9hUzAaoWjFXXxCsLWPyuUUY5ZFPZBVFq_5s32kXDShxV4Y83t/s1600/IMG_6372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQ_G2oAN1P5o4OxclfuAL8fp2-jRLsVhAxFdCDGskLrm6f6GDpxNjOC0YsFGRd-_wHxCMDo0HCKSPCpC6X8-Sln0QUFe9hUzAaoWjFXXxCsLWPyuUUY5ZFPZBVFq_5s32kXDShxV4Y83t/s400/IMG_6372.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2oZxa9TCAZMPhYCdLrW3hszLgV71xPDQRqS6FlvogL3nCBmNvKptZaYemAHY50qPJOC7KI2F-AO6nnta0F5GfpOR6469OOqT5657vLWYMj0tm1qIO1ZAuJf2IJje53ra5FrTGjYCWFmM/s1600/IMG_3618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2oZxa9TCAZMPhYCdLrW3hszLgV71xPDQRqS6FlvogL3nCBmNvKptZaYemAHY50qPJOC7KI2F-AO6nnta0F5GfpOR6469OOqT5657vLWYMj0tm1qIO1ZAuJf2IJje53ra5FrTGjYCWFmM/s400/IMG_3618.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3agzArev_MV_T1gKUlT2BiKXyRAfQ7VjHxATBNf9lF7Su6v2OzaDeBAcDjAVoKDE8fSpF6qQXoDrXgzu36hgTgpoxhH7L4SZrEJOvm1xGD_xXbFrfh6gbH3lkGGnsqAqVBD3poECmxME/s1600/IMG_1341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3agzArev_MV_T1gKUlT2BiKXyRAfQ7VjHxATBNf9lF7Su6v2OzaDeBAcDjAVoKDE8fSpF6qQXoDrXgzu36hgTgpoxhH7L4SZrEJOvm1xGD_xXbFrfh6gbH3lkGGnsqAqVBD3poECmxME/s400/IMG_1341.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtj6Jpz67Z7LgRni0Uk8d_DqhHOg0S1eI-KoVLqZtDjw6YR5E1dcvWMo76iosYeewIGt9FR4Pj7dGOVTnqQAyN5HJ48Fee9Io5t6M-EJ5kCvvLqZ3YigTC6SY8f8mfPkMuU7l8qTxCBgGs/s1600/IMG_6458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtj6Jpz67Z7LgRni0Uk8d_DqhHOg0S1eI-KoVLqZtDjw6YR5E1dcvWMo76iosYeewIGt9FR4Pj7dGOVTnqQAyN5HJ48Fee9Io5t6M-EJ5kCvvLqZ3YigTC6SY8f8mfPkMuU7l8qTxCBgGs/s400/IMG_6458.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>The Thing I Liked Best In 2014</u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPanq5gA1ZhI1WTjoE2klQ5gUmARsinAQSW6AVb2Fgorve59pxuaqikRUO9Yh-PYFgZ_vsyXI_6NcA1nvv4Rd7q72t-XoshAa3hsg-oyNQ_hM7Zofi8mxwCHTEAR6QIraM4xMWlRguI-vI/s1600/IMG_6807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPanq5gA1ZhI1WTjoE2klQ5gUmARsinAQSW6AVb2Fgorve59pxuaqikRUO9Yh-PYFgZ_vsyXI_6NcA1nvv4Rd7q72t-XoshAa3hsg-oyNQ_hM7Zofi8mxwCHTEAR6QIraM4xMWlRguI-vI/s320/IMG_6807.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It may sound funny that out of all the things I could have possibly liked in 2014, what I liked the most were Trader Joe's Organic Peppermints, but these mints significantly improved my quality of life. Similar in size and texture but sweeter in flavor than Altoids, these mints saved me from so much gastroparesis misery. I have medication to help improve the ability of my stomach to grind and empty, but I can only take small amounts of it on a semi-regular basis because otherwise I experience side effects that negate the effectiveness of the drug. I have a great medication for nausea (something I commonly experience as part of both the gastroparesis and migraines), but it, too, has side effects that make it inadvisable to take more than a couple of times a week. Peppermint, on the other hand, gives me no side effects and is great for digestion. I took these mints after meals when my stomach was being recalcitrant and the paralysis would ease, allowing the food to move through. I could pop one in my mouth when I was queasy and feel my nausea dissolve. Without Trader Joe's Organic Peppermints, I would have been so much sicker in 2014, so that's why they overwhelmingly earn the title of the Thing I Liked Best!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2013/12/things-i-liked-in-2013_31.html" target="_blank">Things I Liked In 2013</a></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2013/01/things-i-liked-in-2012.html" target="_blank">Things I Liked in 2012</a></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2011/12/things-i-liked-in-2011.html" target="_blank">Things I Liked in 2011</a></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">Follow c.creativity on Facebook!</a></u></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-45919605332426557842015-05-07T13:46:00.001-07:002018-05-06T14:14:50.347-07:00The Great Hooded Merganser Duckling Rescue of 2015<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh0W6ZfIpAYL7g0x70CEUTOgL7jZAHvb-K2gLeF5IOx9vvufx2CFqXlnVT-GzM-BIz9SK4t5DmG6J_xAYA4RdtWdBylbT88tbHLP0oqjpO262ZIGJJb6j0-K4V7vx881ve4zpnYNBaW8V/s1600/IMG_0040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh0W6ZfIpAYL7g0x70CEUTOgL7jZAHvb-K2gLeF5IOx9vvufx2CFqXlnVT-GzM-BIz9SK4t5DmG6J_xAYA4RdtWdBylbT88tbHLP0oqjpO262ZIGJJb6j0-K4V7vx881ve4zpnYNBaW8V/s400/IMG_0040.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby hooded mergansers.</td></tr>
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<div>
Shown above is a box full of hooded merganser ducklings. How did I come into possession of five peeping merganser babies? Listen, my friends, as I tell you the story of the Great Hooded Merganser Duckling Rescue of 2015.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaL8UVGj3aILuiiVK_VS78ARFaxUI8gsfwae5JVdRMAZEdfeD3PoeGYYzmwJ5Wu5T6gba3AI2d4oM3FTV1NI6Ftz4kOFvjS79JuTHMUH1N9KOn-f7HUjG_YvmIyKOHyXI1dyg50zg8lcm/s1600/1024px-Hooded_Merganser_pair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaL8UVGj3aILuiiVK_VS78ARFaxUI8gsfwae5JVdRMAZEdfeD3PoeGYYzmwJ5Wu5T6gba3AI2d4oM3FTV1NI6Ftz4kOFvjS79JuTHMUH1N9KOn-f7HUjG_YvmIyKOHyXI1dyg50zg8lcm/s320/1024px-Hooded_Merganser_pair.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male and female adult hooded mergansers.<br />
Wikipedia commons.</td></tr>
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Hooded mergansers are relatively common on the various ponds around Cutie's house and I've seen the distinctive males, with their unmistakable black and white hoods, as I've driven by en route. I wasn't sure that's what I saw when I passed a stormwater retention pond as I drove to pick up Cutie to take her for a walk, but I gathered this much information as I passed by at 30 mph: a female duck that was not a mallard was hustling into the ditch that lay between the road and the pond with a crowd of ducklings in tow and a crow flying low overhead, clearly interested in stealing a little duckling to feed its own brood. I like crows, but I also like ducklings and I hoped that they would make it to safety. So when I passed by the pond later while walking Cutie, I approached the ditch to see if I could see the ducklings in the water where the male was swimming. I was startled when the female duck, a blaze of cinnamon brown, flushed out of a large drain at my feet and flew to the pond, her crest raised to its full height, intent on drawing my attention away from the drain. Curious, I peered in and saw her little ones swimming and peeping away below. It took me a minute to process this scenario: ducklings in a drain. I took a closer look to confirm my fear: there was no way out of that deep drain unless you could fly. These little ducklings were all baby fluff with nary a wing in sight. And so began, at 4:30 in the afternoon on the 6th of May, the Great Hooded Merganser Duckling Rescue of 2015.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIz2Mlr_KSkrVJ8EutvC44PHpFaipkmmOw8q3ym2rTosIhHjjWif6a0hzNgyu5G3wwS149bmlWOqwG9w8ltUXbDYGscubpSBbzVwBbk6N0HEzhrsg0nGi4jHKyfGfwbt7Q7cJkBbkXANR/s1600/hoodmerg_stuartoikawa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIz2Mlr_KSkrVJ8EutvC44PHpFaipkmmOw8q3ym2rTosIhHjjWif6a0hzNgyu5G3wwS149bmlWOqwG9w8ltUXbDYGscubpSBbzVwBbk6N0HEzhrsg0nGi4jHKyfGfwbt7Q7cJkBbkXANR/s320/hoodmerg_stuartoikawa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female hooded merganser,<br />
© 2012 Stuart Oikawa, www.allaboutbirds.org</td></tr>
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Well, it didn't begin instantly. I still had Cutie on the leash and a walk to finish. But I started planning right then and there. From time to time, you'll see feel-good stories in the news about police or firefighters rescuing ducklings from drains, but ducklings in a drain hardly merit a 911 call, so I formulated a plan. When I got home, I would search the internet for advise on who to call to rescue ducklings. What I found, when I took to Google, was there was no advice. So next I turned to <u><a href="http://www.paws.org/wildlife/center/" target="_blank">PAWS Wildlife Center</a></u>. They're the main wildlife rehabilitators around here and they took in two flying squirrel babies that fell out of a nest into our yard a few years ago. I called the center, but had to leave a message. I was coated in sweat from my walk with Cutie and desperately needed a shower, so I brought the phone into the bathroom in case they called back. They did, and I put my the phone to my soapy ear to learn that there was no designated branch of government that they recommended contacting to rescue ducklings. "Do you have a net?" asked the volunteer on the line. I was told I might as well try the fire department--"I'm sure they get stranger requests," she said--and assured me that if the ducklings had been abandoned by the parents by the time they were extracted from the drain, the center would happily take them in. I sped through the rest of the shower, than called the fire house not far from the doomed ducklings. I got a voicemail system. Rather than leave a message for the on-duty battalion chief, I called my father instead. "Are you up for rescuing ducklings this evening?"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWavsINezU5pqxYa76vSOOFDh1Xd54DUwkrseJTfDrevwl_QXXSuy3YUGqIKq5ddfWiJGaXObfABNXHOXiEsuTby83xNPsBh9d60_YdjUk6IA43tCqjwUYOIZY_jXSO6F_Huj-bD_LZP-/s1600/pond.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWavsINezU5pqxYa76vSOOFDh1Xd54DUwkrseJTfDrevwl_QXXSuy3YUGqIKq5ddfWiJGaXObfABNXHOXiEsuTby83xNPsBh9d60_YdjUk6IA43tCqjwUYOIZY_jXSO6F_Huj-bD_LZP-/s400/pond.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The retention pond where the merganser couple planned to raise their family, courtesy of Google Streetview. You can see the drain grating on the lower left.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIjPQVk5-lZupRGghZ941D8ou3fA2KGmgzzn_XjMo1gnOrDaFZ32ds2VAqIzGP4nya0cUDNfrE7M6kwbb-Ez6ssZKSkl-KHLXPhPgTiEZFZZO8mTew3qA8NM2m-LmJu6J9P1H7KCeSBZt/s1600/IMG_0392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIjPQVk5-lZupRGghZ941D8ou3fA2KGmgzzn_XjMo1gnOrDaFZ32ds2VAqIzGP4nya0cUDNfrE7M6kwbb-Ez6ssZKSkl-KHLXPhPgTiEZFZZO8mTew3qA8NM2m-LmJu6J9P1H7KCeSBZt/s400/IMG_0392.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A closer look at the drain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4ZOGgp5cOIL5Vc6ITy__LrUbbQPGzvaD1SCZvrMjkOPKSpNyquUGBNdmHkJnhjKyEY0K_pLxVtd8K9F9PjdnbppYgyHfFXlqMPQOepcr-svb5oZzUqd7d45AxvnfK0_SIWap0OyDox10/s1600/IMG_0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4ZOGgp5cOIL5Vc6ITy__LrUbbQPGzvaD1SCZvrMjkOPKSpNyquUGBNdmHkJnhjKyEY0K_pLxVtd8K9F9PjdnbppYgyHfFXlqMPQOepcr-svb5oZzUqd7d45AxvnfK0_SIWap0OyDox10/s400/IMG_0030.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A baby hooded merganser in need of assistance.</td></tr>
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After a quick dinner, my father and I pulled on our duckling-rescuing togs (i.e., clothes that could get wet and muddy) and gathered up what we figured was essential duckling rescue gear: a cardboard box to store captured ducklings and my father's answer to my suggestion that we bring some sort of stick to herd them toward the net: a small broom. Our next stop was the sporting goods store for a fishing net that would be narrow enough to fit through the grate (whose dimensions I could only estimate) and long enough to reach the ducklings, which I knew to be at least several feet down. We found the perfect net, with a bonus feature of a soft, fine mesh that the ducklings couldn't tangle their little legs in, and then it was off to rescue!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdotfH2jSfEv44aEvpFuxxih1QZd3-IlVCGFdL7foPrN6aGL75cbnTEiCGC666L5O4WEebBdsUWjr_v-BKEaeaOlNzgWHISx_ZSDCk0YQowWWlstbld62ocoY7mpaRS6AYHBbwXpeTBbo/s1600/IMG_0047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdotfH2jSfEv44aEvpFuxxih1QZd3-IlVCGFdL7foPrN6aGL75cbnTEiCGC666L5O4WEebBdsUWjr_v-BKEaeaOlNzgWHISx_ZSDCk0YQowWWlstbld62ocoY7mpaRS6AYHBbwXpeTBbo/s400/IMG_0047.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The essential equipment from rescuing baby waterfowl from a deep drain:<br />
a duckling herding broom and duckling scooping net.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVa-nrrV9IaHNop6HTDPbRUHgu0uCVcM2QBaNzLDrQt3pDQFEkjs1udmf7_U8-nEsyg7VA4_CVLYeKAHw_10zgLZDTXHSGyUaCykvv253xNOjFP14iwyku8TswnbqgPxzLCSr2PDT4upL/s1600/IMG_0048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVa-nrrV9IaHNop6HTDPbRUHgu0uCVcM2QBaNzLDrQt3pDQFEkjs1udmf7_U8-nEsyg7VA4_CVLYeKAHw_10zgLZDTXHSGyUaCykvv253xNOjFP14iwyku8TswnbqgPxzLCSr2PDT4upL/s400/IMG_0048.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This version comes with a curious dog. (Not recommended.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZcidI-puzialjopq1LTXJYVv_qXzFm1cM4g_6wwf1jEc1VI-uMFeR6lql71H2xn2gz2xLJqG_iaht53v0ZyexJQJWHzjIEKurDfArGkCFFf_hqbl8hVigsoCkG2N34n6AEEjye_Aiu0o/s1600/diagram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZcidI-puzialjopq1LTXJYVv_qXzFm1cM4g_6wwf1jEc1VI-uMFeR6lql71H2xn2gz2xLJqG_iaht53v0ZyexJQJWHzjIEKurDfArGkCFFf_hqbl8hVigsoCkG2N34n6AEEjye_Aiu0o/s320/diagram.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The larger pipe, perhaps five feet deep, had a smaller pipe within it. <br />
There was just enough room for the tiny ducklings to squeeze <br />
themselves between the two pipes and evade the net.</td></tr>
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It's time now to discuss the drain. It takes the form of a large, upright pipe with elevated grating over it. There was a second, smaller upright pipe within it--the whole thing designed for managing and diverting water from heavy rain. The water level in the drain was fairly low, perhaps a foot deep, roughly four feet below the top of the drain. When down on his hands and knees with his arm fully extended, my father could reach the net in far enough to scoop up ducklings, but there was not an awful lot of room to spare. The second pipe within the drain is positioned as you can see in the diagram. There was just enough room between it and the side of the main pipe for little ducklings--who were only four inches long or so and could easily bunch together--to hide. And those baby mergansers had absolutely no intention of being caught! They were fast as the dickens, shooting away at unbelievable speeds, and to our consternation, they could also dive. Our strategy was for my father to position the net on one side of the ducklings' refuge between the pipes while I drove them his direction with the broom. I had to keep the broom low in the water to keep them from diving under it, but it took many, many tries to net a duckling. It was definitely a two person operation and we'd come with precisely the right equipment, but it was no easy task. However, we got lucky: there were five total ducklings and on our first successful effort, two ducklings got scooped up at once. After many more tries, my father managed to land another. And after still more attempts, with the ducklings demonstrating quicksilver evasive maneuvers, the final two got swept up in the net together. My father briefly opened the lid of the box so I could take a few photographs, and then it was on to the next phase of the rescue mission.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOvNgDTpdbF0jESaSDsCuqJoLwEF34Xpwjq28osDXf-nr7Ghf65EaUhPaO-52qPfmebbG4eDCMT7QQDbULFRKlquE4j7x6lxSxFPR0IrIdBI90_a1moamoxdAZ6kdZN8SPslt8R5WfG4Y/s1600/IMG_0390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOvNgDTpdbF0jESaSDsCuqJoLwEF34Xpwjq28osDXf-nr7Ghf65EaUhPaO-52qPfmebbG4eDCMT7QQDbULFRKlquE4j7x6lxSxFPR0IrIdBI90_a1moamoxdAZ6kdZN8SPslt8R5WfG4Y/s400/IMG_0390.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down into the Drain of Doom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4gG7kprKFBctrqUl7jAWrA4oEmvrv2cVRVNwlj4GA92G8_ty_iXi_7JzZ3uj0I7q0erInHWmrYs8_HANNAQMARjKcAEOYR11k4RFlnI7S9-NqCniUeiNeXcGlWROv8nwSRBDnPjtxIzS/s1600/IMG_0031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4gG7kprKFBctrqUl7jAWrA4oEmvrv2cVRVNwlj4GA92G8_ty_iXi_7JzZ3uj0I7q0erInHWmrYs8_HANNAQMARjKcAEOYR11k4RFlnI7S9-NqCniUeiNeXcGlWROv8nwSRBDnPjtxIzS/s400/IMG_0031.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My father in position to catch ducklings with a net.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qD5BhXS00K2HyXC3Go1rLYd3BlxFNC45mPee76n9d7c25sheWBC1xwoAMd3A8UlxYTSZ_5IXmCahXTv-fJ4XH9rTD_RPU8hCZUeq15iRS16CRQIwKEicTQhTh2RIdWci05NRJU4fq2IU/s1600/IMG_0041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qD5BhXS00K2HyXC3Go1rLYd3BlxFNC45mPee76n9d7c25sheWBC1xwoAMd3A8UlxYTSZ_5IXmCahXTv-fJ4XH9rTD_RPU8hCZUeq15iRS16CRQIwKEicTQhTh2RIdWci05NRJU4fq2IU/s400/IMG_0041.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The young hooded mergansers, safe in the box.</td></tr>
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I had very much hoped that the parents would still be on the pond when we got the little mergansers out of the drain, but between the time I first spied the ducklings in distress at 4:30 and when my father and I arrived to rescue them shortly after 7:00, the adults had abandoned their offspring to their doom. Wild birds aren't sentimental. Not all babies make it and the mother had seen that there was no way out of the drain for her flightless progeny. She had no idea that there was a human being who was plotting to save the ducklings from what would have been their tomb. It was a logical choice. But that meant we had a box of orphaned mergansers to deal with. PAWS was prepared to accept them, but the Wildlife Center was 22 miles from the retention pond. They closed at 8:00. It was 7:40. And my car was almost out of gas. The math was not good. But I called the center and told them we were headed their way and could get there by 8:15 and could they please stay open? They were kind enough to say yes (I should have led with the fact that these weren't mallard ducklings, but merganser ducklings, which are apparently much more fragile and, as the person on the phone said, "That changes everything!") and so we drove off into the sunset, pausing only long enough to put a couple of gallons of gas in the car, the ducklings peeping and scrabbling in their box. My father may have gone just a <i>little</i> faster than the speed limit, so despite stopping for gas, we made it to PAWS at 8:10. We were immediately relieved of the peeping box, had our info taken at the front desk and made a donation toward their care, and thus concluded our part in the Great Hooded Merganser Duckling Rescue of 2015.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwUZM001sUCuf4wIJC5fR_94JUdJFlFIwLcbyjoEAKrwJivuRlkVEAAI454ovISw8mL-1Hjv-li0fbk5Jk5j4TD2l2iGflD9IuTlkGOQDdfi4wmaf1_7NCa-oMyNq0iP_uCsvh5CWolOg/s1600/IMG_0034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwUZM001sUCuf4wIJC5fR_94JUdJFlFIwLcbyjoEAKrwJivuRlkVEAAI454ovISw8mL-1Hjv-li0fbk5Jk5j4TD2l2iGflD9IuTlkGOQDdfi4wmaf1_7NCa-oMyNq0iP_uCsvh5CWolOg/s400/IMG_0034.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The five siblings bunch together for reassurance and protection. </td></tr>
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I'm still amazed at this serendipitous turn of events. Had I not seen the ducklings heading into the ditch as I drove by, I would not have known they were there. Had I not gotten slightly lost while walking Cutie, I would not have walked by the pond and thought to look for them. Had I not approached the pond so near to the drain, I would not have flushed the mother merganser and so found the babies. No one else would have known. There is a sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, but not on the side along the pond. No one else would have walked by, much less approached the drain and frightened the mother. No one would have heard their little peeping cries. Those ducklings would have eventually starved in the drain and their skeletons might have been found much later by utility crews, should that drain ever been in need of maintenance. It makes me wonder how many ducklings perish in this way. But this adorable bunch will soon outgrow their spotted baby coats for the cinnamon brown feathers of their mother or dramatic black, white, and brown plumage of their father and will be diving for fish instead of hoping to evade the net and the broom that ultimately saved their lives. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCWgdqIsEv0tPNux7sJDK0napy79CWRZNGgEN24i2cD69FNgHfZb9kITTVhlaVjfO6WNlCLc3Dlpk8lY2GdAEAnqZirMjX5ulQtYqXyyCNZGR_DQwpIECjK4mdhLF-KKjNEND-lyb-FUP/s1600/IMG_0039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCWgdqIsEv0tPNux7sJDK0napy79CWRZNGgEN24i2cD69FNgHfZb9kITTVhlaVjfO6WNlCLc3Dlpk8lY2GdAEAnqZirMjX5ulQtYqXyyCNZGR_DQwpIECjK4mdhLF-KKjNEND-lyb-FUP/s400/IMG_0039.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little cutie will grow up to raise its own brood of hooded mergansers on a local pond.</td></tr>
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<b>UPDATE:</b></div>
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I am pleased to report that I received notice from PAWS that four out of the five ducklings survived and were released back into the wild this summer!<br />
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-53814796894935419282015-04-27T16:56:00.002-07:002015-04-27T16:56:44.894-07:00In Sickness and In Health: Pet-SittingIt's been an interesting journey so far in 2015, one that has been marked by two major themes: pet-sitting and health issues.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February landscape.</td></tr>
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The first health issue was mine. On the second day of 2015, I got a migraine that didn't respond to medication. While I constantly have new migraines cropping up, most do respond to my medications or, at the very least, I'm able to sleep them off. This migraine, though, didn't budge. My meds didn't make a dent. It was of the type that I call a "brain-in-flames" migraine, which feels pretty much like how it sounds. I also had a nasty black ball of migraine pain behind my right eye. Add fatigue, cognitive fogginess, and the usual sensory sensitivity, and then next thing I knew, I was spending 20 hours a day in bed, unable to do anything more demanding than read children's books.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/GSVv40M2aks/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GSVv40M2aks?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Imagine that the light in this video of the sun is pain </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">and you have an idea of what a migraine is like.</span></div>
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That went on for a couple of weeks and then I finally contacted my neurologist. You'd think I might have contacted the headache clinic sooner, but I'm pretty much at the limits of what can be done for my migraines, so I wasn't sure there was any point. But I was getting scared that this unending burning migraine with the ball of pain behind the eye was going to be my new normal, so they checked me out and set me up with three days of DHE injections and though the injections didn't really help dramatically at first, eventually the migraine sort of dribbled off. It was followed by an equal number of weeks of postdromal (post-migraine) symptoms, including serious fatigue and unusual sensitivity in my peripheral vision. While the migraine did ultimately go away, it definitely spooked me. There's nothing more alarming when you have a chronic condition to have some new (and worse) wrinkle appear!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kpJH8veO7sRDyxgbkOpVJSkD01uHe9Ly-XwGy4SgQcqAm4Q1VgogLagcmPLBHkhe7yn5LCzJ9ACsAXw1JsJqreRM3S5O84BsUieAgPSbIXQrsovumZ_upBhdeaAHufIOhVpst3YSJwNO/s1600/IMG_5905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kpJH8veO7sRDyxgbkOpVJSkD01uHe9Ly-XwGy4SgQcqAm4Q1VgogLagcmPLBHkhe7yn5LCzJ9ACsAXw1JsJqreRM3S5O84BsUieAgPSbIXQrsovumZ_upBhdeaAHufIOhVpst3YSJwNO/s1600/IMG_5905.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good ol' Mr. Gorgeous</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He spends most of his time sleeping now.</td></tr>
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As the worst of the headache was on the wane, I looked after my good friend, Mr. Gorgeous the collie, for a few days. Mr. Gorgeous recently turned 14 million years old, a major accomplishment for any dog and truly astounding for a large one. There's simply no getting around the fact that he is, well, 14 million years old and 14-million-year-old dogs don't live forever. His owners had reported that he was doing well, other than the fact that he is ancient and has degenerative myelopathy. I was shocked, therefore, when I saw him. He was skinny and the coat that gave him his nickname was lacking luster, but what really worried me was that he seemed vacant on the inside. Now, Mr. Gorgeous has never been what you might call a genius and he's only got about half a dozen facial expressions (and, I have long suspected, only half a dozen emotions to go with them), but there's always been someone home inside his eyes. This time it seemed different. And then, worse yet, to use the simplest terms, he pooped his pants in his sleep.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhN98TdJoStJbQzJzzCv4mT-2pu1Q87PTZBiYsPZfCQ0eF6pcTDmCqa_tDMYAs0v1N4wJBgYWqTQMcqA0kRnguAMOi3qPilwMNwSZX_juJp1wcGRuAXPOLWJhuhPpAWKm4RkhOXHWMyvv/s1600/IMG_5863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhN98TdJoStJbQzJzzCv4mT-2pu1Q87PTZBiYsPZfCQ0eF6pcTDmCqa_tDMYAs0v1N4wJBgYWqTQMcqA0kRnguAMOi3qPilwMNwSZX_juJp1wcGRuAXPOLWJhuhPpAWKm4RkhOXHWMyvv/s1600/IMG_5863.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous also has laryngeal paralysis, a condition not uncommon in large, geriatric dogs. As vocal cord function decreases, his bark has been reduced to a whispery "hoo! hoo!"</td></tr>
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Degenerative myelopathy causes progressive, irreversible damage to the spinal cord, eventually resulting in total paralysis of the hind end. Mr. Gorgeous' case has progressed much more slowly than I'd initially feared it would and while he walks with a flat-footed waddle and can't swing into his old trot without tripping over his feet, he's remained surprisingly mobile and still tackles the stairs on most days, albeit with a bit of a bunny hop. But the paralysis is still creeping onward and when I saw that he'd had diarrhea without even waking up, I was worried that I was looking at the first signs of loss of sphincter control. There's nothing less dignified than a grand old dog with poo-soaked fur and the idea that this is what it had come to really broke my heart. That vacant look, his loss of pleasure in his food, his lack of interest in having his ears rubbed, and that possible sign of the relentless progression of paralysis made me fear for the worst, and when I said good-bye to him when the gig was done, I said good-bye for real, in case it was the last time I saw him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end of Mr. Gorgeous?</td></tr>
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I've wondered before now how I would fare when Mr. Gorgeous' time came. I'm enormously fond of him, sure, and get a big kick out of him, but have never had that soul-to-soul connection like the one I have with my own dog or with Sweetheart the German Shepherd. I've been taking care of Mr. Gorgeous for five years, the longest of any of my dog clients, so I know him intimately, and I knew I'd miss him, but would I grieve for him? The answer is yes. I cried when I got home that evening and cried again in subsequent days as I faced the possibility of the world without Mr. Gorgeous in it. Maybe I didn't have that magical one-being-to-another connection, but this great-big, good-looking dog had clearly claimed a piece of my heart.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFO_ucNHepjVkzPSvFvl4rXBJknnVDyqDhf0-W7TJz4AAkiFbdEuYzavHRh4LuXqhDDJ0mpD4RJ5_bdioMDk79iI_ZDCebXGieEiqJ1i4ysDxLgEksjBlV1J32LN-yMMwBC31mQE18vjvC/s1600/IMG_8155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFO_ucNHepjVkzPSvFvl4rXBJknnVDyqDhf0-W7TJz4AAkiFbdEuYzavHRh4LuXqhDDJ0mpD4RJ5_bdioMDk79iI_ZDCebXGieEiqJ1i4ysDxLgEksjBlV1J32LN-yMMwBC31mQE18vjvC/s1600/IMG_8155.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A time for reflection.</td></tr>
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I was relieved, then, to learn that all this heartbreak was premature. That vacant look, the accident in his sleep? It was all the result of an upset tummy. However, when his owners took him to the vet for a checkup, the vet did find a serious problem: Mr. Gorgeous needed twelve teeth removed. I had wondered if his lack of appetite (and therefore his thinness) was the result of tooth decay, as is very common among elderly dogs, and his owners had switched him to a softer diet, but the mess in Mr. G's mouth went way beyond some sore teeth and into the realm of impeding disaster. He was scheduled right away for oral surgery, and as it happened, his people had to go out of town shortly after the surgery, so I was called in to play nurse.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiv7Rq9Ofr8i1TiSuC4l28moMxHqAOlwdCwOwr2mf-LJPH7MT2vNr508DOi7pHh9x1F2dw2Xnimz3NGN3nCASS5ubWI8hOvXIWKZK_8BXrrDEGtCijD2y2u25iu8wNkrpc9UDqUWfjXUAV/s1600/IMG_6718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiv7Rq9Ofr8i1TiSuC4l28moMxHqAOlwdCwOwr2mf-LJPH7MT2vNr508DOi7pHh9x1F2dw2Xnimz3NGN3nCASS5ubWI8hOvXIWKZK_8BXrrDEGtCijD2y2u25iu8wNkrpc9UDqUWfjXUAV/s1600/IMG_6718.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous, minus a dozen of his teeth, including all of his lower front incisors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling better.</td></tr>
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The first few days, Mr. Gorgeous was woozy and knocked out almost all the time from his pain meds, but he took his pills well enough if they were dabbed with butter and hidden in food that I hand-fed him on a spoon. He seemed uninterested in drinking his water--I think the extraction sites were very sensitive--so I added more water to his already soft and mushy post-op food and fed him several small meals during the day. He did meander after me as I wandered around his property with a camera, but was unsurprisingly subdued. By the time a week had passed since the surgery, Mr. Gorgeous started to perk up a great deal. He was enthusiastic about his meals (especially if I included some baloney pieces--he was quite unimpressed if there weren't a few snippets here and there among the canned food and mushy kibble and would stare at me pointedly through the door until I added some to his meal) and he started licking his bowl clean for the first time in more than year. He not only wanted to get ear noogies, he DEMANDED them, shoving his head into my lap and budging my hands until I rubbed the inside of his ears with a knuckle. He even demonstrated some moments of playfulness. In his old age, Mr. Gorgeous has lost interest in playing, so it made my heart happy to see him showing a bit of friskiness. It was so fulfilling to see his spirit rekindled and to have a hand in the process. Normally, I don't much care to handle pieces of baloney made slippery by canned dog food and dog slobber, especially first thing after I wake up, but for Mr. Gorgeous, it was an honor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nR8ei9cUKx0ivJM_bxOc8lLHdQzxCZmmBw7sReOPqUZMSNc0ycY_r_ejEAt2XTEbqtnj38GuVcMeZDyJnowJaQGT4gZXPtnx9oQ3kuNNChFmQJZTznQdgbUfP-Fw0HDmqNxUUkyNpo6A/s1600/IMG_6994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nR8ei9cUKx0ivJM_bxOc8lLHdQzxCZmmBw7sReOPqUZMSNc0ycY_r_ejEAt2XTEbqtnj38GuVcMeZDyJnowJaQGT4gZXPtnx9oQ3kuNNChFmQJZTznQdgbUfP-Fw0HDmqNxUUkyNpo6A/s1600/IMG_6994.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's not what he was in his prime, but Mr. Gorgeous is still one handsome beast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMAdNVzFxwUtQlni_xP0AJ9vOJ8VcpwGrsWO92bi8NxWldytWTyGRXF9btD0CXTI9dlE1wES92VxL03wU6i9qBMfNQ46dySKujH0zQRWgM9Yen-S62qtsFMET7DHiLlM7eTuSA4cciGvs/s1600/IMG_6153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMAdNVzFxwUtQlni_xP0AJ9vOJ8VcpwGrsWO92bi8NxWldytWTyGRXF9btD0CXTI9dlE1wES92VxL03wU6i9qBMfNQ46dySKujH0zQRWgM9Yen-S62qtsFMET7DHiLlM7eTuSA4cciGvs/s1600/IMG_6153.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A black light revealed a flora infestation.</td></tr>
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And then there was the paw fungus. I'd noticed Abbey was licking her paws more a while ago, but she's always done some paw licking when she's settled down and feeling drowsy, so I wasn't overly concerned until I noticed that she had developed saliva stains (which are reddish-brown) on the fur of her back paws. We went to the vet, where she was first prescribed an antibiotic to cure the crusty infections caused by her licking. She was still licking her paws after finishing the antibiotics, so we went back to the vet. This time, with the crustiness cleared away, the source of the itching was apparent: a fungal infection. Dogs carry fungi and yeasts (or "flora") on their feet all the time--it's responsible for the "Frito feet" (paws that smell like corn chips) phenomenon that many of us love--and most of them are harmless. When things get out of control and the fungi proliferate, it's a different story. Abbey picked up a new fungus somewhere and I think that during the time I was away dog-sitting in November and December and she was in her crate for at least part of every day, she probably passed some of the time by licking her paws. Dogs can sometimes get in a sort of trance-like state while licking themselves (I call it "mesmer-licking") and lick and lick and lick, spreading any fungi around, adding in bacteria from their mouths, and encouraging it all to grow with their warm saliva. Fungal infections can be difficult to treat, so the vet emphasized that our best bet was to knock it out as thoroughly and quickly as possible, which would mean that I would have to follow instructions precisely. What did that entail? Prednisone, an anti-fungal medication, daily medicated foot soaks, and preventing Abbey from licking her paws.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWR9zw56B_6m1JGKlYXgC6W7DCyeQxv4Fe9TQAQHroAKJQACld6blefsk1XOdw3Fc7TLj0jdwwbiiEijJEsI9MbECYiG6-MzsG9DfGMjNZF0mkwnU7luFPlnKkJJ7Asq_g7oF6D9XGZKT/s1600/IMG_7450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWR9zw56B_6m1JGKlYXgC6W7DCyeQxv4Fe9TQAQHroAKJQACld6blefsk1XOdw3Fc7TLj0jdwwbiiEijJEsI9MbECYiG6-MzsG9DfGMjNZF0mkwnU7luFPlnKkJJ7Asq_g7oF6D9XGZKT/s1600/IMG_7450.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overheated from prednisone and wearing socks to prevent paw-licking, Abbey tries to get some rest by sprawling flat. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I01hdTfhCtJjkYiUib_jgRuc-I3EOlmbiJfmiOf0EncXI3hkDjF2eiIkTJl1hECzjq_lxryoDmkZrE6tORfRKW1_UdFbLUT1JuAfuOEEbEAd9feXfTFzoNmp0ERROPMi9GevZzg1Whvh/s1600/IMG_7581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I01hdTfhCtJjkYiUib_jgRuc-I3EOlmbiJfmiOf0EncXI3hkDjF2eiIkTJl1hECzjq_lxryoDmkZrE6tORfRKW1_UdFbLUT1JuAfuOEEbEAd9feXfTFzoNmp0ERROPMi9GevZzg1Whvh/s1600/IMG_7581.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stylish in baggies over socks.</td></tr>
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Abbey had no trouble taking her medications (she gets them in a marshmallow and she looooooves marshmallows) and she was perfectly fine with wearing socks on her back paws, held in place by a cuff of masking tape. She readily accepted having plastic baggies put over her socks when she went outside and she actually seemed to enjoy the inflatable cone that I put on her for a few days after she started licking her lady bits instead of going after her paws. But she hated soaking her feet. All she had to do was stand in a few inches of warm, treated water for fifteen minutes, but it was horribly stressful for her. I'd set a timer and give her a treat every thirty seconds of those fifteen minutes, gently restraining her while singing to soothe her, and although she made no desperate attempts to escape (aside from scrabbling while being lowered into the tub, which she was not about to jump in on her own), she panted anxiously throughout. She hated getting her feet rinsed at the end of the bath, too, though eating peanut butter off a spoon while I throughly washed the solution off her feet made it slightly more bearable. Those two weeks of nightly soakings were miserable and exhausting for both of us!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSDqaPVS_vSA4f-CKzL4FhXeIadceuyOIdO0dmJMUhaYJRCdIMrC0SYORFR6qOAMFRcOZoLq49t9D1d7ZcCuJJxfzq3F_p_nv8XDc1-pfLVYraXxBkVED0aaT4jv0rCGQqgRC2KVdnvEv/s1600/IMG_0321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSDqaPVS_vSA4f-CKzL4FhXeIadceuyOIdO0dmJMUhaYJRCdIMrC0SYORFR6qOAMFRcOZoLq49t9D1d7ZcCuJJxfzq3F_p_nv8XDc1-pfLVYraXxBkVED0aaT4jv0rCGQqgRC2KVdnvEv/s1600/IMG_0321.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My poor anxious girl hating every second of her daily foot soaking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn66yvDnDmcJ9HMN0ur-08lOKg-22UZhmAYdDcZcSYYviUiN_ZfoTJo5mUPkUrqJYjfMnEJAuKmS1QcIpuue2ihRRqmuY1kxHZhYCEMk4Zu0vaMc4Z3ln1OmSp6LTmwKF4xczzablWUxza/s1600/IMG_0330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn66yvDnDmcJ9HMN0ur-08lOKg-22UZhmAYdDcZcSYYviUiN_ZfoTJo5mUPkUrqJYjfMnEJAuKmS1QcIpuue2ihRRqmuY1kxHZhYCEMk4Zu0vaMc4Z3ln1OmSp6LTmwKF4xczzablWUxza/s1600/IMG_0330.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Socks? Check. Cone? Check.<br />Seatbelt? Check. Let's ride!</td></tr>
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And then there was the prednisone. I understand we got fairly lucky as far as Abbey's side effects go, but there were most definitely side effects. I didn't immediately catch on to how voraciously hungry it made her because I was busy making sure that she didn't lose her appetite, a sign of a dangerous complication of the fungal medication. Abbey is fed the same amount of food every day, portioned out with a measuring cup, so with the prednisone cranking up her metabolism, it didn't take long before her spine started showing and her hip bones jutting. We weighed her and were astonished that she'd dropped down to 42 pounds! She'd seemed a little thin after she shed her winter coat, so we'd weighed her just a week or two before starting to treat her for the paw fungus, so we knew that she'd been at 45 pounds. (She usually weighs in around 47.) She'd managed to drop three pounds in just a matter of days, so I ended up doubling her food and spreading it out over three meals a day instead of her usual one. She also drank at least triple her usual amount of water and had to go out every hour or so, it seemed. She became a pooping and peeing machine! We were lucky, though, that she remained in control of those functions, so there were no accidents. However, prednisone also gave her a bit of a personality change. She was bolder, punchier, naughtier. She's never gotten in the trash before, but one day, while I was in the shower, she managed to open the cupboard door, tip over the trash can, and spread its contents all over the kitchen floor, consuming several chicken bones in the process. We had to start putting a stool in front of the cupboard door so she wouldn't go shopping! She was either amped up and pacing and panting or sprawled absolutely flat in an area with good airflow, her tail stretched out, as she tried to keep herself cool. We did a very slow taper off of the prednisone and it was such a relief when I finally got my Abbey back!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilc4lWhf_6fbB157coz3FVDnT6Hb9QOpIFERQmgr8N_rZUM4lAIMIfzNtz2LfaQN0TYe2LGxQUltEjV-qXzlG2SEtGpXQuTBewUwdoE_xj3C3puhwn_si0snUWNLwS-luroN0qgwp5qegy/s1600/IMG_8090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilc4lWhf_6fbB157coz3FVDnT6Hb9QOpIFERQmgr8N_rZUM4lAIMIfzNtz2LfaQN0TYe2LGxQUltEjV-qXzlG2SEtGpXQuTBewUwdoE_xj3C3puhwn_si0snUWNLwS-luroN0qgwp5qegy/s1600/IMG_8090.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She may look like she's smiling, but prednisone made Abbey hot, restless, roughish, and voraciously hungry and thirsty.</td></tr>
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The good news is that all that effort paid off. Between the socks and the medication and the foot baths, when the vet rechecked her paws after two weeks, she had a normal and healthy amount of flora on her feet. I still put socks on her when I leave her in her crate because if she gets to licking her paws again her feet could flare back up, but for now, the stressful episode of Abbey and the Paw Fungus is over.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzXHKkel8e95ico4d8DiyK9wB-xJnv0x8tHyfvFS5i1mnOjnirZ2HXJCYg6MQiZfkbj8xQwcq9sS6RKkW_WCiz3U9VF-3y5Tw5DcHucx2SAZoWkBZ_sGweOA0zV-67WnHJc6dsbvJuVqF/s1600/IMG_7160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzXHKkel8e95ico4d8DiyK9wB-xJnv0x8tHyfvFS5i1mnOjnirZ2HXJCYg6MQiZfkbj8xQwcq9sS6RKkW_WCiz3U9VF-3y5Tw5DcHucx2SAZoWkBZ_sGweOA0zV-67WnHJc6dsbvJuVqF/s1600/IMG_7160.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pretty Pyrenees.</td></tr>
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After a little bit of downtime, it was on to the next dog! Cutie's owner had to have a hip replaced, so I was called in to walk her and entertain her in the afternoons. While we're now down to a twice-a-week walks-only schedule, for much of the last couple of months, I've seen Cutie nearly every day. It's been something of an adventure, in part because Cutie is smart and sassy with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and quite a lot of energy for a big four-year-old. She's less go-go-go than she used to be and will settle while at home, but when she's on the go, she is on the GO. At 90 pounds and with four feet for traction, you'd better be ready to go, too! One day, while we were at a park, she started doing zoomies , a popular name for when a dog tucks its rump and runs around in a wild and crazy manner. And they weren't just any zoomies, they were mud zoomies. We'd been walking across a damp field and hit a patch where the mud was several very squishy inches deep under the grass and she went nuts. So not only was I being yanked this way and that, I was being yanked this way and that through the mud. She was quite a mess when I finally got her moved on, so I decided our walk would take us to a nearby creek where the two of us could rinse off a bit. Well, Cutie found the creek even more exciting than the mud and had a wild session of creek zoomies. In the creek! Out of the creek! In the creek! Out of the creek! And all with me being jerked along behind. It's fortunate I was wearing my hiking boots, as I would have likely fallen and been pulled about face first if I'd had any less traction. Oh, Cutie! It's always an adventure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltUCZCx9789FmJP3IT0RZGaXJK9Kd4hyphenhyphen2HC30D5Mi6OAHJ5VJrg-MGg0ce6MhWFmzXVHcpQklhXakunkwAuuiMEmuvrKHcL7F-wAOhfzIxIrXqSX6KiIfWLVEq9mXsDjzgnPpTj9aA6rz/s1600/IMG_8071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltUCZCx9789FmJP3IT0RZGaXJK9Kd4hyphenhyphen2HC30D5Mi6OAHJ5VJrg-MGg0ce6MhWFmzXVHcpQklhXakunkwAuuiMEmuvrKHcL7F-wAOhfzIxIrXqSX6KiIfWLVEq9mXsDjzgnPpTj9aA6rz/s1600/IMG_8071.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's mischief in those eyes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3MyhIF79VGoSZCaDOlogmpPw6cpM4CgUKl0pkxFYnEO9wXiHFsubEgq35hue_rIUVGGlSLlRQUfGvpLOrPNq6SkS2IX7RAdG72ehVqhlwFyA1qppkk4NJm5ACS521ofKw45RyL-Dz7CJ/s1600/IMG_0302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3MyhIF79VGoSZCaDOlogmpPw6cpM4CgUKl0pkxFYnEO9wXiHFsubEgq35hue_rIUVGGlSLlRQUfGvpLOrPNq6SkS2IX7RAdG72ehVqhlwFyA1qppkk4NJm5ACS521ofKw45RyL-Dz7CJ/s1600/IMG_0302.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wide angle lens has distorted Cutie's size as she stands on the console, but she really is huge! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqI7ZrqeFjBotYvxQcbIwK_wYwXzxme3nZr4OPTMiEFm3p7as5Ujy15P5-GQcQHQqsZcunnOObh2-6MmgSRVHi8Yd6-6h4s7RDd9K-HMSQsq4Qlmpmk9tscrGv-sD5ZwIVYIzVttrK8dOu/s1600/IMG_8166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqI7ZrqeFjBotYvxQcbIwK_wYwXzxme3nZr4OPTMiEFm3p7as5Ujy15P5-GQcQHQqsZcunnOObh2-6MmgSRVHi8Yd6-6h4s7RDd9K-HMSQsq4Qlmpmk9tscrGv-sD5ZwIVYIzVttrK8dOu/s1600/IMG_8166.jpg" height="141" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to rub off her head halter.</td></tr>
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I should add that I'm never walking this big, powerful, playful dog just on a regular collar. Cutie walks best on a head halter, but she hates it, so as long as she's behaving well, I'll walk her on a front-clip harness. It reduces the pulling enough that she's manageable unless she sees something really exciting (or wants to have mud zoomies). Even though I sometimes make her wear the hated head halter, Cutie is always very happy to see me. She has the most ridiculous little bared-teeth grin when I first come in and she's given me the guard dog's ultimate compliment: she doesn't bark when my car pulls into the driveway, just stands at the window and wags her tail! I also love how she'll stand on the center console (looming enormously) when we first get in the car to go somewhere and gives my ears little licks of affection and delight. My own dog does a similar thing and I find it most endearing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZdkE0q4eQDTwQJYIjGjU8H6jLmEQms3Zq0HsISVGqawevgYCfFNW44shC0lnxKoLOL7OpEt55SnxTaj4xuItL4zJrCTUg7_ojieuWlCwwfpQ-zqTYk_5aa5wqzljvQXNlvm7tR4j4Ux2/s1600/IMG_8535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZdkE0q4eQDTwQJYIjGjU8H6jLmEQms3Zq0HsISVGqawevgYCfFNW44shC0lnxKoLOL7OpEt55SnxTaj4xuItL4zJrCTUg7_ojieuWlCwwfpQ-zqTYk_5aa5wqzljvQXNlvm7tR4j4Ux2/s1600/IMG_8535.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A happy, tired Cutie after a walk.<br /></td></tr>
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Of course, it's easy enough for a dog to like you when fun stuff happens every time you come over, so I'm actually very excited about a new client of mine, where the investment is going to be very different, but very rewarding.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fSLNw6hOMb3dGXnEx9OhrwWa2O36nCalMVSlbQu3uyVyJ3TtOqRTLyo2MLw6-ECModg8XLkgL3VxZjC62BtP5KUu5M6noKVJ5fx-bRHLfkq0zhyjo9odi5QtR5xJC3CKhn_PAwF1HFS2/s1600/IMG_7246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fSLNw6hOMb3dGXnEx9OhrwWa2O36nCalMVSlbQu3uyVyJ3TtOqRTLyo2MLw6-ECModg8XLkgL3VxZjC62BtP5KUu5M6noKVJ5fx-bRHLfkq0zhyjo9odi5QtR5xJC3CKhn_PAwF1HFS2/s1600/IMG_7246.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tiny poodle.</td></tr>
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I'll call her Pipsqueak. She's a teeny tiny, five pound, five-year-old poodle who is smaller than Cutie's head. My natural preference is for medium to large dogs, but I have to admit, Pipsqueak is adorable. And therein lies the problem. Her owners like to say that she suffers from Too Cute Syndrome. People see her and they go into a frenzy of cooing and touching and getting in her personal space. They want to treat her like a baby, a little living doll. The thing is, while Pipsqueak may be tiny, she's every bit as much of a dog as Cutie is. She's intelligent, well-trained, playful, sweet, mellow, and affectionate. The big difference is that Cutie can knock you over if you infringe on her personal space. Pipsqueak has no such defense: she is physically outsized and overwhelmed by every human being she encounters. She's also a naturally private and rather submissive dog, so is it really a surprise that most people send her hiding under the couch? As someone who has dealt with anxiety myself, I can sympathize. My job, then, as her dog-sitter, is to respect her boundaries and earn her trust in addition to making sure her needs are met. Fortunately, Abbey's leeriness of strangers has given me an education on how to approach an anxious dog: namely, don't approach. After a decade of telling visitors that "when she's ready, she'll come to you," I get to put that into practice with Pipsqueak.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTVa9iD_i13KKW8jdt8_QeSMRyk3qmoMwslmZhSWpKmT_Cvis_FJ6W7ImsY2yOP1u0yRAe65fYYwSX8_R7tpN6wE8UHAb9lH3eY3lOdjHYLMjEjC7qDohamyaKBF62m9kWJiQj5RJeKEA/s1600/IMG_7399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTVa9iD_i13KKW8jdt8_QeSMRyk3qmoMwslmZhSWpKmT_Cvis_FJ6W7ImsY2yOP1u0yRAe65fYYwSX8_R7tpN6wE8UHAb9lH3eY3lOdjHYLMjEjC7qDohamyaKBF62m9kWJiQj5RJeKEA/s1600/IMG_7399.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine being swept up and squeezed by a squealing giant standing more than 50 feet tall and weighing more than a ton and a half: that's what it's like to be Pipsqueak. No wonder people unnerve her!</td></tr>
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Pipsqueak and I hit it off right away when I consulted with her owners, so much so that she did me the honor of letting me pet her belly before I left. Apparently, I'm only the fourth person she's ever bestowed that privilege upon! She was much more timid when I came by the first time to spend a day with her, just the two of us, but she stayed in the room and on the couch (versus under the couch in a different room), which was a great start, so I just let her be. She pretended to ignore me and I pretended to ignore her. Eventually, she fell asleep. At one point, I looked up and saw that she had edged closer to me. I knew that this was a big display of trust on her part, and honored that trust by continuing to work quietly in her vicinity. She never felt quite comfortable enough to get off the couch during that afternoon, but we did progress to the point where she was wagging her tail when I offered her a treat (and eating the treat, too) and she did solicit some petting, including another offer to let me rub her tummy. I'm going to continue to do some short visits with her before doing overnight work, but I have confidence that as long as I take it slow, respect Pipsqueak's autonomy (and minute anatomy!), and move the relationship forward at her pace, we'll come to be good friends. As much fun as it is to be around a dog that loves everybody, meeting the needs of a dog that is scared to trust anybody is, to me, an honor. It's something that I can do that not everyone else has the patience or know-how to accomplish. Just as I felt is was a privilege to hand-feed Mr. Gorgeous slimy pieces of baloney if that's what he needed in order to recover from his surgery, I feel it is a privilege to work with Miss Pipsqueak and I hope to do right by her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy6j45MCudpuw54br9HlnEVna1xPhkcDVjFFEnX1dfUFNlFbvuNDOw2inkliLzEoEP-B3s_9Vi3ep2QgtxP_CEsLl0CRuz__q4qBSkPThvVePxQpijDfRHOgBxoCV1mrLEbwDNN5rKi1HF/s1600/IMG_7407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy6j45MCudpuw54br9HlnEVna1xPhkcDVjFFEnX1dfUFNlFbvuNDOw2inkliLzEoEP-B3s_9Vi3ep2QgtxP_CEsLl0CRuz__q4qBSkPThvVePxQpijDfRHOgBxoCV1mrLEbwDNN5rKi1HF/s1600/IMG_7407.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipsqueak rewards me for my quiet patience by licking my hand while letting me rub her belly.</td></tr>
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During all this time, there was more migraine chaos. Some of it was caused by turbulent spring weather. I was driving out to Cutie's one afternoon, storm clouds looming and nausea rising, when I thought, "If I don't pull over RIGHT NOW and take some nausea medicine, I'm going to be pulling over in a mile to throw up." After stopping and taking the meds, I thought, "You know, if I'm going to be in danger of puking and likely get a nasty, weather-induced migraine to go with it, I'd prefer to be puking at home." So I hastily cancelled my walking duties, drove home with gritted teeth, paused to dry heave when I got in the door, and then went to bed for three days while the thunderstorms continued. Thankfully, Cutie's owners are very understanding and didn't expect me back until I was fully recovered.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcmJdo6_Bo0jVTrKrkgfpW4j2aoQETwKqniKxF3qlxsbo68rcFDrw_Bi31JcGQKNhhzW5rFaAFinMATmHQJxTFb3mdKX0rUCIbooI9NU3en-lLknQwHE_pGV0faaiLdqI01_pIF2h_D0jY/s1600/IMG_8131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcmJdo6_Bo0jVTrKrkgfpW4j2aoQETwKqniKxF3qlxsbo68rcFDrw_Bi31JcGQKNhhzW5rFaAFinMATmHQJxTFb3mdKX0rUCIbooI9NU3en-lLknQwHE_pGV0faaiLdqI01_pIF2h_D0jY/s1600/IMG_8131.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thunderstorms bring rainbows and migraines.</td></tr>
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<br />Some weeks later, I developed swelling in my neck around my throat. I was sure that it was related to a nasty too-much-blood-in-the-head migraine and stiff, sore neck I'd been having, but it was definitely weird. The swelling was sufficient enough to be visible and to put uncomfortable pressure on my throat when I swallowed. I was checked out by a nurse practitioner at my primary care doctor's office, where it was determined that my lymph nodes were fine, which seemed like the only other possible culprit. In the end, an injection of DHE, an erogtamine vasoconstrictor used to treat migraines, cured both the migraine AND the swelling, so I felt vindicated in my belief. I've had it thrice since. I'm thinking that exercise is an important contributor, because after doing research about histamine (an antihistamine helped bring the swelling down the second time it occurred), I realized that I've long had what is known as an exercise-induced histamine response. It's what causes my exercise-induced asthma, makes my nose run profusely when I exercise, and causes occasional episodes of itching. In simple terms, I'm allergic to exercise. Histamine, though we think of it as being solely associated with allergies, is actually what is known as an inflammatory mediator and is at work when there is swelling associated with injury and infections, too. In an effort to bring more white blood cells to an area where there is a legitimate injury or infection, or, in the case of allergies, when there is not a legitimate injury or infection but the body thinks there is, it causes blood vessels to dilate. Migraines also cause blood vessels to dilate. I think there is some interplay going on here when I exercise while I have a migraine, especially one with a lot of swelling, so my body is swarming with histamine and all those great big blood vessels in my neck get the message that they need to expand. I could be wrong, but my hunches when it comes to migraines have a pretty good track record. I'll be discussing all this in detail with my neurologist when I see her in a few weeks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrET5eFvHqB2I_jt4fuAxbBM6BtKFGF4zkmuVsLtZV7QgbrvxPbGidNQXeSXweqorNggaGGHsQIGupShzA1j4tATNzUx0eewrCmvr8kNn4D2UMYB9cH1JlTJ3g5lzP3z3Jzfoe5cbu-bB/s1600/10393788_857842884274170_4824232074154467974_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrET5eFvHqB2I_jt4fuAxbBM6BtKFGF4zkmuVsLtZV7QgbrvxPbGidNQXeSXweqorNggaGGHsQIGupShzA1j4tATNzUx0eewrCmvr8kNn4D2UMYB9cH1JlTJ3g5lzP3z3Jzfoe5cbu-bB/s1600/10393788_857842884274170_4824232074154467974_n.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2000-2015</td></tr>
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And finally, a very old, very sick cat that I looked after for a few month passed away. It was his time, but he was loved dearly by his family and will be missed.<br />
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So, between collies with oral surgery, paws with fungus, owners with hip replacements, poodles with anxiety, and some migraine weirdness, it's been a very busy spring. Undoubtably, there are more of all of these things to come!<br />
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-90860702767799541952015-04-12T18:36:00.001-07:002015-04-12T18:36:27.874-07:00A Decade With My Dog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBwR8HFPqPtR3nlvkoSzLhjVQsgHR-HKzeFGF_TCUC-CErq0UGhQ4Abd0orGX5cMPqZN57XdZ_69E2AwPwluaK88FjK5YZRlk5JUizaozCHMBCE9Elz6UPhJESSG8jw6F_YdAYSED7Hjf/s1600/IMG_0148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBwR8HFPqPtR3nlvkoSzLhjVQsgHR-HKzeFGF_TCUC-CErq0UGhQ4Abd0orGX5cMPqZN57XdZ_69E2AwPwluaK88FjK5YZRlk5JUizaozCHMBCE9Elz6UPhJESSG8jw6F_YdAYSED7Hjf/s1600/IMG_0148.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOD22Rhm4tA21slM76lTUghyphenhyphen7q7_pu6ipHqrLYtEJT_H8RUgTT7kMmdn2Mx3yKGbB6flU2vKADyCr7nk8BERR5bfyLt3ChQOXOyhrzK1uGWcQ0_aeFpVWYnC6xQ6Gfpk0Y-xe8ekPOyVYi/s1600/IMG_0464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOD22Rhm4tA21slM76lTUghyphenhyphen7q7_pu6ipHqrLYtEJT_H8RUgTT7kMmdn2Mx3yKGbB6flU2vKADyCr7nk8BERR5bfyLt3ChQOXOyhrzK1uGWcQ0_aeFpVWYnC6xQ6Gfpk0Y-xe8ekPOyVYi/s1600/IMG_0464.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>It's hard to believe, but October 12th marked the 10th anniversary of Abbey's adoption, making this her 10th & a Half Adopt-a-versary.* That's right, my sweet mutt has been my boon companion for more than a decade now! Ten years. TEN YEARS! I can't even begin to express how important her support has been for me during the early years of depression and anxiety, the middle years of excruciating medication withdrawal, that one really great year when we went on lots of walks and hikes, and five years of migraines. I hit the canine jackpot when my family decided that Keta, the "brown" dog sitting so patiently in her kennel at Seattle Animal Shelter, should be our new family pet. And while she loves and is much loved by the rest of my family, for ten years it's really always been about the two of us, Dog & Girl, two lost souls in need of something to love.<br />
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<i>* I started this blogpost back in October in hopes of posting it on her adopt-a-versary, but then life happened. Better late than never, right?</i><br />
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From Abbey's perspective, the highlight of 2014 was the Disintegrating Christmas Reindeer. Of course, it wasn't disintegrating yet when it showed up in her Christmas stocking as her annual soft toy gift. What usually happens is that the soft toy is vigorously played with, gets a bunch of holes, and after a month or two, when it can no longer hold together, we give Abbey permission to pin and rip it to her heart's content, and the soft toy fun is over until next Christmas. Right from the start, though, it was clear that this year's reindeer was something special. My mom even went to Petco to get a backup within a week, but by then, all of the Christmas toys were gone. Fortunately, Abbey was determined to make this toy last as long as possible, the Disintegrating Christmas Reindeer is still with us! This is especially impressive because 99% of all games played in 2014 centered around catching and shaking and fetching her reindeer. Abbey makes playtime look so FUN and we all get such a kick out of watching her build extra bounces and zigzags and twirls into her reindeer antics. The reindeer loses another piece of stuffing during every game, the squeaker fell out long ago, and the body is limp and full of holes, but it has demonstrated an impressive tenacity. It made it all the way until Christmas, when it was finally retired in favor of the Christmoose, which was this season's variation on the same toy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDgWfCfAGKQgKhLLkXJ55QU1kKOVB6N4liowRhvy8byOz6AsmcZSD6UBkiAZY6Jju496ij7VBe3qimvIowqw79_wgmW_9dcWmm5DIcG0EE61X1hRQRMqc6nbWCvIzdrzhwRBBdcBlBqlz/s1600/IMG_3923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDgWfCfAGKQgKhLLkXJ55QU1kKOVB6N4liowRhvy8byOz6AsmcZSD6UBkiAZY6Jju496ij7VBe3qimvIowqw79_wgmW_9dcWmm5DIcG0EE61X1hRQRMqc6nbWCvIzdrzhwRBBdcBlBqlz/s1600/IMG_3923.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chewing on my reindeer!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbLNqf4PGLvlyckW2lM2TaAhV12vCKR7ksqAenSrCspoxTHLSusDSv4ezMuB4t3TBUcSQXKRBkXuAsLQvGaaSJH3f-1Mo-4HgLelyM_89h4CEDZFwZd2fen7slUZEnmLsOJknw8tqqFZW/s1600/IMG_6627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbLNqf4PGLvlyckW2lM2TaAhV12vCKR7ksqAenSrCspoxTHLSusDSv4ezMuB4t3TBUcSQXKRBkXuAsLQvGaaSJH3f-1Mo-4HgLelyM_89h4CEDZFwZd2fen7slUZEnmLsOJknw8tqqFZW/s1600/IMG_6627.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reindeer game, anyone?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzluXrdi7odcWdoIzRu2Fm4uxbco6YXlfvGIzyXgJqsLEPEJ3AXVsoCWz5CixlIIx6kMDcxXPNayvQp7zJbSshfYbBfa9HWsef43EjVtIahyyjp3panwHp8mm16kCn6h5BljQBWOoVJw8i/s1600/IMG_0354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzluXrdi7odcWdoIzRu2Fm4uxbco6YXlfvGIzyXgJqsLEPEJ3AXVsoCWz5CixlIIx6kMDcxXPNayvQp7zJbSshfYbBfa9HWsef43EjVtIahyyjp3panwHp8mm16kCn6h5BljQBWOoVJw8i/s1600/IMG_0354.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">C'mon, chase me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKEEFB0fFKVsiUgfUYjzBA1jlaKbk9Kp7kv8bEitRvSymNDhJL13XTkFejDc_cDClsMW0GhBs18Chql42gBBfCW4eC4LzxOeDLhyphenhyphentsyK3W0CCkD_3skpZRnEXDvn0r6fCGK7yBKkHg8hZ/s1600/IMG_3849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKEEFB0fFKVsiUgfUYjzBA1jlaKbk9Kp7kv8bEitRvSymNDhJL13XTkFejDc_cDClsMW0GhBs18Chql42gBBfCW4eC4LzxOeDLhyphenhyphentsyK3W0CCkD_3skpZRnEXDvn0r6fCGK7yBKkHg8hZ/s1600/IMG_3849.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the best toy ever!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCXVeXpH_l9wclcNQ9bNvi9xga0ebHNkcB4XuvgoCfJDJ6JSoK5a2oBu1yeMSmrAjaE_FyeqyvWKLDK2vcWBgXvFwQwhodO0oJhI-rOBtlKNSXy27g9UDPVAO78g1f8we3Cq287GXLtZ2/s1600/IMG_8556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCXVeXpH_l9wclcNQ9bNvi9xga0ebHNkcB4XuvgoCfJDJ6JSoK5a2oBu1yeMSmrAjaE_FyeqyvWKLDK2vcWBgXvFwQwhodO0oJhI-rOBtlKNSXy27g9UDPVAO78g1f8we3Cq287GXLtZ2/s1600/IMG_8556.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proudly posing with her favorite friend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpuzGYFbZVcIpMBUKWX9kXjl1M2mAF9dfDHHW9GjvW35ADWR-CmzSeQjVR3j_3t-dk4FIUJ3FvA6S8slguqu8Fp5Ae2Lnos-GXUtBCweSKfj1OjNj-DYvnpHFA17TeezZMjzBadWMUkpC/s1600/IMG_5792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpuzGYFbZVcIpMBUKWX9kXjl1M2mAF9dfDHHW9GjvW35ADWR-CmzSeQjVR3j_3t-dk4FIUJ3FvA6S8slguqu8Fp5Ae2Lnos-GXUtBCweSKfj1OjNj-DYvnpHFA17TeezZMjzBadWMUkpC/s1600/IMG_5792.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey and the Christmoose, the reindeer's successor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PwrzgtbnFepPHymWejcjfj4hl2NQx0JGMpSq6KRzZ5PvXAfddHDc-0ZmvS2xJ0Z3pb1OE6xGC-TSZVPzyyf8kDbpaY3M7LEm3Abef1lZlyPtpco4BbpJWa48Hkr2FPynogn5OW6Gr-gK/s1600/IMG_2615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PwrzgtbnFepPHymWejcjfj4hl2NQx0JGMpSq6KRzZ5PvXAfddHDc-0ZmvS2xJ0Z3pb1OE6xGC-TSZVPzyyf8kDbpaY3M7LEm3Abef1lZlyPtpco4BbpJWa48Hkr2FPynogn5OW6Gr-gK/s1600/IMG_2615.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Whee! You're home!"</td></tr>
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Of course, it isn't just when she's playing with her reindeer that Abbey is acts like a Big Silly. While most of the time Abbey is as mellow as they come, she does have that little bit of a twinkle about her, and nothing unleashes her goofiness like me coming home from dog-sitting. I didn't used to think of Abbey as much of a smiler, but taking photos to post daily on Pack (more on Pack later) has made me realize that she does have a little smile and it is perfectly ridiculous! She's not above acting undignified and I definitely like that in a dog.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9eCvIAad1STowcCCVdWQfNQ2keut0Nf5WI6BMG7pi0hljrAaCAAyvZNX1Ng3WElu5tQHjOD2lZMGkd3OgvoXLcyRBhYRiQqR7j2Zujq2BtP9cTk42K2uiJNjAHsahZQhGhAxOUqvXNIT/s1600/IMG_2195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9eCvIAad1STowcCCVdWQfNQ2keut0Nf5WI6BMG7pi0hljrAaCAAyvZNX1Ng3WElu5tQHjOD2lZMGkd3OgvoXLcyRBhYRiQqR7j2Zujq2BtP9cTk42K2uiJNjAHsahZQhGhAxOUqvXNIT/s1600/IMG_2195.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Abbey's goofy grin. I can't help but crack up whenever I look at this picture!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsW453e5g0-33vc03CnjCnmj5F4dYXgcKj1dME-2osUowj0Pz9BDigx-AnpXeO1GUJL5KYjJ9Lr2bwyk5_8eKvPiAxkgnNuc9uCHwX3_-OlYJ_2Bp7jtbNJkH7zQUBsufq9tU2nHDqRJL/s1600/IMG_2618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsW453e5g0-33vc03CnjCnmj5F4dYXgcKj1dME-2osUowj0Pz9BDigx-AnpXeO1GUJL5KYjJ9Lr2bwyk5_8eKvPiAxkgnNuc9uCHwX3_-OlYJ_2Bp7jtbNJkH7zQUBsufq9tU2nHDqRJL/s1600/IMG_2618.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another very silly smile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKnZZQhI7OdAiy5l70AU5PrqTwB5_vSy50s9A_TKCx9rv7z_KpCYQr3h_Ccyei8svPSSfYLh0EOliSh88TDa55aYQcz9rSVAUp0s-yut_AYWKTgWifICA2eIcZ1p1NBNmx1CQ3jIYFEYM/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKnZZQhI7OdAiy5l70AU5PrqTwB5_vSy50s9A_TKCx9rv7z_KpCYQr3h_Ccyei8svPSSfYLh0EOliSh88TDa55aYQcz9rSVAUp0s-yut_AYWKTgWifICA2eIcZ1p1NBNmx1CQ3jIYFEYM/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling around hoping for belly rubs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7K228veHEQ0YDh3TkFhzIa-EPz2PyAsoPv4ED6jZgP92LvOSRET4YqgZblSAg5eocNm0-VZow43rBZprR4obAV_GRQP4d3qtH2_eJQMBoKRh2OWl6gAp8ncYotsu-NAljruyIGVYSrRMH/s1600/IMG_8781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7K228veHEQ0YDh3TkFhzIa-EPz2PyAsoPv4ED6jZgP92LvOSRET4YqgZblSAg5eocNm0-VZow43rBZprR4obAV_GRQP4d3qtH2_eJQMBoKRh2OWl6gAp8ncYotsu-NAljruyIGVYSrRMH/s1600/IMG_8781.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making some joyful noise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKI3CbWXPKtkqwWtTr3aqpz2fLTfvKHucaDUDPU0rkmdYp61O6RIoCusnGgR79u6IcWTkWYhUnTKUwOOC90GW6wgqTB3q6IaeVPqrTpxYtK5i_2WXeALdkdxMhl826q5f91PKFat9-FV-/s1600/IMG_6630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKI3CbWXPKtkqwWtTr3aqpz2fLTfvKHucaDUDPU0rkmdYp61O6RIoCusnGgR79u6IcWTkWYhUnTKUwOOC90GW6wgqTB3q6IaeVPqrTpxYtK5i_2WXeALdkdxMhl826q5f91PKFat9-FV-/s1600/IMG_6630.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Yay! Pet me!"</td></tr>
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Of course, from Abbey's perspective, there is so much about life to enjoy. Things to celebrate are not limited to her reindeer stuffy or my comings and goings; other fun things include dinnertime, car rides, petting, squirrels, and snow. (There are, of course, great many quiet pleasures to be enjoyed, too, but these are the kinds of things that can make a girl romp and bounce and spin for joy!)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqht2vrf2Y3M0o4dlQT9xY11IO8QwaXcTB7eQILvh_ZhCC6aqtj5aVDnc1H4F2vTsHxm0UjZKK4707u8uMiWmTz1DhK43YQVO1OyLM_ecgsTnbZeuvlkHhBrILgwwKFLhiiMpk_J-erzEm/s1600/IMG_3618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqht2vrf2Y3M0o4dlQT9xY11IO8QwaXcTB7eQILvh_ZhCC6aqtj5aVDnc1H4F2vTsHxm0UjZKK4707u8uMiWmTz1DhK43YQVO1OyLM_ecgsTnbZeuvlkHhBrILgwwKFLhiiMpk_J-erzEm/s1600/IMG_3618.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We seldom get much, but you can see how happy playing in the snow makes Abbey feel!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIOKeLppA7295ba5YDKg1m3HR106iYwIHO-YjTpvzdRqlkxnqoB2XaabM0QZPVT6gAFxMNvk7I51vVKjqjRl__wWZyCmx_wIEeODJsmaVxUp98-pUyQZwZtkxT9sLLKvdt_WlS9EHNuSC/s1600/IMG_4644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIOKeLppA7295ba5YDKg1m3HR106iYwIHO-YjTpvzdRqlkxnqoB2XaabM0QZPVT6gAFxMNvk7I51vVKjqjRl__wWZyCmx_wIEeODJsmaVxUp98-pUyQZwZtkxT9sLLKvdt_WlS9EHNuSC/s1600/IMG_4644.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also fun is getting a chance to chase her blue squeaky ball in a big field.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeZXpqUDlvaUCu3lx94P31wVfj4MaDs5pVsAdOqejWRgxiKSiIxFdUgizvKAQacDcNsCbWgXmrh5SFsLa_O5KQyFZVA8FIthq4VePv3NHP6-TFNmBQCBvQUZcTI2k1yO498KoAohYwwcy/s1600/IMG_4728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeZXpqUDlvaUCu3lx94P31wVfj4MaDs5pVsAdOqejWRgxiKSiIxFdUgizvKAQacDcNsCbWgXmrh5SFsLa_O5KQyFZVA8FIthq4VePv3NHP6-TFNmBQCBvQUZcTI2k1yO498KoAohYwwcy/s1600/IMG_4728.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Better yet is going swimming with your squeaky ball!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqrtDro95mUah9RR1Stev90F8urGibOpzfWZMYr7EzlwYqM7ZmNoMyIs_nZRYvt9QH1KXmzmiaWH-XKfjzUQEcI-REoVUVCGUdu9FY0CHVLSM2W4S2JeqwdQMExPQMPx2XJlKZPZSWb0F/s1600/IMG_9190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqrtDro95mUah9RR1Stev90F8urGibOpzfWZMYr7EzlwYqM7ZmNoMyIs_nZRYvt9QH1KXmzmiaWH-XKfjzUQEcI-REoVUVCGUdu9FY0CHVLSM2W4S2JeqwdQMExPQMPx2XJlKZPZSWb0F/s1600/IMG_9190.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey greatly enjoys chasing squirrels, though once the rascally rodent has scrambled up a tree, Abbey will sit nicely in hopes of being rewarded for being a good girl. It appears we trained her well! Pity the squirrels don't understand that good dogs get treats for sitting...</td></tr>
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While Abbey may be an old dog, she definitely disproves the old adage that you can't teach an old dog a new trick. This year she has learned "spin," "tip it," and "find it." With Rice Chex as a reward, Abbey has shown us that two training sessions are sufficient to master a new command. I usually associate intelligence in dogs with a propensity to get into trouble (ya gotta keep those active minds busy!), but mellow Miss Abbey has quite a few more smarts than I give her credit for. It's just that usually she's busy applying them to looking after me!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PZ_sgB2Q1mNfjXjfsz8Cw8mab9t2MszRE3K8cfXLJZ7QKkse3wXY89fCVk4RmmB2nC7M77IhkbNnYO6chSeNMRFGGs_eG_zMiASdhrAOSiap8QOv-_ZMHDULEZPvYckaGveKoCBmYUfB/s1600/IMG_3379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PZ_sgB2Q1mNfjXjfsz8Cw8mab9t2MszRE3K8cfXLJZ7QKkse3wXY89fCVk4RmmB2nC7M77IhkbNnYO6chSeNMRFGGs_eG_zMiASdhrAOSiap8QOv-_ZMHDULEZPvYckaGveKoCBmYUfB/s1600/IMG_3379.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey demonstrates her mastery of the command "spin"!</td></tr>
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Besides new commands, there were other things for Abbey to discover this year...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlVI8GAjqcv_w7tZGyRiruhrJANJk_FepfUo39xy4b8CwW6TpbpfDDueJzAit2EP0xC5urCmC_T71Jm8jSiNWYq6G8lPJ4nQhWwaindVuFukmxJKE9rblWim2p-7d2Hk729ajktaVaWwh/s1600/IMG_5553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlVI8GAjqcv_w7tZGyRiruhrJANJk_FepfUo39xy4b8CwW6TpbpfDDueJzAit2EP0xC5urCmC_T71Jm8jSiNWYq6G8lPJ4nQhWwaindVuFukmxJKE9rblWim2p-7d2Hk729ajktaVaWwh/s1600/IMG_5553.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"By Jove! I do believe there's a dog on the other side of this fence!" Abbey's known about Licorice, the Dog Next Door, for years, but there are, in fact, TWO other Dogs Next Door that she's never really noticed. This summer, she and Georgie chased the same squirrel on opposite sides of the fence and now she's always hoping for a repeat. Don't tell her about Leo, okay?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Wf0X_D6V-IrTroRxkITlEo7zDxP2txXd9SvZhn4IL89trdalhF8PccuhIRH4YSCgFRI0UdGaJ-eZQQxHGeLzyYjJbg4_qNgJumQvYkz1p5XnIx-9cKRNMR3GchPYg35VROt4M-dgk6T_/s1600/IMG_2440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Wf0X_D6V-IrTroRxkITlEo7zDxP2txXd9SvZhn4IL89trdalhF8PccuhIRH4YSCgFRI0UdGaJ-eZQQxHGeLzyYjJbg4_qNgJumQvYkz1p5XnIx-9cKRNMR3GchPYg35VROt4M-dgk6T_/s1600/IMG_2440.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What IS this thing?" Abbey carefully investigates a caterpillar crossing the deck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyv5hxp8N3iNGI-stFlJJRKUTOlK1lhAC2RaE1iXhZqi9WA157bjl0DD6XRJHIElhZoCi-hKVBs5ny-qSFg7Xj_97679viNfB8hj1fFe2fWaD2BUWK4-mMHUiLtI9gPWwr1TydBegFz982/s1600/IMG_6226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyv5hxp8N3iNGI-stFlJJRKUTOlK1lhAC2RaE1iXhZqi9WA157bjl0DD6XRJHIElhZoCi-hKVBs5ny-qSFg7Xj_97679viNfB8hj1fFe2fWaD2BUWK4-mMHUiLtI9gPWwr1TydBegFz982/s1600/IMG_6226.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"And what's this?" I spent the early days of summer making sure Abbey didn't chase baby birds, especially the baby juncos before they fledged, but it was some other force that felled a little kinglet that she found dead in the yard. She sniffed it very carefully, but made no effort disturb the tiny body.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0STlcU0TIeNSMHw6pU5AvNulZ4iNwzHa43OWBD3VKJ0dRLORPjObc0JxheziK4C_NSmaCUxebnYyDs2xuFmbOyFEsRZhuQ5ToFF5mWN8Wry_i23UymPO8VIjSKl8LfymzFetnpTjPi8Q8/s1600/IMG_8583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0STlcU0TIeNSMHw6pU5AvNulZ4iNwzHa43OWBD3VKJ0dRLORPjObc0JxheziK4C_NSmaCUxebnYyDs2xuFmbOyFEsRZhuQ5ToFF5mWN8Wry_i23UymPO8VIjSKl8LfymzFetnpTjPi8Q8/s1600/IMG_8583.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey now has two food puzzles: a Wobbler and this delightful Tornado! She loves the challenge of tipping the Wobbler just so and twirling the towers of the Tornado to get at the concealed treats. More than just fun, food puzzles are a great way to engage a dog's brain.</td></tr>
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One of the most surprising things that happened in the past year is that Abbey reversed her policy on guests, WANTING to meet them instead of warily viewing them as intruders and possible threats. It has been our position for years that Abbey doesn't spend much time with company when we have people over because she can be doing okay and then something a male guest does--gesturing, blocking an exit route, reaching down--will spook her and if you spook Abbey...well, there's a risk of getting bitten. We don't like guests to get bitten, so we limit the circumstances when she can circulate with company and she always wears a muzzle. While she still is wearing the muzzle (much to her disgust), Abbey has decided in the past year to become social. She now is eager to come down when guests arrive and is, in fact, quite put out about being shut in my study with me. (The thing is, <i>I'm</i> not usually up for spending a full evening with company, so I typically don't come down until the meal is served and Abbey waits with me.) Nowadays, instead of surreptitiously sniffing guests around the perimeter of the table, Abbey is sticking her head in laps and nudging hands to request petting! Her biggest test was when my aunt and uncle came to visit. In the past, big gestures and excitability during conversation were triggers for her, and my uncle is a tall, wonderful, enthusiastic man much given to big gestures, big laughs, and excitable story-telling. When Abbey first encountered him, she lay some distance away with her back turned for half an hour. Then, she made an excuse to sniff under his chair. Soon he was petting her. I knew that all was going to be well when my uncle was petting her with one hand and gesticulating widely with the other while telling me a story and she cared not a whit. Abbey remained rather fascinated by my uncle for the whole visit (she immediately included my aunt as part of the family and in fact interacted with her very little, aside from the occasional nose-bump acknowledgement) and often sought him out. There was only one time when I called her away from him: my parents, my aunt, and I were having an animated conversation involving much laughter in the kitchen while my uncle dozed in a chair in the adjacent family room. I looked over and saw that Abbey was going over to wake him up so he could join us. Since he is not in the habit of being woken from a nap by a wet nose, I thought it was possible he might act startled or jump, which would scare Abbey, and all the great work of the visit would be undone. That possible crisis was avoided and by the time my aunt and uncle departed, my uncle could stand in Abbey's path and reach down directly toward her to fondle her ears and she was loving it. I was so proud of my girl for taking the risk of being social and learning that the reward was lots of extra affection.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZLPGkJNzF3VnIVOMT6gpRNIZPDxk2UC3k1YUptiFX6imUX2-9ygJN5CgmkGXX0I6svjM645lox6EdPDqsD9XEB0iOn7NGqmnTLO56V3zj1CZSqJqEZR83X1bh3iOPRREofBX5DeHLEk7/s1600/IMG_8580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZLPGkJNzF3VnIVOMT6gpRNIZPDxk2UC3k1YUptiFX6imUX2-9ygJN5CgmkGXX0I6svjM645lox6EdPDqsD9XEB0iOn7NGqmnTLO56V3zj1CZSqJqEZR83X1bh3iOPRREofBX5DeHLEk7/s1600/IMG_8580.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey puts her head in my uncle's lap to ask for petting and is well rewarded.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESWzy6K0dIIhDd8Odchmxzil2RxI6cVcs6fMjQOFzIkts8CfMs6C-42aVpKxDJ42VdR_2wyBHcdquyiTADh6KLXcZ-rz9AAtWxrLNorPxt__gKk2k1HK0g_avKN2LFxup8JQ5gp-jnRdd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESWzy6K0dIIhDd8Odchmxzil2RxI6cVcs6fMjQOFzIkts8CfMs6C-42aVpKxDJ42VdR_2wyBHcdquyiTADh6KLXcZ-rz9AAtWxrLNorPxt__gKk2k1HK0g_avKN2LFxup8JQ5gp-jnRdd/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" height="105" width="200" /></a>While she's much more amenable now to new people than she's ever been before in her life, because I don't socialize much, Abbey doesn't socialize much, either. What she doesn't realize is that she has an online following! Abbey is a bit of a rock star on <u><a href="http://packdog.com/" target="_blank">Pack</a></u>, the dog photo social media site. I post <u><a href="http://packdog.com/abbey-6" target="_blank">photos of Abbey</a></u> there almost every day; I don't want to test the patience of my Facebook friends by posting endless Abbey images, but I am taking pictures of her all the time, so having a site just for dog photos is a great outlet. She has some great fans (one made Abbey her very own doggy quilt!) who always comment on her photos and I've enjoyed getting to know their dogs in return. Abbey is also trying hard to make <u><a href="http://packdog.com/tag/doghaiku" target="_blank">#doghaiku</a></u> a thing--a recent health issue was documented almost entirely in daily haikus. I was extremely flattered to be asked to do <u><a href="http://the-marvelous-mystery-mutt-pack.tumblr.com/post/94485179581/meet-my-mutt-colleen-abbey" target="_blank">the inaugural "Meet My Mutt" interview</a></u> for the Marvelous Mystery Mutt Pack and I highly encourage you to check it out, as I put a lot of thought into my response. Abbey also shows up a couple of times on Pack's <a href="http://packdog.com/best-of/2014" target="_blank">"Best Dog Photos of 2014"</a> honor roll. Outside of Pack, Abbey has also made an appearance as one of BADRAP's "<u><a href="http://badraporg.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Game Changer Dogs</a></u>" where <a href="http://badraporg.tumblr.com/post/110487190975/abbey-the-healer-abbey-came-into-my-life-when-i#notes" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">I share how Abbey changed my life</a> for the better, and in a book (made by a dog I follow on the internet) called "Paw Wisdom" about lessons that old dogs have taught us. Her lesson for me? That the greatest joy can be found in the simplest things.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey has a new guilty pleasure: snatching mouthfuls of ornamental grass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey loves marshmallows!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noms aloft! Abbey enjoys catching airborne morsels.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdD48TrE3JZsV2Cn7gBjguosZUcD3B1jlsjgYjD9TZbbp47lUDoItOlH_PCQ_tze85wy7_on7xdhayRl8BJ1Vz_HSCVwvmhILjupNG6h4Dqj59I_MoFXBcyq_6AU79S0_J3WLFXXy73MU/s1600/IMG_6132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdD48TrE3JZsV2Cn7gBjguosZUcD3B1jlsjgYjD9TZbbp47lUDoItOlH_PCQ_tze85wy7_on7xdhayRl8BJ1Vz_HSCVwvmhILjupNG6h4Dqj59I_MoFXBcyq_6AU79S0_J3WLFXXy73MU/s1600/IMG_6132.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And don't forget about peanut butter!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Basking in the sun has long been one of Abbey's favorite pursuits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course you must stretch after a nap in a sunbeam!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5cbwkt7QkUPI1MNNvICWMIwVAW6lBV7voaZa_jd5yhCggj3X78shHPC74HLFF4MCqGsAFuJPNpWqJzsPMcliJgTy6b_GE48efuP3JXipwjPG2FfjR4CSD0yq94HTjot4OPFIBgfgNsIg/s1600/IMG_6952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5cbwkt7QkUPI1MNNvICWMIwVAW6lBV7voaZa_jd5yhCggj3X78shHPC74HLFF4MCqGsAFuJPNpWqJzsPMcliJgTy6b_GE48efuP3JXipwjPG2FfjR4CSD0yq94HTjot4OPFIBgfgNsIg/s1600/IMG_6952.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's nothing better than sleeping away the day on my bed.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO186nUruFOnzAyxhqkNzMfRnulmWuGaJq-G0Bp_0lO6HffU0VufHzT9nHC_aH3YYh3cfgAvqYaV1_2F00j_8q0iDdF5kv1yPQeYxp2wE6LyHJJBXtD0ZZIv15IbwxX7kB4RPfP5XIDt3j/s1600/IMG_3678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO186nUruFOnzAyxhqkNzMfRnulmWuGaJq-G0Bp_0lO6HffU0VufHzT9nHC_aH3YYh3cfgAvqYaV1_2F00j_8q0iDdF5kv1yPQeYxp2wE6LyHJJBXtD0ZZIv15IbwxX7kB4RPfP5XIDt3j/s1600/IMG_3678.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a>Abbey is at least twelve by now. That's old for a dog. I was mighty pleased when she had her yearly checkup this past summer and the vet said that if he hadn't known how old she was, he never would have guessed. She's got her "old dog warts" and her dozen lipomas, white on her muzzle and a blue haze in her pupils, but she is otherwise in good health. The most significant sign of her age that has manifested in the past year is that she is getting somewhat hard of hearing. If she's asleep, she'll no longer hear her name being called from another part of the house. It has progressed to the point where she will not always hear me enter a room she's in and during a recent thunderstorm, she didn't hear most of the thunder. She battled a paw fungus in February (prednisone turned her into a hot, panting, restless, hungry, thirsty little stinker!), but otherwise her health has been very good and the vet thinks there are likely many years left in her yet. I sure hope so.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dear old mutt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dog kisses are slimy and tickle!</td></tr>
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Ten and a half years... They've flown by so quickly. I know I'm unlikely to get another ten and a half with my precious pup. Even if I do, that still won't be enough time. But I've been so lucky to have known her love. The two of us: it's likely one of the greatest bonds I'll ever know. It's going to be heartbreaking to lose her. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. Right now she's lined up beside me, asking "Where to next, my friend?" with her ears and her eyes and wagging tail, ready to go where I go, do what I do, for as long as she can follow.<br />
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<i>To see my photographs of things other than dogs, check out my photography <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">Facebook page</a></u>.</i></div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-55548690597364200682014-12-31T16:24:00.001-08:002014-12-31T16:25:46.061-08:00December Edition: Addendum to 33 Birds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An immature bald eagle (top, left of center, difficult to see against the trees unless you click on this photo to enlarge it) harasses a flock of coots, dive-bombing them seemingly for fun. </td></tr>
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Last month I wrote a blogpost called "<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/12/33-birds-november-edition.html" target="_blank">33 Birds: November Edition</a></u>" that listed, with photographs, all the different bird species I saw while taking care of Goldie during two weeks in November. Well, I went back to Goldie's house for ten days in December and saw nine more bird species! I thought it appropriate to create this addendum with photos of the additional birds, creating an even more comprehensive picture of the birdlife that can be found on the shores of a lake in the wilder suburbs of the Pacific Northwest in early winter. <i>Remember, you can click on photos to enlarge them!</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsG2JgCn6gII2Aa0VcrdJgZf-2l7OBX8TEKwA5M30ky4lEgGlYfktUdJB1k6aiuqEY7mYqz2iV_O4ak7dJUwnZ2jy_6UaCptnqPz6slW_qNKJISWJ3nx68qF8EBJUijao_n39PMWrsaI2/s1600/IMG_4441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsG2JgCn6gII2Aa0VcrdJgZf-2l7OBX8TEKwA5M30ky4lEgGlYfktUdJB1k6aiuqEY7mYqz2iV_O4ak7dJUwnZ2jy_6UaCptnqPz6slW_qNKJISWJ3nx68qF8EBJUijao_n39PMWrsaI2/s1600/IMG_4441.jpg" height="80" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my canine ornithological assistants.<br />
Sable shares my interest in waterfowl, but for rather different reasons.</td></tr>
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<u>Western Grebe</u></div>
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Just like the last post, since I am listing the birds in the order they appear in Golden's "Birds of North America," I have to start off with the worst photos of the bunch. I was standing on the dock one day when I saw a pair of birds with long white necks swimming at least halfway across the lake. I immediately suspected they were Western grebes because of their size and those necks and so I waited and waited and waited in hopes that they would swim my way, but they were apparently content to mosey around mid-lake, occasionally diving. These photos were therefore taken for identification purposes, for which they suffice. They certainly aren't going to win any prizes, though! I saw the grebes on one other occasion. They were on my side of the lake, but only just. They clearly like to do their fishing in far deeper water than the pied-billed grebes and others that I've seen closer to shore.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXRU_HeXHmdXbSsz9oxuonrg0z2P5kKBgwET8sdHqhHmuzVP-WbSKY9By58ydckYcVbwxLf50SuF7gsdIY6a9sH-4R80wMD_JTjFs3vbVB0-Igf-fJj83OUVpOeZNyUQZn2cHGwInJMXN/s1600/IMG_4262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXRU_HeXHmdXbSsz9oxuonrg0z2P5kKBgwET8sdHqhHmuzVP-WbSKY9By58ydckYcVbwxLf50SuF7gsdIY6a9sH-4R80wMD_JTjFs3vbVB0-Igf-fJj83OUVpOeZNyUQZn2cHGwInJMXN/s1600/IMG_4262.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what they looked like through my 200 mm telephoto lens without any cropping. That I noticed them and suspected they were grebes at that distance should give you an idea of how acute my vision is, which is a major reason why I see so many birds!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXCCGBlr_lgkpnRw20_kMGE6BnAp8wTyxZgHsMcic9PuCeL71GXfIRHwUkoKLgwWHhLB4KDdwEBnHWUBS_PM4bnATNEJ-nwsQ-moLHYSVZvW99S1KPYGWI1zDAqzuuhzCU3M4ahyphenhyphenzKD4w/s1600/IMG_4264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXCCGBlr_lgkpnRw20_kMGE6BnAp8wTyxZgHsMcic9PuCeL71GXfIRHwUkoKLgwWHhLB4KDdwEBnHWUBS_PM4bnATNEJ-nwsQ-moLHYSVZvW99S1KPYGWI1zDAqzuuhzCU3M4ahyphenhyphenzKD4w/s1600/IMG_4264.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a cropped version of one of the telephoto images. Doesn't look like much, but you can see the long neck has a pure, white throat, the beak is slender and yellow, the top of the head and back of the neck are black, and the body is a grayish color. That's enough to call it a Western grebe!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwB4_IrQCQdQtbhQp6N4dEbMlV_F10obH-lWc2LEKKB6v-hO95BpZYyFIf36z8irVXPkEkZbJMge0CKUPOs1457AU6jeP9lnFHxtGY97nguNhvvDgNNrbHMiA05pZ81qg75UzSPDJ-2TIk/s1600/IMG_5602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwB4_IrQCQdQtbhQp6N4dEbMlV_F10obH-lWc2LEKKB6v-hO95BpZYyFIf36z8irVXPkEkZbJMge0CKUPOs1457AU6jeP9lnFHxtGY97nguNhvvDgNNrbHMiA05pZ81qg75UzSPDJ-2TIk/s1600/IMG_5602.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This grebe was a little bit closer, but not much. You can see the redness of its eye, though!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooO0OPjrtzqkooJ-KNmH_aWTfI_2Pe3iAd_huaAVlzRb3Adt0-0zOsXzKbbTtMnWgh-AbIGZBY8PMnG6Sd7klGeZmWTkQW95iApK-8M6z_z78MhbIlvH3VHxGaqIdRPbenwMze6jbr4Z_/s1600/IMG_5605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooO0OPjrtzqkooJ-KNmH_aWTfI_2Pe3iAd_huaAVlzRb3Adt0-0zOsXzKbbTtMnWgh-AbIGZBY8PMnG6Sd7klGeZmWTkQW95iApK-8M6z_z78MhbIlvH3VHxGaqIdRPbenwMze6jbr4Z_/s1600/IMG_5605.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It took a pause from fishing in the deep water near the center of the lake to preen.</td></tr>
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<u>Ring-Necked Duck</u></div>
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Some days there are just oodles of birds around and the 22nd of December was one of them. I saw coots, gadwalls, buffleheads, mallards, cormorants, a male common merganser (I see females far oftener than I see males), and mixed in with all of those, a couple of unfamiliar ducks. The weather was overcast with a lot of glare and the birds were gathered to the south of my dock, so they were backlit and especially hard to see. It was not until I got the images on my computer and removed the shadows that I was able to see the details necessary to identify this particular bird as a male ring-necked duck.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdX1R9TiwypO_M8lbWHjttGTXUExY_UGjRW_EWQ2z1nU3KBUEm46dN61zKYm_nR24vNgE0_6ZFDCryCVsPE85QkSzFzALjQcYsoxB7Sr56bk28USmm14e1P5FqWwQlgJEHve3AsQvQ4it/s1600/IMG_4396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdX1R9TiwypO_M8lbWHjttGTXUExY_UGjRW_EWQ2z1nU3KBUEm46dN61zKYm_nR24vNgE0_6ZFDCryCVsPE85QkSzFzALjQcYsoxB7Sr56bk28USmm14e1P5FqWwQlgJEHve3AsQvQ4it/s1600/IMG_4396.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male ring-necked duck (center, top) has white stripes on its bill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSwWKlwig3LlvhqVrGtvwmvz9LVw4MPekb7EO8X79z66LITfsY19zlYcWZQX8ruPWdY71Zbtj0oeGq2NReCYJYcGygDDEnJQTnuBrfY0VsLODDyg0zIL2CUXL0bQ6whFmYpqohG55anHj/s1600/IMG_4411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSwWKlwig3LlvhqVrGtvwmvz9LVw4MPekb7EO8X79z66LITfsY19zlYcWZQX8ruPWdY71Zbtj0oeGq2NReCYJYcGygDDEnJQTnuBrfY0VsLODDyg0zIL2CUXL0bQ6whFmYpqohG55anHj/s1600/IMG_4411.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It floats here among coots, gadwalls, and buffleheads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivU3yA3LPknZhYv1s69ct5ZDfXKet02dzqg_87o6Qcf2CypP9H6drkB2JoWjEPTHBXmj-HgV8OxBsFhg7zTkOIT2bwhVMo37chQsM6PKVl2DNowJXZledHvCIIs-gRYQNaa2Xlhbk2KTdI/s1600/IMG_5347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivU3yA3LPknZhYv1s69ct5ZDfXKet02dzqg_87o6Qcf2CypP9H6drkB2JoWjEPTHBXmj-HgV8OxBsFhg7zTkOIT2bwhVMo37chQsM6PKVl2DNowJXZledHvCIIs-gRYQNaa2Xlhbk2KTdI/s1600/IMG_5347.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few days later, I captured male and female ring-necked ducks in flight. On the wing, they look very similar to scaups, but the male's bill stripes and the bill's large, black tip are helpful for differentiating it.</td></tr>
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<u>Lesser Scaup</u></div>
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The other new-to-me duck first seen on the day when so many waterfowl were out and about by the dock is the lesser scaup. Like the ring-necked duck, it belongs to a category of ducks called "bay ducks." These ducks are capable of diving and swimming underwater and eat both plant and animal life. There is also a greater scaup, which is larger, has a greenish vs. purplish head, and is more often seen on salt water.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3lG2alkNATpGyJuHHGArwOcW1UDQNrHql_xRkSV7g7tU-7avz7YiN-LwUNzuXSlHeNgQuz9ZFZeEQ5jBifsH9bjjzL8FfahJ1THcpnhswAvG0xfTslblijwlBlMumGiQ2PHQ5NerjJNv/s1600/IMG_5408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3lG2alkNATpGyJuHHGArwOcW1UDQNrHql_xRkSV7g7tU-7avz7YiN-LwUNzuXSlHeNgQuz9ZFZeEQ5jBifsH9bjjzL8FfahJ1THcpnhswAvG0xfTslblijwlBlMumGiQ2PHQ5NerjJNv/s1600/IMG_5408.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male lesser scaup has a golden eye, a dark head and chest with purplish iridescence, white sides and back with fine black mottling, and a black rump.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MBY0XY_nD1fmYt5i2XDOxlMFWWCVZT6Sol26aMNd15a81sf26dK_RA-TEso9AgHpzhDvVfsCUIPm4s7t8sfWTw4RHGxM2X3ZdjXqGFDF2z5VAK6-hUy5mI6wZHvsse1Gr7dEcXxnDbSB/s1600/IMG_4544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MBY0XY_nD1fmYt5i2XDOxlMFWWCVZT6Sol26aMNd15a81sf26dK_RA-TEso9AgHpzhDvVfsCUIPm4s7t8sfWTw4RHGxM2X3ZdjXqGFDF2z5VAK6-hUy5mI6wZHvsse1Gr7dEcXxnDbSB/s1600/IMG_4544.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male lesser scaup swimming with coots.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAQtJu0qz_gvmOZZhdC7dYw_KxntMNIOhsj7scSNnqr7NH8jFMULMbFN_3od0au5zVFTX3-I9MJhyphenhyphenfclyoGMA32frweiNL6ZtkpjVWbLEGpWFlAWHixXVmhHqO0qRD2nuHls3Geg6RQkE/s1600/IMG_4539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAQtJu0qz_gvmOZZhdC7dYw_KxntMNIOhsj7scSNnqr7NH8jFMULMbFN_3od0au5zVFTX3-I9MJhyphenhyphenfclyoGMA32frweiNL6ZtkpjVWbLEGpWFlAWHixXVmhHqO0qRD2nuHls3Geg6RQkE/s1600/IMG_4539.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female lesser scaup, with a dark brown head, back and tail, brown breast, brown sides with white mottling, and a white facial patch by the bill (not visible in this photograph).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweui77dk8YpDs3Fqt50_-VPAzki_CZLRokRRO6YbG0_wd1J0YfVIRz6VX8vulZXWfZ4JwbqxY_sSOE9lrWoTeA5FpyFHMBa6eRKttNrBFf7BKf2kOIYWB08ZOLE3B78aFJk0R-ra1FyQ5/s1600/IMG_5390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweui77dk8YpDs3Fqt50_-VPAzki_CZLRokRRO6YbG0_wd1J0YfVIRz6VX8vulZXWfZ4JwbqxY_sSOE9lrWoTeA5FpyFHMBa6eRKttNrBFf7BKf2kOIYWB08ZOLE3B78aFJk0R-ra1FyQ5/s1600/IMG_5390.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of male lesser scaups.</td></tr>
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<u>Bald Eagle</u></div>
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I had been very surprised during my stay in November not to see any bald eagles, since there have been bald eagles living on the northern end of the lake for as long as I can remember. It seemed like Goldie's house would be prime bald eagle territory. It turns out that I was right. I believe that the reason I didn't see eagles during November was because they were congregating around salmon-spawning streams. Regardless of whether or not my theory is correct, I started seeing bald eagles on a daily basis! I mainly saw an immature bald eagles and another that is just getting its adult plumage. The only downside of seeing the eagles is that the waterfowl make themselves scarce when these giant raptors are around, and for good reason: Goldie found the remains of a wing that probably belonged to a coot or bufflehead at one point beneath the eagles' favorite tree. It's funny: when one of the bald eagles gives me a once-over from the treetops or as it flies overhead, I find myself feeling honored to have caught the notice of such a predator!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLC6ZfwManll7Ta6bQ2UKwyYqzSSfCqYqwuMqURsBuOFIg69dnX4D96r1l1MZ8eljXzANnACBBpEjjYDvIpzULZW85kwgkWHKuGlsHwHrWRA6D1pbz5fpuUKXOXJZrBp0u6PliIpTT0Fld/s1600/IMG_5154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLC6ZfwManll7Ta6bQ2UKwyYqzSSfCqYqwuMqURsBuOFIg69dnX4D96r1l1MZ8eljXzANnACBBpEjjYDvIpzULZW85kwgkWHKuGlsHwHrWRA6D1pbz5fpuUKXOXJZrBp0u6PliIpTT0Fld/s1600/IMG_5154.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An immature bald eagle. They have dark brown plumage mottled with white.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIpkxHg6myitFTgxdzo_7sthgmZcx5xretHAFCEVvBQANO1iitz61k9S3qaUxTIV3MqOF0P_5z3GXXIbNf5YxSrhv2bzOCsSt2OKfL6nmjJUigXNzXm8uPDT8e3rNK776G7nFFKSxEXxz/s1600/IMG_5158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIpkxHg6myitFTgxdzo_7sthgmZcx5xretHAFCEVvBQANO1iitz61k9S3qaUxTIV3MqOF0P_5z3GXXIbNf5YxSrhv2bzOCsSt2OKfL6nmjJUigXNzXm8uPDT8e3rNK776G7nFFKSxEXxz/s1600/IMG_5158.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt so lucky to have this immature bald eagle fly almost directly toward me as I stood on the dock before it swooped up to land in a tree on the shore. The feet and beak are strikingly yellow!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJs5VyYcnUBdyujbLw3-Il89ZI9CJjEhCleE2kuvXo2zvyJb4SrSdCR4TKNyQJtToob11EHoHAEnTJDOMe9xMMLBFr62tjLW8QCLoCbF0omCOo_eRfgPiu4FJ266qFMRVEzgZ1x8pUpIj/s1600/IMG_5498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJs5VyYcnUBdyujbLw3-Il89ZI9CJjEhCleE2kuvXo2zvyJb4SrSdCR4TKNyQJtToob11EHoHAEnTJDOMe9xMMLBFr62tjLW8QCLoCbF0omCOo_eRfgPiu4FJ266qFMRVEzgZ1x8pUpIj/s1600/IMG_5498.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A different juvenile, with much more white mottling, cruises overhead at sunset.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6Am-h5dieQuu-lnOEHIpHypG-PDRikYHtYQ0Xpcn7vfyK_rXft72mOkJOsdYR2R0Z9UAk8PXqDPnKO4DbddZBKBhxMgzUd2vRM6FPad8WuwcJMGu2U1fQFlVt0eRQZ0oRjXt_eAFrISy/s1600/IMG_4792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6Am-h5dieQuu-lnOEHIpHypG-PDRikYHtYQ0Xpcn7vfyK_rXft72mOkJOsdYR2R0Z9UAk8PXqDPnKO4DbddZBKBhxMgzUd2vRM6FPad8WuwcJMGu2U1fQFlVt0eRQZ0oRjXt_eAFrISy/s1600/IMG_4792.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bald eagle is finally getting its adult plumage: the head and tail are almost completely white and the body completely brown. Bald eagles don't get their adult plumage until they are about five years old.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>American Coot</u></div>
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During the winter, coots can be seen congregating on the water in dense flocks. I think of them as "rafts." During December, rafts of coots regularly make their way past the house, sometimes lingering in favored spots just to the north and south of the dock. When not on the move--and sometimes even then--the coots dive below the surface to bring up strands of aquatic vegetation. Since there is no point in making the effort to dive for your own piece of vegetation if you can have part of your neighbor's, scuffles break out as all the surrounding coots try to snag a mouthful. I found that the coots were surprisingly difficult to photograph, a result of their dark plumage, the low winter light, and constant movement. In an effort to get decent shots, I now have way more coot photos than any sane person would wish to look through!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEL0phaEkEPzSjoWnpgG14SWbK7heVn2-WQSzkOxwY-StWkONAi9QV2nc3nthh3pIq2u2e5xVJfuiaPoPFe67asDu0TJKfhQ4apBpOh88A8Vf4JVy125Lpr2lti9VKElIVgAgQ94S-HxI/s1600/IMG_5266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEL0phaEkEPzSjoWnpgG14SWbK7heVn2-WQSzkOxwY-StWkONAi9QV2nc3nthh3pIq2u2e5xVJfuiaPoPFe67asDu0TJKfhQ4apBpOh88A8Vf4JVy125Lpr2lti9VKElIVgAgQ94S-HxI/s1600/IMG_5266.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wintertime congregation of coots.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgMbFDz9-2sVXWJHXYqAADKenKljKvlwzQ2A3WNQ0LIt5X3AwxgUzpHmQPJm8u0iwRCnjPASdymuXVWbS-0KVdiIVq16UMGHWOD147unl9PKFyaQSSlCtssLg9HXrLMX94Z6ZQ_0JYKXk/s1600/IMG_5367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgMbFDz9-2sVXWJHXYqAADKenKljKvlwzQ2A3WNQ0LIt5X3AwxgUzpHmQPJm8u0iwRCnjPASdymuXVWbS-0KVdiIVq16UMGHWOD147unl9PKFyaQSSlCtssLg9HXrLMX94Z6ZQ_0JYKXk/s1600/IMG_5367.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone wants a piece of your aquatic vegetation!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUGk91mNS2EQcbB08Hj-jH5H-zZQCurFDzIM3YqxpgVVSgVie_ZYQOD2fZqJ5KyWyMQ_huHbu9HQIBC1iLkhX9wcVd9RIJR4j0w4L_IL4IXP73S94_ntlry5lfT5z0wCv0mZm7v559bi0/s1600/IMG_5267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUGk91mNS2EQcbB08Hj-jH5H-zZQCurFDzIM3YqxpgVVSgVie_ZYQOD2fZqJ5KyWyMQ_huHbu9HQIBC1iLkhX9wcVd9RIJR4j0w4L_IL4IXP73S94_ntlry5lfT5z0wCv0mZm7v559bi0/s1600/IMG_5267.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American coots.</td></tr>
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<u>Chestnut-Backed Chickadee</u></div>
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I expressed surprise in my previous post that I hadn't seen any chestnut-backed chickadees because Goldie's property seemed like prime chestnut-backed chickadee habitat. I was pleased, therefore, to spot a flock of them in the trees one day. As I waited for one of the chickadees to land on a branch unobscured by other vegetation <span style="text-align: center;">with the chestnut back visible, it started to hail. I'm not going to stand around in the hail just to prove to blog readers that I saw a chestnut-backed chickadee, so you'll have to take my word for it. I saw them again on other occasions, but they move very quickly through the trees and I never had a good chance to take a decent photo.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOch1lAcxHdclQ8C7Ueu3jb-gL254TWhHC13tgrbkglAiis_jgJLveIpr0H0wG-ihW2Rr7LzvZZBad7T3vpnXWm82Q0fhJ5R2KLfpnYsjgEShnZfRtxy0bC4Q2cXTQ5d_LwP19l1flEiOl/s1600/IMG_5423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOch1lAcxHdclQ8C7Ueu3jb-gL254TWhHC13tgrbkglAiis_jgJLveIpr0H0wG-ihW2Rr7LzvZZBad7T3vpnXWm82Q0fhJ5R2KLfpnYsjgEShnZfRtxy0bC4Q2cXTQ5d_LwP19l1flEiOl/s1600/IMG_5423.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the best shot I got before the weather turned uncooperative. You can see the brownish sides, if not the back.</td></tr>
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<u>Hermit Thrush</u></div>
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Several times during my stay I saw a noticeably nondescript (that sounds funny, but a plain bird is an unusual one!) bird flitting away in the brambles, but it wasn't until my second-to-last day that this light brown bird was kind enough to sit for a while on a branch that was visible through the tangle of vines and twigs, allowing me to photograph it and confirm my suspicions that it was a hermit thrush.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8CEPhUSx0dJzzClPMeexDp90a8RXfkb6UaxFuePttL46PB7_b0Nt9YnGmC8cCFEFBdJEBSYWo7ywH5SOmYIm4rCcpa_OPVj-KtYYZ-T5l480Xzb_I4JfXrKKmWHTGPxmWmOOo_bbIifD/s1600/IMG_5474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8CEPhUSx0dJzzClPMeexDp90a8RXfkb6UaxFuePttL46PB7_b0Nt9YnGmC8cCFEFBdJEBSYWo7ywH5SOmYIm4rCcpa_OPVj-KtYYZ-T5l480Xzb_I4JfXrKKmWHTGPxmWmOOo_bbIifD/s1600/IMG_5474.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermit thrushes are one of a group of several similar North American thrushes with spotted breasts.<br />
Trust me, you want to click on this photo: it's one of the best of the bunch!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQuxstYFBR5w4vApEq6Kc0JBWs6unrjJk0wxm_H8iZ53EillBdqJjnmOmbtHZ-k6HA5wfDpWCYLf1NA-1nphfyyyRX20PyulLQTolb29xKfjHhsf8ImzOAxoNY4aRpYo6VVSpS-LrzKuLU/s1600/IMG_5461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQuxstYFBR5w4vApEq6Kc0JBWs6unrjJk0wxm_H8iZ53EillBdqJjnmOmbtHZ-k6HA5wfDpWCYLf1NA-1nphfyyyRX20PyulLQTolb29xKfjHhsf8ImzOAxoNY4aRpYo6VVSpS-LrzKuLU/s1600/IMG_5461.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This hermit thrush looks like it's singing, but it was, in fact, doing what I can only describe as "gargling berries."</td></tr>
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<u>Yellow-Rumped Warbler (Audubon's Race)</u><br />
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<div align="left">
Yellow-rumped warblers were one of the<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/05/32-birds.html" target="_blank"> thirty-four species of birds</a></u> that I saw at Mr. Gorgeous' place in the spring, but it turns out that those bold colors are a thing for spring--the only feature I recognized was the shape of the tail! Google helped me figure out that I was indeed looking at the same species, just in a different season's plumage. The photos are poor, as a small group of them settled only briefly high in a birch tree before flying off.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3p2C-frmbA85S_v-QqgwgqzjH0tYLnlkbpxNLMy7z_IOmTsUjWXF7lwnaEL0rGy5k0MFoemOm3TDt7sBlK8SkRYYGG5W-ky0QnE5ttWVw-w13P2INMEUbAUKJIAYz6NmbkxUsOTZH3j7/s1600/IMG_5578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3p2C-frmbA85S_v-QqgwgqzjH0tYLnlkbpxNLMy7z_IOmTsUjWXF7lwnaEL0rGy5k0MFoemOm3TDt7sBlK8SkRYYGG5W-ky0QnE5ttWVw-w13P2INMEUbAUKJIAYz6NmbkxUsOTZH3j7/s1600/IMG_5578.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It wasn't much, but the yellow throat, deeply lobed tail...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDLgKv-NIdE5qwC272mMM4gpr5nvLBc2mte81dKBhHhhAH-Tjqyr_HZ7zsNwZXqSb_Mu_gENRmWrx3WDGnunZoqBZ1t7vVoNJqljmXDHex-DkgbJlDfbQXMmGUvRJGOIjVZuQBTzkqthI/s1600/IMG_5579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDLgKv-NIdE5qwC272mMM4gpr5nvLBc2mte81dKBhHhhAH-Tjqyr_HZ7zsNwZXqSb_Mu_gENRmWrx3WDGnunZoqBZ1t7vVoNJqljmXDHex-DkgbJlDfbQXMmGUvRJGOIjVZuQBTzkqthI/s1600/IMG_5579.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and yellow sides were sufficient information for an ID.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Golden-Crowned Sparrow</u></div>
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I was looking out the dining room window into the thicket favored by the finches, juncos, and song sparrows when I saw a bird rather larger than the usual suspects perched on a branch on the far side of the bank of vegetation. It wasn't until I was looking through my camera's viewfinder that I realized I was photographing a golden-crowned sparrow. I only saw it that once, so I was glad to get a decent shot of it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2vuhbfOLRPl4SVTmwjOQjNZg-johMM20oDDCzDiX174xgw598ipxkzYsmeD9jR8Zf-SK7GkEXMgGEKoYBYPnqYuBcGj2PP8HLi9Bhh3kHanHCGJ9F0LtRMMBMa5EMKwxrm25m2YVIbO_/s1600/IMG_5075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2vuhbfOLRPl4SVTmwjOQjNZg-johMM20oDDCzDiX174xgw598ipxkzYsmeD9jR8Zf-SK7GkEXMgGEKoYBYPnqYuBcGj2PP8HLi9Bhh3kHanHCGJ9F0LtRMMBMa5EMKwxrm25m2YVIbO_/s1600/IMG_5075.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bright yellow crown bordered by bold, black stripes give this sparrow its name.</td></tr>
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These nine species seen during late December, added to the thirty-three I saw in mid-November, bring my total count of birds seen and/or photographed at Goldie's new place on the lake to forty-two. It has been exciting to see the variety of birdlife this piece of property has to offer. I look forward to getting to know its birds of spring and summer in 2015!</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You can see the blogpost detailing the thirty-three birds of November <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/12/33-birds-november-edition.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You may also enjoy <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/05/32-birds.html" target="_blank">my overview</a></u> of thirty-four bird species in seen in April.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And don't forget to stop by <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">my Facebook page</a></u> to see the photos I post daily!</div>
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All photographs © 2014 c.creativity</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-117236137847669222014-12-09T16:42:00.000-08:002014-12-31T16:53:58.209-08:0033 Birds: November Edition<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbM6GzmK6Q_spW9g-NWbPMDtJ39IzTr7U4GrlNV7AGEuMqVKjYv8jOGhhzH4pzKh4MEAoooQmiioOxJNFwcsiVCNqFLwF7wX6cH88iGvQiTLEcRQLSOa79RcWVNzFAgLMApCbRQt5kLBC1/s1600/IMG_2908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbM6GzmK6Q_spW9g-NWbPMDtJ39IzTr7U4GrlNV7AGEuMqVKjYv8jOGhhzH4pzKh4MEAoooQmiioOxJNFwcsiVCNqFLwF7wX6cH88iGvQiTLEcRQLSOa79RcWVNzFAgLMApCbRQt5kLBC1/s1600/IMG_2908.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">House finches and a song sparrow gather in a thicket.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj059CMbbfLYgSopWBFcdv70AaItE51ZmQBUYXHX1QT6_4SY4WWcoZk-ENLVDcIbWH-NGiltODU-vwUjrHGj7KRiBDb1NTrXCgGUtLC6-uqNPJdofKnsgxglB87MO32JTDL5IakDbb6gPZ2/s1600/IMG_2374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj059CMbbfLYgSopWBFcdv70AaItE51ZmQBUYXHX1QT6_4SY4WWcoZk-ENLVDcIbWH-NGiltODU-vwUjrHGj7KRiBDb1NTrXCgGUtLC6-uqNPJdofKnsgxglB87MO32JTDL5IakDbb6gPZ2/s1600/IMG_2374.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My canine ornithological assistant.</td></tr>
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Back in May, I published a blogpost called "<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/05/32-birds.html" target="_blank">33 Birds</a></u>" that detailed the thirty-three different bird species I saw during three weeks of dog-sitting Mr. Gorgeous in the month of April. I spent two weeks in November looking after Goldie at her new house and on the second-to-last day of taking care of her, having photographed twelve bird species in the space of a single hour, I decided to tally my species total for the whole stay. When the numbers came in, I realized I ought to do another blogpost. As is true of the previous post, since I am aiming for quantity over quality, not all of these photos are great photos, and since I decided so late in the stay that I wanted to get pictures of every bird I'd seen, I didn't have sufficient time to get decent shots of every species. With that apology aside, let's talk about birds!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweClfAxaw2c_HdeTt03wlIzxMAudYrs0dp81bPOjMhReXZV2djISqWL5bp5KxWd0BxQLAlLlauvDvKprakstXtSf0qQJZKPmt9-Bv4Nd7Y9Ns-H7-HMwpHjeEMKQF3nnOd3MILHrnAARm/s1600/IMG_1312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweClfAxaw2c_HdeTt03wlIzxMAudYrs0dp81bPOjMhReXZV2djISqWL5bp5KxWd0BxQLAlLlauvDvKprakstXtSf0qQJZKPmt9-Bv4Nd7Y9Ns-H7-HMwpHjeEMKQF3nnOd3MILHrnAARm/s1600/IMG_1312.jpg" height="200" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The property as seen from the dock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The reason that I was able to get as many photographs of birds here at Goldie's as I did at Mr. Gorgeous' place has to do with the fact that the properties have striking similarities. Both are long, narrow pieces of land that have a mix of open, grassy spaces and margins with plenty of cover. Most crucially, both are located on a lake, with Goldie's property situated about 2.5 miles farther north. Although still located on a hill, the slope of Goldie's yard is much less steep than Mr. G's, and I got into the habit of walking out to the dock and back with a dog or two (Goldie's friend Sable was a regular on these excursion) in tow twice a day, once in the midmorning and then again at sunset. It was interesting to see how different the waterfowl populations were despite the similarities, superficially, at least, between one bit of lakeshore and another on the same lake. In addition to the lake and the expanse of grass before it, Goldie's place has a lane leading to the house lined with tall maples, big cedars, and low brambles, as well as a thicket of brush alongside it that provide further habitats for various birds.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38uUbus8nw0dGRnZ8iPCYpX_BV1nBJ-cXGmp8sl8ydww464imau4Adhd39teVXkLrKw8k2pmsoeAp2f7eOzqvkzFgveKq7xDiAhDG9UfToVmq5j1-hBMsHsB8Izzy9XZLRC1iWghYLdpa/s1600/IMG_1606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38uUbus8nw0dGRnZ8iPCYpX_BV1nBJ-cXGmp8sl8ydww464imau4Adhd39teVXkLrKw8k2pmsoeAp2f7eOzqvkzFgveKq7xDiAhDG9UfToVmq5j1-hBMsHsB8Izzy9XZLRC1iWghYLdpa/s1600/IMG_1606.jpg" height="115" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mallards, buffleheads, Canada geese, and gadwalls flock together near the dock at sunset.</td></tr>
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So, without further ado, here are the thirty-three species of birds I saw during the first half of November at Goldie's house, listed in the order they appear Golden's "A Guide to Field Identification: Birds of North America." Remember, you can (and should) click on photos to enlarge them!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>1. Red-Necked Grebe</u></div>
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<i>I'm really sorry to start this list off with some of the worst photos of the whole group, but if I'm going to go in the order of they're found in "Birds of North America," the red-necked grebe has to come first. Part of the problem is that I didn't know I was shooting a bird that I hadn't photographed before until after I looked more closely at the images when they were on my computer. Also, this grebe was pretty far way. The first photo gives you a sense of the scale--the others have been cropped. I was mainly noting (via the camera) that there were two different types of grebes hanging out near each other, with another grebe and a goldeneye in the distance. When examining the enlarged photos on my computer, I noticed that the unfamiliar grebe's bill was yellow, and the neck was long with no white on it, meaning it could only be a red-necked grebe in winter plumage.</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMJ5WVcmhOmXHAtVfg76TTsI9pE6wSimjZPTNH_BVUKnFG2ZLtq65htu_fq1agPIYqEg-RfkRRTRobpW_5bJONKsSt0HyIh4oPvNTHWCK1F3-0pfCzujQKER3Yo4BT0H9B0hjPv3xQxC3/s1600/IMG_2804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMJ5WVcmhOmXHAtVfg76TTsI9pE6wSimjZPTNH_BVUKnFG2ZLtq65htu_fq1agPIYqEg-RfkRRTRobpW_5bJONKsSt0HyIh4oPvNTHWCK1F3-0pfCzujQKER3Yo4BT0H9B0hjPv3xQxC3/s1600/IMG_2804.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right out on the lake: red-necked grebe, pied-billed grebe, goldeneye, and another pied-billed grebe.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyS0kNEZOI372gIxRf-ePdbnVhm72vul-criPfje9h1uTq7bCLegqk909lzCiNUJOStkcnFTFCsO26csluVlSaGvlON499XluHWwaCWFduSogiGx_3FKX4UjDjg6AHmv-zVbXhGUwl3dX/s1600/IMG_2805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyS0kNEZOI372gIxRf-ePdbnVhm72vul-criPfje9h1uTq7bCLegqk909lzCiNUJOStkcnFTFCsO26csluVlSaGvlON499XluHWwaCWFduSogiGx_3FKX4UjDjg6AHmv-zVbXhGUwl3dX/s1600/IMG_2805.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long, yellow bill was an important clue that this was a red-necked grebe.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20144XKQZNs9PPbBd-SS0PLRiQLNZQSJ8j_pA3ADVF0272ejTmJPIzrh4BftinsejT7H8CpjvlfOGAHQlX_8fCyVnk1hEZZPfiGr_w6nT2JsckhXOf1vHTK2KGchXe7w674cTZKjnHh3w/s1600/IMG_2806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20144XKQZNs9PPbBd-SS0PLRiQLNZQSJ8j_pA3ADVF0272ejTmJPIzrh4BftinsejT7H8CpjvlfOGAHQlX_8fCyVnk1hEZZPfiGr_w6nT2JsckhXOf1vHTK2KGchXe7w674cTZKjnHh3w/s1600/IMG_2806.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The silhouette of the red-necked grebe shows how different its proportions are to the pied-billed grebe.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>2. Horned Grebe</u></div>
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<em></em>
<i>During the breeding season, horned grebes are ruddy on the front, dark on the back, and have orange "horns" on their heads. The winter plumage is much more muted, though I think it has a certain elegance, especially with the pop of color provided by the red eyes!</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI79Y7eqM43DKU-TJ9GBz6d3277lBMEFH5AEg43NqI1b4ZrtuBZD5hv-GaYvIBf9wTNDjTAcCgMnwXPNMVHirbfP5csbLJ4yXId6jYcvVdKAfDXDgTL6cTzhPCCBIPgAX5AFN7nkwxD13/s1600/IMG_2316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI79Y7eqM43DKU-TJ9GBz6d3277lBMEFH5AEg43NqI1b4ZrtuBZD5hv-GaYvIBf9wTNDjTAcCgMnwXPNMVHirbfP5csbLJ4yXId6jYcvVdKAfDXDgTL6cTzhPCCBIPgAX5AFN7nkwxD13/s1600/IMG_2316.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horned grebe in winter plumage. Such plumage may also be referred to as "eclipse" or "non-breeding."</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno4YTwmePqZhy9mV957adj3XPb5V4ET4Y1bDYBV1bEwpNxEDnCSvPfZdrenm757y2CzexHx900ILkj1Y9-RpMoT9zYB6XrW8uHZIwf7nqsyrMtr-2xS-bABOSY4JqGgsJboAjJ34mZDUw/s1600/IMG_2318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno4YTwmePqZhy9mV957adj3XPb5V4ET4Y1bDYBV1bEwpNxEDnCSvPfZdrenm757y2CzexHx900ILkj1Y9-RpMoT9zYB6XrW8uHZIwf7nqsyrMtr-2xS-bABOSY4JqGgsJboAjJ34mZDUw/s1600/IMG_2318.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A ruddy eye brings a bit of color to the bird's otherwise unassuming coloring.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrni14FG_6EcdKFTQ3qAJrc0NcAXMgt78TTXk1pGeEM1LLisxjOeDC9nxkP5F8qztfJvkwsjf-iVSiFq3F5sZod0zY8H6RieoyT_QnoOlsWKcX_I__H917m1f9lRZTv92ulrs_cnKK-ePj/s1600/IMG_2319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrni14FG_6EcdKFTQ3qAJrc0NcAXMgt78TTXk1pGeEM1LLisxjOeDC9nxkP5F8qztfJvkwsjf-iVSiFq3F5sZod0zY8H6RieoyT_QnoOlsWKcX_I__H917m1f9lRZTv92ulrs_cnKK-ePj/s1600/IMG_2319.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A horned grebe in silhouette on a windless day.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>3. Pied-Billed Grebe</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Pied-billed grebes were ubiquitous, though, alas, rather shy. Any time I came down toward the lake, they'd warily drift away, though they'd often fish right by the dock when I wasn't there to intimidate them. If I sat on the dock and stayed quiet, sometimes they'd edge closer and begin to fish again just within camera range. While their winter plumage is not so different from their summer coloring, they do lose the "pied" markings on their bills that give them their name.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTXFyrtEIPRsB99ZHh-F7yV-z9QXi47Mz0rlnzY0z_Q4iw9tIpYPOe9IH0TIy0HRemps_RUQd2yf4HRii3hdFVB20nuaJwfO2ENssnXNZvht1otz5WZlgZ3XBissuF3oezweV2K2oQazq/s1600/IMG_2842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTXFyrtEIPRsB99ZHh-F7yV-z9QXi47Mz0rlnzY0z_Q4iw9tIpYPOe9IH0TIy0HRemps_RUQd2yf4HRii3hdFVB20nuaJwfO2ENssnXNZvht1otz5WZlgZ3XBissuF3oezweV2K2oQazq/s1600/IMG_2842.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A trio of pied-billed grebes that have veered off toward wilder autumn shores upon my arrival on the dock.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHnQIm0imSHf7s8kZ6ronALNOiH2Hu4EphtALbJodAfBghLbu7Q72A9VFgLwaqZt1hy0TTFukLOZ54CHTs6HOpRQ2uddHecbosRhm2Jy5oAGlmj34xGOSwZM-mvrfzLfIa_ndLhF5ZZmE/s1600/IMG_1639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHnQIm0imSHf7s8kZ6ronALNOiH2Hu4EphtALbJodAfBghLbu7Q72A9VFgLwaqZt1hy0TTFukLOZ54CHTs6HOpRQ2uddHecbosRhm2Jy5oAGlmj34xGOSwZM-mvrfzLfIa_ndLhF5ZZmE/s1600/IMG_1639.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A watchful pied-billed grebe.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9o1smmeFrTQ8ya-LsOvA25EKK1tx2ze7cxiqde5aU-OY6AlYl1e-mGfg633QrdGL6KXOmT4DTGZwxgN6VEK0FJj2mncPfiBcnfLFLJ7dE9GS6npkRyamhzF8drB-5BvSipbnBKqnsj6f/s1600/IMG_1696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9o1smmeFrTQ8ya-LsOvA25EKK1tx2ze7cxiqde5aU-OY6AlYl1e-mGfg633QrdGL6KXOmT4DTGZwxgN6VEK0FJj2mncPfiBcnfLFLJ7dE9GS6npkRyamhzF8drB-5BvSipbnBKqnsj6f/s1600/IMG_1696.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On two occasions, I was lucky enough to photograph a grebe with a fish.<br />
It is holding it in its beak in this photo...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIKYVlYGNZK7lFs-jngDQ0zIGaOLtg3AjVO3sTFDmmsBfY5g34BCMokIWDuP84OsPTH4dMujB1UOj6rUvL9sK2xTCWNDfXe4kmS48smah5HJEgceOrfCYqOhKBJOH2BuPMx5ZZPtg15FY/s1600/IMG_1699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIKYVlYGNZK7lFs-jngDQ0zIGaOLtg3AjVO3sTFDmmsBfY5g34BCMokIWDuP84OsPTH4dMujB1UOj6rUvL9sK2xTCWNDfXe4kmS48smah5HJEgceOrfCYqOhKBJOH2BuPMx5ZZPtg15FY/s1600/IMG_1699.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...as it tries to better maneuver it into a position...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRIPTw-ebPwg1BB5MSRcBTHkurDDV-6TjZi4qwoe_-vlQ5h_8u7nhTV68Rt5WJ1Lmc5el3RIcdv0BeUunSBqNgNcSHpwo3sA8YhLJ48Aih5b_gOZhWZJKQsgac57yFuFZ8FIgnfhvT_vG/s1600/IMG_1702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRIPTw-ebPwg1BB5MSRcBTHkurDDV-6TjZi4qwoe_-vlQ5h_8u7nhTV68Rt5WJ1Lmc5el3RIcdv0BeUunSBqNgNcSHpwo3sA8YhLJ48Aih5b_gOZhWZJKQsgac57yFuFZ8FIgnfhvT_vG/s1600/IMG_1702.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...where it can fit it into its beak and down its throat!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSd5JZa8l0s8KnLGxZntSdN2XLrlOj5Oo63XnSzu27_kP-ThOBpfbMne4jg0jIEd1N6zLuyO_-VUdMTVYsSP_lsiLHAHBiSHd1nYqVoLraUxSW2saEVzcWpH7D2tkdKKFTpfgVZN3OrFA/s1600/IMG_3092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSd5JZa8l0s8KnLGxZntSdN2XLrlOj5Oo63XnSzu27_kP-ThOBpfbMne4jg0jIEd1N6zLuyO_-VUdMTVYsSP_lsiLHAHBiSHd1nYqVoLraUxSW2saEVzcWpH7D2tkdKKFTpfgVZN3OrFA/s1600/IMG_3092.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A grebe with a sizable fish in its mouth on a rainy day.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>4. Double-Crested Cormorant</u></div>
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<i>I regularly saw flocks of cormorants flying up and down the lake, often at dusk, and one day I got lucky when a solitary cormorant decided to land nearby and do a little fishing. I hustled down the dock to get in the best position during its dives and then sat still and snapped photos. It was not nearly so leery of my presence as the skittish pied-billed grebes--in fact, it gradually made its way closer to the dock. I think it might have been curious about my camera's noise, as birds often are. This cormorant is not boasting the double crests of breeding season that give the species its name, but I was very much taken by the startling aqua color of its eye.</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WhuweEi34bntdsrEEwswfxAeAB-VghdNuPIMp70id1qU3T00_wqRNhaKV18Y82d-DQX9N1uSghD-kp5SKgAeIlKikSPzMyYjUjLB0fw3tfajmTbaYkxtCJC2W22iJ20B2uUYCKquOJ2k/s1600/IMG_2570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WhuweEi34bntdsrEEwswfxAeAB-VghdNuPIMp70id1qU3T00_wqRNhaKV18Y82d-DQX9N1uSghD-kp5SKgAeIlKikSPzMyYjUjLB0fw3tfajmTbaYkxtCJC2W22iJ20B2uUYCKquOJ2k/s1600/IMG_2570.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A double-crested cormorant rides low in the water between dives.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1PzMLnCj5oI0XuWb2LEoiN1W98PxMeYrX9QOHAHzQujfsTUrakiWEPZzWLqZUXJBMtoTP1Z77ITBnOIr771ovW7yEJNpt7mUslcc69_c2j-Ptv1V7a2eI5-_5UfXO-LoAZ7yEhown0q5f/s1600/IMG_2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1PzMLnCj5oI0XuWb2LEoiN1W98PxMeYrX9QOHAHzQujfsTUrakiWEPZzWLqZUXJBMtoTP1Z77ITBnOIr771ovW7yEJNpt7mUslcc69_c2j-Ptv1V7a2eI5-_5UfXO-LoAZ7yEhown0q5f/s1600/IMG_2588.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was surprised by how yellow the beak was and how blue the eye.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCgS7RQXAGPqrqLvUhs3V8iEqR1y9Wum2SUQ8IQog0CQV9x6tBeXtvXjpArgdJ2eXdjxj9JNjO6ZsIp7lMvAeZQJpNw8kND7mvC311V02PAy8PtlHi1AD364YnN1uCSqaucxV8V-EjaUL/s1600/IMG_2602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCgS7RQXAGPqrqLvUhs3V8iEqR1y9Wum2SUQ8IQog0CQV9x6tBeXtvXjpArgdJ2eXdjxj9JNjO6ZsIp7lMvAeZQJpNw8kND7mvC311V02PAy8PtlHi1AD364YnN1uCSqaucxV8V-EjaUL/s1600/IMG_2602.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cormorant takes flight after running along the surface of the water to pick up the necessary speed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5e9kWSElBLGPVZQoKISrriLbuTsQDh-XbC1uNRnQKONBP18zIQZ1wmsWwriRyemMuctce08dV0yMtQpkmb2_eIlu4TJfw-thWx5zM-KoDOrn7mg5Tzd2grI812yGXoNcHDwSKrb-1iU9W/s1600/IMG_2794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5e9kWSElBLGPVZQoKISrriLbuTsQDh-XbC1uNRnQKONBP18zIQZ1wmsWwriRyemMuctce08dV0yMtQpkmb2_eIlu4TJfw-thWx5zM-KoDOrn7mg5Tzd2grI812yGXoNcHDwSKrb-1iU9W/s1600/IMG_2794.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flock of cormorants heading toward their nighttime roost.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>5. Canada Goose</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>The sandy-bottomed shallows on either side of the dock were much loved by the Canada geese, who could regularly be found there day or night, often with several other species of waterfowl in tow. They liked to waddle up onto the grass to feed, too. They'd warn their comrades of my presence with a single honk when I came around, but were otherwise tolerant of both my presence and that of the dogs'. I enjoyed watching them tip their rumps up into the air as they fed underwater, especially when their maneuvers caused their big black feet to flail, and appreciated how tremendously buoyant they seemed as they floated so effortlessly and elegantly on the water.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqgG4gdIeBDHBj6LD6eJJ-Ak1jZqFYqFgV0xTDm0bVFrrHVO2cSTUzF0pzHJLKgRBNxPE9TV0lU6ypo6kUNSIlkBSbiEyIaIKMI63LtcJE4JbrrSNrWP1js0OcOyqRoCN3vsB8uomFrBZ/s1600/IMG_1683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqgG4gdIeBDHBj6LD6eJJ-Ak1jZqFYqFgV0xTDm0bVFrrHVO2cSTUzF0pzHJLKgRBNxPE9TV0lU6ypo6kUNSIlkBSbiEyIaIKMI63LtcJE4JbrrSNrWP1js0OcOyqRoCN3vsB8uomFrBZ/s1600/IMG_1683.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Canada goose's head breaks the surface after feeding on the lake bottom while a comrade tips its rump into the air to better forage in the silt below. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPMsho-X-ObJVg7T7MUwkgOY7KzHVN2_imWCAAYoyjaqrTNpmysLySmKy-R9k8WnKYcrRoHQq8-lR8Xjm8GRBGcSm9JjR4pIEtM0gp2JaMIGIpUAX9sUYVCP_1zbABbO1JfNetkb3QlW_/s1600/IMG_1693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPMsho-X-ObJVg7T7MUwkgOY7KzHVN2_imWCAAYoyjaqrTNpmysLySmKy-R9k8WnKYcrRoHQq8-lR8Xjm8GRBGcSm9JjR4pIEtM0gp2JaMIGIpUAX9sUYVCP_1zbABbO1JfNetkb3QlW_/s1600/IMG_1693.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They may be pests, but they are very handsome pests.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1u88RIMLmnfWS5xYKkk-vuD-AtuJaVcTAkvyNDVYqeb00H0bEFs8J3XYgjXse3Im9jP5B0hT7yRvjh2sBQuN88uvFJ-ILr1PC7caeLxirC7gLQJMgWNkdoUiwrMDoH1rhTRqYEAviCC3/s1600/IMG_2223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1u88RIMLmnfWS5xYKkk-vuD-AtuJaVcTAkvyNDVYqeb00H0bEFs8J3XYgjXse3Im9jP5B0hT7yRvjh2sBQuN88uvFJ-ILr1PC7caeLxirC7gLQJMgWNkdoUiwrMDoH1rhTRqYEAviCC3/s1600/IMG_2223.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canada geese at sunset.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>6. Mallard</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Mallards are extremely common, but I was interested to note that at Goldie's house, at least at this time of year, the gadwalls were the more prevalent duck species. I'd see the mallards most often at sundown as they congregated in the shallows near the dock with other waterfowl.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pV5gvDOkZdlp-YhR7DPBhLe1KnfaD3yEE4EMichqfLfTwDwXEKmBeZA9z2shHH88gRXPVS41JF4R3HWcp3Qi5mW5_UDrupG0qU_fgAR-KcmBwbvJ1sgWmxlcn0HGxGKVDebv6tYwi7Wk/s1600/IMG_2531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pV5gvDOkZdlp-YhR7DPBhLe1KnfaD3yEE4EMichqfLfTwDwXEKmBeZA9z2shHH88gRXPVS41JF4R3HWcp3Qi5mW5_UDrupG0qU_fgAR-KcmBwbvJ1sgWmxlcn0HGxGKVDebv6tYwi7Wk/s1600/IMG_2531.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know what this male mallard was thinking. He and a female partner landed on the lake nearby and while the lady duck swam AWAY from where I stood on the beach with two dogs playing in the water, this guy swam straight toward us. Evidently, he had much more experience with people handing out food than with dogs frisking in water. When he grew close enough, they gleefully gave chase.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipifGUBMYHTqzMf_u_NSaanbswfMKaWd8vyTvB5WX1js4_Qcp9xqOfRk3ivCD4scGdXv9UuhyphenhyphenyUFrKtN4OsWRcLjyehLewP98StZ6KgArm5MXlqcNc1AheK7l5pin1H7o6yzqsDC1Sw3ss/s1600/IMG_2539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipifGUBMYHTqzMf_u_NSaanbswfMKaWd8vyTvB5WX1js4_Qcp9xqOfRk3ivCD4scGdXv9UuhyphenhyphenyUFrKtN4OsWRcLjyehLewP98StZ6KgArm5MXlqcNc1AheK7l5pin1H7o6yzqsDC1Sw3ss/s1600/IMG_2539.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The male mallard flies to safety after attracting the attention of the dogs.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiloM1yLlU9KicnqDZmqNwZIXBtIW1eBS3Jfs47uX0L2yQJA7URTUlERMShCLuDt06QkX-RXzOhMGJOdCdm_coQqeYBxIeMhc3iCMm0t5ZP6Gt83zUFd4BEWaXCowmqUGjxOjBdE66bbNlp/s1600/IMG_2549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiloM1yLlU9KicnqDZmqNwZIXBtIW1eBS3Jfs47uX0L2yQJA7URTUlERMShCLuDt06QkX-RXzOhMGJOdCdm_coQqeYBxIeMhc3iCMm0t5ZP6Gt83zUFd4BEWaXCowmqUGjxOjBdE66bbNlp/s1600/IMG_2549.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable watches the male and female mallards as they swim by, this time at a safe distance.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjbEFgw1sLOMa2ljcyHbefWp4u1APxJ75zgseI_O9Z0ciOfQE6By5Dm9Ee74NwnlF2Hb-MW1NFHZ2aW1xw0wu02h9SikJMjvhHJRhslYdKJwM6HyacM56ls3s-FRnz-oFaX-LLWyCKtE3/s1600/IMG_2202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjbEFgw1sLOMa2ljcyHbefWp4u1APxJ75zgseI_O9Z0ciOfQE6By5Dm9Ee74NwnlF2Hb-MW1NFHZ2aW1xw0wu02h9SikJMjvhHJRhslYdKJwM6HyacM56ls3s-FRnz-oFaX-LLWyCKtE3/s1600/IMG_2202.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flock of mallards swimming and talking among themselves at sundown.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>7. Gadwall</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>I was very pleased to have an opportunity to photograph gadwalls because they were one of the species that I saw at Mr. Gorgeous' but was unable to photograph because they'd come in at dusk to sleep on the ponds. Here, I saw more gadwalls than mallards! The females of the species look very similar, but the males are somberly attired in shades of brown and gray. They were often found in the company of Canada geese.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVvRrBGVznrifMPbAhiTx8CSNGNIOLvXj5jp8ku49NgrY0xY9mLpVZYS9l1dEFuQz2yZcoMEBoA9t-e8FtmF6XfpzFNWtXLSD-p708npHhJoqZDklHRRrSxb9u3mEOADJ0BoNhzahq99B/s1600/IMG_1848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVvRrBGVznrifMPbAhiTx8CSNGNIOLvXj5jp8ku49NgrY0xY9mLpVZYS9l1dEFuQz2yZcoMEBoA9t-e8FtmF6XfpzFNWtXLSD-p708npHhJoqZDklHRRrSxb9u3mEOADJ0BoNhzahq99B/s1600/IMG_1848.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two male gadwalls and a female forage for food just below the surface of the lake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhwOK6SyfJNYIbDjO9nOTUzDjPruG3feE513XCR21tQOyAU5pQ_frCitL6qs7N-BBHJTC_fNRwjEQbdmt5KUEXOsIgH9ghyWzPKSB1xIJHLbsmInzYovq4XLBQlwOxN1pa7wdswDcRcnR/s1600/IMG_2253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhwOK6SyfJNYIbDjO9nOTUzDjPruG3feE513XCR21tQOyAU5pQ_frCitL6qs7N-BBHJTC_fNRwjEQbdmt5KUEXOsIgH9ghyWzPKSB1xIJHLbsmInzYovq4XLBQlwOxN1pa7wdswDcRcnR/s1600/IMG_2253.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female gadwall flaps her wings, revealing the black and white speculum, as a male gadwall and a Canada goose swim nearby. Mallards have a blue and white speculum--this detail can help you differentiate between female mallards and gadwalls when in flight.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizP-3eZh_mGvm5STTrGyeZI4Qk7H7r8lnJ8wsuLcxu0ELYCzV4ZRgtPKY_9uKnAjF_hBoVk5tALxJyZ3F1rI6IY1vC1h32-_aIQBSzQDSWw5zKt6ZrSRLdE6UL2gxUtP_D4PkWEXvXTFJR/s1600/IMG_2347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizP-3eZh_mGvm5STTrGyeZI4Qk7H7r8lnJ8wsuLcxu0ELYCzV4ZRgtPKY_9uKnAjF_hBoVk5tALxJyZ3F1rI6IY1vC1h32-_aIQBSzQDSWw5zKt6ZrSRLdE6UL2gxUtP_D4PkWEXvXTFJR/s1600/IMG_2347.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gadwalls on the wing.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>8. Common Goldeneye</u></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Goldeneyes were the diving ducks I saw most frequently at Mr. G's, but they were few and far between just a few miles to the north. The ones that did appear in the area preferred a patch of lakefront several houses away, hence the terrible first photo. I did catch a nice one of a goldeneye in flight, though!</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIl_PHwQQFl0pK3wJDJ_TQpNF2Jw25GK1fecJUxM4Y46bN_O9bWHkOUgGWvGRUj9pVhFi5UVD5JMYzJq9QL8vPItZ2pmvAQuGwiM6C6sxh7CQWWiq8pB8MqezGvXZgdmmRp5keqds5WaGX/s1600/IMG_1660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIl_PHwQQFl0pK3wJDJ_TQpNF2Jw25GK1fecJUxM4Y46bN_O9bWHkOUgGWvGRUj9pVhFi5UVD5JMYzJq9QL8vPItZ2pmvAQuGwiM6C6sxh7CQWWiq8pB8MqezGvXZgdmmRp5keqds5WaGX/s1600/IMG_1660.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldeneyes seen--just barely--at a distance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5L-xiYpgEXc1mtiMK2cTf0uRA7pgrI-AZuHXORdm67ltMX0PNA6AQDRTE-H45WGkcUeM_8GIhnh0Zrue0rQ06d92vK85OwgD7iEDqCNnBzHGY9UuT9Na0GV7upnJXcZBFPK3153nUmqU/s1600/IMG_2817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5L-xiYpgEXc1mtiMK2cTf0uRA7pgrI-AZuHXORdm67ltMX0PNA6AQDRTE-H45WGkcUeM_8GIhnh0Zrue0rQ06d92vK85OwgD7iEDqCNnBzHGY9UuT9Na0GV7upnJXcZBFPK3153nUmqU/s1600/IMG_2817.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A handsome common goldeneye in flight.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>9. Bufflehead</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>I saw buffleheads every day, the females vastly outnumbering the males. (Where do all the males without harems go?) They often congregated in the water near the dock, but had the regrettable (from my perspective) habit of drifting away whenever I approached. The best way to get a good bufflehead photo (or photo of any of the water birds) was to sit on the dock and wait--they weren't keen on me looming tall over them. Fortunately, Goldie was happy to settle on the dock with me if I decided to lay low in hopes of photographing shyer varieties of waterfowl.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6aQ9uR85cbdk_TAIv28BgHA02UG6v1tNQLKBQocTo15t8jgi_jCvNpzA8l_hv50pPcxRiXPG_5tJHObfDIueFo-M5ILuPy4KiTXUh_JYSih9_aFnJyslNkSyI8h7ef9LWtxADpLI1XeU/s1600/IMG_1741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6aQ9uR85cbdk_TAIv28BgHA02UG6v1tNQLKBQocTo15t8jgi_jCvNpzA8l_hv50pPcxRiXPG_5tJHObfDIueFo-M5ILuPy4KiTXUh_JYSih9_aFnJyslNkSyI8h7ef9LWtxADpLI1XeU/s1600/IMG_1741.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of female buffleheads. They have a white oval facial patch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLFMJDM2inlhffAlHHMPsBs7jqEVEaX0zPGEsGgYuZaRujbL22zNJGMLGchDV_vC3sUasuvmWLAlbGYCwYSnPkBuKgHmXOrSjgmVFTAW72jgFX36qZ27-0WVM-zwrY0rvwnuMlDwC_u1_/s1600/IMG_1757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLFMJDM2inlhffAlHHMPsBs7jqEVEaX0zPGEsGgYuZaRujbL22zNJGMLGchDV_vC3sUasuvmWLAlbGYCwYSnPkBuKgHmXOrSjgmVFTAW72jgFX36qZ27-0WVM-zwrY0rvwnuMlDwC_u1_/s1600/IMG_1757.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They are rather sweet-looking little ducks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIq3nbyoBu3XVXJ1b0_EMYRUKYlIadscK5UxQfPAeF4PMd7WUCD9A3wLRhBuDeNqkneHP1YDdmwT8devfbPoA8-Yw_uhIyVLB8H1XlUSfYO-VOkzHz82MUm7HP5kJsHOz7Q2fT300leF6Y/s1600/IMG_2118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIq3nbyoBu3XVXJ1b0_EMYRUKYlIadscK5UxQfPAeF4PMd7WUCD9A3wLRhBuDeNqkneHP1YDdmwT8devfbPoA8-Yw_uhIyVLB8H1XlUSfYO-VOkzHz82MUm7HP5kJsHOz7Q2fT300leF6Y/s1600/IMG_2118.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The males have a large white patch that wraps around the back of the head. In certain lights, the black feathers on the head reveal themselves to be iridescent!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxJxmbvv8J79Rt5ZFSBKebEi3lpgzxS96PFqBdau8P3yA6b8MQTmYeFw1ld1_VOTtDHJ-0ERIfMNMkyl34jPNJqOhBnPt7qTDWm9q9qHCDnP-snMhujTfw-2h1LyrftPXBEDPMytLkXih/s1600/IMG_2342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxJxmbvv8J79Rt5ZFSBKebEi3lpgzxS96PFqBdau8P3yA6b8MQTmYeFw1ld1_VOTtDHJ-0ERIfMNMkyl34jPNJqOhBnPt7qTDWm9q9qHCDnP-snMhujTfw-2h1LyrftPXBEDPMytLkXih/s1600/IMG_2342.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male bufflehead in flight on a monochromatic day.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N5a779pAdrKUwWk1pEYDDjTIHNnuZQc9cvPVmPY1ITU0jQ9MkGMS8GdBBOWIyj8oF7P8VI3Xr_lSkL6H7cQijKotKcAbYKpn-9HywBXuCKrdlj-IE01kl42Tlx8Cig2ZkNA9SoXU1fYy/s1600/IMG_2356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N5a779pAdrKUwWk1pEYDDjTIHNnuZQc9cvPVmPY1ITU0jQ9MkGMS8GdBBOWIyj8oF7P8VI3Xr_lSkL6H7cQijKotKcAbYKpn-9HywBXuCKrdlj-IE01kl42Tlx8Cig2ZkNA9SoXU1fYy/s1600/IMG_2356.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male bufflehead, followed by two females, takes to the wing.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZ-0sIyj260PLCS_xo7nNAJgXtXkd9w7q0crrCEUDkigaqXvkLZkSuhV6sx9fh0GG5vONPNFm9QMREql9_9-BwaJ9Eo-eexnA69RtpAuXb-_iioTpkL5JXWmcaWf3fpparuymeasHOeWh/s1600/IMG_2801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZ-0sIyj260PLCS_xo7nNAJgXtXkd9w7q0crrCEUDkigaqXvkLZkSuhV6sx9fh0GG5vONPNFm9QMREql9_9-BwaJ9Eo-eexnA69RtpAuXb-_iioTpkL5JXWmcaWf3fpparuymeasHOeWh/s1600/IMG_2801.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flock of buffleheads swims toward a group of Canada geese as a pair of pied-billed grebes approach from the right. The birds often came together like this.</td></tr>
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<u>10. Common Merganser</u><br />
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<i>I saw a female common merganser from time to time in the evenings, usually in the company of buffleheads. The female merganser's rusty head, slight crest, and long, thin bill (used for catching fish) make for easy identification.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jcicROsMT83PBWzWP3hWBTrH0Nj7ZDc3wG8TFyHHPzmRXCF2CLMIfqozIeLNY78eUZpg-I2ytJTNe5hKf6KJV2mSkGlX3xXL_-CyO87_mrHNZnF8jOzfexv4x-PwXU6DWF_VsGOf8eAP/s1600/IMG_1598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jcicROsMT83PBWzWP3hWBTrH0Nj7ZDc3wG8TFyHHPzmRXCF2CLMIfqozIeLNY78eUZpg-I2ytJTNe5hKf6KJV2mSkGlX3xXL_-CyO87_mrHNZnF8jOzfexv4x-PwXU6DWF_VsGOf8eAP/s1600/IMG_1598.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female common merganser in profile at sundown. While the coloration of the female merganser is similar to that of female goldeneyes, the slimness of the bill is a dead giveaway for identification.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWys5LULxpQemoNXh7mHV8y5-FzrO1cFdK5NYGLMTKV-DCPHmN6hNM6Z4Pp56wY1pCm5SeCUSPy3LJzPlKjvdp0XjHMCYhrd204kwKCHDdY_WIhXBmR22Do3iSC2Xq6L7NhCCS2RRwpUa2/s1600/IMG_1585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWys5LULxpQemoNXh7mHV8y5-FzrO1cFdK5NYGLMTKV-DCPHmN6hNM6Z4Pp56wY1pCm5SeCUSPy3LJzPlKjvdp0XjHMCYhrd204kwKCHDdY_WIhXBmR22Do3iSC2Xq6L7NhCCS2RRwpUa2/s1600/IMG_1585.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saw one from time to time in the company of buffleheads in the evenings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtV-_rqUEi4pl2bHDzsPQvrl2H3CthZYUN4rVbGzYu4XHfQ5tWJUaKBTLOZ_yhokohkhpx0uIuKO39NjcNGlFsJfRQ27tL48A76ona7-wOjK1FduEi-aIewhLVl_Ke3nPiJtMi_S5GiC8I/s1600/IMG_2214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtV-_rqUEi4pl2bHDzsPQvrl2H3CthZYUN4rVbGzYu4XHfQ5tWJUaKBTLOZ_yhokohkhpx0uIuKO39NjcNGlFsJfRQ27tL48A76ona7-wOjK1FduEi-aIewhLVl_Ke3nPiJtMi_S5GiC8I/s1600/IMG_2214.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female common merganser with buffleheads.</td></tr>
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<u>11. Sharp-Shinned Hawk/Cooper's Hawk</u><br />
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<em>It is notoriously difficult to tell these two species apart. There are very minor coloration differences, one has a smaller head in relation to its body, but really, the only thing that "easily" separates the sharp-shinned hawk and the Cooper's hawk is size. If you don't have a way of determining the size of the bird relative to an object, you're likely to be stuck with an "either/or" ID. These terrible photos I hastily nabbed when the bird landed in a tall tree almost directly overhead and then took off moments later can't provide information other than this is, indeed, in accipiter (versus a type of falcon such as a merlin--you can tell by the wings). One of my first thoughts when it landed was, "That's the size of a pigeon and the color of a pigeon, but it's a bird of prey!" As it so happens, sharp-shinned hawks are the size of pigeons. Cooper's hawks are several inches larger. So my tentative ID is that it was a sharp-shinned hawk.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrky63-RSiMK-vTArwGVMqakm8VgB5W_nGomw6_rgdlyltCZQkA7fh2EkGJtVn5ngTolbhyphenhyphenywUeFWNdeRTjlHRvjqUsrd3tuHKc8jLsmIRUIidKeqfB9hDEEbxF7f_BKCcRu16ta-jchT/s1600/IMG_2750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrky63-RSiMK-vTArwGVMqakm8VgB5W_nGomw6_rgdlyltCZQkA7fh2EkGJtVn5ngTolbhyphenhyphenywUeFWNdeRTjlHRvjqUsrd3tuHKc8jLsmIRUIidKeqfB9hDEEbxF7f_BKCcRu16ta-jchT/s1600/IMG_2750.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An accipiter in the treetops.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfMaA5dDQqMJFuUzPpNHjq1-UFwq9GCDT6UBAS6aWT7wJzZTnTD-YIIk5YoiXjHaNJ1PTo7ZZPwl-KF7HVCnUMG3bPNtf32yUdWECakTTA9yzYyzt71aWUSe5Ila08QiJzg-hJSAKlWfh/s1600/IMG_2751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfMaA5dDQqMJFuUzPpNHjq1-UFwq9GCDT6UBAS6aWT7wJzZTnTD-YIIk5YoiXjHaNJ1PTo7ZZPwl-KF7HVCnUMG3bPNtf32yUdWECakTTA9yzYyzt71aWUSe5Ila08QiJzg-hJSAKlWfh/s1600/IMG_2751.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's simply no way you can make an ID between a sharp-shinned and a Cooper's hawk from a lousy photo like this one!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GtHY_hdMdLrUAZCjuhH7amU6ozgsmPV0J9Kn29451z0rM4CVTy_t4NLUjhsKwSRTpp78pTyEncVMIAIamYhZ653wGXQMXPHnC7gaz81OI-B5uo-XHQnwO6tmMPjDSj7rS-Q2r4egqUZh/s1600/IMG_2753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GtHY_hdMdLrUAZCjuhH7amU6ozgsmPV0J9Kn29451z0rM4CVTy_t4NLUjhsKwSRTpp78pTyEncVMIAIamYhZ653wGXQMXPHnC7gaz81OI-B5uo-XHQnwO6tmMPjDSj7rS-Q2r4egqUZh/s1600/IMG_2753.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falcons have pointed wings, so at least this photo was able to guide me toward the right hawk family.</td></tr>
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<u>12. Red-Tailed Hawk</u><br />
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<em>I've been wanting to photograph red-tailed hawks for some time now because I see them all them time. The trouble is, I see them all the time sitting on light posts or trees next to the freeway, which is hardly the ideal way to photograph a bird. I was pleased, then, to be alerted to the presence of a pair of raptors by the calls of the crows, and to get a few pictures as they rose up and up into the sky. The bird book helped me determine that these were "dark phase" red-tailed hawks: that is, their bodies are dark on the underside instead of light. (These photos should definitely be clicked on to see in an enlarged format.)</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAagsITWynRGnbR9ZKkKvGuDti3YysREf5e3-KqwyuudwZmJ7r_-mrDSBkRqV7kL_UJDApVOHtibytFYmya9fa36ckk1CuaOUMd7JtAQDnsuxhDf1lgj8zJnIrd7kc6BgiNyepxHlr14sD/s1600/IMG_1858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAagsITWynRGnbR9ZKkKvGuDti3YysREf5e3-KqwyuudwZmJ7r_-mrDSBkRqV7kL_UJDApVOHtibytFYmya9fa36ckk1CuaOUMd7JtAQDnsuxhDf1lgj8zJnIrd7kc6BgiNyepxHlr14sD/s1600/IMG_1858.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-tailed hawk, dark phase.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSC9QRrgusO_Q6Frrzm6hIhMswprfwR4RZsZXx9gSvqhoAYxtJZ8aJccyMU6VilIKM5jerSYH3CQ3O8WLU2bAYoYGPJQsoarsLZa6VDsocvoCZRqgNOIWFiK4ckaJ65vAdAU9FUnMcF1C/s1600/IMG_1864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSC9QRrgusO_Q6Frrzm6hIhMswprfwR4RZsZXx9gSvqhoAYxtJZ8aJccyMU6VilIKM5jerSYH3CQ3O8WLU2bAYoYGPJQsoarsLZa6VDsocvoCZRqgNOIWFiK4ckaJ65vAdAU9FUnMcF1C/s1600/IMG_1864.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of them rose, circling, on a thermal.</td></tr>
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<u>13. Great Blue Heron</u><br />
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<i>No herons came fishing at Goldie's place, but these massive birds did flap by from time to time.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEKrAUio8UjvHh3LEsReQA2PQPkkjToU1H_mDmy6POG29vCSpkRoFeyFSHPDnZxvVRNvClBXx2L-_yZC7xEohikAYI_j9QdWM1Q4U29SBIfPdSoNX3UZ9Tn-wTV7VocySlYnQsgPUOr2PO/s1600/IMG_2191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEKrAUio8UjvHh3LEsReQA2PQPkkjToU1H_mDmy6POG29vCSpkRoFeyFSHPDnZxvVRNvClBXx2L-_yZC7xEohikAYI_j9QdWM1Q4U29SBIfPdSoNX3UZ9Tn-wTV7VocySlYnQsgPUOr2PO/s1600/IMG_2191.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A great blue heron silhouetted against a muted sunset sky.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__m-mSTwRE2y8bO2vNh1mfb9oJ9fYfogqZOiJrmtKV50wk3F8aiR5DUhV5Pcsimjpk7AamI4j9omDqoF7S3T_HlFGXAy88uBSkqvuwTiu6l8uLHXIXV7EEH_WmK7UEuFtNCAG4S9o9qq-/s1600/IMG_2358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__m-mSTwRE2y8bO2vNh1mfb9oJ9fYfogqZOiJrmtKV50wk3F8aiR5DUhV5Pcsimjpk7AamI4j9omDqoF7S3T_HlFGXAy88uBSkqvuwTiu6l8uLHXIXV7EEH_WmK7UEuFtNCAG4S9o9qq-/s1600/IMG_2358.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Among the local birds, only bald eagles can beat the heron's 70" wingspan.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JVY_8LwHJxc564BpRG8DF2syCtHMr9Jzp_JlISTr8f23BMEH6gsN8aW9czDNXKWtpEBalyizqRqfbjuLr7kghOou9Sy5T_MTLDeCiAMf27I1mDmsiPrm0SU9pcf4Wp_qX58qLmyRSwC2/s1600/IMG_2361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JVY_8LwHJxc564BpRG8DF2syCtHMr9Jzp_JlISTr8f23BMEH6gsN8aW9czDNXKWtpEBalyizqRqfbjuLr7kghOou9Sy5T_MTLDeCiAMf27I1mDmsiPrm0SU9pcf4Wp_qX58qLmyRSwC2/s1600/IMG_2361.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great blue heron profile in flight.</td></tr>
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<u>14. Herring Gull</u><br />
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<em>This is one of those photos I took for a simple ID before I'd resolved to make a blogpost out of the photos I'd been taking. I thought, "That gull looks different from the usual sea gulls I see out by the buoy," and yes, it's a herring gull rather than the usual ring-billed gull, but it's not much of a photo in terms of things to look at.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCV-j5j0uqke5g2PiOQy5-wSPzZyf0XK_4FXikvroL0gajKatCjEeON_KXHIvj3GCAEifojtZ47vBqEh4EcLYQessa545PrEagYw4p4EwKGp03twrxSiMlUYtJl2FXldgV_MEyPk6LEXF/s1600/IMG_2465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCV-j5j0uqke5g2PiOQy5-wSPzZyf0XK_4FXikvroL0gajKatCjEeON_KXHIvj3GCAEifojtZ47vBqEh4EcLYQessa545PrEagYw4p4EwKGp03twrxSiMlUYtJl2FXldgV_MEyPk6LEXF/s1600/IMG_2465.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herring gull.</td></tr>
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<u>15. Ring-Billed Gull</u><br />
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<i>Ring-billed gulls are trim and elegant with a black ring near the tip of their bills. They were the gulls I saw most frequently. There was usually one to be had perched on the buoy some distance out from the dock.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlvn80C_i-KZFuqxCSjSIg3TO9aGPOWMV1D9k9ve0POVCQzYC95MO_L0lmtEtghuooAimpg-ukEbvnH5R17oAUwykT3VZO20Ut22G64JEq_1-zRGJGoej2k8zBEMKl-X5czlWPCvS_hd0/s1600/IMG_2451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlvn80C_i-KZFuqxCSjSIg3TO9aGPOWMV1D9k9ve0POVCQzYC95MO_L0lmtEtghuooAimpg-ukEbvnH5R17oAUwykT3VZO20Ut22G64JEq_1-zRGJGoej2k8zBEMKl-X5czlWPCvS_hd0/s1600/IMG_2451.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the tell-tale ring on the gull's beak in this photo.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rip3f0poHMpdEVvkMLd9dYmRK1fgCHYKbLnpFyAAq4POPK8WCzCRbt5aBgY7_uSZAcS-2Q2zjbm-q4hpIg8d6bVz0BPb8F8Ym7PppJgGYce54Jq9dGJzXpykG8ZDKxHHo-Nv6uMp_F42/s1600/IMG_3007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rip3f0poHMpdEVvkMLd9dYmRK1fgCHYKbLnpFyAAq4POPK8WCzCRbt5aBgY7_uSZAcS-2Q2zjbm-q4hpIg8d6bVz0BPb8F8Ym7PppJgGYce54Jq9dGJzXpykG8ZDKxHHo-Nv6uMp_F42/s1600/IMG_3007.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One ring-billed gull vacates the coveted buoy as another comes in for a landing.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0c71WF933MFzxxEkcyAo7O3mM28qGA99AfTQhDFTtnMVRo5kpTpywpoF3Xb5TpmHzKYl74wmZLA4-k-xqeeEoH9dbOlfDLL_rkeQTz806WRcRot7QDxUp-fgPzbcKZW1W_q3-kvvmI-yo/s1600/IMG_2455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0c71WF933MFzxxEkcyAo7O3mM28qGA99AfTQhDFTtnMVRo5kpTpywpoF3Xb5TpmHzKYl74wmZLA4-k-xqeeEoH9dbOlfDLL_rkeQTz806WRcRot7QDxUp-fgPzbcKZW1W_q3-kvvmI-yo/s1600/IMG_2455.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A ring-billed gull gliding across the sky.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DzruFee8RIVq7hXZ21zOm4bsuz_t6G0_21dCmmhg-yfCevA5xC6y4U5ic8G_SZjVvSxaKRJ6JfDmUVnlHnwu8T9Dl828tYm37S7m17irPtCmIgC6UcqQUa3MGdS1aVMRkm5GG6BmPzaD/s1600/IMG_3018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DzruFee8RIVq7hXZ21zOm4bsuz_t6G0_21dCmmhg-yfCevA5xC6y4U5ic8G_SZjVvSxaKRJ6JfDmUVnlHnwu8T9Dl828tYm37S7m17irPtCmIgC6UcqQUa3MGdS1aVMRkm5GG6BmPzaD/s1600/IMG_3018.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For poetic purposes: a bird made of light and shadow standing out against a storm.</td></tr>
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<u>16. Anna's Hummingbird</u><br />
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<i>Anna's hummingbirds zoomed hither and thither around Goldie's yard. This time of year, their primary interest was in the flowers of the bush ivy climbing one of the trees and cropping up in the thicket.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwz38tS3v4zExIKpc6hbxEG0E1wFTurEIemhpYRbqUH7mugRM0yZJwYWNzEpH46FPPcAHkCL-6Bmj9V6ggB0EdsHn-BSsUBVtxTA0ShlVF78cWh0QjQ7L3rFSP6uUSD4SkBkhvaItie8Ex/s1600/IMG_2093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwz38tS3v4zExIKpc6hbxEG0E1wFTurEIemhpYRbqUH7mugRM0yZJwYWNzEpH46FPPcAHkCL-6Bmj9V6ggB0EdsHn-BSsUBVtxTA0ShlVF78cWh0QjQ7L3rFSP6uUSD4SkBkhvaItie8Ex/s1600/IMG_2093.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of hummingbirds pause momentarily on adjacent perches. I've never seen two hummers share such close quarters without quarreling!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS36T_vZv0CsBXzjg8NITRm7p6xLQ9rtCaaQRjxtn4NH-NnKeYuD-aq2Vqaln3sy528OhmKNbrTMjkVIs9VN2eZ_dou-y_rU7zTAsS7BXxwLUiZasCltBuCpVvCFMyficdsaC-WrOpbSZj/s1600/IMG_2903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS36T_vZv0CsBXzjg8NITRm7p6xLQ9rtCaaQRjxtn4NH-NnKeYuD-aq2Vqaln3sy528OhmKNbrTMjkVIs9VN2eZ_dou-y_rU7zTAsS7BXxwLUiZasCltBuCpVvCFMyficdsaC-WrOpbSZj/s1600/IMG_2903.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Anna's hummingbird hovers as it investigates bush ivy buds.</td></tr>
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<u>17. Belted Kingfisher</u><br />
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<em>It was the final afternoon of my two weeks with Goldie when I decided to walk down to the lake in the rain with the dogs, bringing my camera under my coat. I'm glad I did, because that's when I spotted a kingfisher flashing across the shore and swooping up to perch on the lines of a boat moored at a neighboring dock. I've found kingfishers to be elusive critters, so I was so pleased to see one and get a photograph, distant though it may be, of one of my favorite birds--and on my last day, no less! I hope that one day I'll have an opportunity to photograph one at closer range.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0DwbImrV2J7j-X6WAmTbEC4LnAVg397n9D4v3AQyDKIucFAtLPON_LIsrYZezdrMfDJjrgNPGH1GtX0gItTKFHUjjXcTwLXFJrnSr4tJnkrHJ9fJjcXxJmmwZHNUxC59g4ZuYePTInMf/s1600/IMG_3057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0DwbImrV2J7j-X6WAmTbEC4LnAVg397n9D4v3AQyDKIucFAtLPON_LIsrYZezdrMfDJjrgNPGH1GtX0gItTKFHUjjXcTwLXFJrnSr4tJnkrHJ9fJjcXxJmmwZHNUxC59g4ZuYePTInMf/s1600/IMG_3057.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female belted kingfisher shows off the marks that give the species its name.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS3gqAlbobm1jVwMajjnIsOMZ0ShxeDSWRkJekVZ9FRH9eavAzQGKqwW02FiOpSv6HWFI5atH2q4QSZqVAINFnFAyDOEqzKrB3vZ1qfaZ_Um5bpERjYtA8SpcBhWg4gMpomg2kLSJ9XzB/s1600/IMG_3062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS3gqAlbobm1jVwMajjnIsOMZ0ShxeDSWRkJekVZ9FRH9eavAzQGKqwW02FiOpSv6HWFI5atH2q4QSZqVAINFnFAyDOEqzKrB3vZ1qfaZ_Um5bpERjYtA8SpcBhWg4gMpomg2kLSJ9XzB/s1600/IMG_3062.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crest on the head can be raised or lowered, as it is here.</td></tr>
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<u>18. Red-Shafted Northern Flicker</u><br />
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<em>I hadn't bothered to photograph any of the flickers I regularly saw and heard because the cedars and big leaf maple trees made it difficult to get clear shots and I can get much better photos at my house. Then, of course, I decided I was doing this blogpost and suddenly I needed a flicker photo, any flicker photo, but while I continued to hear them and see them flashing from place to place, the best I could do in terms of photographs was a silhouette.</em><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvC5QVK6mMNdBRb7CpXkEWdUGGH_9dHKRHr4e1p7Fk46gE8So8JCA9lpAgQPYu5SyvUFucAp-lFJY6Cwlon61HLwPlf2PUm9cz4xsl2sLOwRdxtGdEwMkMkdmfcqDVlXkhjayiL_XtX_2/s1600/IMG_3056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvC5QVK6mMNdBRb7CpXkEWdUGGH_9dHKRHr4e1p7Fk46gE8So8JCA9lpAgQPYu5SyvUFucAp-lFJY6Cwlon61HLwPlf2PUm9cz4xsl2sLOwRdxtGdEwMkMkdmfcqDVlXkhjayiL_XtX_2/s1600/IMG_3056.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep. that's a flicker up there.</td></tr>
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<u>19. Steller's Jay</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I saw plenty of Steller's jays screeching raucously as they swooped from maple to maple and cedar to cedar. Because they moved quickly and nimbly among the branches of the overlapping trees, I didn't often have clear shots of these busy, noisy birds, but in the few good snaps I did get, the blue plumage looks particularly beautiful.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedNWIOyKQIKkf-b7zF1iSgCzXz56d7Bs2NWx9vHS8Br4ZvBLAzDLpU4yBMBURHNnM6cASRZ0V3NLfaqgG0oKmF2epUdUiW96Qdpx6Fo_rAiK8rexws_klfJciUXYyTEVYb39Pt1CxLNZS/s1600/IMG_1828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedNWIOyKQIKkf-b7zF1iSgCzXz56d7Bs2NWx9vHS8Br4ZvBLAzDLpU4yBMBURHNnM6cASRZ0V3NLfaqgG0oKmF2epUdUiW96Qdpx6Fo_rAiK8rexws_klfJciUXYyTEVYb39Pt1CxLNZS/s1600/IMG_1828.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Steller's jay takes a quick break from bouncing from branch to branch and offering its strident commentary to absorb some sunlight.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxiGYHGI-pMgpQ6IX2ZHzg72GH5DHsiuQBHdZbKl976R-3rWT1rZayHbcl-BtbPcwLIPh9Fgw01Lyvt_KlNTqKJ0WLjCwj6R3LL7t2OFU9NeoNmVdroduvgBOHW5qLrwh1sJ664-b2Xutt/s1600/IMG_1830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxiGYHGI-pMgpQ6IX2ZHzg72GH5DHsiuQBHdZbKl976R-3rWT1rZayHbcl-BtbPcwLIPh9Fgw01Lyvt_KlNTqKJ0WLjCwj6R3LL7t2OFU9NeoNmVdroduvgBOHW5qLrwh1sJ664-b2Xutt/s1600/IMG_1830.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue sky, a blue tail, and a crested silhouette.</td></tr>
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<u>20. American Crow</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Crows are ubiquitous everywhere, so there naturally were crows to be found around Goldie's house where they flapped and cawed and occasionally flew low and slow over the lawn to take a closer look at what the dogs and I were doing. What was remarkable was that I discovered, while sitting on the dock at dusk one evening, that I was directly below an established flightpath for thousands of crows flying north to their winter roosting grounds at the top of the lake. I've seen the masses of crows seeking out their nighttime perches in the cottonwoods there at sundown, so I knew where the birds were headed and why, but it was still an amazing sight to see this ribbon of crows unfurling across the sky, crossing the lake and then heading north along its shore and directly over the dock. Group after group of crows, with roughly fifty (probably related) crows per group, passed overhead; at one point, this stream of crows stretched north as far as the eye could see in one direction and southwest in the other with more coming into view. I like crows, so I thought it was really amazing to see so many flying home to roost in such an orderly fashion!</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigpp8y6fTxrFIxBCCC4AnSj178hv_wSGzSXq40t7xzi0ZdwPWm9BUH-Y08o8SZrSebKt9apM19UKgJiOejdSizlcWTX82IWO_7SAD2NHnmBnMsBlTfvf234lpvBaUmgKZrXlCNIcEPltU/s1600/IMG_2862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigpp8y6fTxrFIxBCCC4AnSj178hv_wSGzSXq40t7xzi0ZdwPWm9BUH-Y08o8SZrSebKt9apM19UKgJiOejdSizlcWTX82IWO_7SAD2NHnmBnMsBlTfvf234lpvBaUmgKZrXlCNIcEPltU/s1600/IMG_2862.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crow passes low overhead, curious about the antics of the dogs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAat5R5gljlnCoboVC0T2sZMkHZ477DDhyphenhyphenGGdvUXQ7eusMjvJ7QwXPg7LyEeZAP4zWW8GZbQEU4D8WuVWu44MWUsvCA9Gti1xRd2qS5R3QUMuD3BqT4Qr-GVeKjpPbZg_jLj0JrrqjffOb/s1600/IMG_2423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAat5R5gljlnCoboVC0T2sZMkHZ477DDhyphenhyphenGGdvUXQ7eusMjvJ7QwXPg7LyEeZAP4zWW8GZbQEU4D8WuVWu44MWUsvCA9Gti1xRd2qS5R3QUMuD3BqT4Qr-GVeKjpPbZg_jLj0JrrqjffOb/s1600/IMG_2423.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crows for miles.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBhqa4Dbro6hwlIbebxle7pNqQ1XDzj6J0agzi3Rjch7BHshCx2fapXZH1LtM2QeMDDi5_f_PTyAWfHI25sF1zmH4Ua_pkKMr6HKMbR0rPtARgAs4adoO7lEWNuxX5ZkqYHhywOMbznJN/s1600/IMG_2417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBhqa4Dbro6hwlIbebxle7pNqQ1XDzj6J0agzi3Rjch7BHshCx2fapXZH1LtM2QeMDDi5_f_PTyAWfHI25sF1zmH4Ua_pkKMr6HKMbR0rPtARgAs4adoO7lEWNuxX5ZkqYHhywOMbznJN/s1600/IMG_2417.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It brings to mind one of my favorite lines from Shakespeare:<br />
"Light thickens, and the crow/ Makes wing to th' rooky wood"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>21. Black-Capped Chickadee</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I was interested to see that while there were plenty of black-capped chickadees hopping about and giving their signature calls, I didn't see a single chestnut-backed chickadee. I saw both species at Mr. Gorgeous' house and at my own, chestnut-backed chickadees outnumber the black-capped ones. Chestnut-backed chickadees particularly like conifers, so perhaps they stayed within the bounds of the vast, forested park just to the north, leaving the mix of maples, cedars, brambles, and open spaces to their black-capped brethren?</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswy6h0cDgKJKqqqcIVzHmuUPwuu-LuJuJC0L9NMkl4tdsEvQn8216dfW-gRUDdKC-bBh4NCOr8XDETVJtzL11rsBRcRQcGqR7FzpgD-AmQOB-t8YCdqTr1hLo_GkGcxg-m6VF5CNSLdw1/s1600/IMG_1158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswy6h0cDgKJKqqqcIVzHmuUPwuu-LuJuJC0L9NMkl4tdsEvQn8216dfW-gRUDdKC-bBh4NCOr8XDETVJtzL11rsBRcRQcGqR7FzpgD-AmQOB-t8YCdqTr1hLo_GkGcxg-m6VF5CNSLdw1/s1600/IMG_1158.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A black-capped chickadee with a seed in its bill.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCFm7qdk9awsm_pgi3u8bJCvpiHvrwOrb98GNHJ3cX6jX5U49JEOAjRHPQ4fdnMRaQorYoSNYH-uoDZO32KNrLPyCQY3y9HYZ7qaFfVt5fKez2xeQaUSkLNWHaNA5thQBlBnVe79YwTVx/s1600/IMG_2738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCFm7qdk9awsm_pgi3u8bJCvpiHvrwOrb98GNHJ3cX6jX5U49JEOAjRHPQ4fdnMRaQorYoSNYH-uoDZO32KNrLPyCQY3y9HYZ7qaFfVt5fKez2xeQaUSkLNWHaNA5thQBlBnVe79YwTVx/s1600/IMG_2738.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chickadees ARE very endearing little birds.</td></tr>
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<u>22. Bushtit</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>While there was abundant small bird life to be had, bushtits appeared but rarely. These minute birds usually travel in large flocks fluttering and twittering in high voices as they comb through trees for insect prey. The drab coloring, long tail, and tiny black bill can be used to separate it from other small, grayish birds of similar habits.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rli8n50BeXX3SeVaHowHoEfN7fY5BqQcS_NcbEngxNWeTIHTqYP5vCdx-MwGrU67lfGNkMqUHGOu1VxLx4o205cNTTFqCm2CwGSnAJ_TIimTyXIqcxLIMyV6tHjuCclk7OGX_686llph/s1600/IMG_0991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rli8n50BeXX3SeVaHowHoEfN7fY5BqQcS_NcbEngxNWeTIHTqYP5vCdx-MwGrU67lfGNkMqUHGOu1VxLx4o205cNTTFqCm2CwGSnAJ_TIimTyXIqcxLIMyV6tHjuCclk7OGX_686llph/s1600/IMG_0991.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bushtit clings to the tip of a leaf as it hunts for the tiny insects that make up its diet.</td></tr>
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<u>23. Bewick's Wren</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I always consider it a big score to get a good photo of a Bewick's wren because these chatty little birds never stop moving and seldom break cover! They loosely associated themselves with the local small bird flock, but I would see them on their own from time to time, too. I was able to get the photos below because I realized there was a Bewick's wren in the shrub just above me as I was walking down a slope that was systematically working its way through the tangle of stems and branches in my direction. I waited quietly with my lens pointed at where I expected it to come into view and then *snapsnapsnapsnap* took a few hasty photos before it flitted off into the depths of another bush.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3819FbjVw2UY1thv6Z14Gz8pkl0PumjW4D_f49YcnWfpaR10kSDU6WCQEpJMbk51GhEquiegl9T1de10NQ2I99kIF42Ay3aGuStEQvhf6k0skDNvMsf0vvGxQZkTysP-pfr4_0AWT3uK/s1600/IMG_2096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3819FbjVw2UY1thv6Z14Gz8pkl0PumjW4D_f49YcnWfpaR10kSDU6WCQEpJMbk51GhEquiegl9T1de10NQ2I99kIF42Ay3aGuStEQvhf6k0skDNvMsf0vvGxQZkTysP-pfr4_0AWT3uK/s1600/IMG_2096.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bewick's wrens are small, busy brown birds with bold white eyebrows and long, cocked tails that they flick as they forage.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwUKKwMBBsCw-VzJP7af-vp6SEHOIh0A5wV3aPLKgqPq6xAjb9L0BCLK4WLMG_stAnV9VfQJyVZXDWvWUfYlpFl7lbHTWyxX_iGhuQQ0FForL1STMlC84-ZQIZJBl_koH3e3-qvPRets4/s1600/IMG_2097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwUKKwMBBsCw-VzJP7af-vp6SEHOIh0A5wV3aPLKgqPq6xAjb9L0BCLK4WLMG_stAnV9VfQJyVZXDWvWUfYlpFl7lbHTWyxX_iGhuQQ0FForL1STMlC84-ZQIZJBl_koH3e3-qvPRets4/s1600/IMG_2097.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, how I wish this photo was more perfectly focused! But with this fast-moving bird, I was lucky to get even this.</td></tr>
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<u>24. American Robin</u><br />
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<i>Robins are at home in virtually any kind of habitat, so it was no surprise to find them in this wild, woodsy margin of the suburbs.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6c49fSMKqOXGQ1r_js12H0Vs67wLhUSi0th7WM2eiPnw00KW7Jw6CcuDlyHAo3NologInsr22cnbZTYmXWIGM0NKDZXV0fsW0xSIrEWLoULXa1iY332u4fharsVoKwuB0kz2Jg_mrh6jX/s1600/IMG_2288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6c49fSMKqOXGQ1r_js12H0Vs67wLhUSi0th7WM2eiPnw00KW7Jw6CcuDlyHAo3NologInsr22cnbZTYmXWIGM0NKDZXV0fsW0xSIrEWLoULXa1iY332u4fharsVoKwuB0kz2Jg_mrh6jX/s1600/IMG_2288.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female robin, puffed up picturesquely against the cold, warms herself in the morning sunlight on a branch adjacent to a holly bush.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyVwGE5vrmoMlMkWxK_RLwmwbEW1ybZ3HzDZgStkzchO7g9H5UKK0atlbgWLqNA_eb7hsDgDDOqS2aZrWoEAK4pc0ZoUAbZ_4f6YGYJ3AHXkXexwVDxSKenUVHW4R4qMPRsV5g8rfOcvE/s1600/IMG_2978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyVwGE5vrmoMlMkWxK_RLwmwbEW1ybZ3HzDZgStkzchO7g9H5UKK0atlbgWLqNA_eb7hsDgDDOqS2aZrWoEAK4pc0ZoUAbZ_4f6YGYJ3AHXkXexwVDxSKenUVHW4R4qMPRsV5g8rfOcvE/s1600/IMG_2978.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of robins (there's one perched more discretely to the lower right) alight on a tree's bare branches in the wan, late-autumn light.</td></tr>
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<u>25. Ruby-Crowned Kinglet</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Kinglets are truly tiny birds and I saw them mixed in with the small bird flock, though not in great numbers. Franticly-moving tree foragers like the bushtits, they can be distinguished by their grayish-olive color, shorter tail, black and white wing bar, and white eye ring. The ruby crown that gives the species its name is only seen when males chose to raise it--which is seldom.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRvVRNX7CPzzomqbe-0o3vqHeZZz-BYkQJou4i6pjCjYBf9CS3iJnyo4iopc32GE2aVtKvUSqnCwQY67zIplTl-xeExGzEVQiF1gqVzDbsCpmALWtw2eWECeqBhG08L0V_9brNGeK4DBu/s1600/IMG_2976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRvVRNX7CPzzomqbe-0o3vqHeZZz-BYkQJou4i6pjCjYBf9CS3iJnyo4iopc32GE2aVtKvUSqnCwQY67zIplTl-xeExGzEVQiF1gqVzDbsCpmALWtw2eWECeqBhG08L0V_9brNGeK4DBu/s1600/IMG_2976.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kinglets largely confined themselves to the green, sheltering depths of the massive cedar trees.</td></tr>
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<u>26. Cedar Waxwing</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I was extremely pleased to spy a cedar waxing feasting on some late blackberries one day. While hardly a rare bird, I seldom see them and have only had one other occasion to photograph them and that was at a distance. Handsome, crested birds with a black eye mask and waxy red appendages on the tips of some of their wing feathers, these fruit-eaters are a delight to the eye.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwNmhe-YpvjatHdo30V5ILEwradkCwfPQKDIx4gRaywjvUD04DBOTenG4P35RZbElz-4hJS9y9qKYmomf0ZQ2GkqPGJnpNbtbZNtWkUCITAJfrpkqKP2_HQxkM-qgCAdPJI8oJL8lib__/s1600/IMG_1485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwNmhe-YpvjatHdo30V5ILEwradkCwfPQKDIx4gRaywjvUD04DBOTenG4P35RZbElz-4hJS9y9qKYmomf0ZQ2GkqPGJnpNbtbZNtWkUCITAJfrpkqKP2_HQxkM-qgCAdPJI8oJL8lib__/s1600/IMG_1485.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cedar waxing, with red waxy tips just visible on the wing's secondary feathers, gives me the once-over.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89Y5bPWJwqr2TdYPKBpapGfD8Vtdhbc53gBt5FknWPcAjwGLhNquV2NiNC-8cJB2sFPqTvSqlPfChIUkyXFYEveXNzW7uZZ0FbyXx3IE2HD3wrf23XJUYVywDMx6HOBY9OQrbkGIVqE3x/s1600/IMG_1467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89Y5bPWJwqr2TdYPKBpapGfD8Vtdhbc53gBt5FknWPcAjwGLhNquV2NiNC-8cJB2sFPqTvSqlPfChIUkyXFYEveXNzW7uZZ0FbyXx3IE2HD3wrf23XJUYVywDMx6HOBY9OQrbkGIVqE3x/s1600/IMG_1467.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The waxwing digs into a blackberry feast.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuDpweKy-FQeg31U7R1BbQw9Gkhb5paaFqU7wh5smuoM4UCr9-DA4FH7csAbNO_G0TEvqfV7BTf223O_zeCzgtZMyDEodEq6zaCOL_-H9ok2CIe-eePmw6CFp6pIJdjqn8KhE-VXABGja/s1600/IMG_1496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuDpweKy-FQeg31U7R1BbQw9Gkhb5paaFqU7wh5smuoM4UCr9-DA4FH7csAbNO_G0TEvqfV7BTf223O_zeCzgtZMyDEodEq6zaCOL_-H9ok2CIe-eePmw6CFp6pIJdjqn8KhE-VXABGja/s1600/IMG_1496.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful cedar waxwing on a beautiful fall day.</td></tr>
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<u>27. Townsend's Warbler</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I saw Townsend's warblers on several occasions, usually feeding in small groups in the massive Western redcedars, swiftly hopping and flitting from branch to branch in search of insects. It was relatively easy to spot their yellow faces marked by the dark eyepatch (if you were scanning the trees for birds, at least), but hard to get good photos.</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOWtd44zGgKAWq8_Sxf9WH03eWChg0Weu3MrEAAnjpJZVTWe98nJ4XvLpPvb_A8_RGqzpr-KLcFTjgyIDFqCnWf03ga2VNZvxwOEqLF1ir3gxD1-QoH0SPnH4-FI6E7cdGuOw6EC05qWz/s1600/IMG_2680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOWtd44zGgKAWq8_Sxf9WH03eWChg0Weu3MrEAAnjpJZVTWe98nJ4XvLpPvb_A8_RGqzpr-KLcFTjgyIDFqCnWf03ga2VNZvxwOEqLF1ir3gxD1-QoH0SPnH4-FI6E7cdGuOw6EC05qWz/s1600/IMG_2680.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female Townsend's warbler.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L9Kvwn_UTAnVreaJfcnFsQNnrq0qvCJHaN_ysCS4dpQdGqlF2o0A30we_kwTyNqU8IpYkPsHkkdlx3WzGP2mtX0l8isYRodLgD1AUqu4UHqf_lVWo7rveVFn-3rZjI5EkdSVGZf0ry-m/s1600/IMG_2670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L9Kvwn_UTAnVreaJfcnFsQNnrq0qvCJHaN_ysCS4dpQdGqlF2o0A30we_kwTyNqU8IpYkPsHkkdlx3WzGP2mtX0l8isYRodLgD1AUqu4UHqf_lVWo7rveVFn-3rZjI5EkdSVGZf0ry-m/s1600/IMG_2670.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Townsend's warblers have streaked, yellowish-olive backs and two white wingbars.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKN_EeF4D5T_vrJCoz4OHOmOf4gLh3CmXtEIgA1zWA55qh98xNMNuQE4n401wfbDdc9mCskjQwWnuUxUK5OxiTyiNW9YD0LymoGbgN7dLFYhfgGX2uulg6pM6ByV5JFh3Ov7KKNigDvlWG/s1600/IMG_2969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKN_EeF4D5T_vrJCoz4OHOmOf4gLh3CmXtEIgA1zWA55qh98xNMNuQE4n401wfbDdc9mCskjQwWnuUxUK5OxiTyiNW9YD0LymoGbgN7dLFYhfgGX2uulg6pM6ByV5JFh3Ov7KKNigDvlWG/s1600/IMG_2969.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That little flash of yellow face alerts you to the presence of the Townsend warbler in this tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUgSSuYvPegS0nYUDp9fO7_bI2lFHHSTEaPKsYjOEgpOwtI8eah0e5KDKTDCr-0qXlVf1SDB2uKp_RFptcez_aNySmxAxw2Kg7nX6f4vwveRnjjKrKcVIAJAgzPNLAVOuRyyK-TyP7OPN/s1600/IMG_2971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUgSSuYvPegS0nYUDp9fO7_bI2lFHHSTEaPKsYjOEgpOwtI8eah0e5KDKTDCr-0qXlVf1SDB2uKp_RFptcez_aNySmxAxw2Kg7nX6f4vwveRnjjKrKcVIAJAgzPNLAVOuRyyK-TyP7OPN/s1600/IMG_2971.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo, however, better suggests the scale that I was dealing with to get the photographs.<br />
Can you spot the Townsend's warbler in this one? </td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>28. House Finch</u><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>House finches were the predominate species in the small bird flock around Goldie's house. Cheeping to one another, they'd swoop between the trees, congregate in the thickets, and hop around on the ground near the back door as they searched for seeds.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYUQB0pvYdWlz2rSPm9fQFVTnnHgEdoD2CQeymmDYEZfHYJnSHgtaII9qxYhFjidiBArBTEA1PE1VlKYbqBBjdltzIWYyhP6ADMa8YbHsgThYupSJqyza6VkZXJOVm3Kq77ysjE2JbdVg/s1600/IMG_2695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYUQB0pvYdWlz2rSPm9fQFVTnnHgEdoD2CQeymmDYEZfHYJnSHgtaII9qxYhFjidiBArBTEA1PE1VlKYbqBBjdltzIWYyhP6ADMa8YbHsgThYupSJqyza6VkZXJOVm3Kq77ysjE2JbdVg/s1600/IMG_2695.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male house finch with a winged seed pod in its beak.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pi_3EgjhXu__7ixWOnbTzA5Cc_d84Z3WQ6SySdtUVnuvT90ZM9O6WoKA93qPFuFhol7F-qLVIqKll3imJn4N5bTV6TMNMslHIgvpLWG9k6dR4JK670m5CadKQw2tz3fKU7wJZslUu9En/s1600/IMG_2710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pi_3EgjhXu__7ixWOnbTzA5Cc_d84Z3WQ6SySdtUVnuvT90ZM9O6WoKA93qPFuFhol7F-qLVIqKll3imJn4N5bTV6TMNMslHIgvpLWG9k6dR4JK670m5CadKQw2tz3fKU7wJZslUu9En/s1600/IMG_2710.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male house finch with several female house finches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnHoQaQpyf2CobC_0MEnjwYi1_eAQ4vZgdeQLSDVwq0r2WDNJZ4_LlTmusPw1KV0kRiTOT9HCPLxpEh_1n9zE9aFmlXrf5rKPZXFjHMRMJXiDkNoWdYXOZVbvqqJHB9s31zbQziEQyHdO/s1600/IMG_2900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnHoQaQpyf2CobC_0MEnjwYi1_eAQ4vZgdeQLSDVwq0r2WDNJZ4_LlTmusPw1KV0kRiTOT9HCPLxpEh_1n9zE9aFmlXrf5rKPZXFjHMRMJXiDkNoWdYXOZVbvqqJHB9s31zbQziEQyHdO/s1600/IMG_2900.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male house finch perching on blackberry brambles as extracts the seeds from the desiccated fruit. My normal policy is not to take photos through windows unless I absolutely have to, but since the finches favored a thicket of shrubs and vines along the side of the house visible only though the windows, I overcame this prejudice and got some good photos. This one happens to be one of my favorites out of all the bird photos I took during this gig!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTUoVyj8q5Nr8WlDbLTUqVAb06fbpbMo6eQv4VJwXi7E5ETDEhyphenhyphenN_dinRI61mNCPOukrfLwP4pJlHLSXdaPrxglUqQ8xgmQ2DviixpC1DvqiNG8APlQ67hmbn-96bHL8iYuSBpQAtDa6T/s1600/IMG_2926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTUoVyj8q5Nr8WlDbLTUqVAb06fbpbMo6eQv4VJwXi7E5ETDEhyphenhyphenN_dinRI61mNCPOukrfLwP4pJlHLSXdaPrxglUqQ8xgmQ2DviixpC1DvqiNG8APlQ67hmbn-96bHL8iYuSBpQAtDa6T/s1600/IMG_2926.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A female house finch regards me from the gutter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZAXl3oW38m3-vlcO3GlMESuHYRRmeL69Uenw-n8g1CY_ehAyHJ5fM9QD2ppt83fry-2w28U3tbOzKT7qEEyww2qmFfxaHtEbtxxDY2kY6fK1HofGFx390OnKqXp1MRtHqkA1P6plnVmk/s1600/IMG_2992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZAXl3oW38m3-vlcO3GlMESuHYRRmeL69Uenw-n8g1CY_ehAyHJ5fM9QD2ppt83fry-2w28U3tbOzKT7qEEyww2qmFfxaHtEbtxxDY2kY6fK1HofGFx390OnKqXp1MRtHqkA1P6plnVmk/s1600/IMG_2992.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male house finch with hardly any red pigmentation fluffs himself up against the cold in the company of other finches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VJJi1Op2Bjqg9N-3qXBrOcONaUyTekw0cdKHkQyJexnemzpNq8YP84HJCFIURnD1_VRkfQ7_j5BDes4lW2meWf2tqKKJbXBtA7-ZY0o6qaDiWdV4BjNg6NJBwUGPyKRFACfHhx1eHL2U/s1600/IMG_2993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VJJi1Op2Bjqg9N-3qXBrOcONaUyTekw0cdKHkQyJexnemzpNq8YP84HJCFIURnD1_VRkfQ7_j5BDes4lW2meWf2tqKKJbXBtA7-ZY0o6qaDiWdV4BjNg6NJBwUGPyKRFACfHhx1eHL2U/s1600/IMG_2993.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This male was the reddest of the bunch. The pigment comes from the food they eat. Females prefer the reddest males, likely because it signals that the bird can gather lots and lots of food, thus making a good provider for nestlings.</td></tr>
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<u>29. Pine Siskin</u><br />
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<em>This was a species that was new to me and I'm always pleased to add to my list! I stood under this tree for the longest time looking at the birds in it. Some of them were most definitely house finches--I could see the red on the males--but there were these other streaky-breasted birds about the same size that looked like female house finches--and some of them were female house finches--but now and then I'd see wing bars and a flash of...yellow? It was when the whole flock left the tree and I captured them in flight that I saw the yellow stripe on the unfurled wings that ultimately led me to their identification.</em><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGsHeZ9RrzsINEI95IkYexXbLrI7a-u8dbFFUP-CFwP2NukVqsdpWUHluOfLlS1mS1caUmpL7Gt7qnDXpjF6Tzs3YBBowxrFuBGlk1i-amlAHgmYUqlJrBsLJVqnsVescVdL4Je_WbKlA/s1600/IMG_2684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGsHeZ9RrzsINEI95IkYexXbLrI7a-u8dbFFUP-CFwP2NukVqsdpWUHluOfLlS1mS1caUmpL7Gt7qnDXpjF6Tzs3YBBowxrFuBGlk1i-amlAHgmYUqlJrBsLJVqnsVescVdL4Je_WbKlA/s1600/IMG_2684.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With their streaky breasts, overall brown coloring, and similar size, pine siskins bear a strong resemblance to female house finches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghji78tsxOBeGbUC2yb18ENEl70cH6IeJN-iL15al5pYTHw92O9mrm_EKmGSRiN53ZVNwRn3tbCkuCkthkRoukK4ZaGSPcqAOzpqxjAnuU4KB__M0_GTMyhJ3Z4oKruayba2OCIOxolcsn/s1600/IMG_2724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghji78tsxOBeGbUC2yb18ENEl70cH6IeJN-iL15al5pYTHw92O9mrm_EKmGSRiN53ZVNwRn3tbCkuCkthkRoukK4ZaGSPcqAOzpqxjAnuU4KB__M0_GTMyhJ3Z4oKruayba2OCIOxolcsn/s1600/IMG_2724.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was the bold wingbars and traces of yellow, like those seen on the bird with its back to the camera, that made me suspect I was looking at a different species.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqTNbFPAIK75xHrZk5L6elCAM1hzE51c4T_gosPRUlNI7S4td_FdJE62UJmx7Bt1WOIjJWbjXEFRavXsE1nJfMm8GsEmBDixLPcelzEW6n1yub3Oe-mRuiJ_f977_S48sfdaTuCdOESvb/s1600/IMG_2715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqTNbFPAIK75xHrZk5L6elCAM1hzE51c4T_gosPRUlNI7S4td_FdJE62UJmx7Bt1WOIjJWbjXEFRavXsE1nJfMm8GsEmBDixLPcelzEW6n1yub3Oe-mRuiJ_f977_S48sfdaTuCdOESvb/s1600/IMG_2715.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pine siskins traveled in a large flock. This tree is full of them!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQlN9hcJRvck5qKWCfP0omVmBsZJe2ISeJK5JQpmJLYrwJaTryRzRTvQ7n8TH_nKuE-UyfXWb0PDr9-OOU-ERrDvJweHyF_1ykm4pEi4v9TShtR7ehWY_Pq0-moSMp_cyTiOs9UL9dVQg/s1600/IMG_2743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQlN9hcJRvck5qKWCfP0omVmBsZJe2ISeJK5JQpmJLYrwJaTryRzRTvQ7n8TH_nKuE-UyfXWb0PDr9-OOU-ERrDvJweHyF_1ykm4pEi4v9TShtR7ehWY_Pq0-moSMp_cyTiOs9UL9dVQg/s1600/IMG_2743.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the flock left the tree, I was able to capture the yellow stripe on the underside of the unfurled wings. Click to enlarge to better see what I'm referring to.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvg1yG_wB1CCKBsMcoOP74QzXUx16p6PeHxdsZJIR4JvqMG2ZafzYu5MDUQwvjqwR6nvofEDH8DNbfrGkK85XnCkT-0FNaukAFwaNE4bGh9HGpM9CZMJN2poZxEY9MexpSQ62R3r3q4hd/s1600/IMG_2744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvg1yG_wB1CCKBsMcoOP74QzXUx16p6PeHxdsZJIR4JvqMG2ZafzYu5MDUQwvjqwR6nvofEDH8DNbfrGkK85XnCkT-0FNaukAFwaNE4bGh9HGpM9CZMJN2poZxEY9MexpSQ62R3r3q4hd/s1600/IMG_2744.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've included this photo not just because it clearly shows the yellow on the wings of the bird near the top, but because all but three of the birds in the flock have folded their wings as they dive together like little missiles through the sky!</td></tr>
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<u>30. Rufus-Sided/Spotted Towhee</u><br />
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<i>At my house, the towhees keep largely to themselves, so I was interested to see that they flocked with the small birds--namely finches, juncos, and song sparrows--at Goldie's, a different composition than the wintertime small bird flocks I see at home. I really like towhees and wish I could have gotten better photos, but my best chances for photographing the small bird flock usually came through the windows and shots through windows are never as crisp and clean. *Note: It has come to my attention that since the publication of the edition of the field guide I use for bird identification that the rufous-sided towhee, with its western and eastern races, has been split into two species: the spotted towhee (formerly the western race of the rufous-sided towhee) and eastern towhee. Because I strive for accuracy, I will attempt to shift my usage over to the current one.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwBVg9h7gJgFSPomdapbr-zbT3URFLxsVOSgHd7a6rz399pQFGRv9de8-y6kGB4Gv4L94mKBm8RME9XAe4Wos-GBCBuB0nIJSugco_flS3qq-7oNS4bAFADL2Zj9-u9yXusMjgtRlu4RJ/s1600/IMG_2962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwBVg9h7gJgFSPomdapbr-zbT3URFLxsVOSgHd7a6rz399pQFGRv9de8-y6kGB4Gv4L94mKBm8RME9XAe4Wos-GBCBuB0nIJSugco_flS3qq-7oNS4bAFADL2Zj9-u9yXusMjgtRlu4RJ/s1600/IMG_2962.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These large sparrows are beautifully and boldly patterned birds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKszD1-odYSis9y6TYj8FnIjG_F5Uhz1sQ-c7bZKoOsQWRmlNt-BrabADMeLVWzCDEFaZE6GFzW3jdynRFjRnYU907trwUUUE1OM8p_hbVGThwkfJu5RMnZusPMPns3ZNXGURakRXuWNb/s1600/IMG_2081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKszD1-odYSis9y6TYj8FnIjG_F5Uhz1sQ-c7bZKoOsQWRmlNt-BrabADMeLVWzCDEFaZE6GFzW3jdynRFjRnYU907trwUUUE1OM8p_hbVGThwkfJu5RMnZusPMPns3ZNXGURakRXuWNb/s1600/IMG_2081.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quality of this photograph is poor, but I loved how the light set the rufous eye of the towhee ablaze! </td></tr>
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<u>31. Oregon Junco</u><br />
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<i>I suppose if I'm striving for accuracy, I should label this bird as a "dark-eyed junco (Oregon race)". However, since there are fifteen described races, merely identifying this bird as a dark-eyed junco could create confusion among those, say, who only know the white-winged race or gray-headed Rocky Mountain race. The Oregon junco is widespread across the western US and therefore should be recognizable by that name to many birders. I have abundant opportunities to photograph these charming little birds in much closer quarters in my own yard, so only took this picture for the purposes of this blogpost.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHBvRQAwpv-1RY5Ts4X8ygB5U72vyaNbwK9kNYgAhHfr_3RddYRzV57bm9AlgvUQQ36LReBqCNoX4_m8XMKhFNa9IV7kkSwDFCoY5sQKZFnJdQ9dLsq0M7QUkF1TzKZ9kGjt4rBBPRmox/s1600/IMG_2904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHBvRQAwpv-1RY5Ts4X8ygB5U72vyaNbwK9kNYgAhHfr_3RddYRzV57bm9AlgvUQQ36LReBqCNoX4_m8XMKhFNa9IV7kkSwDFCoY5sQKZFnJdQ9dLsq0M7QUkF1TzKZ9kGjt4rBBPRmox/s1600/IMG_2904.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male Oregon junco.</td></tr>
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<u>32. Song Sparrow</u><br />
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<i>Speaking of birds with regionally variable plumage... There are twenty-four subspecies of song sparrows with different variations on the theme of brown and gray and the denizens of the Pacific Northwest are among the darkest, brownest, and streakiest!</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvCSOhNQnv2ISHh2PwExXn2RCQhXdKKDMZH61zbd3mK0yB91dnoOhCBmMhyphenhyphen8NJRudjwt7l9UkiWQIXsfmrGzqLMumpbsmu34-inWCaJqBNleJsJH5fnhfOeXJ2jvAel58TY8IoqXmIz_X/s1600/IMG_2095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvCSOhNQnv2ISHh2PwExXn2RCQhXdKKDMZH61zbd3mK0yB91dnoOhCBmMhyphenhyphen8NJRudjwt7l9UkiWQIXsfmrGzqLMumpbsmu34-inWCaJqBNleJsJH5fnhfOeXJ2jvAel58TY8IoqXmIz_X/s1600/IMG_2095.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A song sparrow pauses momentarily on a rock before hopping off to forage for seeds, fruits, and insects.</td></tr>
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<u>33. Trumpeter Swan</u><br />
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<i>The trumpeter swan is the one species that I saw while dog-sitting Goldie that I was unable to photograph. I was standing in the lane overarched by towering big leaf maples when I heard a flock of birds with honking calls winging my way. They were different than the calls of the Canada geese and I was wracking my brain for any other goose species that might be flying around in the region when a flock of swans, gleaming white against the blue autumn sky, flew into view. It was an astonishing and majestic sight, but there was no possibility for a shot as they swiftly passed through the patches of sky visible through the tree branches and then were gone. I was so sorry not to get a photo of the swans that after the dog-sitting gig was over, I drove to the park about four miles from Goldie's house where trumpeter swans winter and photographed them there. These may very well be the same swans I saw flying over, as I am unaware of other populations wintering on the lake. </i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhhrhgHClkBlvaANCk-GqCn__NOY5KvO5aVQRW6rZwv6o8aMv1tipv5Wd9AP8kF9VbVRhihA2-vq0YFUWonG448lZAOcCF3KZ_6jn2qficfteLAvyQsa6zJwYGWC-diFR9GCtoW9HPqOB/s1600/IMG_3589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhhrhgHClkBlvaANCk-GqCn__NOY5KvO5aVQRW6rZwv6o8aMv1tipv5Wd9AP8kF9VbVRhihA2-vq0YFUWonG448lZAOcCF3KZ_6jn2qficfteLAvyQsa6zJwYGWC-diFR9GCtoW9HPqOB/s1600/IMG_3589.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trumpeter swans doze and preen in their usual wintering spot, a shallow and protected bay.</td></tr>
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That sums up "33 Birds: November Edition," demonstrating the variety of birdlife that can be found on wooded, lakeshore suburban property in this particular corner of the Pacific Northwest during a two-week survey in the month of November. As usual, Golden's "A Guide to the Field Identification: Birds of North America" was an indispensable tool, as was the excellent website <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">All About Birds</a>, and Google images proved very useful for verifying ID's, especially for birds in eclipse plumage or in positions not shown in the various guides. While not everyone has access to lakefront property, if you start paying attention, you may find that you're surrounded by far greater numbers and varieties of birds than you might expect. Happy birding!</div>
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To see the follow-up to this post, click <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/12/december-edition-addendum-to-33-birds.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>!</div>
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Previous bird posts include:</div>
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/07/baby-birds.html" target="_blank">Baby Birds</a></u></div>
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/07/birds-of-may-and-june.html" target="_blank">Birds of May and June</a></u></div>
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/baby-juncos.html" target="_blank">Baby Juncos!</a></u></div>
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<u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/05/32-birds.html" target="_blank">34 Birds: April Edition</a></u></div>
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Also, be sure to stop by <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">my Facebook page</a></u>, where I frequently post bird photos!</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-22349196371172511292014-09-29T16:38:00.000-07:002014-10-24T21:56:31.794-07:00Crepuscular Collie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mSSZBguO3hk9p35cdOep99OtZOlr60G_M-7xYfVWwoOw5w3jDUP0liweBm5BO6Hp46H8pPV8MUhorea5gyH0iyE8VXIye9hevp4sA3tL1TKq14V5gwVRRSOWD9u-bACnqAnCT7dAUSXe/s1600/IMG_9748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mSSZBguO3hk9p35cdOep99OtZOlr60G_M-7xYfVWwoOw5w3jDUP0liweBm5BO6Hp46H8pPV8MUhorea5gyH0iyE8VXIye9hevp4sA3tL1TKq14V5gwVRRSOWD9u-bACnqAnCT7dAUSXe/s1600/IMG_9748.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>After a very busy winter and spring of dog-sitting, things quieted down significantly this summer. The reason for this sudden downturn is simple: most of my clients had kids home from college for the summer. I did a couple of multi-day drop-in gigs for my favorite Pyrenees and some new cat clients, but I didn't mind having some time off. For one thing, it was very hot this summer and I do better off not having to exert myself very much in the heat! It has cooled down at last, though, and after four months without any overnight stays, I was very glad when the call came that Mr. Gorgeous, my collie friend, needed some minding while his family was out of town.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcT_iIMrqkhfcdUJAjQoYaC9b8Bhgjft1XmZqHEJqPzCvWjyE5OaHtGZnnwu4TVWBt92m7MjQReDnRSsBpg0uwN7Jf4bQqyKDzb6gHBDGzCaTAmmBFgF9vnCQQZNk6DLcBpVs_v-hAYTFB/s1600/IMG_6903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcT_iIMrqkhfcdUJAjQoYaC9b8Bhgjft1XmZqHEJqPzCvWjyE5OaHtGZnnwu4TVWBt92m7MjQReDnRSsBpg0uwN7Jf4bQqyKDzb6gHBDGzCaTAmmBFgF9vnCQQZNk6DLcBpVs_v-hAYTFB/s1600/IMG_6903.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smile! Cutie is happy but very hot after a short walk on a 90° afternoon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTLhGLOjgGL_350gw9_LlZn7__bRbWgmpvQcWNtcymUUorOQZxBaNhcXgKby9t5q6nhZ-4zirPomSqzOixt-polLwoDFvWi6zoKzVJoaUpSjLjLglv2vd2ex1FayXgyRzOizDSMQHl0hD/s1600/IMG_6912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTLhGLOjgGL_350gw9_LlZn7__bRbWgmpvQcWNtcymUUorOQZxBaNhcXgKby9t5q6nhZ-4zirPomSqzOixt-polLwoDFvWi6zoKzVJoaUpSjLjLglv2vd2ex1FayXgyRzOizDSMQHl0hD/s1600/IMG_6912.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because of the heat, we spent most of our time inside. I devoted some of those hours to clearing out Cutie's thick coat: that's the brushed-out excess in the background!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJbdQCf-mL-e00EoBlLphVtqO9EA2a4tJ232s5rhrjsQauzDEYyXfWCeU15un0cLfEMdEXTwk6rUGssFphVyjlv1VHZLbH99ThiV-_TB2kbnh6tLhRGF3D-LK59XTohZ8_ZFUMniPh418/s1600/IMG_9355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJbdQCf-mL-e00EoBlLphVtqO9EA2a4tJ232s5rhrjsQauzDEYyXfWCeU15un0cLfEMdEXTwk6rUGssFphVyjlv1VHZLbH99ThiV-_TB2kbnh6tLhRGF3D-LK59XTohZ8_ZFUMniPh418/s1600/IMG_9355.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This handsome kitty was one of a trio of cats who needed to be looked in on while both their owner and regular cat-sitter were away.</td></tr>
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The last time <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/dogs-old-and-new.html" target="_blank">I cared for Mr. Gorgeous</a></u> was in the spring, when I alerted his owners that he was showing signs of degenerative myelopathy, an irreversible spinal cord condition that eventually results in total paralysis of the hind end. Unfortunately, my amateur diagnosis proved correct. Between the end of April, when I saw him last, and the middle of September, things had gone downhill fast: I received word that not only could he no longer go on walks, he could not climb stairs at all, and on some days he couldn't even make it halfway up the hill in his yard. He still had good days, his owners assured me, and he was in the midst of a run of them. Still, I was full of trepidation about what I might see. Would my beautiful collie buddy be woefully crippled by his foundering back legs? There is no getting around the fact that Mr. Gorgeous's days, at thirteen and a half and with paralysis creeping in, are numbered. I've already had two clients pass away in the last ten months; I'm not fully prepared to have another one go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT9hjfPoygldS3jNtbnF5QMh_Gu6qSAJfI-ErNu9fce5SOFCFFhZpH2hxwf5kfgylXKVmXErKJFE3JDYU4s8Fynm6s7tP6w33W00WvSkmfKXX9LDkaQ_Gl54M9JFCILeUcqTDOHD20rAc/s1600/IMG_9585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT9hjfPoygldS3jNtbnF5QMh_Gu6qSAJfI-ErNu9fce5SOFCFFhZpH2hxwf5kfgylXKVmXErKJFE3JDYU4s8Fynm6s7tP6w33W00WvSkmfKXX9LDkaQ_Gl54M9JFCILeUcqTDOHD20rAc/s1600/IMG_9585.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still on his feet!</td></tr>
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The Mr. Gorgeous that greeted me when I arrived at his house was, to my surprise, exactly the same old Mr. Gorgeous I've known for years. Perhaps a bit slower, much deafer, and more inclined to spend most of the day sound asleep, but all in line with a big dog his age. He followed me up and down the hill as I roved with my camera, he chose to climb up the full flight of stairs from the basement under his own power every day that I was there, and once he even chased a rabbit! Sure, his back end was a bit wobbly when you vigorously toweled him off after being out in the rain and he had a bit more of waddle when he walked because he wasn't always sure where his back feet were, but the dog who couldn't climb a stair or a hill was absent during our time together. I did notice that he seems to run more in his sleep than he used to now that he can't run when awake, but I could see for myself that his good days are still good enough that the end is not so imminent as I feared. My guess is that the cool, wet weather of approaching winter will be hard on him--he has arthritis that always flares up in the winter as it is--but on this visit, he was still very much the Mr. Gorgeous of times past.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6n0Nt7GdjGv0nBh386ASzg9DCx1T3_xqSe9XgH2IB_VPZdre9FVQeVlYGPiGHbucL8OE2JM9nVK7IabRwMEhO2TGj57rUuGuWfSJNXx9pO8N0DyvMcZa_w8CGY_IBg3l_HrPf-hAUKJV/s1600/IMG_9803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6n0Nt7GdjGv0nBh386ASzg9DCx1T3_xqSe9XgH2IB_VPZdre9FVQeVlYGPiGHbucL8OE2JM9nVK7IabRwMEhO2TGj57rUuGuWfSJNXx9pO8N0DyvMcZa_w8CGY_IBg3l_HrPf-hAUKJV/s1600/IMG_9803.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I smell a rabbit!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SqxGXkC323zJzQk3tn0DFohOl_pYfRz2zvh9CbPgz-I3xmzSL6i7wDNPz4erG-0yPeN-jFfVDvk733RD2IbnjvKGdBbfNm58YuSWO9e4scQBnedNyYXpWw1HcKwtukAIayqr1dVIs0Vi/s1600/IMG_9658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SqxGXkC323zJzQk3tn0DFohOl_pYfRz2zvh9CbPgz-I3xmzSL6i7wDNPz4erG-0yPeN-jFfVDvk733RD2IbnjvKGdBbfNm58YuSWO9e4scQBnedNyYXpWw1HcKwtukAIayqr1dVIs0Vi/s1600/IMG_9658.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Gorgeous settles in the grass nearby as I take photographs in the garden at the top of the hill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKUcesClxKtnvKZaRD4pFMnCI24BH92ePkdkFKclYGhyphenhyphengOxFqkrP0gkSgRfOu6oDzSpV_knwmdadYF5XmWwoeXDTX-CbDjlk3-L5R6XLlUTX17sajhQ6HFMBLj-rwIdnddIuapCgVZmTX/s1600/IMG_9843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKUcesClxKtnvKZaRD4pFMnCI24BH92ePkdkFKclYGhyphenhyphengOxFqkrP0gkSgRfOu6oDzSpV_knwmdadYF5XmWwoeXDTX-CbDjlk3-L5R6XLlUTX17sajhQ6HFMBLj-rwIdnddIuapCgVZmTX/s1600/IMG_9843.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are koi now in one of the ponds!</td></tr>
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Aside being reassured that things were not as terrible as I feared for my collie friend, sleeping away from home while dog-sitting managed to cheer me up in a completely different way. I had, in recent days, been feeling rather uninspired in regard to my photography, or at least in regard to posting photos of my <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">Facebook page</a></u>. It was too hot for me to spend much time outside this summer taking photos and most of the photos I'd shot as the weather started to cool down were of insects. I love photographing insects and then identifying them, but I know that not everyone has the same enthusiasm for viewing them. I try to mix things up on my page so that there are some photos of the weird things that fascinate me as well as crowd pleasing images of beautiful plants and charming animals, but I kept feeling like I had nothing to post. What I realized, when I got to Mr. Gorgeous' house and began my usual prowl around the property, was that what I needed was simply a change in scene. Of course I'd gotten tired of photographing the same plants in my yard all summer! I felt newly inspired and took hundreds of photos, the best of which will appear over on my Facebook page, but I've included some of them below.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj00Ta6yUvH_TwTQ7e6RET1pxr9mD1VI7-5RSI2UnVYy2UGuUpOqWntDyArrQ36FU-ffHIlDhoN4aPWiVHiaJzbVeowvkJ3-0r_zWf7N3DK9jqOMKG6gzUHLRudib-MAze58QUEtQDV0Fr/s1600/IMG_9596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj00Ta6yUvH_TwTQ7e6RET1pxr9mD1VI7-5RSI2UnVYy2UGuUpOqWntDyArrQ36FU-ffHIlDhoN4aPWiVHiaJzbVeowvkJ3-0r_zWf7N3DK9jqOMKG6gzUHLRudib-MAze58QUEtQDV0Fr/s1600/IMG_9596.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I snapped this dragonfly hovering over the big pond.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_LtNgfpfaBCnzwB_co_v3SqysH_9P4PcOd5rlVy1lLI_WjpCM1jbfLqjk34qibjwcQcsbgbCgih5FA_Wd4010eaY7mMW67HWLpNY64LQ7UM0-gRabSqQRVAPHMr2o01wZOuJteKFESYv/s1600/IMG_9547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_LtNgfpfaBCnzwB_co_v3SqysH_9P4PcOd5rlVy1lLI_WjpCM1jbfLqjk34qibjwcQcsbgbCgih5FA_Wd4010eaY7mMW67HWLpNY64LQ7UM0-gRabSqQRVAPHMr2o01wZOuJteKFESYv/s1600/IMG_9547.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dogwood fruit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gORPevxHkUEE7vAvY7bXKRLyWbBQE54mUcfV6v4SrKTbzep6qtEzEibeH0FVjpaQR4VxP8mrhPuewtmSl8W-RvXFUwBE2JDppiX-kjsNq4dzgA-n1W9HHkbYoJhWU4rlXtX_xyKQlcjD/s1600/IMG_9614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gORPevxHkUEE7vAvY7bXKRLyWbBQE54mUcfV6v4SrKTbzep6qtEzEibeH0FVjpaQR4VxP8mrhPuewtmSl8W-RvXFUwBE2JDppiX-kjsNq4dzgA-n1W9HHkbYoJhWU4rlXtX_xyKQlcjD/s1600/IMG_9614.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunlit grasses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1-gh6LI10wnnJbUG76QOdije8PNXMd5RfrySYglfjZl4jlw04qS9rF7S8sEOZa1ZpWAwxba32WPJ2qLMYI7f1z2llS6bDKJU-dEtT_0f8fWaA7N_dJHR12TFXPtsA1m0CDWMg9KtwUaz/s1600/IMG_9702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1-gh6LI10wnnJbUG76QOdije8PNXMd5RfrySYglfjZl4jlw04qS9rF7S8sEOZa1ZpWAwxba32WPJ2qLMYI7f1z2llS6bDKJU-dEtT_0f8fWaA7N_dJHR12TFXPtsA1m0CDWMg9KtwUaz/s1600/IMG_9702.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahlia at sundown.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Jqiy6GlsYpfkqjoR2RvL7CPsmMA5UTpueEzJ0BhJp18D3slQ9oQZyVOx2S0lI0oM_8762lgqRQmqesFMeKhf63C0pP-5HxBtzpAis8oUDkz7LQkmrTugRbbg-0OB64GIv54W0J5nIwdR/s1600/IMG_9744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Jqiy6GlsYpfkqjoR2RvL7CPsmMA5UTpueEzJ0BhJp18D3slQ9oQZyVOx2S0lI0oM_8762lgqRQmqesFMeKhf63C0pP-5HxBtzpAis8oUDkz7LQkmrTugRbbg-0OB64GIv54W0J5nIwdR/s1600/IMG_9744.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A series of rain storms moved through, drenching the mosses and clover.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXmpXWs9ZN9BSRtinnJUMtpwODL4xkqJxGEoGcWHETYHWn3QKGughnRUN0JZGh5UQ8E1l10wr2xz3v3cqdczERe0tqQpoGfcJUbJ0dFsgwQkMLgUlLPfGsc2ZlyyHUFtZ6AeIw0RukOma/s1600/IMG_9808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXmpXWs9ZN9BSRtinnJUMtpwODL4xkqJxGEoGcWHETYHWn3QKGughnRUN0JZGh5UQ8E1l10wr2xz3v3cqdczERe0tqQpoGfcJUbJ0dFsgwQkMLgUlLPfGsc2ZlyyHUFtZ6AeIw0RukOma/s1600/IMG_9808.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water droplets collect on the petals of this boldly colored dahlia.</td></tr>
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Overall, the weather was regrettably wet, which meant not nearly as much photography as I would have liked and far more migraines that I could want, but it was still nice to spend some time with Mr. Gorgeous and see him doing so well. I don't know how much longer he'll be with us, but his sun has not yet set.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNqlGzaYUzXphzJ_6WNXfdjrwJqZ0ggPv0ycy1XlJZGENz1XSmBfldU1xNLf6twLV_MZCR_4tq5MxhWlJ3ZuhZLYv3NslpVOHVj_KbfDb02AwKUAYLh3S5wL7yLVpBoPLrp8iwfr74_Dg/s1600/IMG_9778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNqlGzaYUzXphzJ_6WNXfdjrwJqZ0ggPv0ycy1XlJZGENz1XSmBfldU1xNLf6twLV_MZCR_4tq5MxhWlJ3ZuhZLYv3NslpVOHVj_KbfDb02AwKUAYLh3S5wL7yLVpBoPLrp8iwfr74_Dg/s1600/IMG_9778.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTt5uQ07b6Rf2Hn2m8XsNFewTTW9uR_0phJYfUH4yjO02iKi1qn0PGwB0KOVhWu05apdLSMNgHzK-9ip9mDF9zMroDKQ43m-JOU2hn_JRPBHUXPVpjiJfprmo_wT377MO0ejatXHPDaFC/s1600/IMG_9737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTt5uQ07b6Rf2Hn2m8XsNFewTTW9uR_0phJYfUH4yjO02iKi1qn0PGwB0KOVhWu05apdLSMNgHzK-9ip9mDF9zMroDKQ43m-JOU2hn_JRPBHUXPVpjiJfprmo_wT377MO0ejatXHPDaFC/s1600/IMG_9737.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmorEVf5S-XZBQyCsAq-hubdr7a1vByqxa2Vvx7rkXmXRS9LaWjD5VcfbWPIaPfVIrM8HbmcaJdDUG8BOfFZDRixX40_iYkZ-z-__hvEUaW3AKQ85CVSmzkhsSFwy5TsNmltIMkBupo0n/s1600/IMG_9850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmorEVf5S-XZBQyCsAq-hubdr7a1vByqxa2Vvx7rkXmXRS9LaWjD5VcfbWPIaPfVIrM8HbmcaJdDUG8BOfFZDRixX40_iYkZ-z-__hvEUaW3AKQ85CVSmzkhsSFwy5TsNmltIMkBupo0n/s1600/IMG_9850.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Check out more photos on my<u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank"> c.creativity Facebook page</a></u>!</div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-28684242278540834802014-09-10T14:41:00.000-07:002014-09-10T14:41:03.232-07:00Harvesting Photos: The Garden<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHuKp2IH4j3Pp5R-XeLCHROm1Dtb5KVTofSxtj-5uO_trWneZu0w0jKH6gD04yRy9INxATMLtLDReLtvCwC8Y0IpvwJiCLaRoGsEIoBJXvOe36xwyVlfMi3p1BT2hcGIlZYYmzXo4MKvj/s1600/IMG_8804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHuKp2IH4j3Pp5R-XeLCHROm1Dtb5KVTofSxtj-5uO_trWneZu0w0jKH6gD04yRy9INxATMLtLDReLtvCwC8Y0IpvwJiCLaRoGsEIoBJXvOe36xwyVlfMi3p1BT2hcGIlZYYmzXo4MKvj/s1600/IMG_8804.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomato harvest.</td></tr>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixD2vblcjxtWDbnLP-0d__AxTRZ04-pqj8K89DKQoan3vM3QNTmT_Dov3YpocGAuCCgXdG3r67KDChpqkfhYFqHAErcnFAcxmXnJPTm_Yy9fku-Q9Nu3nCIMIOGur6MELM19pYAsEWrvLm/s1600/IMG_6751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixD2vblcjxtWDbnLP-0d__AxTRZ04-pqj8K89DKQoan3vM3QNTmT_Dov3YpocGAuCCgXdG3r67KDChpqkfhYFqHAErcnFAcxmXnJPTm_Yy9fku-Q9Nu3nCIMIOGur6MELM19pYAsEWrvLm/s1600/IMG_6751.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>While my backyard is a great place to photograph birds, it is a terrible place to grow vegetables. Once upon a time, about 25 years ago, there was enough sunlight for a garden, but the trees got bigger and bigger and the patches of sun got smaller and smaller. For a while, my family had a CSA farm share, which led to a lot of bok choy and kohlrabi stir fries. (Yuck!) But for more than a half dozen years now, my family has had a plot in one community garden or another down in the valley near my house that has great soil and abundant sunshine. We typically grow four varieties of tomatoes (Sungold cherry tomatoes are a favorite), two or three kinds of beans, multiple varieties of lettuce, Swiss chard, kale, zucchini, some type of cucumber, fennel, radishes, beets, green onions, and garlic, as well as occasional crops of acorn squash (a revelation) and other winter squashes, potatoes (they've never been a great success), bell peppers (ditto), and eggplant (a lot of work because they need to be well-protected from cold). We've had an unusually warm and sunny summer, so our tomato plants have been prolific: we've harvested 18 pounds of various tomatoes over the last two weeks! My other homegrown favorite, aside from the Sungold cherry tomatoes, are the green beans. I'm an expert bean picker (though bean plants will make your arms itch!) and a pretty darn good bean eater, too. Truth be told, though, my involvement in making things grow is minimal. When I head out to the community garden, it's always with my camera, where I stalk the plots looking for beautiful produce and interesting insects while others do the actual gardening. Here are some of my favorite photos:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhS9v5tUZc_IVusY6izvLhiE6iR8fqXjbOLulPfVQlT-IGsx7VhLhYClPQtgYN_LJEqpXWo7xDYaN3LAraOdDJkY2LZsHblQ6wc8vteBWhyssAGjZb3QHNQMNgUlBPQRrEqnbhW9xjTHQ/s1600/IMG_5164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhS9v5tUZc_IVusY6izvLhiE6iR8fqXjbOLulPfVQlT-IGsx7VhLhYClPQtgYN_LJEqpXWo7xDYaN3LAraOdDJkY2LZsHblQ6wc8vteBWhyssAGjZb3QHNQMNgUlBPQRrEqnbhW9xjTHQ/s1600/IMG_5164.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the community garden includes Mt. Rainier when the weather is fine.</td></tr>
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<u>Food</u></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsD-xVrcZVwRdM6ov27eUqHH2dU4qkbV0B32zCwaH0q_JpW4ukoTVSjY36m5WNASxUn8Tbz2WDfTmRdoZZXROzCThvVQsozwKPs8E3qSA2mrHQdS12jbJw0WnBrq8k8pYEC7MVSJOdajG/s1600/IMG_7014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsD-xVrcZVwRdM6ov27eUqHH2dU4qkbV0B32zCwaH0q_JpW4ukoTVSjY36m5WNASxUn8Tbz2WDfTmRdoZZXROzCThvVQsozwKPs8E3qSA2mrHQdS12jbJw0WnBrq8k8pYEC7MVSJOdajG/s1600/IMG_7014.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherry tomatoes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMXlemykdMxc-_YmrtI18XCe27GImcgPqXOothPRMx7oqi-LmnCYoT798KVdXiKbMMjkhCv2oHpFKVJ6y8WvR68UxygTDRnXJn6Tv_mhljFEyWyHHEbdgKNw86hyjKL87h0PZtJM083iZ/s1600/IMG_2507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMXlemykdMxc-_YmrtI18XCe27GImcgPqXOothPRMx7oqi-LmnCYoT798KVdXiKbMMjkhCv2oHpFKVJ6y8WvR68UxygTDRnXJn6Tv_mhljFEyWyHHEbdgKNw86hyjKL87h0PZtJM083iZ/s1600/IMG_2507.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kale. (I <i>know</i> I have some beautiful photographs of water droplets collected in kale crinkles, but couldn't find them. )</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiFdweRomOplwVlll_XP27ii36ayoXtDhadKSErJrjobDxrW4e7sDsRklOrVjn7RacZ-1J61c8Cn0bIqqLHy6ioaH6rXM8KvGPIbDLwALC9oTH36x7QdYyJRtyy-VcrdafzNO6F0-N66o/s1600/IMG_9840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiFdweRomOplwVlll_XP27ii36ayoXtDhadKSErJrjobDxrW4e7sDsRklOrVjn7RacZ-1J61c8Cn0bIqqLHy6ioaH6rXM8KvGPIbDLwALC9oTH36x7QdYyJRtyy-VcrdafzNO6F0-N66o/s1600/IMG_9840.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artichokes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLzqqW4fC_22lVRIgyKmBImxH2cgmpzbZ8pqSjwjvWzmfqTjMedQXWrCdWUc9BuTehp2XKqbKw3HHTyv0BB7f9tAcRrfZ9HUJ1EUh1wU4OR298vGRoFc9hF5Yx5oXmEvjmSo5B_o8Ohic/s1600/IMG_9818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLzqqW4fC_22lVRIgyKmBImxH2cgmpzbZ8pqSjwjvWzmfqTjMedQXWrCdWUc9BuTehp2XKqbKw3HHTyv0BB7f9tAcRrfZ9HUJ1EUh1wU4OR298vGRoFc9hF5Yx5oXmEvjmSo5B_o8Ohic/s1600/IMG_9818.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red lettuce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOJ9hkGhVnK61w8-DhUc3luwijL6Q9CdGtGVeZF0nPWPcy6RvEfpA0GXbtpWg39RfOW1XrdGQnpqdz0V1JhSVRQ3PPHrmRttEz9LizlhYwIqsXAHephgXoMPRgJXHnxuk4LOscMdP_6Mi/s1600/IMG_9847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOJ9hkGhVnK61w8-DhUc3luwijL6Q9CdGtGVeZF0nPWPcy6RvEfpA0GXbtpWg39RfOW1XrdGQnpqdz0V1JhSVRQ3PPHrmRttEz9LizlhYwIqsXAHephgXoMPRgJXHnxuk4LOscMdP_6Mi/s1600/IMG_9847.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Broccoli.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTXEAnAasByivQCbos8_r30Ifr3SdnmwePmH94yYZD0Y8qltpxHk1yOvHQgbSkfqxOFRZoG8rlUM85U-zrVKYWH3K3g05kTSx9JXSx0rcnhg2JXQtFv_7iGI8cxFcx54xXVP5QWnpKnLO/s1600/IMG_2575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTXEAnAasByivQCbos8_r30Ifr3SdnmwePmH94yYZD0Y8qltpxHk1yOvHQgbSkfqxOFRZoG8rlUM85U-zrVKYWH3K3g05kTSx9JXSx0rcnhg2JXQtFv_7iGI8cxFcx54xXVP5QWnpKnLO/s1600/IMG_2575.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn tassel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPI7MXi6VgvsbF4OlNi7-DdMe6u8ijx8J5puqt924wHdxVS-mEQN0KbcPvNFG3PXaPqcgSMSRgnxs9-1w5xnsm5m9GlLQMJ9n3_UMbzCwNndT5avRZnmrpWf6qVtYjeKDTQBNaPcZcPjA/s1600/IMG_1926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPI7MXi6VgvsbF4OlNi7-DdMe6u8ijx8J5puqt924wHdxVS-mEQN0KbcPvNFG3PXaPqcgSMSRgnxs9-1w5xnsm5m9GlLQMJ9n3_UMbzCwNndT5avRZnmrpWf6qVtYjeKDTQBNaPcZcPjA/s1600/IMG_1926.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green tomato.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53OnB7i-tEaFsI7DhjHl8Dm0U6wUYFgm3Bn7SmAf6VXZA_qAhbI_1VuHpQ5E9M2zA1jagP1ffblmDctfhHmvB__MLlce58R0QGmQxzFHJyMLnxQbWe5EURTxRSzFcWO729MYKO0-cXSJm/s1600/IMG_6693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53OnB7i-tEaFsI7DhjHl8Dm0U6wUYFgm3Bn7SmAf6VXZA_qAhbI_1VuHpQ5E9M2zA1jagP1ffblmDctfhHmvB__MLlce58R0QGmQxzFHJyMLnxQbWe5EURTxRSzFcWO729MYKO0-cXSJm/s1600/IMG_6693.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn silk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BnraM0MyLOig6FozlHFBH5uoUwmleMwmi6d9R64GsYyV54gw-6QPe62SoST-1u0SB8eNB6lIOcGyROlhWpf3NVheeLgzxb23C9ysBimtAYNH64wqD9uK0nPuKJ1G0NiH0f_jBwxzYGac/s1600/IMG_4598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BnraM0MyLOig6FozlHFBH5uoUwmleMwmi6d9R64GsYyV54gw-6QPe62SoST-1u0SB8eNB6lIOcGyROlhWpf3NVheeLgzxb23C9ysBimtAYNH64wqD9uK0nPuKJ1G0NiH0f_jBwxzYGac/s1600/IMG_4598.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blooms of two different varieties of beans.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37AwEEL2KC5k_j7L7e4UuxaaQ6aFTDzPfcc0rb4-gxivfHCMG9ygbq1_tlDIzkPMg0tWw4P3VDzesyo-wd8q4thE4hJuOqZ3QXW1fmuU8x7awY6ILGkjtNaCe-Hh0vkWSrve6hdNe19fz/s1600/IMG_7095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37AwEEL2KC5k_j7L7e4UuxaaQ6aFTDzPfcc0rb4-gxivfHCMG9ygbq1_tlDIzkPMg0tWw4P3VDzesyo-wd8q4thE4hJuOqZ3QXW1fmuU8x7awY6ILGkjtNaCe-Hh0vkWSrve6hdNe19fz/s1600/IMG_7095.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabbage.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZKx7xmBpEdBqpZBomagHY6chu4EORkbp8xKEuDDOhGFFfZhhyWrZZ45-RHDHBtLk4NFvYGIXf034XtcWzSVwpRt4lUPMIFWdNeoMPsBgdUWlJwTkrR_qtYUJNMSaRMnhW8k7XwhdSrgX/s1600/IMG_7107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZKx7xmBpEdBqpZBomagHY6chu4EORkbp8xKEuDDOhGFFfZhhyWrZZ45-RHDHBtLk4NFvYGIXf034XtcWzSVwpRt4lUPMIFWdNeoMPsBgdUWlJwTkrR_qtYUJNMSaRMnhW8k7XwhdSrgX/s1600/IMG_7107.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raspberries..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Flowers</u></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJH2nbF1ABICzBAP0ont3TalriBdr8BHpf04yKeL8PQUJ_DMHt5xP-40aTpLr8vYSToxgeoqm3Ic5K332Tw7UIIj7mFCkUWpyei0_CfSe3ltHy6OkxBUGCOW4bBj_6FxyQsvSi36JUAnh/s1600/IMG_6726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJH2nbF1ABICzBAP0ont3TalriBdr8BHpf04yKeL8PQUJ_DMHt5xP-40aTpLr8vYSToxgeoqm3Ic5K332Tw7UIIj7mFCkUWpyei0_CfSe3ltHy6OkxBUGCOW4bBj_6FxyQsvSi36JUAnh/s1600/IMG_6726.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunflower bud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtTtzD7CLb5Ly1PD9EmPcRoKTqJbGZ0JQ2ckXdOnJFbXzgxMpMqidiLhPI1moI3pcpUv3oO_eTowp1_TDQhOtTHEg8ydAZH1F_DunVYEUMaoRW-6fLrd8mHYIK8R_-ALxbGFFP9oOUqtP/s1600/IMG_9855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtTtzD7CLb5Ly1PD9EmPcRoKTqJbGZ0JQ2ckXdOnJFbXzgxMpMqidiLhPI1moI3pcpUv3oO_eTowp1_TDQhOtTHEg8ydAZH1F_DunVYEUMaoRW-6fLrd8mHYIK8R_-ALxbGFFP9oOUqtP/s1600/IMG_9855.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allium (a member of the onion family) flower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhude1hutKWehimKW1JGBPfCbM4j4ejJUoz8C4dgA7mK_Pxo40YJNXQgNSdQj8mOCb-LZzrGU_ukCVKu645vPvylZ_L17jEa9MFJzqJQd5cMfo_gk4AVK67CJoYus9WqJRNsxKV6A8p864S/s1600/IMG_1933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhude1hutKWehimKW1JGBPfCbM4j4ejJUoz8C4dgA7mK_Pxo40YJNXQgNSdQj8mOCb-LZzrGU_ukCVKu645vPvylZ_L17jEa9MFJzqJQd5cMfo_gk4AVK67CJoYus9WqJRNsxKV6A8p864S/s1600/IMG_1933.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladiola blossom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpUD8BZAsdG_H6KpzAmK9MPFfT5NZauAAOBWe_XFjRZ5c1Mz5UJAPej0JvoF1qH0uucJX68qlfJrFJC8bRir5GhFdllt-zxQ1cgtkST0F3KuVO8lEYNPRel6r788RCq3avh_THxkg_HLS/s1600/IMG_2562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpUD8BZAsdG_H6KpzAmK9MPFfT5NZauAAOBWe_XFjRZ5c1Mz5UJAPej0JvoF1qH0uucJX68qlfJrFJC8bRir5GhFdllt-zxQ1cgtkST0F3KuVO8lEYNPRel6r788RCq3avh_THxkg_HLS/s1600/IMG_2562.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunflower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhiCAg0n6giHajSFHl9f6vdYkJhtBkNdjJw_VVWdQKrccltqNqGkanUxz6IXEg7JFXxMXEI7974vw7e1FAklTILQQ2W5TkEw_j69ZKWExsBXWaDO0uAWapp4fZC0vjgoot7-K4qihgmxv/s1600/IMG_6741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhiCAg0n6giHajSFHl9f6vdYkJhtBkNdjJw_VVWdQKrccltqNqGkanUxz6IXEg7JFXxMXEI7974vw7e1FAklTILQQ2W5TkEw_j69ZKWExsBXWaDO0uAWapp4fZC0vjgoot7-K4qihgmxv/s1600/IMG_6741.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zinnia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPKPtVI_pAdfAi5bhIc0zOLdtfjyzrFgJZ65v5u_yvk5lsTsDUReQsaIo6krswKOvjz-e9oJn33Pf-AcWAEhsB9BNXbEfi9MmvRe7f0KepCeaj4rPxm-jAPf9s_ZOzqZsO7WcYsjjBJ-4/s1600/IMG_1936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPKPtVI_pAdfAi5bhIc0zOLdtfjyzrFgJZ65v5u_yvk5lsTsDUReQsaIo6krswKOvjz-e9oJn33Pf-AcWAEhsB9BNXbEfi9MmvRe7f0KepCeaj4rPxm-jAPf9s_ZOzqZsO7WcYsjjBJ-4/s1600/IMG_1936.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahlia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQSR6C1iiABFHakoNbycjXUoqCNVR5viXI-DcKvHWAqyXGWE_09_xSEGctuB4tHkySjUaEBzHueSFNWatZRGbeDJGe0gtPDL4NKmQwhp7FBwH5omA-ejLN_Gg2UqqhBEk0wRJ4cY__O1WW/s1600/IMG_4631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQSR6C1iiABFHakoNbycjXUoqCNVR5viXI-DcKvHWAqyXGWE_09_xSEGctuB4tHkySjUaEBzHueSFNWatZRGbeDJGe0gtPDL4NKmQwhp7FBwH5omA-ejLN_Gg2UqqhBEk0wRJ4cY__O1WW/s1600/IMG_4631.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahlia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Critters</u></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpx0Va6XUrM21AacltqdgBFQIIxW6rDAu3laQV-gGAMiz3RZ3AFa7vTNiEwOd7EF1ZzE_Ysj55-8_GgPgAi6YzPbYQJNBYzF8y7I7XGhAsEAAwmzTjOvn2Y-H8YjO7ZF5ch0LzwFh7CJP-/s1600/IMG_1898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpx0Va6XUrM21AacltqdgBFQIIxW6rDAu3laQV-gGAMiz3RZ3AFa7vTNiEwOd7EF1ZzE_Ysj55-8_GgPgAi6YzPbYQJNBYzF8y7I7XGhAsEAAwmzTjOvn2Y-H8YjO7ZF5ch0LzwFh7CJP-/s1600/IMG_1898.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skipper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXLcK8UNuwNK40aBkj2vX7ppHZB8huHdhx0Pbs1N4t4pXxquUe7yeZXiSFWzA61c5ueWnTM65vEv09VroNF9TfNFWGiwWGdZXVE7sVbq9aJ5XKgowwhu_gUgeAetpalvxF0Q6htLh9LMq/s1600/IMG_1826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXLcK8UNuwNK40aBkj2vX7ppHZB8huHdhx0Pbs1N4t4pXxquUe7yeZXiSFWzA61c5ueWnTM65vEv09VroNF9TfNFWGiwWGdZXVE7sVbq9aJ5XKgowwhu_gUgeAetpalvxF0Q6htLh9LMq/s1600/IMG_1826.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bumblebee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96VDLxsHzeTwHUfaY7p4Ljlk5vaRTQbkblx6YKKxbDIUjWq5YNImUXSD3gJXtm505PrweDfj6n7JLsXnsY-g2QD5i2-AQuYn7kMF-8dIenjCfjq0Bas8L5UZbHi3UpOJXlZKiSW3q5kfo/s1600/IMG_1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96VDLxsHzeTwHUfaY7p4Ljlk5vaRTQbkblx6YKKxbDIUjWq5YNImUXSD3gJXtm505PrweDfj6n7JLsXnsY-g2QD5i2-AQuYn7kMF-8dIenjCfjq0Bas8L5UZbHi3UpOJXlZKiSW3q5kfo/s1600/IMG_1997.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sand wasp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPv98yvd6Cx1bI7oD0VutckitBQLkoJMwAdiOngCqAG3y6UvYvaC_33CQ-B_1UokOOXJGslDxIkaCdH2PnpEcs1HtklSSbYQ7APdtnUgCNa7pEPGnWRkVSBJUTjBDyhYQbI9uNJ8Zra-mf/s1600/IMG_4661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPv98yvd6Cx1bI7oD0VutckitBQLkoJMwAdiOngCqAG3y6UvYvaC_33CQ-B_1UokOOXJGslDxIkaCdH2PnpEcs1HtklSSbYQ7APdtnUgCNa7pEPGnWRkVSBJUTjBDyhYQbI9uNJ8Zra-mf/s1600/IMG_4661.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drone fly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u1wU7Bp27T6wn6m5SWTW9dNfZlDIE9fA72AnuO6KjFaivrqA4MByNjsJ7DQAaJHZwKLb1OIszE8XEr1RZw-VV2SxuDzYNG96d54n5LZ8SSEptD_vgEfwppuUh3G_k8MrbERmc-6S-V7j/s1600/IMG_5340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u1wU7Bp27T6wn6m5SWTW9dNfZlDIE9fA72AnuO6KjFaivrqA4MByNjsJ7DQAaJHZwKLb1OIszE8XEr1RZw-VV2SxuDzYNG96d54n5LZ8SSEptD_vgEfwppuUh3G_k8MrbERmc-6S-V7j/s1600/IMG_5340.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beewolf.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF4boGoZT36FAPkuE-9CAPVSAwVQjmwz8RhTooG7t9ycBqT-9v30Ro-RxR9Z-qJdB6dAASqKRD3PqxTO0jpE939h5nS2s-0b66iLDHLpLT-vTn3EkovYg9V7z_Y-EcIdDt21YRvqmjFWx/s1600/IMG_7006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF4boGoZT36FAPkuE-9CAPVSAwVQjmwz8RhTooG7t9ycBqT-9v30Ro-RxR9Z-qJdB6dAASqKRD3PqxTO0jpE939h5nS2s-0b66iLDHLpLT-vTn3EkovYg9V7z_Y-EcIdDt21YRvqmjFWx/s1600/IMG_7006.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caterpillar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMc_BUG0Ul68chU5d0Bm3NJ3wwXTe6wFgi1MhTWaA-IOPAKGKNm_dwRlIJ6W4bgRu83fpUD_pgB75J7-do6T5nwepuWPsf5YuHadX7fPPpyAsuqBfuuzoyNyG57PQLbOqMW4l7axjHfoP9/s1600/IMG_2052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMc_BUG0Ul68chU5d0Bm3NJ3wwXTe6wFgi1MhTWaA-IOPAKGKNm_dwRlIJ6W4bgRu83fpUD_pgB75J7-do6T5nwepuWPsf5YuHadX7fPPpyAsuqBfuuzoyNyG57PQLbOqMW4l7axjHfoP9/s1600/IMG_2052.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Short-Winged Leafhopper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6w1fiu5jnoo4R1kRC9ZicbqAUHc69a4BK47CgQQiwaBwpKuWw80qmM4hiLlWu3YuwtZcdQcVYrutlZ3fOToHLUA3DfoPGbdIP7CEAkw2VVX-k-LLfYWr4lxZq-tDLqinfrVH45vCMgbo2/s1600/IMG_4801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6w1fiu5jnoo4R1kRC9ZicbqAUHc69a4BK47CgQQiwaBwpKuWw80qmM4hiLlWu3YuwtZcdQcVYrutlZ3fOToHLUA3DfoPGbdIP7CEAkw2VVX-k-LLfYWr4lxZq-tDLqinfrVH45vCMgbo2/s1600/IMG_4801.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fKMAsp7OP4P4FvxGyHeRpwh5Z8rcXF3TdCepEri-9pnzl3BvRdMQv6H4eo5ACd33bzrAxSC4f2uboOxu3GscyjRSxd3jWbGI0OL-O21hfvuF_m0DTEjJp2IvmV9wW81_Ht_4BNaffDDK/s1600/IMG_5335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fKMAsp7OP4P4FvxGyHeRpwh5Z8rcXF3TdCepEri-9pnzl3BvRdMQv6H4eo5ACd33bzrAxSC4f2uboOxu3GscyjRSxd3jWbGI0OL-O21hfvuF_m0DTEjJp2IvmV9wW81_Ht_4BNaffDDK/s1600/IMG_5335.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Common Red Soldier beetles. They are sometimes called Hogweed Bonking Beetles in the UK because they are so often caught in the act of mating.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfGLlOi0IGf81N2hkScwbeb5oZd0GorRioLNe477bXl03npjVgk6f40ltZpWBcDJH4yrPL-wtkaQozH12sCiO4IIcSdIZLYM7UQBrdZXPCHGhZhqPPndrUv9NtUf8-6CbWa9s8Wqp5-g-/s1600/IMG_7062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfGLlOi0IGf81N2hkScwbeb5oZd0GorRioLNe477bXl03npjVgk6f40ltZpWBcDJH4yrPL-wtkaQozH12sCiO4IIcSdIZLYM7UQBrdZXPCHGhZhqPPndrUv9NtUf8-6CbWa9s8Wqp5-g-/s1600/IMG_7062.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Western Spotted Cucumber Beetle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-vHyryar0iOXrgwqyPNs5m7FzB6hkEtjdei9XZhqd1-KNJ60aFN70QEW0XlpfclqB16AK_-E3WWMB4fLIiwJbOAmh6iI2cCu0fYLzxKr1I2qgzgu2mvvGouuaCo9J2-O7e8FQohH0t4i/s1600/IMG_4764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-vHyryar0iOXrgwqyPNs5m7FzB6hkEtjdei9XZhqd1-KNJ60aFN70QEW0XlpfclqB16AK_-E3WWMB4fLIiwJbOAmh6iI2cCu0fYLzxKr1I2qgzgu2mvvGouuaCo9J2-O7e8FQohH0t4i/s1600/IMG_4764.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarnished Plant Bug.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn83jXH_EZAduCr2VsPjlm2TaEQtP5KnqrPxoS_SHc1d2hA3wbeqRlGti7pUVK_GuD4cLUSt7vICuZNzrVxpP4DtWKNrt_OG9SGtD4YPeIaX2-Zm-nWbCZ-FsgK7jj6y5Gjl-Cs4p1sDqr/s1600/IMG_5278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn83jXH_EZAduCr2VsPjlm2TaEQtP5KnqrPxoS_SHc1d2hA3wbeqRlGti7pUVK_GuD4cLUSt7vICuZNzrVxpP4DtWKNrt_OG9SGtD4YPeIaX2-Zm-nWbCZ-FsgK7jj6y5Gjl-Cs4p1sDqr/s1600/IMG_5278.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby rabbit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujDHeShEbkFhGdHxBe2gfCqN7jc9d976ff1t0soPEG472w6THJQO0E6VGidYeHP8FtRwJhRIl8ZpNDW8Rjgtivuhf_2TVX1KghbV48C_JARUnz1r2a-GwVdLl198SoxCoyUUkbA8WWkki/s1600/IMG_1860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujDHeShEbkFhGdHxBe2gfCqN7jc9d976ff1t0soPEG472w6THJQO0E6VGidYeHP8FtRwJhRIl8ZpNDW8Rjgtivuhf_2TVX1KghbV48C_JARUnz1r2a-GwVdLl198SoxCoyUUkbA8WWkki/s1600/IMG_1860.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Tree Frog.</td></tr>
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For more photos of plants and animals, <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">follow c.creativity on Facebook</a></u>!</div>
c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-33344856520410373832014-07-29T14:53:00.000-07:002014-07-29T20:05:23.792-07:00Baby BirdsOn the first of this month, I shared a blogpost featuring pictures of all kinds of different <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/07/birds-of-may-and-june.html" target="_blank">birds I photographed in May and June</a></u>. Two weeks before that, I had published a post devoted solely to <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/baby-juncos.html" target="_blank">baby juncos</a></u>. After considerable delay (it was hot! and stuff!), here is the third and final blogpost of the series, this one devoted to all of the baby birds I photographed during this year's breeding season. (Remember, you can click on photos to enlarge them!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8H2L_85uKEPZX8hBrG1BDk-Y3EcLRlHV-seXo5TwUiAWE80QSDL-cV2ZRqNP5uszyli4MMSkfdmHGYUfW9uQ7FQd25CoY7Y-b8KvMw10uQgyKsiNwSfNmVMyLD20UvpGsKyDQtraUXA9/s1600/IMG_3003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8H2L_85uKEPZX8hBrG1BDk-Y3EcLRlHV-seXo5TwUiAWE80QSDL-cV2ZRqNP5uszyli4MMSkfdmHGYUfW9uQ7FQd25CoY7Y-b8KvMw10uQgyKsiNwSfNmVMyLD20UvpGsKyDQtraUXA9/s1600/IMG_3003.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big baby.</td></tr>
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So let's start first by picking up <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/baby-juncos.html" target="_blank">where I left off</a></u> with the juvenile juncos. When I last posted about them more than a month ago, the little juncos were starting to pretend to forage, but were still very much dependent on their elders. Within the next week, the families that were raising youngsters around my house joined up with a larger flock of juncos and their babies, presumably the same big group that they fly around with in the winter. Instead of the same few families canvassing the yard several times each day, the big flock would come around twice a day, filling the yard with little juncos at various stages of development, some still in the more helpless baby stages and others virtually independent and starting to show their gender-specific plumage. It wasn't long before the juvenile juncos were totally independent, showing up on their own and foraging for themselves. In recent weeks, aside from regular visits to the birdbath by various adult birds, almost all the junco activity in the yard has died down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmD8z_JL1HNSzYorEhg_DqSCCSFzROBTMAm-uI0rT7TPFHEPv9dHZbngEp1RD15ZWr9aAU9-CdaY4Dm_V3WntRFpUEbf6ZENmLVeqhuxr6EiaNj8FCwYeuhiIQ1iG7B3Z5srkzRI2o7siH/s1600/IMG_3807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmD8z_JL1HNSzYorEhg_DqSCCSFzROBTMAm-uI0rT7TPFHEPv9dHZbngEp1RD15ZWr9aAU9-CdaY4Dm_V3WntRFpUEbf6ZENmLVeqhuxr6EiaNj8FCwYeuhiIQ1iG7B3Z5srkzRI2o7siH/s1600/IMG_3807.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newly independent!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2zJpVq6tU1MOGe9GQSnmjUsjmBPhoQ3NYX0_FM8kkeMElMQQydEWDSQjLsmWm3YC8BqCLkVtXCMXHykxMoCTB3Kge8fRXkeX246aFXGmADSepHM3yKT9GCw2h5IeTQa1Tda0LIuArWec/s1600/IMG_3229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2zJpVq6tU1MOGe9GQSnmjUsjmBPhoQ3NYX0_FM8kkeMElMQQydEWDSQjLsmWm3YC8BqCLkVtXCMXHykxMoCTB3Kge8fRXkeX246aFXGmADSepHM3yKT9GCw2h5IeTQa1Tda0LIuArWec/s1600/IMG_3229.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look carefully, you can see that these siblings are starting to develop sex-specific plumage--the one of the left is a lighter-colored female, while the one on the right is sporting the darker feathers (especially on the head) of a male junco.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqca-4J8cm_x1hoHbRy2VTKsB9xCZ6Pmes0Y33YT8zY5YzrXnFMDBHFN2Z-YUUq8tksawFeE6x1FxT3B01uuIgUIPcAqz93diymrglvadyFm_fg9knY11UTIm-slkqL-4W-mCB0xCsab3/s1600/IMG_3244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqca-4J8cm_x1hoHbRy2VTKsB9xCZ6Pmes0Y33YT8zY5YzrXnFMDBHFN2Z-YUUq8tksawFeE6x1FxT3B01uuIgUIPcAqz93diymrglvadyFm_fg9knY11UTIm-slkqL-4W-mCB0xCsab3/s1600/IMG_3244.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An adolescent male junco.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXc80a1JZ1hD_FVH-qezDc3mKGMnKakVBJeJ1rEmrjyAa1gwJHZRdEZS5wC5JjhsrRIVAkGPn28siwwczU2TFyrqhkIYqEntLtUvXSVXW-PUKznHTAhJC-lSEvwPwmVs1yw6NEmNBDB0h/s1600/IMG_3326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXc80a1JZ1hD_FVH-qezDc3mKGMnKakVBJeJ1rEmrjyAa1gwJHZRdEZS5wC5JjhsrRIVAkGPn28siwwczU2TFyrqhkIYqEntLtUvXSVXW-PUKznHTAhJC-lSEvwPwmVs1yw6NEmNBDB0h/s1600/IMG_3326.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An adolescent female junco.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJcjHZAE7atZd3Twg9RaqwzXhW_mJVcLmYU7qtCHsOpzsRKzrQ2fy8UaVoRqvxHzb2UXiSE70zPPHyQjpuvaLQDi556sxwEZ7eaUqnKOu_7PptPy5dLhN4KT4oLgH22w7COZ99QRER3fK/s1600/IMG_4364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJcjHZAE7atZd3Twg9RaqwzXhW_mJVcLmYU7qtCHsOpzsRKzrQ2fy8UaVoRqvxHzb2UXiSE70zPPHyQjpuvaLQDi556sxwEZ7eaUqnKOu_7PptPy5dLhN4KT4oLgH22w7COZ99QRER3fK/s1600/IMG_4364.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These little dudes had a great time taking very splashy baths that left their feathers in sodden disarray.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJ-_KWpbjqZf-sHh9S0EI3b8WuF302BnpBuoPKFm-mc17wP1vAMFq-7f5y_rN0LMTgHkv5H_T_yEOV570Kbfr52-yye7Thw5cllKJwxB4cww0zoWIRT_52Qiftq_yBezqNJqViW3rFdh3/s1600/IMG_4368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJ-_KWpbjqZf-sHh9S0EI3b8WuF302BnpBuoPKFm-mc17wP1vAMFq-7f5y_rN0LMTgHkv5H_T_yEOV570Kbfr52-yye7Thw5cllKJwxB4cww0zoWIRT_52Qiftq_yBezqNJqViW3rFdh3/s1600/IMG_4368.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is complete and utter anthropomorphizing, but when a young female junco landed on the birdbath for a drink looking very sleek and put-togehter, this little guy, with his feathers going every which way, looked over with surprise and made me think of a sixth grade boy being caught totally off-guard by the appearance of a mature and polished seventh grade girl.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWjjk0eWtcXFg9nkOOdZx1eCocZ3_xX9HKcsub9YsZgH2eYY2BpKb6Lyabi1l0en3uI_1xXybiZkFVXHSclYeW32Y-43BRjJaBmw3MJmcEy8NJHTSZc7QVnHesYWYU5g0r1jE634Qfiiz/s1600/IMG_4206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWjjk0eWtcXFg9nkOOdZx1eCocZ3_xX9HKcsub9YsZgH2eYY2BpKb6Lyabi1l0en3uI_1xXybiZkFVXHSclYeW32Y-43BRjJaBmw3MJmcEy8NJHTSZc7QVnHesYWYU5g0r1jE634Qfiiz/s1600/IMG_4206.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A baby junco in the previous post experimented with pebbles and pine needles as it prepared for a future of foraging for itself; this juvenile junco has turned that practice into actuality.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0PkjckHKH-5rGelQzU_iwuF5RgK-e5be8VsATiGGkWv01JClWlnep_LFiq10LKrcNl-PI2TsuSuRqjZNP6buSvJHL8Y1v0Mqj79o4OUojnp2GgVc4RW76INI3S5qEm-3DFvCgrwBJdFu/s1600/IMG_5162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0PkjckHKH-5rGelQzU_iwuF5RgK-e5be8VsATiGGkWv01JClWlnep_LFiq10LKrcNl-PI2TsuSuRqjZNP6buSvJHL8Y1v0Mqj79o4OUojnp2GgVc4RW76INI3S5qEm-3DFvCgrwBJdFu/s1600/IMG_5162.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This young male junco, photographed on the first week of July, is well on his way to adulthood!</td></tr>
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And now on to the rest of the birds with babies!</div>
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We've had at least two rounds of baby chickadees among the local chestnut-backed variety and I feel lucky to have managed to take a few photographs of them. I know I'm dealing with separate clutches because the first set of photos were taken in mid-June and the second exactly one month later. Chickadee parents usually only feed the youngsters for two to three weeks after they leave the nest, so these must be different little ones. All of our abundant cover makes chickadees difficult to photograph while they hunt for food in our trees, so the fact that I stumbled upon two opportunities to capture images of the babies was really a matter of luck--that, and keeping my camera handy! I can hardly go outside without hearing chickadees calling to one another as they forage in the firs and cedars, but I found that chances to photograph the discretely concealed young ones were rare.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2zb2Kh6onymgxMnjHGohVMiSvAwYOZRSvwoPyXDcHQDXzSSfegIdBFk70imVndatLI-S9AGit31v8qackMcVWduOQwXq2-ih61rdjsD5Vx-tB-H6u3f2UtqJ0Rap1hueug4ydVAGI7M4/s1600/IMG_3083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2zb2Kh6onymgxMnjHGohVMiSvAwYOZRSvwoPyXDcHQDXzSSfegIdBFk70imVndatLI-S9AGit31v8qackMcVWduOQwXq2-ih61rdjsD5Vx-tB-H6u3f2UtqJ0Rap1hueug4ydVAGI7M4/s1600/IMG_3083.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If it hadn't been for this scolding chickadee parent...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhj-lJ6oRpirM8ZATzkmv7FD1UcSD-5-0iFPVDyfyTN5V_d7jD0dID4J0Uj8BLPfHFQKrd6yq3s08roE5LmW8Y596vVDw1i-5pKZ2-o0AhKLqWjGsjrHuvjJ6xo67L6a98lRBVMCkGEW_F/s1600/IMG_3073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhj-lJ6oRpirM8ZATzkmv7FD1UcSD-5-0iFPVDyfyTN5V_d7jD0dID4J0Uj8BLPfHFQKrd6yq3s08roE5LmW8Y596vVDw1i-5pKZ2-o0AhKLqWjGsjrHuvjJ6xo67L6a98lRBVMCkGEW_F/s1600/IMG_3073.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and the presence of a second adult with a grub in its beak...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMg4ua95NXjo6cZ40MAhClJ35rxFV1_JOzuye9UgPWTLOHpVQLozuQH_icevqbd5fPEShs3DrNL7nrfzJ_yvhOzXpJIw6dsOHH-Gkim2k-wOpMCeuoF-QJsDmd1JpzJnnqC1M21mLQ-Vq/s1600/IMG_3079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMg4ua95NXjo6cZ40MAhClJ35rxFV1_JOzuye9UgPWTLOHpVQLozuQH_icevqbd5fPEShs3DrNL7nrfzJ_yvhOzXpJIw6dsOHH-Gkim2k-wOpMCeuoF-QJsDmd1JpzJnnqC1M21mLQ-Vq/s1600/IMG_3079.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I would have walked right by this vine maple without realizing a baby chickadee (two, in fact) was in it. That is the adult on the right, having just fed the little one.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKO8lNw7m2noNfxHc3Fv0W2iySjCZhfP3aYZezuXzPxSM14o1VvMBmiTYqriXrCf74SlW9RQ_8MZyIo9xb3T5CoWaKVusxlJoilszbpRq5bNjLpx7O7wzu3LeKHU8muxXHvT_j4Uc4v0i/s1600/IMG_3088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKO8lNw7m2noNfxHc3Fv0W2iySjCZhfP3aYZezuXzPxSM14o1VvMBmiTYqriXrCf74SlW9RQ_8MZyIo9xb3T5CoWaKVusxlJoilszbpRq5bNjLpx7O7wzu3LeKHU8muxXHvT_j4Uc4v0i/s1600/IMG_3088.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unlike adults, little chickadees, I discovered, are very good at staying very still and very quiet,.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HbFy04hIHTzwwJ3YtM8YhsXe2iUc228dJFSECj-nf3GIRSLQHvtwy_oZVjy281flUDpJEtSx894kp_wTFofVOtBqbiGLAgkQqxb2XB1v5krp7S3_g681XqITWRYqHeQ4dY-QNKXi_6Kk/s1600/IMG_3089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HbFy04hIHTzwwJ3YtM8YhsXe2iUc228dJFSECj-nf3GIRSLQHvtwy_oZVjy281flUDpJEtSx894kp_wTFofVOtBqbiGLAgkQqxb2XB1v5krp7S3_g681XqITWRYqHeQ4dY-QNKXi_6Kk/s1600/IMG_3089.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the next day, the young chickadees were able to follow along as their parents searched for food, and while I seldom saw them, I would hear their wheezy little "eee-bee!" calls.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicOsGAdKvnJUMQ7rk2zA_hyphenhyphenXO1Q5_Ry3hPE8CARKlTckRp0LJqA3HR_SiraWz-B4t7QYjooqcSieIxAARaglWrb3AJH5n4DtGMPwTsJu6rWQ48F5H_zyjkvsJjG-1dfwV4lDXVoyu7DOir/s1600/IMG_5876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicOsGAdKvnJUMQ7rk2zA_hyphenhyphenXO1Q5_Ry3hPE8CARKlTckRp0LJqA3HR_SiraWz-B4t7QYjooqcSieIxAARaglWrb3AJH5n4DtGMPwTsJu6rWQ48F5H_zyjkvsJjG-1dfwV4lDXVoyu7DOir/s1600/IMG_5876.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is another young chestnut-backed chickadee, photographed in July. The fluttering "feed me!" posture was the giveaway, but I observed that it and its two companions were very quiet, did not forage, and, for the most part, stayed still, just like the little ones I saw in June.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvtGH1kacY_JpiZmzkSd-DFfOYkeguB8_5D6p6gmJ70QGcn-OTqkmvTtP3mLLRlz9c83qlxO-85eq16ZDIPm5DuiGgNf79upwAevzBupcUfaezXrne5ACweXANMenTcQsofhyafxCArpm/s1600/IMG_5878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvtGH1kacY_JpiZmzkSd-DFfOYkeguB8_5D6p6gmJ70QGcn-OTqkmvTtP3mLLRlz9c83qlxO-85eq16ZDIPm5DuiGgNf79upwAevzBupcUfaezXrne5ACweXANMenTcQsofhyafxCArpm/s1600/IMG_5878.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I noticed in this photo that the juvenile chickadee has a yellow edge to its bill. I double-checked it against my other photos and photos of young chickadees online and compared it to adult chickadee photos, with the result of concluding that the yellow is only found on juveniles. That will be helpful for telling little ones from adults in the future.</td></tr>
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I know that a red-breasted nuthatch raised a family of at least two in or around the Douglas-fir in our backyard. I saw them once they were learning to fly on their own and I may have photographed them on occasions other than the ones pictured here, but the juveniles look very much like the adults and I only wanted to post photos of the ones I was sure were youngsters!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJ1MT-bsi95WqA_aBvoyuLg50lra2JV9TqfnzuOosQRPQT9tAaC4cWqCllhFQuwx-RnnFtDv9JGNBOj_vGLzd3P8kIYkfvd1IQMt3wkaG4Qjbkrccrn-TPRuWLzYQLcd348V4EjLmr04u/s1600/IMG_3039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJ1MT-bsi95WqA_aBvoyuLg50lra2JV9TqfnzuOosQRPQT9tAaC4cWqCllhFQuwx-RnnFtDv9JGNBOj_vGLzd3P8kIYkfvd1IQMt3wkaG4Qjbkrccrn-TPRuWLzYQLcd348V4EjLmr04u/s1600/IMG_3039.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a juvenile red-breashed nuthatch. It was hard to get good photographs of them and also hard to tell them from the adults after the first day or so out of the nest--the only difference is the beak is slightly shorter and has more yellow on the underside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPehTB-flL1HH2brsTbcEflcRNRBIdohp5GA7tE2ReW75E_yRhZ05pN6HjiJI53t7DwXXfvfoX-B8VS-HE6VKFV_vQ5Ty-iFvOCKUtKE9AFAuCKfFjFM-68o5vAkpNG5SFVXkH874xoSG/s1600/IMG_3043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPehTB-flL1HH2brsTbcEflcRNRBIdohp5GA7tE2ReW75E_yRhZ05pN6HjiJI53t7DwXXfvfoX-B8VS-HE6VKFV_vQ5Ty-iFvOCKUtKE9AFAuCKfFjFM-68o5vAkpNG5SFVXkH874xoSG/s1600/IMG_3043.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One this gray day, the young nuthatches were trying out their wings and flitting from tree to tree.</td></tr>
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Lamentably, starlings are abundant around our backyard during their breeding season. We seldom see them the rest of the year, but they know that, come June, the large cherry trees in yards adjacent to ours are positively loaded with ripe fruit. It is, simply put, a bonanza. The starlings make full use of this fortuitous food source and stuff themselves and their children, making a dreadful racket all the while. Now that the cherries are gone, the starlings have gone, too!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSa2EXuZOifG1_Txu8WDQZbC5bg6K1ji83Kdxa5Een9NQBwyBHc3UdAFr-ivqF6SHQWD3uKpr46y4lfRDDvYf_k-EGggkhczWyFIB1uGS1j7fAZdMYDcsKf4gFsijxf8ryXsVotyl19kTg/s1600/IMG_2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSa2EXuZOifG1_Txu8WDQZbC5bg6K1ji83Kdxa5Een9NQBwyBHc3UdAFr-ivqF6SHQWD3uKpr46y4lfRDDvYf_k-EGggkhczWyFIB1uGS1j7fAZdMYDcsKf4gFsijxf8ryXsVotyl19kTg/s1600/IMG_2529.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young starlings lack the dark iridescent plumage of the adults.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The starlings are not the only birds to take advantage of the cherry trees. The robins are every bit as busy gorging on the fruit and feeding cherries to their little ones. I, for one, think the spotted breasts and more ornately patterned feathers of the juveniles make them more attractive than their parents!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1t4ebFgSr_5pbhnlrhpQMJe3TpQemItwMgfAFjD9Ehl70ZqGdIBxra3bCvtX3VyderXTy4yFW7v5gxqAUnhSkPbuez-uxUxcUOIKo-QLah1zapnnj1tVaO-Krxa-0kwcpzguqPoZaRO7/s1600/IMG_2567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1t4ebFgSr_5pbhnlrhpQMJe3TpQemItwMgfAFjD9Ehl70ZqGdIBxra3bCvtX3VyderXTy4yFW7v5gxqAUnhSkPbuez-uxUxcUOIKo-QLah1zapnnj1tVaO-Krxa-0kwcpzguqPoZaRO7/s1600/IMG_2567.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A handsome young robin.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8IKx2ULcIEJ2g6oV7cr6G2NmxlJRDZt1h6XuLAPlBK7cbtX9kditfc1tVq3j1mAs6Ms03DgHuOfrAfW4s3rHTtJ3bDu2ybNseVyiz6qEK9L0epx4OTA0Dcp4AuRpLz8Mhvq9CV7EgropR/s1600/IMG_2687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8IKx2ULcIEJ2g6oV7cr6G2NmxlJRDZt1h6XuLAPlBK7cbtX9kditfc1tVq3j1mAs6Ms03DgHuOfrAfW4s3rHTtJ3bDu2ybNseVyiz6qEK9L0epx4OTA0Dcp4AuRpLz8Mhvq9CV7EgropR/s1600/IMG_2687.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This male robin (on the left) has just fed his child. The male robins seemed to do most of the feeding.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXt0EYTNrVrZXEhsTiogMiFSSUUgfZVK9dpgSacdC3umfHWJ0jA2vGhPX-V5Nubr7NXhKO8slE5P2a3CFiaw_YdnRYDhbMu3X83uC31wQO8DAj4hxJdgOCu1uSywAcDWmCA9ewPp3ZR_Gq/s1600/IMG_2772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXt0EYTNrVrZXEhsTiogMiFSSUUgfZVK9dpgSacdC3umfHWJ0jA2vGhPX-V5Nubr7NXhKO8slE5P2a3CFiaw_YdnRYDhbMu3X83uC31wQO8DAj4hxJdgOCu1uSywAcDWmCA9ewPp3ZR_Gq/s1600/IMG_2772.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone wants to be just like their dad when they grow up...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhvNXEddvRyiIbB-yn3aXobBpY1CiOJjBHRkntSlUlU-IjFaHTdhsKHPkCDnDOjVoA70uVyVEADACExSBmG9NMt6i7Q1L8P87eDicr5xP8ot3B_lF4jesMN1SbbSGb_lrT3eTTqNe2zNZv/s1600/IMG_4548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhvNXEddvRyiIbB-yn3aXobBpY1CiOJjBHRkntSlUlU-IjFaHTdhsKHPkCDnDOjVoA70uVyVEADACExSBmG9NMt6i7Q1L8P87eDicr5xP8ot3B_lF4jesMN1SbbSGb_lrT3eTTqNe2zNZv/s1600/IMG_4548.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still sporting the spotted breast of babyhood, this juvenile robin is now old enough to forage and bathe without assistance.</td></tr>
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Like the nuthatches, the young jays are very hard to distinguish from the adults. I knew we had juvenile Steller's jays around because I saw one make a very clumsy attempt to land in one of our vine maples, crashing into leaves and bouncing off of twigs in the way only an inexperienced flyer can. Attempting to photograph that one was impossible because of all the foliage in the way, so I was left to photographing all the jays that visited the birdbath and then scrutinizing the images on the computer for clues to each bird's age.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5m4whQIOPKlRDOrk8Fu4rT7txwrLigV-z_kAO-YSmKBxH9CejYSQkRs1Ri1hNUKZt3TaQh9jKUJDOX_qNTiccZ4pPuEWxMG4PJIU8rChoAUgfLI8-Ky1UvPZUVrL9DnWExnsqJBCUY3p/s1600/IMG_5453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5m4whQIOPKlRDOrk8Fu4rT7txwrLigV-z_kAO-YSmKBxH9CejYSQkRs1Ri1hNUKZt3TaQh9jKUJDOX_qNTiccZ4pPuEWxMG4PJIU8rChoAUgfLI8-Ky1UvPZUVrL9DnWExnsqJBCUY3p/s1600/IMG_5453.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A juvenile Steller's jay. I was glad to get a photo of one because it's not easy to tell them from adults at a glance.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEqhR-kua6vVKx_QfjJrRtuVN5qbLzRZThJpIBZzyCvEiciJmru01ns_Z4YnEi_89xN2gSIy8HKN3o9p5xQ1TalalGW6mn0TFpr-rU4L-f_H2_5AZaXzEzTpfp6F9RyybQoCVCZO0OqfQ/s1600/IMG_5456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEqhR-kua6vVKx_QfjJrRtuVN5qbLzRZThJpIBZzyCvEiciJmru01ns_Z4YnEi_89xN2gSIy8HKN3o9p5xQ1TalalGW6mn0TFpr-rU4L-f_H2_5AZaXzEzTpfp6F9RyybQoCVCZO0OqfQ/s1600/IMG_5456.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So how do I know this is a young jay? The mottled plumage on the breast (adults have a smooth transition from black to blue) and the incomplete stripes on the front of the head. I've also never seen an adult jay with pink corners at the edge of the beak.</td></tr>
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While it's hard to distinguish adult female flickers from young juveniles except when the latter acts in a clumsy manner or is seen being fed, as the adolescent males grow older, they start to get traces of their future distinctive markings, making them readily told from the unmarked females of any age or the boldly marked adult males.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkS4p_qPBZW-k4p6LsN56xj2EBhI_rm1j6aBCAyq3-7uxBlITh25yuT_WeoekLLSowHfCoSWqG_RAzmw_EJ7f9XiTlLUdVTKsH8vU5tcHayKkuWjaQB9BfwQFTA3yrRfj3i0aDAwjoFP_w/s1600/IMG_5482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkS4p_qPBZW-k4p6LsN56xj2EBhI_rm1j6aBCAyq3-7uxBlITh25yuT_WeoekLLSowHfCoSWqG_RAzmw_EJ7f9XiTlLUdVTKsH8vU5tcHayKkuWjaQB9BfwQFTA3yrRfj3i0aDAwjoFP_w/s1600/IMG_5482.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even if it hadn't looked less sleek and polished than an adult, the pale beginnings of this juvenile male flicker's "mustache" and crescent on the nape of the neck were a giveaway of its age.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sfDbWQdmvmJ-rXIyUav1YZgqUUwr1IS6lelOUQR15YdieTnyxF_3Dt68M5835sNE7GYAXSkwPV0NmyRwenD27yvzK3J7eTQbahr8EkqbCs6lLBXwo5yGNT9EEwLY-Cub_SCI-SN0zwMe/s1600/IMG_5479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sfDbWQdmvmJ-rXIyUav1YZgqUUwr1IS6lelOUQR15YdieTnyxF_3Dt68M5835sNE7GYAXSkwPV0NmyRwenD27yvzK3J7eTQbahr8EkqbCs6lLBXwo5yGNT9EEwLY-Cub_SCI-SN0zwMe/s1600/IMG_5479.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He may still be an adolescent, but this young flicker was sure enough of himself that he chased off an adult male robin who also wanted to use the birdbath!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWSzfeQO5XM1gHoIwkEuxV0cwH7IQlEPwvLUeLDUXKvI4iAES5SS7RPEaBv0OlsgNkRZ8M9a4NI82PQ7EAs-C26-KYjvEX8k1CpHGZ6FbSmNlKtYKayiD1S0n18fACyK8Sm5LEusfubNI/s1600/IMG_5506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWSzfeQO5XM1gHoIwkEuxV0cwH7IQlEPwvLUeLDUXKvI4iAES5SS7RPEaBv0OlsgNkRZ8M9a4NI82PQ7EAs-C26-KYjvEX8k1CpHGZ6FbSmNlKtYKayiD1S0n18fACyK8Sm5LEusfubNI/s1600/IMG_5506.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even as a bumbling youngster with only a ghost of the bold red markings on the head that will define it as an adult male, it's still a very striking bird.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBv8Ruyq2rPTR42yPRkjMASX6FwghGjFIjmzdUTELvcVe1pgwF3uWqON9GcR31gI0_CbDF-mkBT-_-awh6vZOCp0-j7pzdivUEgAarsLLifD35ALNCrMbjjR-Sg6L_8G-IU2AhVjj7muG/s1600/IMG_3359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBv8Ruyq2rPTR42yPRkjMASX6FwghGjFIjmzdUTELvcVe1pgwF3uWqON9GcR31gI0_CbDF-mkBT-_-awh6vZOCp0-j7pzdivUEgAarsLLifD35ALNCrMbjjR-Sg6L_8G-IU2AhVjj7muG/s1600/IMG_3359.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a>An interesting side note: northern flickers come in two distinct colorations, the red-shafted western race and the yellow-shafted eastern race. "Shafted" refers to the color of the flight feathers, only just visible in the photos above. The other major difference between the red-shafted and yellow-shafted races is that red-shafted males have a red malar (or mustache) and no coloration on the nape, while yellow-shafted males have a black malar and a red nape crescent. But wait, you say, this little guy--and his father, pictured at left--have both a red malar AND a red nape crescent! Which is true, and surprising. While the red-shafted and yellow-shafted races interbreed where their ranges overlap in the middle of the country, it's interesting to me that I have flickers here in my yard on the edge of the continent that display traits of both!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtThr92EFpiU_a1ihOXky_NVNkKb1mWvFx90E82BKSC7z-YCn8O831H5-yEF1dywhhfKTlogKVajVrFXxs80G_nxsnrwrIsko-b2HMlnJuxFqwRQbPparN6YrPXWbwbg8eOmfI4FBvGSX/s1600/IMG_2388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtThr92EFpiU_a1ihOXky_NVNkKb1mWvFx90E82BKSC7z-YCn8O831H5-yEF1dywhhfKTlogKVajVrFXxs80G_nxsnrwrIsko-b2HMlnJuxFqwRQbPparN6YrPXWbwbg8eOmfI4FBvGSX/s1600/IMG_2388.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a>While we're on the subject of anomalies in coloration among local birds, we also see an unusually large Steller's jay (pictured at right) that is completely black on the front and doesn't have the blue stripes on the forehead. I did some research and learned that there are many regional variations in coloration (Steller's jays of the interior have a white eyes stripe!), some distinct enough to be considered subspecies. In our own backyard, how far down the breast the black of the head extends varies from bird to bird, but this was the first I'd seen that had no blue on the front of the bird at all. That's the kind of thing you learn to notice after you've been watching your local bird population!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4X0hbttdSst7kD8AswVOmhIf8j8ZGJEtMb3k7gZHiQsSRnHeIn52PgjMIY_oApoTMI1iMEYd817LnlZDIS0oViksbL28VZvKaD8KUmwwo8BE6Na9gjGaAj_jzPCWcbwY3p8ApNm_UeeD-/s1600/IMG_8495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4X0hbttdSst7kD8AswVOmhIf8j8ZGJEtMb3k7gZHiQsSRnHeIn52PgjMIY_oApoTMI1iMEYd817LnlZDIS0oViksbL28VZvKaD8KUmwwo8BE6Na9gjGaAj_jzPCWcbwY3p8ApNm_UeeD-/s1600/IMG_8495.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This crow has just dropped a piece of<br />
bread in the birdbath.</td></tr>
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At the moment, the only bird species besides the chickadees around my house whose young that I can definitely verify as still being cared for by the adults is the crow. As intelligent social animals, crows have a lot to learn and take a long time to grow up. Although long out of the nest, the juveniles are still tended to by their family group. I can hear the plaintive baby crow "feed me!" call resonating from all corners of the neighborhood as the adults roam in search of food. Unfortunately, although I can <i>hear</i> the young crows being attended to, I seldom have opportunities to photograph them. This is because a few years ago, the resident crows decided that our birdbath would be the perfect place to soak food for their young. At first it was just a messy annoyance that meant regularly emptying out the birdbath whenever there got to be too many bread crumbs and swollen, mushy dog food in it, but we drew the line the day that the partial remains of a dead rodent were added to the stew. After that, we made a point of going outside and chasing the crows off whenever they landed on the birdbath with something in their beaks to soak in it. Soon, all we had to do was catch a crow's eye (and they were looking very carefully) from inside the house and they would fly away. They have taught this caution to successive generations and now we seldom see crows in the backyard at all. It's nice for the other birds, since they don't have to swim around in sodden food particles, but it does make it harder to get a closeup of a young crow. (And yes, I have actually army-crawled across my family room floor with my camera in an attempt to avoid detection while moving to a spot where I have a clear shot from a discrete position, but they are very, very good at spotting people in the house!) Thus, I present you with only two photos, one taken of a young crow in a tree almost directly overhead and at least thirty feet up and the other taken through the screen of an upstairs window when an adult and a juvenile briefly visited the birdbath for drinking purposes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6y0AUbrN4E1pXJHGNYlwL97yjEOrdW1c3z43Xn77S0XUm_gtqCuOChk5uJCkrGs-oQH1lU3TBt5fShqz1pzkNaUgbKLYflyAGbFnDqL-wncQuGCRfEdFq3JkG__y_KHrqE-MNTuB7erI/s1600/IMG_4373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6y0AUbrN4E1pXJHGNYlwL97yjEOrdW1c3z43Xn77S0XUm_gtqCuOChk5uJCkrGs-oQH1lU3TBt5fShqz1pzkNaUgbKLYflyAGbFnDqL-wncQuGCRfEdFq3JkG__y_KHrqE-MNTuB7erI/s1600/IMG_4373.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do I know this is a young crow? The blue iris that is just barely discernible in this awkward photo. The yellow corners of the beak are also a clue. Adult crows have black/brown irises and all-black beaks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ40xomoifAFuensQ8JEyHS8Prlav9fRkhAJHCYF6QiYAK5QyGB3AfRMzgBqcIPDyzlgTi5VobUPovtmNl1KXx6id2yV2RCj9uIchDU3I6cpHdR6RvYpepz8PB3_v1YRBaO9lGh-BC3UcY/s1600/IMG_5589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ40xomoifAFuensQ8JEyHS8Prlav9fRkhAJHCYF6QiYAK5QyGB3AfRMzgBqcIPDyzlgTi5VobUPovtmNl1KXx6id2yV2RCj9uIchDU3I6cpHdR6RvYpepz8PB3_v1YRBaO9lGh-BC3UcY/s1600/IMG_5589.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The light iris and yellow beak edge are visible in this image (taken through a screen, hence the abysmal quality) as well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJcVBX9zoja2atJfpLIlKulsQo9ln_4VBJQSLEfD7Oq-CmlKUtKiRUNnZe-9dS0BiCjUX7ZDfB1r9nXbcvMXtpVSq3-Hl-cUI68rzmBCFD-8saUj-y1_zK9U7htkEdgi_v2ohfCJS0MqG/s1600/IMG_6242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJcVBX9zoja2atJfpLIlKulsQo9ln_4VBJQSLEfD7Oq-CmlKUtKiRUNnZe-9dS0BiCjUX7ZDfB1r9nXbcvMXtpVSq3-Hl-cUI68rzmBCFD-8saUj-y1_zK9U7htkEdgi_v2ohfCJS0MqG/s1600/IMG_6242.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile kinglet wing.</td></tr>
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I might add that I saw but was not able to photograph a Bewick's wren with her young ones and can safely assume, even though I did not see them, that, given all the chatter, the local house finches, black-capped chickadees, hummingbirds, and other regular yard visitors raised families, too. Sadly, I was able to photograph a young kinglet, but only because the dog found it dead in the yard. I'm leaning toward ruby-crowned kinglet (we get both those and golden-crowned kinglets in our yard), but couldn't make a definitive ID because the head, alas, had already been picked clean by scavengers. (I do know it was a juvenile because of the beak color.) It was only as long as my thumb, a mere wisp of a bird with yellow-edged feathers, a fragile reminder that mortality is high among young birds.<br />
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I also saw some juvenile birds while out with my camera away from home, including these birds in thicket in a field...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQ7Mf9L0CSv2b_oPgCvIG3NpgoMZlAAP8fwqPiPpjH8usfXZsSIYg2WgzSLIgd2AyJTgyHxGz5Is8wKWREOHjrUiez7_5cU5aJupw0vdFb5MK_kWEP7MYSQA32Ljj0fZMuxLgK3zJw4dn/s1600/IMG_5296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQ7Mf9L0CSv2b_oPgCvIG3NpgoMZlAAP8fwqPiPpjH8usfXZsSIYg2WgzSLIgd2AyJTgyHxGz5Is8wKWREOHjrUiez7_5cU5aJupw0vdFb5MK_kWEP7MYSQA32Ljj0fZMuxLgK3zJw4dn/s1600/IMG_5296.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I first spotted this young house finch puffed up on a branch, sound asleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5GNB3YF8V7o-gfVrcxU-pr_GejGvyil66tPwgzVA6utatgpR3V2I1YbjUlTMQAPMy_QD4gAosKajrUDlYLRplcA3jI_8nCRG7RUGWLGxIdLa3fe1-hVQ5U_zjcJpaD4T7unnf2_Oxzwi/s1600/IMG_5298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5GNB3YF8V7o-gfVrcxU-pr_GejGvyil66tPwgzVA6utatgpR3V2I1YbjUlTMQAPMy_QD4gAosKajrUDlYLRplcA3jI_8nCRG7RUGWLGxIdLa3fe1-hVQ5U_zjcJpaD4T7unnf2_Oxzwi/s1600/IMG_5298.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When it noticed my presence, it drew itself up and assumed a more normal form!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF-8vFq92s_Xcm24zbdedLCu25nY8DKlYBDU6kpJm5PKypAK2ZBTenGGYLhPnCcX1emSokLdI-2bo-17KCR_aqOmiim192lzDKDAmQBWFt8FY7DCA92dAj9pSddhIcn2poK_2AHdkVH1o/s1600/IMG_5167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF-8vFq92s_Xcm24zbdedLCu25nY8DKlYBDU6kpJm5PKypAK2ZBTenGGYLhPnCcX1emSokLdI-2bo-17KCR_aqOmiim192lzDKDAmQBWFt8FY7DCA92dAj9pSddhIcn2poK_2AHdkVH1o/s1600/IMG_5167.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't see any adults around to verify this ID, but I believe this is a juvenile yellow warbler.</td></tr>
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...this red-winged blackbird youngster in a wetland...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZ86aTZ5O8auZSHVJ_SJL1hpjr8ftFSPxrCCRuXPr09vQl-fcFL2h-3gi4uC1tz-GiZkCBGLVkkbPvQWNu9g-7dmNuTDD3n8uHDWwA00x04jm_E6NkdOrumy2Fm2DpHCLRbW9aIBKwqDs/s1600/IMG_4001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZ86aTZ5O8auZSHVJ_SJL1hpjr8ftFSPxrCCRuXPr09vQl-fcFL2h-3gi4uC1tz-GiZkCBGLVkkbPvQWNu9g-7dmNuTDD3n8uHDWwA00x04jm_E6NkdOrumy2Fm2DpHCLRbW9aIBKwqDs/s1600/IMG_4001.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought I was looking at two adult female red-winged blackbirds until one of them (on the right) adopted the open mouth and fluttering posture of a baby bird begging to be fed and the other popped something into the waiting beak!</td></tr>
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...and ducklings on various bodies of water.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgCCDQQ9ldr0ZMJYJ-JMUTz1mYOejd3xlbXwuVD1FwG2e5oz8NK1GN8YDeRnhTMtsp5D7a0yb5CTQ-X07sz8REJCkG0lvtIVx-Qp7b9JQExJZevCblszCqNwQ1quW0ly9IUZFvh7zMclA/s1600/IMG_9799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgCCDQQ9ldr0ZMJYJ-JMUTz1mYOejd3xlbXwuVD1FwG2e5oz8NK1GN8YDeRnhTMtsp5D7a0yb5CTQ-X07sz8REJCkG0lvtIVx-Qp7b9JQExJZevCblszCqNwQ1quW0ly9IUZFvh7zMclA/s1600/IMG_9799.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in April, I posted a photo of a mother duck with some very young ducklings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEckAm6OO7J0NzbuXpbscu0Yy4CudH3ElrZdlHAG4jmtQ-xi0uSxYbfyzVJKnjdA_4osjHkbGbL0f-nTTY-WlFNMK1_SZN4tb0zyY_kEI8Q1GlxOA8QCALsBpbxzaIeRwDFGFTP0xWs5-/s1600/IMG_1389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEckAm6OO7J0NzbuXpbscu0Yy4CudH3ElrZdlHAG4jmtQ-xi0uSxYbfyzVJKnjdA_4osjHkbGbL0f-nTTY-WlFNMK1_SZN4tb0zyY_kEI8Q1GlxOA8QCALsBpbxzaIeRwDFGFTP0xWs5-/s1600/IMG_1389.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This group, part of a different brood, were older, though still young enough to enjoy piling together for a snooze in a partially concealed spot. I wasn't able to see clearly enough count them all, but this family, which included other ducklings not visible in this photo, was huge!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-l9pQ-2LfsS91HZ7XxhgtAoPt2kL65TiT22xR6PDa6oJ99s1DZQGEbSdTh-LIsSY0xaRhvFOUYqr6C79E1mFCaD5EmvM9qHVLda0hXIKsQ6NEWOey3fMIwKYkypeR7oBtJ5XrNZMjRdDm/s1600/IMG_4070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-l9pQ-2LfsS91HZ7XxhgtAoPt2kL65TiT22xR6PDa6oJ99s1DZQGEbSdTh-LIsSY0xaRhvFOUYqr6C79E1mFCaD5EmvM9qHVLda0hXIKsQ6NEWOey3fMIwKYkypeR7oBtJ5XrNZMjRdDm/s1600/IMG_4070.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reason ducks have huge families is because there are many predators that love nothing better than a duckling for lunch. This mother mallard stands with what remains of her nearly-grown brood--all two of them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OX_UDAHrxT_qz55Uym7NG7ncwbKab8c7GfTcjqaxVGULRiQvISQ8Bryq1RzuqY1CeE2vbpIvkx1V_PbEFsPufY9tXGP0sEKChrlnz_iOR_KnvX7Djog3t_n7lvb4HaCIJrUH3Kq2KX0s/s1600/IMG_4104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OX_UDAHrxT_qz55Uym7NG7ncwbKab8c7GfTcjqaxVGULRiQvISQ8Bryq1RzuqY1CeE2vbpIvkx1V_PbEFsPufY9tXGP0sEKChrlnz_iOR_KnvX7Djog3t_n7lvb4HaCIJrUH3Kq2KX0s/s1600/IMG_4104.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearly full grown, these juvenile ducks are big enough that they can lead the way with their mother trailing in the rear.</td></tr>
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And so, as July draws to a close, it can safely be said that the 2014 breeding season has come to an end. It's been an fascinating journey since I spied that junco nestling last year and <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2013/07/addendum-to-backyard-birding.html" target="_blank">my photographic interest in birds was piqued</a></u>. I'm glad I got my new lens in time to help me capture a new generation among the birds that call my yard home!</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-47538197464246296582014-07-01T13:01:00.000-07:002014-12-08T15:17:57.887-08:00Birds of May and June<div style="text-align: center;">
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May and June were busy months for birding, so busy that my plan to write one post about all the action has turned into a plan to post three! (You can see the first one, about baby juncos, <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/baby-juncos.html" target="_blank">here</a></u>.) All of the rest of the baby bird activity going on in my yard will get a separate post, but first I'd like to showcase some birds that I'd never seen and/or photographed before, as well as some of my favorite bird shots from the past two months. First up: birds I've never photographed before. Remember, you can click on photos to enlarge them, which I highly recommend doing!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh31RPJg3wi-G8ytOa2_kf9mE16s5JQ37UFl4vEEBi6FZTjTTYHLoObBfIyrcnHj7pKmy0sbRsvX24qwMIMP1FvJT35cxZT289zrWgUdJYqHRDmVGhZwYFNvLcKrOyFAOZz88e15jfmsbUo/s1600/IMG_1474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh31RPJg3wi-G8ytOa2_kf9mE16s5JQ37UFl4vEEBi6FZTjTTYHLoObBfIyrcnHj7pKmy0sbRsvX24qwMIMP1FvJT35cxZT289zrWgUdJYqHRDmVGhZwYFNvLcKrOyFAOZz88e15jfmsbUo/s1600/IMG_1474.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An evil-looking chicken. I've photographed chickens before, but never one so sinister-looking!</td></tr>
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The first group of birds were photographed at a park that I love near <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/06/dogs-old-and-new.html" target="_blank">Little Buddy</a></u>'s house. The park is home to a bunch of different farm animals, including sheep, goats, pigs, ponies, cows, chickens, rabbits, and geese, as well as a variety of wild birds. I did include a domesticated goose on the list, as I've never photographed one (who knew that they had blue eyes?), but everyone else is wild. I was especially pleased by the cowbirds, since I don't think I've ever seen them before. I was also very excited to get some closeup shots of barn swallows (in an actual barn!) because I've found that swallows are virtually impossible to photograph on the wing.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaWVGr3_TKFXaxAbtHbV63t38StERNWtCOLJmS7oq3x77XfO8bpoPxK8N2GHfxakS57mM4ydVnHAIFEKZlxdY0kCAMzf0goORoK5AvONM1jnBaH6IVk-Gao2H1PhITGVsCcRve1SfUDUS/s1600/IMG_1425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaWVGr3_TKFXaxAbtHbV63t38StERNWtCOLJmS7oq3x77XfO8bpoPxK8N2GHfxakS57mM4ydVnHAIFEKZlxdY0kCAMzf0goORoK5AvONM1jnBaH6IVk-Gao2H1PhITGVsCcRve1SfUDUS/s1600/IMG_1425.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male brown-headed cowbird.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGs5vBnyxxSnrupXb-4oTNp2Zod_VCWnJXjDSveAHAvGmEQ9ulLZX6lb0Sg2lntpe3azhkd1OPDPyI1q4MCXgVEaGx8VOHmATnmIxl-xcsDake8CqKoWR6mdr_suni8JtnHecPl9q1YtlL/s1600/IMG_1432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGs5vBnyxxSnrupXb-4oTNp2Zod_VCWnJXjDSveAHAvGmEQ9ulLZX6lb0Sg2lntpe3azhkd1OPDPyI1q4MCXgVEaGx8VOHmATnmIxl-xcsDake8CqKoWR6mdr_suni8JtnHecPl9q1YtlL/s1600/IMG_1432.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male brown-headed cowbird.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXO1uGdO6bTVO0ktvDydwv3vn4IXGGENV8Hnr2DyVq_b4Ws0oQ2jBcQTxQHZMENMpfDWe4KBrQJDIgII4LSQ1UCLIIeQ0il_4BjRTF89HH41X9FSOOy6mm7_xzs8Zh_jCejjNvBE_L0jV/s1600/IMG_1436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXO1uGdO6bTVO0ktvDydwv3vn4IXGGENV8Hnr2DyVq_b4Ws0oQ2jBcQTxQHZMENMpfDWe4KBrQJDIgII4LSQ1UCLIIeQ0il_4BjRTF89HH41X9FSOOy6mm7_xzs8Zh_jCejjNvBE_L0jV/s1600/IMG_1436.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female brown-headed cowbird.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKC3dUdXae8qVIV3qjuXy2MhyIXOvIgg8_i9iYKKw5IcQLL4Khl5y86kwC2rHEHHaODABCo7QvYpydiv8Di1n_Ll9XxNqJE7wKumVcnHo-ryf9xtUbN5MoRl3XRQgFSXfcbFuvGY2Y1ICa/s1600/IMG_1712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKC3dUdXae8qVIV3qjuXy2MhyIXOvIgg8_i9iYKKw5IcQLL4Khl5y86kwC2rHEHHaODABCo7QvYpydiv8Di1n_Ll9XxNqJE7wKumVcnHo-ryf9xtUbN5MoRl3XRQgFSXfcbFuvGY2Y1ICa/s1600/IMG_1712.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male house sparrow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeyhZo69OT6CMxYfCNZ56-Mne2nIza47Z4bvcKBE7Zep1uLvooV_uL_MH1lPXSi4-XB70dbQtIkR-QzPxhEXoiQCyZapcFNvyH2ad_AymsD8A7_o6X9pmgDOp4M68vP8fbKBEErSOOlKXQ/s1600/IMG_1537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeyhZo69OT6CMxYfCNZ56-Mne2nIza47Z4bvcKBE7Zep1uLvooV_uL_MH1lPXSi4-XB70dbQtIkR-QzPxhEXoiQCyZapcFNvyH2ad_AymsD8A7_o6X9pmgDOp4M68vP8fbKBEErSOOlKXQ/s1600/IMG_1537.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female house sparrow with a beak full of bugs for her young.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZ5b5grOGedUpSdWjxYhgT6JWYoqYWAjR_nP8JQD0n8L2YtlB2mwCyULzEZG-XsNMsYsIFUdy6_iN8yDfndqwewsbAcsToLBsuxzKBrHjVVvL1VCmtPVaMtbwvcbVZ3G4GoMwXvyOFe79/s1600/IMG_1542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZ5b5grOGedUpSdWjxYhgT6JWYoqYWAjR_nP8JQD0n8L2YtlB2mwCyULzEZG-XsNMsYsIFUdy6_iN8yDfndqwewsbAcsToLBsuxzKBrHjVVvL1VCmtPVaMtbwvcbVZ3G4GoMwXvyOFe79/s1600/IMG_1542.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male house sparrow. They were nesting in the rafters of the pig shed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi66ImbHEr1RUYc1j2EzS5wcT_MJE5kYB-Gp5mmeZQUyoSFimEBTpLfFKE4uYsrWsswsXHP9mIPV9AYK9S7S80VWw8cMD0Q3T5Kt2_OHmHmU99W-JwIjSYEyEmca6e5CTxMalcQW3X2y0U/s1600/IMG_1733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi66ImbHEr1RUYc1j2EzS5wcT_MJE5kYB-Gp5mmeZQUyoSFimEBTpLfFKE4uYsrWsswsXHP9mIPV9AYK9S7S80VWw8cMD0Q3T5Kt2_OHmHmU99W-JwIjSYEyEmca6e5CTxMalcQW3X2y0U/s1600/IMG_1733.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese goose (domesticated).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjoteNcVDLJ8tbv_OmGGzBhSFYWyvQ40NisHTJ95WcOzVZ-yfm-rffuOZDd2I1fLJhhqpZeB3m2STWkWw_wpiGS_KVAnGMyqlHnV7awIXH9SngWDUm09ngELxYFLtwD8Ll3N-jH0-AfmK6/s1600/IMG_1892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjoteNcVDLJ8tbv_OmGGzBhSFYWyvQ40NisHTJ95WcOzVZ-yfm-rffuOZDd2I1fLJhhqpZeB3m2STWkWw_wpiGS_KVAnGMyqlHnV7awIXH9SngWDUm09ngELxYFLtwD8Ll3N-jH0-AfmK6/s1600/IMG_1892.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barn swallow couple.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy74ZihjuVD6XvVMCytAqDgmM4wNoYkZKt6rRBeA0nfhOy8-5e4b8QtBD1qdXtGfOOjemnmLmmh8TbZktd9IUtKoA1BXyxe6x26jyk6YtkeJb4alDPkPTQxQ-NnwVt6TZnNNrCWzvWDn2/s1600/IMG_1870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRy74ZihjuVD6XvVMCytAqDgmM4wNoYkZKt6rRBeA0nfhOy8-5e4b8QtBD1qdXtGfOOjemnmLmmh8TbZktd9IUtKoA1BXyxe6x26jyk6YtkeJb4alDPkPTQxQ-NnwVt6TZnNNrCWzvWDn2/s1600/IMG_1870.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barn swallow. This open-beak shot shows you how they are able to scarf up bugs while flying at high speeds!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ae0pGu6pgf6AFZwSiEQ6rVOoq1I0vIW7W24Pr9yCfw7Ys8b7y_1jeXym6W1D5o9O_rON90mAbGPk6tPG01-rZTemgDsyHXdsSsaUI2ZaRcLRNMdPbr_bNI4lSupW49dxxWjwWIsMEjOY/s1600/IMG_1886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ae0pGu6pgf6AFZwSiEQ6rVOoq1I0vIW7W24Pr9yCfw7Ys8b7y_1jeXym6W1D5o9O_rON90mAbGPk6tPG01-rZTemgDsyHXdsSsaUI2ZaRcLRNMdPbr_bNI4lSupW49dxxWjwWIsMEjOY/s1600/IMG_1886.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barn swallow closeup.</td></tr>
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I scored a few more birds for my list at another park I visited while looking after Little Buddy. Among these are a pair of violet-green swallows that I hastily shot when they landed in the dirt a few feet away right as I was despairing of ever getting a good photograph of one as I watched them whirl and swoop over a wetland. I think they were gathering nesting material. I also got a photo of a house wren (which I've seen before) and a couple of sparrows that I hadn't.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAo2fEL-FStZGLKQAO1P4M7U_zJvSTFayurhptKJZz7kiExtj3uBy14i_S_XDZcHdLBxwxf1SjHcb0CpIo2OVM77Dy2mBzbxegCTWpTwV57pn7q9O-29KtWz4mi_t4Hm33eIffgRATV1S3/s1600/IMG_1180-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAo2fEL-FStZGLKQAO1P4M7U_zJvSTFayurhptKJZz7kiExtj3uBy14i_S_XDZcHdLBxwxf1SjHcb0CpIo2OVM77Dy2mBzbxegCTWpTwV57pn7q9O-29KtWz4mi_t4Hm33eIffgRATV1S3/s1600/IMG_1180-2.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Violet-green swallows.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipg0WOjg_SxJw_DhlR9Cj9c_WdiZYdQiBZPLK0gfs3f-BIqpLtigBKcx58ZJGBhsMrw65GBd2RlwZa0cJ71r6zhIzzq5MVGLmo7bm82HzEOR2Et1AZewz5j1dutAUl0p5SfB8DzO_RAYty/s1600/IMG_1180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipg0WOjg_SxJw_DhlR9Cj9c_WdiZYdQiBZPLK0gfs3f-BIqpLtigBKcx58ZJGBhsMrw65GBd2RlwZa0cJ71r6zhIzzq5MVGLmo7bm82HzEOR2Et1AZewz5j1dutAUl0p5SfB8DzO_RAYty/s1600/IMG_1180.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see how they got their name!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsr8zhPKuHHQwtUgrvBC3EuA1XMtuL3jzEDAXBeV9yl3S84s-25qBap291WVnwn_vZk2Fvj1WiKQsSCxACF1Bce1UPjU9E9Liws7TQRBmXUq1Kw-BMO49okku3nFZ4DRzS5fXOIp7vx5F/s1600/IMG_1159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsr8zhPKuHHQwtUgrvBC3EuA1XMtuL3jzEDAXBeV9yl3S84s-25qBap291WVnwn_vZk2Fvj1WiKQsSCxACF1Bce1UPjU9E9Liws7TQRBmXUq1Kw-BMO49okku3nFZ4DRzS5fXOIp7vx5F/s1600/IMG_1159.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">House wren</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1dODcumehVDAIHD53DE9o_qQRZkc0zeqggNRG2lka5HctULUDY_OlHmiCvk89UYzbdJ1Tanwg3QdLpKctRJwyrAOjW-ABPoRLgA4p14O3zO7e8IoZ0RL2LB9GQ_eEzR0GVcRRVJitQmp/s1600/IMG_1193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1dODcumehVDAIHD53DE9o_qQRZkc0zeqggNRG2lka5HctULUDY_OlHmiCvk89UYzbdJ1Tanwg3QdLpKctRJwyrAOjW-ABPoRLgA4p14O3zO7e8IoZ0RL2LB9GQ_eEzR0GVcRRVJitQmp/s1600/IMG_1193.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-crowned sparrow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOKtgm4rqEgrabiUgJXjn6pf5NcoqPcbeHLDmR8JVUoo7Ar_efOqmOqvoHkcmOKtIT6L0Cr9kwWhGgyIzVE1Mia3DRgIT4xjF8-a6U9F-4hrvppj9XxrduQD0q8Qxwc9LAJAWT8OuwcqX/s1600/IMG_1197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOKtgm4rqEgrabiUgJXjn6pf5NcoqPcbeHLDmR8JVUoo7Ar_efOqmOqvoHkcmOKtIT6L0Cr9kwWhGgyIzVE1Mia3DRgIT4xjF8-a6U9F-4hrvppj9XxrduQD0q8Qxwc9LAJAWT8OuwcqX/s1600/IMG_1197.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Savannah sparrow.</td></tr>
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A third park is one of my favorite places to photograph. It has a bonanza of not only birds on and around its bay and wetlands, but things like frogs and turtles, too! I'm hardly alone in photographing there, as you will almost always encounter a pro with one of those $20,000 lenses as well as some hardcore amateurs. (I'm pleased to say that my new lens elevates me into the ranks of the latter group, at least in terms of equipment.) The colder months are actually the best time to get the widest variety of bird photos because quite a few species spend the winter there and the lily pads haven't blanketed the best cove for photographing, but it's always worth looking around. On my most recent trip, I scored a wood duck and a nesting grebe!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWezVnHgcs6fC8LVUKidLIFTSlvqjnM4g3Z5tBI_SJAob6oFynf0hiYii8XhniVL37q54Zvq0vlQrbUKG_DAYqpBSAkBAJwQ8jeXVfC8v3MYL0zSdf4P-fkg-bWvGfQuEihGWS9EA_m1p/s1600/IMG_4068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWezVnHgcs6fC8LVUKidLIFTSlvqjnM4g3Z5tBI_SJAob6oFynf0hiYii8XhniVL37q54Zvq0vlQrbUKG_DAYqpBSAkBAJwQ8jeXVfC8v3MYL0zSdf4P-fkg-bWvGfQuEihGWS9EA_m1p/s1600/IMG_4068.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male wood duck, eclipse (or non-breeding) plumage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4SUcQpdmqZ7QpJ9NP_Jwtac_fBJ088NJnJ0RkR-og27QkSbdruDeFSDjLw-M6_OTsLU8MaR0-7w_JR4YoGEhjuQRTgvc40CtRean0jS8iXe1ncy4vmeztsDYKNdcsr0TrWnC9fPQKEKK/s1600/IMG_3835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4SUcQpdmqZ7QpJ9NP_Jwtac_fBJ088NJnJ0RkR-og27QkSbdruDeFSDjLw-M6_OTsLU8MaR0-7w_JR4YoGEhjuQRTgvc40CtRean0jS8iXe1ncy4vmeztsDYKNdcsr0TrWnC9fPQKEKK/s1600/IMG_3835.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female pied-billed grebe on a nest. </td></tr>
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And then there are the backyard birds. The hermit thrush is not one we've seen in our yard before. It spent several days hanging around, drawing a great deal of ire from the towhees. I see pileated woodpeckers every once in while around my house and they are common out at Cutie the Pyrenees' place, but I haven't had a good chance to take any pictures. I hope eventually to get better photos than the ones I got, but you can at least see what one looks like. I'm much happier with the rufous hummingbird photos--we haven't had a rufous around for the last few years, so these visits by a female are a delight. And I managed to score a photo of something you rarely see: a hummingbird catching bugs! Unbeknownst to most people, hummingbirds also eat insects to get the protein that nectar can't supply. I was taking pictures of the hummingbird slowly motoring around among the branches of one our cedars, but didn't know I was capturing an insect hunt until I looked at the images on my computer and saw the hummingbird with beak open, about to grab some little flying critter.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdBl0InYZXhgcghO0tobAahr89WJhZqEAKtPKLxK-aPB_8OY7UPoYVLOXYttEGzsPumBs69W8_S9YVxaem4d2my8IAggnYgKrdvSjyUovNHhFRzXQjMajxFHZeOzmXpu8PZU37UoSjHNi/s1600/IMG_9777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdBl0InYZXhgcghO0tobAahr89WJhZqEAKtPKLxK-aPB_8OY7UPoYVLOXYttEGzsPumBs69W8_S9YVxaem4d2my8IAggnYgKrdvSjyUovNHhFRzXQjMajxFHZeOzmXpu8PZU37UoSjHNi/s1600/IMG_9777.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermit thrush.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAemySf-PkZyz80P6QaUbHMrTMOdnaP4h-vg6EW5P9ICmRAa0kv_wLRc4R6lROd_s2zPGUMoJAdHjw1IYEfongM6XlKfRwEeZwHhB9KlMRndJmaACsF2UZGh-eqMsCxZXHLW5R6zgvj5px/s1600/IMG_4408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAemySf-PkZyz80P6QaUbHMrTMOdnaP4h-vg6EW5P9ICmRAa0kv_wLRc4R6lROd_s2zPGUMoJAdHjw1IYEfongM6XlKfRwEeZwHhB9KlMRndJmaACsF2UZGh-eqMsCxZXHLW5R6zgvj5px/s1600/IMG_4408.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pileated woodpecker.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gg9Jn3fZh519BSDEbO-jnGGCWCss9-AMd7A9bitSwZnqQXaUzyCA5qeRkNm2ux3CtkyoW5YtPJ4lSIP8Bu8uiScmbFKWk6I6uqE6Gt82l-5b3eMUle9r2bk_KbG4go74gJEGJiM_HCeR/s1600/IMG_2309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gg9Jn3fZh519BSDEbO-jnGGCWCss9-AMd7A9bitSwZnqQXaUzyCA5qeRkNm2ux3CtkyoW5YtPJ4lSIP8Bu8uiScmbFKWk6I6uqE6Gt82l-5b3eMUle9r2bk_KbG4go74gJEGJiM_HCeR/s1600/IMG_2309.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female rufous hummingbird. You can see the rufous coloring on her sides. Males also have reddish feathers on their heads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1UZwoIZ24Kox9MSyT4e7LORfO5CGms_-mmjgil5P-E4A8voeKenxrh4J7Cgh_gZop1YRxo54P8cuN9KW0AdQDZrersMwvnJUqEZU60yMtv0V1idRMFdpXd3t7PfNLSmHqng3cBwTXa1H/s1600/IMG_2310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1UZwoIZ24Kox9MSyT4e7LORfO5CGms_-mmjgil5P-E4A8voeKenxrh4J7Cgh_gZop1YRxo54P8cuN9KW0AdQDZrersMwvnJUqEZU60yMtv0V1idRMFdpXd3t7PfNLSmHqng3cBwTXa1H/s1600/IMG_2310.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female rufous hummingbird</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4oF-lAT0fnZTFEWxx2ldCURY6sq8Npe7lJbu0MGvt6dSJOOAsVWGHIatTDP8tQ-ZG-6ruK_se_E1W-HGttWIqRC75JPHsClzbU1KyMhlFopsshm8v1AFyg9quOGyb2UaNpazNK6-hlL2/s1600/IMG_2428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4oF-lAT0fnZTFEWxx2ldCURY6sq8Npe7lJbu0MGvt6dSJOOAsVWGHIatTDP8tQ-ZG-6ruK_se_E1W-HGttWIqRC75JPHsClzbU1KyMhlFopsshm8v1AFyg9quOGyb2UaNpazNK6-hlL2/s1600/IMG_2428.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Female rufous hummingbird catching an insect.</td></tr>
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You can see another great photo of this hummingbird <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=725640994161027&set=a.107410705984062.5855.106883286036804&type=1&theater" target="_blank">here</a></u>.<br />
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The following photos represent an interesting case: I have neither seen nor photographed a Western tanager. However, my CAMERA has photographed a Western tanager. My parents spotted this striking bird visiting our backyard birdbath while I wasn't around and my father had the presence of mind to grab my camera (which is always kept near the back door for just this reason) and take several photos. It came around the twice that day, but if it's been back since, I haven't seen it. I could hardly keep these photos taken in my yard with my camera from you simply because I didn't take them myself!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzTAHkdvW52Vi81TGHmz66RzCGz0QqUe70a_srglJb4EGXtnCNzhS1n1ykkz0iqqU7wwmKZS0RmJNGiYQIlzbhObBaUnYi5zu1sQG4DX6k9k0SpKWgY9c-iLswlFYMO2M-q3dNpt3coFv/s1600/IMG_4189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzTAHkdvW52Vi81TGHmz66RzCGz0QqUe70a_srglJb4EGXtnCNzhS1n1ykkz0iqqU7wwmKZS0RmJNGiYQIlzbhObBaUnYi5zu1sQG4DX6k9k0SpKWgY9c-iLswlFYMO2M-q3dNpt3coFv/s1600/IMG_4189.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Western tanager, non-breeding male. Breeding males have vivid red faces/heads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-cy4vidBB98-rpEaZuWvbGi5D1hH4eKkv-AaHjfmXhVkK2BQVnWok1vM9R_mv4G-ll3KIiMwneeybyxjRsPpqwubQU0Ps7xQYKe7EvxTBegJe2JSRPX27n_vnWBXS06tx-ozKz_k8eWh/s1600/IMG_4192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-cy4vidBB98-rpEaZuWvbGi5D1hH4eKkv-AaHjfmXhVkK2BQVnWok1vM9R_mv4G-ll3KIiMwneeybyxjRsPpqwubQU0Ps7xQYKe7EvxTBegJe2JSRPX27n_vnWBXS06tx-ozKz_k8eWh/s1600/IMG_4192.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male western tanager.</td></tr>
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Late spring is a busy time for all birds, so I've had many opportunities to photograph the species that call my neighborhood home, as well as a few other familiar birds I've encountered on excursions.</div>
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First up are three photos from the latter category:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVD8TB0C2kVHp476bSeXjt7kTcn_JOcKtF9X5NpoXBJHJhzgGFtCLeqvpQn49qeRYjSPlWm-kvvX9ysbaMfO57cbtkg8Zcn0hF2az5M6HBdaiKAw7vJRtwflfBoGEMQU2293G48SjZcVR/s1600/IMG_1829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVD8TB0C2kVHp476bSeXjt7kTcn_JOcKtF9X5NpoXBJHJhzgGFtCLeqvpQn49qeRYjSPlWm-kvvX9ysbaMfO57cbtkg8Zcn0hF2az5M6HBdaiKAw7vJRtwflfBoGEMQU2293G48SjZcVR/s1600/IMG_1829.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I highly recommend getting over the fact that pigeons are pigeons and instead marvel at their plumage. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhpFRENEqZIjortn2IjqljIt0KNOZANDBS48pqT_SREzJUE6jyGVFc-TIu8Y86vKIJ5eNtj35_SKTa6BCH7lchzkKz2c2ftm3Nuzoag9W6s5dZoCu6sKygrgtozQ7LqbDcHtviuSKrBKZ/s1600/IMG_1349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhpFRENEqZIjortn2IjqljIt0KNOZANDBS48pqT_SREzJUE6jyGVFc-TIu8Y86vKIJ5eNtj35_SKTa6BCH7lchzkKz2c2ftm3Nuzoag9W6s5dZoCu6sKygrgtozQ7LqbDcHtviuSKrBKZ/s1600/IMG_1349.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've tried to take a lot of photos of male red-winged blackbirds since getting my birding lens, but their inky blackness make them hard to photograph well. I liked how this image captures the bird's rather cheeky expression.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OvHuF6GlrGSHGuEeDMbu8OGqQQTmOm59dINlkrzuy0TKpGZkDh3vLuSWiirs-II41CDLEP-TDyVyTAK02mv4uB9ozFe9uqb8Th_Dv-umhcGMHCcl9-4bfKtq47bfxt4tHY0yg-s1au0h/s1600/IMG_3933+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OvHuF6GlrGSHGuEeDMbu8OGqQQTmOm59dINlkrzuy0TKpGZkDh3vLuSWiirs-II41CDLEP-TDyVyTAK02mv4uB9ozFe9uqb8Th_Dv-umhcGMHCcl9-4bfKtq47bfxt4tHY0yg-s1au0h/s1600/IMG_3933+copy.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Don't mess with our nests!"<br />
A pair of male red-winged blackbirds chase a crow away from their nesting site.</td></tr>
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Our birdbath is extremely popular, so I take lots and lots of photos of birds bathing. The jay photo in the following group is among the very best birdbath photos I've every shot.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48w_30Q-uvRR83jDFXRiWCdcYSus4yAGztzDWTnOzstNn2479wcqx0Nrk8pTTZx3QIvUhL4pp4O66RRWIPEaTfYT2Xs6_CwPeIMoa8bvtBloWW3syg9xIi0qukwCoPefvs2kN3J4svesC/s1600/IMG_2413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48w_30Q-uvRR83jDFXRiWCdcYSus4yAGztzDWTnOzstNn2479wcqx0Nrk8pTTZx3QIvUhL4pp4O66RRWIPEaTfYT2Xs6_CwPeIMoa8bvtBloWW3syg9xIi0qukwCoPefvs2kN3J4svesC/s1600/IMG_2413.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A VERY wet Steller's jay.</td></tr>
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See more great photos from the jay's splashing bath <u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography/posts/716315471760246" target="_blank">here</a></u>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipY26ysIRSsn9Mteo9MtGW-lk4c9opOjthszUiyNM7nn40spYO_VFLLAXULE09Z5cWdezTvfXh8obOtWKgIg4kDYMatk4QrZOtTN_duNSmM3Tnmr1b3tVLVKiaOX5O0N5oj2-SZKobn_we/s1600/IMG_2672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipY26ysIRSsn9Mteo9MtGW-lk4c9opOjthszUiyNM7nn40spYO_VFLLAXULE09Z5cWdezTvfXh8obOtWKgIg4kDYMatk4QrZOtTN_duNSmM3Tnmr1b3tVLVKiaOX5O0N5oj2-SZKobn_we/s1600/IMG_2672.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-breasted nuthatch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdF-gPQrZntjt_q7dH6tkwUahUKT_wHKfMolSBs0eT_maJe08lQYnclcar1PEgjzQLiIifqCnbOfA236Szf4ktekFzx03DoUb6yKaaRBaKgdlEx0KwYDoKC0Uu-CQPkXltVTA0Y-5gfnKS/s1600/IMG_4596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdF-gPQrZntjt_q7dH6tkwUahUKT_wHKfMolSBs0eT_maJe08lQYnclcar1PEgjzQLiIifqCnbOfA236Szf4ktekFzx03DoUb6yKaaRBaKgdlEx0KwYDoKC0Uu-CQPkXltVTA0Y-5gfnKS/s1600/IMG_4596.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sapsuckers are wonderfully striking birds...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEXYpuyaQpz2VJJjOMQVBxW2JUgTKtWMIDMBMyW307KhlGdojcVVc6_GvCD7UWwO1pl_6KuZK4tR67feIgTIgI6M8XkgBPiquM2LjaFEGw71zorjnV2XhKCjJSLBcidfSxqDRL4VILnrN/s1600/IMG_3389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEXYpuyaQpz2VJJjOMQVBxW2JUgTKtWMIDMBMyW307KhlGdojcVVc6_GvCD7UWwO1pl_6KuZK4tR67feIgTIgI6M8XkgBPiquM2LjaFEGw71zorjnV2XhKCjJSLBcidfSxqDRL4VILnrN/s1600/IMG_3389.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but this one looks a bit ridiculous with the wet feathers exposing the skinniness of its neck! Note also the juvenile junco bound and determined to take a bath at the same time in the background.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLVRc4swls1RPfGZT1YDZfKhmd2uqpUbMcFHf9yVF7sCPHQjBv1t-7bZ9DLCGrEFAQkHEQgEE8RB1-cEIHizxPI5ANhMbMoMEWYmBV1sUTf5ffpS7K2OO9z2DkmqwoF8L1R7hhTwIsm92/s1600/IMG_3363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLVRc4swls1RPfGZT1YDZfKhmd2uqpUbMcFHf9yVF7sCPHQjBv1t-7bZ9DLCGrEFAQkHEQgEE8RB1-cEIHizxPI5ANhMbMoMEWYmBV1sUTf5ffpS7K2OO9z2DkmqwoF8L1R7hhTwIsm92/s1600/IMG_3363.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You'll need to click on this photo to enlarge it to see the detail that I like best about this photo of a drinking red-shafted flicker. Flickers feed almost exclusively on ants and on this bird's red "mustache" is a little red ant that got away!</td></tr>
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Here's are a few other photos from the yard:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_qS3f7yC8dfovFfRLpWsJ2C4ULR08g_agAZLxOYkmXuT9c_VzSdMokS0OiIoSF0E5_ToPiQTkdqumJoGbCJP4oXS2F5fsCD-WNYajxHSsPG82BRDjlAVUcsSehJcwkQ_4bz8EsrrBaq_/s1600/IMG_3084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_qS3f7yC8dfovFfRLpWsJ2C4ULR08g_agAZLxOYkmXuT9c_VzSdMokS0OiIoSF0E5_ToPiQTkdqumJoGbCJP4oXS2F5fsCD-WNYajxHSsPG82BRDjlAVUcsSehJcwkQ_4bz8EsrrBaq_/s1600/IMG_3084.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This chestnut-backed chickadee is scolding me for accidentally getting too close to its offspring.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWhVlZbdROasRvYAcWf1DOKatvKYlV7x6IyfRIT9f_tNKiIU3wA-Sqw_WrjyluCUvWKLyXXZWc-npXqtaft_b7WhcOLg1I4HJ_YQz3mWjJZb1YgXXye5dML-YuILkOOIK-_xgwTyvL8_0/s1600/IMG_4612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWhVlZbdROasRvYAcWf1DOKatvKYlV7x6IyfRIT9f_tNKiIU3wA-Sqw_WrjyluCUvWKLyXXZWc-npXqtaft_b7WhcOLg1I4HJ_YQz3mWjJZb1YgXXye5dML-YuILkOOIK-_xgwTyvL8_0/s1600/IMG_4612.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I caught this starling with its mouth opening unleashing a stream of brassy starling calls.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40xo_uiri_LbC4zit6AXeE79Mr9APnduesoiV-I4nZ8E5RlPPGSfB01q0EB_mLJVD_pAB7-LnQcEzoM4jFsrtakt01Uhaf5atSnSHZEkHfp6W6UPyuuOL8mAUT-dsJcIDlg9QqIaLd94m/s1600/IMG_2734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40xo_uiri_LbC4zit6AXeE79Mr9APnduesoiV-I4nZ8E5RlPPGSfB01q0EB_mLJVD_pAB7-LnQcEzoM4jFsrtakt01Uhaf5atSnSHZEkHfp6W6UPyuuOL8mAUT-dsJcIDlg9QqIaLd94m/s1600/IMG_2734.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crow picks a cherry from the neighbors' tree.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYAB_OZ8gpZ__Bt5QkfmP5cR7rtltBS1bihQ651HMECQnFvlEeTosTmS1C5OEplV0Ec55HCPLHuVlUInlxWEyyVTXg-6ALJGPPWUAGA0J218tyFxMzH-sPHYSvcJ0Ghi00SNKu2xMsIJs/s1600/IMG_3429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYAB_OZ8gpZ__Bt5QkfmP5cR7rtltBS1bihQ651HMECQnFvlEeTosTmS1C5OEplV0Ec55HCPLHuVlUInlxWEyyVTXg-6ALJGPPWUAGA0J218tyFxMzH-sPHYSvcJ0Ghi00SNKu2xMsIJs/s1600/IMG_3429.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A robin gobbles mahonia berries.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZ7Ilwv_Lnp9B44kfBekAux-y3mkzkDQCKWWXlu9-VKx-EqwgqqlqOEq8bI74D0YhvfhXBazvAwrcU9RrWkjaIeKsh6BzIOUUbntVAAwbArKuyteEfWugYTltEcx4ZQFrDMrsfhJCBdqZ/s1600/IMG_2697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZ7Ilwv_Lnp9B44kfBekAux-y3mkzkDQCKWWXlu9-VKx-EqwgqqlqOEq8bI74D0YhvfhXBazvAwrcU9RrWkjaIeKsh6BzIOUUbntVAAwbArKuyteEfWugYTltEcx4ZQFrDMrsfhJCBdqZ/s1600/IMG_2697.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This male robin spied me with my camera, flew to the back of a chair about six feet away from me, puffed himself up, and gave me a LOOK. I didn't need to speak robin in order to understand his meaning: don't even THINK about going near his newly-fledged children! </td></tr>
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During these past two months, I've been able to add the hermit thrush, the Western tanager, and house finches to our list of all the different bird species that have visited the yard over time. Just the other day, I went out with my camera to investigate an unfamiliar bird call and discovered it was being made by an osprey at the top of a nearby tree! If I can count (and I have) bald eagles as visitors to the yard since they periodically come by to sit in trees within a hundred feet of our house (three of them came calling one day a few weeks ago, two of them pictured below), I've decided I can count this osprey, too. What exactly it was doing here, I don't know, as they usually stick very close to the lake, but it was definitely a cool score. It's not the first time I've photographed an osprey, nor the best photo of an osprey I've taken, however. That would be one of the ones I shot in Florida when I came upon an osprey drying its wings on a branch just above my head. I've included it here because it's a cool picture.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvndrXYyGQw9iIjkQJDR9GhMrnFWOb7IY8O_TAxcRw7qEwjFl8FHo3oN4KOTMsW0Hpv-CfbCGTElq2p4oEkeA-46B_gV_GlccGVEz0voVbR4arysP2mWoOA-qSxcCQIGow46ZQe-RQtfbI/s1600/IMG_2515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvndrXYyGQw9iIjkQJDR9GhMrnFWOb7IY8O_TAxcRw7qEwjFl8FHo3oN4KOTMsW0Hpv-CfbCGTElq2p4oEkeA-46B_gV_GlccGVEz0voVbR4arysP2mWoOA-qSxcCQIGow46ZQe-RQtfbI/s1600/IMG_2515.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of adult bald eagles in the neighbors' tree. A third eagle soared high overhead, occasionally communicating in shrieks with the two in the tree.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidb-qw2fhO_NHiJOikpNYM8tg7H4aOGHEGPvloriWVJB3ILfDH4fGjETjr7m3z2xTLRf-Jmpjq4Lhfo-9f9ELCibD6Pz2MweP6RdeBtw8NS_GdczEsWFkEALpo9d1V_Nv1ikIZXN8JKMUg/s1600/IMG_4809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidb-qw2fhO_NHiJOikpNYM8tg7H4aOGHEGPvloriWVJB3ILfDH4fGjETjr7m3z2xTLRf-Jmpjq4Lhfo-9f9ELCibD6Pz2MweP6RdeBtw8NS_GdczEsWFkEALpo9d1V_Nv1ikIZXN8JKMUg/s1600/IMG_4809.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suburban Seattle osprey.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMBnVIfjHJOePJKBUdtG9d8-vPJ39gL9Y5nlUNW3LjqSbuJKokjE6InxDStZ03PWCsg0KFSci-oJ8wmZt4gUd6FIVf1rW-ax9LV4ZLVEOeIKLj4bBsXaGLshl8r3CfruJE9sAMGGBGwnV/s1600/IMG_1955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMBnVIfjHJOePJKBUdtG9d8-vPJ39gL9Y5nlUNW3LjqSbuJKokjE6InxDStZ03PWCsg0KFSci-oJ8wmZt4gUd6FIVf1rW-ax9LV4ZLVEOeIKLj4bBsXaGLshl8r3CfruJE9sAMGGBGwnV/s1600/IMG_1955.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rural Florida Panhandle osprey.</td></tr>
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As you can see, it has been an exciting couple of months of bird photography, and I haven't even gotten to the baby birds yet! Avian activity will naturally die down a bit after all the little birds have grown up, but I look forward to taking more bird photos this summer, especially of hummingbirds. And who knows what will show up next in the yard or surrounding trees? It definitely keeps life interesting (I saw nineteen different bird species in the yard on a single day two weeks ago) and I will no doubt be posting more photos in the future!</div>
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Keep up with all the best and the latest in the bird photography department by <u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ccreativityphotography" target="_blank">following c.creativity on Facebook</a></u>!</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-71731913961486198882014-06-16T16:40:00.003-07:002014-06-16T16:40:58.642-07:00Baby Juncos!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGFOvoT2YU7XHY7s00i55w_hJjjkL9dgS12oryZYvA6VIb49gXOrxcyaYGVQi54IfEtEtyPaX-KUddz4SxIvUhVYCQI9bmheRuAn_ZbW-vUWIbKjhJETTPhhstvYghsLwvfo734_73xzU/s1600/IMG_2952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGFOvoT2YU7XHY7s00i55w_hJjjkL9dgS12oryZYvA6VIb49gXOrxcyaYGVQi54IfEtEtyPaX-KUddz4SxIvUhVYCQI9bmheRuAn_ZbW-vUWIbKjhJETTPhhstvYghsLwvfo734_73xzU/s1600/IMG_2952.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young junco plays with a pine needle.</td></tr>
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It had originally been my intention to make a post at the end of this month covering all the new birds I've photographed, the best recent photos of birds I've photographed before, and photos of all the baby birds that have appeared in the yard in recent weeks. However, the level of juvenile Oregon junco activity has been so high and the pictures I've taken (more than 100 yesterday alone!) are so cute that I decided the little juncos needed their own post before the month ends.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5YBwBkrQevrcVHtL81mxVxmVBzPsJRcWT_CEkHJfqQ_5Gh396tIee2BD_gCoarJeGGnKku1igal4lC4dqvPy5Gb8J1XCnVG_Dsd0ho2APHp3LezYttHDkfJ9Yk-OkUD5wdgqJJPG7YcT/s1600/IMG_2423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5YBwBkrQevrcVHtL81mxVxmVBzPsJRcWT_CEkHJfqQ_5Gh396tIee2BD_gCoarJeGGnKku1igal4lC4dqvPy5Gb8J1XCnVG_Dsd0ho2APHp3LezYttHDkfJ9Yk-OkUD5wdgqJJPG7YcT/s1600/IMG_2423.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What's this?!" asks Abbey, alerting me to the presence of baby birds on June 4th.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPvPh5HOZkn9XDf5PdEy51wl0ubg1voNT9zOLBdlQ-GWED_0WFS5nUXFjfYLxXSNwIYeC6h1ByTgDdiVXy_EZodfff8BIQrsrK12gZ6A6-jpfF0u_Y_BanwjSO7vKONtMAOd_YNgadY2u/s1600/IMG_8024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPvPh5HOZkn9XDf5PdEy51wl0ubg1voNT9zOLBdlQ-GWED_0WFS5nUXFjfYLxXSNwIYeC6h1ByTgDdiVXy_EZodfff8BIQrsrK12gZ6A6-jpfF0u_Y_BanwjSO7vKONtMAOd_YNgadY2u/s1600/IMG_8024.jpg" height="142" width="200" /></a>I was hopeful that we'd get a baby junco in the yard again this year after being charmed by last year's little junco, whose appearance was my primary impetus for photographing birds and for wanting a telephoto lens that would allow me to get good shots of birds from far enough away not to startle them. I was pleased, therefore, when one day Abbey plunged her head into the shrubs, tail wagging, and I heard a little rustling something flee from her. Juncos nest on or near the ground and the babies may leave those nests a few days before they fledge (i.e., grow feathers strong enough for flight), which is why I got a picture of a junco still sporting baby down last year. Even though they may no longer be confined to the nest, they still can't fly beyond some spurting hops and therefore keep under cover. I kept Abbey away from the shrubs, but the behavior of the adult juncos as well as Abbey's new preoccupation with sounds or smells detectable only to her led me to believe that there was a baby junco whose primary territory was under our deck. On June 9th, I got my first glimpse of a baby as it darted to the fringe of the bushes lining our deck to be fed by an adult. After that, I was on full alert, watching the behavior of the adults and familiarizing myself with the junco feeding call. As soon as the first junco youngster got old enough to venture beyond the protective cover of the shrubs, I was able to get a photograph. I was delighted when I figured out that there wasn't just one baby, but perhaps as many as four based around our yard. I've found it highly entertaining to watch as they've grown strong enough to fly short distances up into the trees, then to follow their parents out of the yard, and as they are starting to clumsily learn the skill of foraging for themselves.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRNzQVrdbY-T5H-Lfs2cS9W3RjSmXCSJIsLsRNThTxqwXk2VPRmIJxwCyK6MkHwjF3y7RxjkKKMbcIppcHXL3vfaQXSNWvzhvxWxcy6Kui7dcTftwqbuFXBdmwrh-uh4AsvOfu-yc-RVK/s1600/IMG_2616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRNzQVrdbY-T5H-Lfs2cS9W3RjSmXCSJIsLsRNThTxqwXk2VPRmIJxwCyK6MkHwjF3y7RxjkKKMbcIppcHXL3vfaQXSNWvzhvxWxcy6Kui7dcTftwqbuFXBdmwrh-uh4AsvOfu-yc-RVK/s1600/IMG_2616.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our various banks of viburnums make a great habitat for little juncos to hide in while getting big enough and strong enough to fly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajLFyqiX3Rb29IVE_fAgGvAglBPupf8iRAzwPjdv3EOivuFSGgNKnf4X3Adh-VqUIn5hESayWA8ukNOb8wkdvOrzz1tOi-W4dk4rPpi1X3bZ2JoxeStP_TbKINXXSXSMPFC6Ty3IBlVXW/s1600/IMG_2570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajLFyqiX3Rb29IVE_fAgGvAglBPupf8iRAzwPjdv3EOivuFSGgNKnf4X3Adh-VqUIn5hESayWA8ukNOb8wkdvOrzz1tOi-W4dk4rPpi1X3bZ2JoxeStP_TbKINXXSXSMPFC6Ty3IBlVXW/s1600/IMG_2570.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First baby junco photo of the season! June 11, 2014.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwsbQM3JzYXjJdemxX_5JDj5u5LRqgkEpmDAZG8fcre9xTV6tqUYLdJ7UmWekkqJi28m_UMA9PlgSrh9h_ipC1NOPCozXeWusS40uGGqLzPeurBajuNqNOP9vbaa99siUdoZ-xc2I355j/s1600/IMG_2612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwsbQM3JzYXjJdemxX_5JDj5u5LRqgkEpmDAZG8fcre9xTV6tqUYLdJ7UmWekkqJi28m_UMA9PlgSrh9h_ipC1NOPCozXeWusS40uGGqLzPeurBajuNqNOP9vbaa99siUdoZ-xc2I355j/s1600/IMG_2612.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had been watching an adult fly in and out of these bushes to feed what I presumed was one baby that would dart just beyond the edge of the overhanging leaves when the parent left. I was delighted when I looked at my photos on the computer and saw a second baby in the shadows!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9p4u4v-lFU9K9ygOpkijU7_Eauhu-ruFRTIyRCnVh_X5zHVAUNJnZUd6HYbbIc_hngoCooznDwQLYwHc83ZGWKaglAgC3pnkT6kYWRV8PVOPABvDhgmMyAPqXo-SHwxU8v1RoBpW2pVm/s1600/IMG_2633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9p4u4v-lFU9K9ygOpkijU7_Eauhu-ruFRTIyRCnVh_X5zHVAUNJnZUd6HYbbIc_hngoCooznDwQLYwHc83ZGWKaglAgC3pnkT6kYWRV8PVOPABvDhgmMyAPqXo-SHwxU8v1RoBpW2pVm/s1600/IMG_2633.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think there was some variation in age among the little ones: this young junco was flying around with its parent on the same day that I photographed the two who were still in the phase of hiding under cover, though they did change locations: later that day, they moved from the viburnums to the shelter of a hydrangea out in the yard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNEAfMUzEIznB7W1SK4l9k24Hr8LHbAjkDq0bCliAFy5yslaNkz_4cgRINaEUbgX46qcgc7SZvgMd9u8SOlXa6nAZ3g9doBed6ZW9DOeqR8YWiCZe3U7zIT6scM1HgM3SeqNX2cN5Kg98/s1600/IMG_2647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNEAfMUzEIznB7W1SK4l9k24Hr8LHbAjkDq0bCliAFy5yslaNkz_4cgRINaEUbgX46qcgc7SZvgMd9u8SOlXa6nAZ3g9doBed6ZW9DOeqR8YWiCZe3U7zIT6scM1HgM3SeqNX2cN5Kg98/s1600/IMG_2647.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having achieved my first goal of simply photographing a juvenile junco, my next goal was to photograph a juvenile junco being fed. This proved much more difficult, as the abundant cover that makes our yard so attractive for raising junco babies also means it isn't easy to catch a little one being fed out in the open. Also, the feedings are FAST. In this photo, I've just missed the moment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEebwk8nl8N6u8bI666u5wZnjMO-004vQuoslKHw0qulu9IR1pe-9NcREhpiRwpMUoku6iiyv6CSkGHUWyRu9dJUkbC9U5uKJFvllaaj3GXXR-vQwIC8I5DqYsHRC-X83jZHQZybkoOYEK/s1600/IMG_2675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEebwk8nl8N6u8bI666u5wZnjMO-004vQuoslKHw0qulu9IR1pe-9NcREhpiRwpMUoku6iiyv6CSkGHUWyRu9dJUkbC9U5uKJFvllaaj3GXXR-vQwIC8I5DqYsHRC-X83jZHQZybkoOYEK/s1600/IMG_2675.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At last! I managed to capture a male junco feeding his offspring at just the right moment AND the photo is in focus!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_zb3sbk75vCZJxsSnuSqd_ZhvslzyFbfzRVOyfcabPcWef4TXme0FSjbX3vwqP3V6Vm_45f2Rz9bxwI-DEXhYX68cC6-iiTqDot6LuqON_maPWVBUWIFTG4zJFYAEnV9Suhb7ySLKHIF/s1600/IMG_2676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_zb3sbk75vCZJxsSnuSqd_ZhvslzyFbfzRVOyfcabPcWef4TXme0FSjbX3vwqP3V6Vm_45f2Rz9bxwI-DEXhYX68cC6-iiTqDot6LuqON_maPWVBUWIFTG4zJFYAEnV9Suhb7ySLKHIF/s1600/IMG_2676.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The baby junco immediately demanded more.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt0T5Kx4P9BSnCD83-c2edeByRcGWKcyeS6zF7qoronZR0Sqe5fLzaep7CdvgAzp5zn1C98Zid4zTiB5dzqOJWfklYP2uY1V2_r0RpPty1xDsQpBgpYPD4ksncwJW38FCD5FT4onal3jR/s1600/IMG_2681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt0T5Kx4P9BSnCD83-c2edeByRcGWKcyeS6zF7qoronZR0Sqe5fLzaep7CdvgAzp5zn1C98Zid4zTiB5dzqOJWfklYP2uY1V2_r0RpPty1xDsQpBgpYPD4ksncwJW38FCD5FT4onal3jR/s1600/IMG_2681.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The young juncos quickly got better at flying around--this one is sitting on limb up in a large tree while adults forage in the vicinity.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbNhJFSPccZQix2JSFHdnx0aNQdOVC9aI4uR51Uf4LiUeULS1EVoBSxRrV-kreStjdgjD0V8U8Nv-0CTXwz70eZZjhMjFB69txc0P9Y_MVhiZMkkyFPbYRb4ifz0Ddf4ehGaEXftH5Csg/s1600/IMG_2876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbNhJFSPccZQix2JSFHdnx0aNQdOVC9aI4uR51Uf4LiUeULS1EVoBSxRrV-kreStjdgjD0V8U8Nv-0CTXwz70eZZjhMjFB69txc0P9Y_MVhiZMkkyFPbYRb4ifz0Ddf4ehGaEXftH5Csg/s1600/IMG_2876.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They got bolder, too. A little junco looks in the through the sliding glass door after being fed on the open expanse of our deck. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiED42YV-dDHzOXcPyGCbYjyTOQjHBzi4tY93vQB1e13bXxuqNPasVOQ28GT4mv3b2Pb9GyGbuQTkR7jz8KtKpzyUH3WbZFPAU3In09RQOvV7xKCGa1iurlRCrstatCCvmTlJjNXWFYxkOv/s1600/IMG_2885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiED42YV-dDHzOXcPyGCbYjyTOQjHBzi4tY93vQB1e13bXxuqNPasVOQ28GT4mv3b2Pb9GyGbuQTkR7jz8KtKpzyUH3WbZFPAU3In09RQOvV7xKCGa1iurlRCrstatCCvmTlJjNXWFYxkOv/s1600/IMG_2885.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the first day (the 14th) that I saw the little juncos mimicking their elders and attempting to forage. I counted three juveniles hanging out in the leaf litter under these evergreen shrubs; you can see how well camouflaged they are!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gQlJWFOH7Kjg1-vpok0Qg2UKa3X7q9mEu-U0-ODfIL0wNpKyE13gRKAFtM3GfV0DM3zp6FhRvCoyIZ0o7YLkXNU1feumamG15_hqSyVidheLeyA0VNK4NPdpiLmMbkhCeEFUmHBFj_9L/s1600/IMG_2918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gQlJWFOH7Kjg1-vpok0Qg2UKa3X7q9mEu-U0-ODfIL0wNpKyE13gRKAFtM3GfV0DM3zp6FhRvCoyIZ0o7YLkXNU1feumamG15_hqSyVidheLeyA0VNK4NPdpiLmMbkhCeEFUmHBFj_9L/s1600/IMG_2918.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have yet to get another decent feeding photo, though in this one (where my camera decided to focus one inch in front of the male junco) you can see that the adult has something like an earwig in its beak that the baby is rushing over eat.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQUA8coEIAXPJZ2MjIz6SWZkQ-JMmodQUcyHToXUgsHh8ahxtbtGSvTwbRL4I9QvfT6vB3of2cGPKZ-hisHEVlz9NJLBFGNcN7kuLaoNlm5oLkfnXk2i5eoWWZEH9yim9jiW4WuPKdovP/s1600/IMG_2901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQUA8coEIAXPJZ2MjIz6SWZkQ-JMmodQUcyHToXUgsHh8ahxtbtGSvTwbRL4I9QvfT6vB3of2cGPKZ-hisHEVlz9NJLBFGNcN7kuLaoNlm5oLkfnXk2i5eoWWZEH9yim9jiW4WuPKdovP/s1600/IMG_2901.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Raising a baby junco seems to be the work of more than just two parents, with various other adults keeping watch from high perches, though I could find no information supporting the idea that other flock members not raising young might assist in this manner. Perhaps all the young frequenting our yard are from different breeding pairs, but the ratio of adults in the vicinity of the little ones usually seems higher than simply 2-to-1. Incidentally, the males seem to do almost all if not all of the feeding. Sometimes, the adult males will fight, especially if one gets too close to the other's youngster, and I got to see one pair of males engage in a ritualized battle (right) where they puffed up their plumage and shrilled at one another.</div>
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Young juncos reach full independence between three and four weeks after leaving the nest, and since it has been at least one week for those around my house, the little juncos, in addition to practicing their foraging skills, are now spending more time exposed and alone. Yesterday, a youngster hopped up on one of the deck benches while his father made use of our bench-top birdbath. The adult then flew away, but the little one stayed and explored its surroundings for quite some time. It's possible that the bird's parents were watching from the roof or some other high perch, but there were no adults on the ground or in the shrubs nearby. At any rate, the baby junco seemed to have a good time and my family had a very good time watching the little junco!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ayFMWzZZpKyEg9sbNTUrEfD6w9riiJopsSOSEb7j3pc0U1Hp_w_DOIbTiXPA3uQxCv6P_UfNgTZhegxWvuDEIpWlsvCfPi3UrnV4HKiwBOQ9cDHhkhv4DyPOUnG5c41siXPdO_DYqlxw/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ayFMWzZZpKyEg9sbNTUrEfD6w9riiJopsSOSEb7j3pc0U1Hp_w_DOIbTiXPA3uQxCv6P_UfNgTZhegxWvuDEIpWlsvCfPi3UrnV4HKiwBOQ9cDHhkhv4DyPOUnG5c41siXPdO_DYqlxw/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is this something I can eat?" <br />The little one picked up and played with several pine needles, likely attracted by their worm-like shape.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtjCML28qQv5zi7YYzxj0t8b69bQ2OTpPsTB5gTilzaA3_D2iD6JWd6H90tuvnVGpVY3cgM0kICs66dpNySu7BMAEXX440dPXpLybKVKRwYxWeuzCIL0-PgLs-IUPHqq54kOvyBm9CWiS/s1600/IMG_2934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtjCML28qQv5zi7YYzxj0t8b69bQ2OTpPsTB5gTilzaA3_D2iD6JWd6H90tuvnVGpVY3cgM0kICs66dpNySu7BMAEXX440dPXpLybKVKRwYxWeuzCIL0-PgLs-IUPHqq54kOvyBm9CWiS/s1600/IMG_2934.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What happens if I peck at this plant?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVh7QfZvdD4ieU2apqdc0dmSG3R2TZyKSOcyJETAa_V3wY-iax4g6Gw-qut97dyZ3j_L6-TITKRRt9-IWsQqI00JO3N4rveO0m18EJEBTlQcQEC1iUvrpA93OL7IDY2TezWsTqhvZEaOHU/s1600/IMG_2944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVh7QfZvdD4ieU2apqdc0dmSG3R2TZyKSOcyJETAa_V3wY-iax4g6Gw-qut97dyZ3j_L6-TITKRRt9-IWsQqI00JO3N4rveO0m18EJEBTlQcQEC1iUvrpA93OL7IDY2TezWsTqhvZEaOHU/s1600/IMG_2944.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What happens if I pull on this leaf?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Y-xdkW4BddCuL-Srh0KxcGnZbomPsluojSg86UPBMGqmjb6aGnxn6YmB3lgTbjcHO3HJcT_Ch-FSv2PB8Hy3lk-K4PRcLusp_YWhdsePVCFUMaHW5m6xzmpAe9mnuWfHo6u0ih17804o/s1600/IMG_2949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Y-xdkW4BddCuL-Srh0KxcGnZbomPsluojSg86UPBMGqmjb6aGnxn6YmB3lgTbjcHO3HJcT_Ch-FSv2PB8Hy3lk-K4PRcLusp_YWhdsePVCFUMaHW5m6xzmpAe9mnuWfHo6u0ih17804o/s1600/IMG_2949.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Let me stretch this wing...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGEceCbGnugZcHCgvbsIadBytHvPCthm8PVoMmpX713PpJJbrs3ZqGrI-LdKtlfgRWXcD96LoBFUxR9bQYDu1OoNfmGyRexbjEIin6A8twwJKICUGnAZr2brGDqk6ULGlNC22-ftdSsB2/s1600/IMG_2966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGEceCbGnugZcHCgvbsIadBytHvPCthm8PVoMmpX713PpJJbrs3ZqGrI-LdKtlfgRWXcD96LoBFUxR9bQYDu1OoNfmGyRexbjEIin6A8twwJKICUGnAZr2brGDqk6ULGlNC22-ftdSsB2/s1600/IMG_2966.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and that wing."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSm3USuTG4si7WBYcvQqSWeOtFN-QbsKzhneVQB36o__3oQMK4kdl3z6DY7yC1DsuxY1YiX5NUlcUyYAnlbfglTnbEJaswu6QOfREIsVGAytjPBAGKi78YGaDc35A6UU0YpqzznARfSft/s1600/IMG_2970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSm3USuTG4si7WBYcvQqSWeOtFN-QbsKzhneVQB36o__3oQMK4kdl3z6DY7yC1DsuxY1YiX5NUlcUyYAnlbfglTnbEJaswu6QOfREIsVGAytjPBAGKi78YGaDc35A6UU0YpqzznARfSft/s1600/IMG_2970.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Standing up tall and looking like a goofball!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZL_otJLf1ITMgVWIT6g4oPW38KKOUXKXaSK-a0zntrVIYOnGLuR66FNu9brbnFF0j3Llo4PCakyXcO5DZiGfpXUJwcr7CBwmDFa3cZx3bYo34zwVEWNzBOTzHx9WcjIX4t3z7sI1TLqDV/s1600/IMG_2974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZL_otJLf1ITMgVWIT6g4oPW38KKOUXKXaSK-a0zntrVIYOnGLuR66FNu9brbnFF0j3Llo4PCakyXcO5DZiGfpXUJwcr7CBwmDFa3cZx3bYo34zwVEWNzBOTzHx9WcjIX4t3z7sI1TLqDV/s1600/IMG_2974.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hi!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vLXIYeFTce5O36tAFhwlVwF6mXDmShbK1SyZRs7zfbug6ajSQQHTIyk2TFKg9pfP3JSstAlBp21geQdxGT0wKT8KGUFM5wxElmDXQrDAYmoPPdguAYxPs_ic5UEvDWS1Q1zP4KsedZHn/s1600/IMG_2997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vLXIYeFTce5O36tAFhwlVwF6mXDmShbK1SyZRs7zfbug6ajSQQHTIyk2TFKg9pfP3JSstAlBp21geQdxGT0wKT8KGUFM5wxElmDXQrDAYmoPPdguAYxPs_ic5UEvDWS1Q1zP4KsedZHn/s1600/IMG_2997.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is this pebble edible?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiTA7vIGJDF2oVtQSVkrwbZVkHsa6-nSwWvk-3_3ZLzYMECGUlX19WKS5JVyw8A7AgWu3mVSJGyV739Tye3l8qXdqdPzzKxYyHo6RidGFRapkZuVO-mYB1L8Bo2nbt7g-p_C78iPj-tEB/s1600/IMG_3003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiTA7vIGJDF2oVtQSVkrwbZVkHsa6-nSwWvk-3_3ZLzYMECGUlX19WKS5JVyw8A7AgWu3mVSJGyV739Tye3l8qXdqdPzzKxYyHo6RidGFRapkZuVO-mYB1L8Bo2nbt7g-p_C78iPj-tEB/s1600/IMG_3003.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What's up there?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hLnIxdqaA1-8W4sTfje649OGLJ709M_ZPVfT4Tqvf5efw4MV7A0kbdO7PR3MjFGNRHfNA168K80EC3t7SGq8JAi4A_XUsJeihUsaA6Tci6CWf-KosDrYxgy9KWjlNreCt77Km8fRWEzV/s1600/IMG_3016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hLnIxdqaA1-8W4sTfje649OGLJ709M_ZPVfT4Tqvf5efw4MV7A0kbdO7PR3MjFGNRHfNA168K80EC3t7SGq8JAi4A_XUsJeihUsaA6Tci6CWf-KosDrYxgy9KWjlNreCt77Km8fRWEzV/s1600/IMG_3016.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Scratchin' myself..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKccI7NVfOMOuCMaVnY2zT3Pa559BneQMDmnTUwuXpDuGJqnyUQ0PDqmggBORh5rzjTBWcERxXpaRWhBe9rVau-c_yNzfh-2rPX1ze8Il2kV5OvUUIQWrma9cq5jR56mUJPg1ofKXlrj0P/s1600/IMG_3029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKccI7NVfOMOuCMaVnY2zT3Pa559BneQMDmnTUwuXpDuGJqnyUQ0PDqmggBORh5rzjTBWcERxXpaRWhBe9rVau-c_yNzfh-2rPX1ze8Il2kV5OvUUIQWrma9cq5jR56mUJPg1ofKXlrj0P/s1600/IMG_3029.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'll stretch my wings!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByKYCesHTNs2VhNa1Hn0SifN0LACeRSv0U8StfjxPqGrDQRnfHNnjQg66RzxfkYmPb8wBzfjMfFvMK7BxOU4aw5_spzlrl64viWBgbckB7Ab7RFj9emHBJH9U4O3za0r26nnj5iopu-m6/s1600/IMG_3030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByKYCesHTNs2VhNa1Hn0SifN0LACeRSv0U8StfjxPqGrDQRnfHNnjQg66RzxfkYmPb8wBzfjMfFvMK7BxOU4aw5_spzlrl64viWBgbckB7Ab7RFj9emHBJH9U4O3za0r26nnj5iopu-m6/s1600/IMG_3030.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm a beautiful, juvenile dark-eyed junco of the Oregon race!" </td></tr>
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There will undoubtably be more junco photos as the babies grow up, but these images should give you a sense of all the activity going on in our yard right now. Stir in some juvenile robins, jays, crows, starlings, nuthatches, and chickadees, to name a few, and you'll start to understand why I'm spending large chunks of each day sitting in the kitchen doorway or out on the back deck, enjoying the sights and sounds of baby birds growing up. And stay tuned: the end of the month post, with photos of all of the above, should be a fun one!</div>
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c.creativityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12794975124922741090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5055996469215313221.post-29209622869301084492014-06-01T19:03:00.000-07:002014-06-10T19:48:02.254-07:00Dogs Old and New<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBptMMDHzK1HMgCVtxajk51RLd3vxmLtldx158Q4aLp90Pqy7sJ59svx1JVoL47_htExclPnt7cLzImd7gboNY6ulWaRkpgZYI290Fv-ZBDRizwZF8pSVsOIO8x5gkWpbG-Xq96s-Kmxs/s1600/IMG_7918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBptMMDHzK1HMgCVtxajk51RLd3vxmLtldx158Q4aLp90Pqy7sJ59svx1JVoL47_htExclPnt7cLzImd7gboNY6ulWaRkpgZYI290Fv-ZBDRizwZF8pSVsOIO8x5gkWpbG-Xq96s-Kmxs/s1600/IMG_7918.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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In my <u><a href="http://c-creativity.blogspot.com/2014/05/32-birds.html" target="_blank">previous post about birds</a></u>, I mentioned that the photos were taken during a three-week stint looking after the collie, Mr. Gorgeous. While birds were my primary photographic preoccupation during that time, my lens occasionally strayed over to where Mr. Gorgeous was relaxing in the grass, as he was often my companion during my hours spent staring intently at the trees. His coat is in prime condition right now, fully grown in after his yearly summer shave, so he always looked very regal. I have hundreds of photos of Mr. Gorgeous looking gorgeous, but I can never resist taking a few more...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ8nI15ir8kI3dY_bnOAPXqbcn8f3cGCT_xBrNEuX5dXZ638YBBqG880SfDr8A-ceyJCzwqJO0wm-Tx7CBFYSDrVX6_P5zc9UzzmIUfIgheaxTAE3f6tuZlnXac4DxW748wMJvu0GRuuZ/s1600/IMG_9135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ8nI15ir8kI3dY_bnOAPXqbcn8f3cGCT_xBrNEuX5dXZ638YBBqG880SfDr8A-ceyJCzwqJO0wm-Tx7CBFYSDrVX6_P5zc9UzzmIUfIgheaxTAE3f6tuZlnXac4DxW748wMJvu0GRuuZ/s1600/IMG_9135.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a>While he remains as attractive as ever, there is no doubt that Mr. Gorgeous is getting old. Twelve is an advanced age for a dog of his size (he's much larger than your average collie). He spends most of his time sleeping, has lost interest in games, and while his arthritis isn't as bad when the weather is warm, it became clear during my time with him that his back legs are no longer getting full information from his nervous system. His balance is increasingly affected, jumping or climbing stairs is nearly impossible, but most worrisome of all, sometimes he'll knuckle under--that is, step on the top of his back paws instead of the bottom. It means he no longer knows how his paws are oriented in space. Hopefully, any further progression of this breakdown in communication will be slow, but there's no getting around the fact that my good collie friend is on the decline.</div>
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He still is pretty, though.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4miPUTEPDtzM6BiOd3rZMuRMkpYOZP8tcA7aN2_IYpnK-coSFT9i011jyH_Jsk4Xz8GoHNzYcfim9qr7WUVwv8cD4XU5sS3VMqauevM2bOmni-2uM3w0CJ48UvkeNeXaUBaV4O7pbcP7u/s1600/IMG_9750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4miPUTEPDtzM6BiOd3rZMuRMkpYOZP8tcA7aN2_IYpnK-coSFT9i011jyH_Jsk4Xz8GoHNzYcfim9qr7WUVwv8cD4XU5sS3VMqauevM2bOmni-2uM3w0CJ48UvkeNeXaUBaV4O7pbcP7u/s1600/IMG_9750.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Collie in the grass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp5UeE8tIkbYcuMaRY6BU5nkMFdPEoLzI0z2Gfy5TBRWEtTxYeAibUfnzFfZen90dDZyo2fNm9GltASzA9hWAn8y2tRErc0o2gtIyA4KB6sPfcmvIvqK-acguchcl78JvY90uGWH4e8S3/s1600/IMG_8737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp5UeE8tIkbYcuMaRY6BU5nkMFdPEoLzI0z2Gfy5TBRWEtTxYeAibUfnzFfZen90dDZyo2fNm9GltASzA9hWAn8y2tRErc0o2gtIyA4KB6sPfcmvIvqK-acguchcl78JvY90uGWH4e8S3/s1600/IMG_8737.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's barking his fool head off at something in this photo. Most likely, it's the threat posed by the robins.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRrSpfOzDirIHjk6luw7EEbVYL8iCrBw1KkM23qb55kVDL5pIXgqdLFZ-YMq6jopEv51ka73GnsH1HdPnwg_3fLLf1maUoWuLz8CxStJP2hqPT11MnWZ_BV-ghyphenhyphengK9Ltvr8Qh5Z7D978q/s1600/IMG_9653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRrSpfOzDirIHjk6luw7EEbVYL8iCrBw1KkM23qb55kVDL5pIXgqdLFZ-YMq6jopEv51ka73GnsH1HdPnwg_3fLLf1maUoWuLz8CxStJP2hqPT11MnWZ_BV-ghyphenhyphengK9Ltvr8Qh5Z7D978q/s1600/IMG_9653.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One day he settled himself in the verdant greenery by the pond while I was taking pictures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvygILMi825CFbqEe5KsdTMKx0ZajoBnQEP3JJN51ZgRU5AOPdrW-fAFncgXWEB3nHPGpQf5-OmiqrHjiIBKFrqUvMJ7uFbzr3SUfEiIG5wdyMBIWk5Mk-xuiVDNw8cg_vvDnjLVh6Tdz/s1600/IMG_8287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvygILMi825CFbqEe5KsdTMKx0ZajoBnQEP3JJN51ZgRU5AOPdrW-fAFncgXWEB3nHPGpQf5-OmiqrHjiIBKFrqUvMJ7uFbzr3SUfEiIG5wdyMBIWk5Mk-xuiVDNw8cg_vvDnjLVh6Tdz/s1600/IMG_8287.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Occasionally, he does look a bit disheveled, especially when first waking up from a nap.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugU5o6-fPzOAd_B01zDBIoeOPPYAnOGFU_MDx8POBuy9fmCOLLyC1N6YEBYedi8jbCWLT8ntMIcA0bj9aMn2OUOKAerzlOUg8oDnBMm4EQAIhQ93I0tc4s-TsBIQYVqzJ09cjYCO4VfZM/s1600/IMG_9168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugU5o6-fPzOAd_B01zDBIoeOPPYAnOGFU_MDx8POBuy9fmCOLLyC1N6YEBYedi8jbCWLT8ntMIcA0bj9aMn2OUOKAerzlOUg8oDnBMm4EQAIhQ93I0tc4s-TsBIQYVqzJ09cjYCO4VfZM/s1600/IMG_9168.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And every now and then, he manages to look ridiculous, like when he valiantly chased off some towhees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcgNDqmbKfyEYGUJ2wzRIpk62HfyHnQKrCatj81PYm9UogaG6GBWDWNrxdKhBWRoGnLpYbxs5GbCg2JassNNEbBQWuRpbUvcMSZE5Kt_WqAyi5lwJjZxMnnrzuh35PeHmRJIeGItDwnGe/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcgNDqmbKfyEYGUJ2wzRIpk62HfyHnQKrCatj81PYm9UogaG6GBWDWNrxdKhBWRoGnLpYbxs5GbCg2JassNNEbBQWuRpbUvcMSZE5Kt_WqAyi5lwJjZxMnnrzuh35PeHmRJIeGItDwnGe/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of the time, he looks like this. He remains capable of running vigorously in his sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfBXidHeFtqPlMFNYGOC-LP2337RVPfiNTdU1KRaeq02s-gRPyYAenA3QRis7AlfkkQjCUFyNO6Twm53YZyvoDelXfwzVMkhyphenhyphen6AdZwYVz1zGwhqhKm1ZAaGJZAIynJoA4B40ovXRLYebu/s1600/IMG_0203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfBXidHeFtqPlMFNYGOC-LP2337RVPfiNTdU1KRaeq02s-gRPyYAenA3QRis7AlfkkQjCUFyNO6Twm53YZyvoDelXfwzVMkhyphenhyphen6AdZwYVz1zGwhqhKm1ZAaGJZAIynJoA4B40ovXRLYebu/s1600/IMG_0203.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I always like the way he appears to float atop the lawn.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6FcKOZWaLMG4Jc8k6DJ-aP0xafl9thYHpln7ViPHBJTlCyP7KKUIN0SZTMSfIiShyVkgo61PZ2I9ScOcEnInJqHzRLeugwfppwHiZ95mzFm3_pmu_zmj2xZ1bhRK4nOJF4I5SB922FkP/s1600/IMG_9756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6FcKOZWaLMG4Jc8k6DJ-aP0xafl9thYHpln7ViPHBJTlCyP7KKUIN0SZTMSfIiShyVkgo61PZ2I9ScOcEnInJqHzRLeugwfppwHiZ95mzFm3_pmu_zmj2xZ1bhRK4nOJF4I5SB922FkP/s1600/IMG_9756.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While not overly interested in much these days, he still liked to be more or less in my vicinity.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgal0uqyiua7vbZa2oHW_E01a0TaPe0sINJ35OFO8I_otizS643wAzYm-1VrdxnhlmxXR8jDeig-0r4C4yZiuCwjTneIN9P6KN8RzE00Utidcgehnfc37V8WybUFdDzEyDG14mvGgVEBlpI/s1600/IMG_9763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgal0uqyiua7vbZa2oHW_E01a0TaPe0sINJ35OFO8I_otizS643wAzYm-1VrdxnhlmxXR8jDeig-0r4C4yZiuCwjTneIN9P6KN8RzE00Utidcgehnfc37V8WybUFdDzEyDG14mvGgVEBlpI/s1600/IMG_9763.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fortunately, age has done nothing to diminish his regal appearance.</td></tr>
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In other old dog news, I was saddened but not surprised to learn that the dear old dog I've referred to as Lady passed away this winter. (Lady is not to be confused with my other golden retriever client, Goldie, who I take care of more regularly.) Lady was fifteen years old and had lived a long life that brought much joy to those who knew her. When I first met her, she was thirteen and still spunky enough to go swimming and on vigorous walks. The last time I cared for her, she was almost fifteen, badly hobbled by arthritis, and could only go for short walks. She no longer played with her toys, though she still liked to have a ball near her. It was clear that her life was winding down, so, as I said, it was not a surprise to learn that she'd passed away. Lady was a very sweet soul--playful, watchful, and benevolent--and very much missed by her owner. It was a lucky day for everyone when I fell into conversation with her owner while walking Mr. Gorgeous at the park and mentioned that I was a dog-sitter! I may not have cared for her as frequently as some of my other clients, but I'm very glad to have been part of her life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgati6WBhc90sIfnD4ZOvpCIU3hVs0OfJDcEzjX4gjNsIywF2KNcZIxgUXHhiZ7CbzHORB-1AlXRkemfkTnRsqHrp6_vxMbZWA2vqdkKSfr88XGqV1r-pfZwycnghFDYpFm21vZ1D0-KtMH/s1600/IMG_8004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgati6WBhc90sIfnD4ZOvpCIU3hVs0OfJDcEzjX4gjNsIywF2KNcZIxgUXHhiZ7CbzHORB-1AlXRkemfkTnRsqHrp6_vxMbZWA2vqdkKSfr88XGqV1r-pfZwycnghFDYpFm21vZ1D0-KtMH/s1600/IMG_8004.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is one of my favorite photos of Lady.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSFA33LMm-_mY6oFPAezNeBV47LfIaINJrf3glKb-Qio5bWfejLnbAPWNBb7QJSgvWz5IL5fCvLitX2vfEufOCloK93eK8JzzybOQP8cV67zCqit5d3M4JMaD8ABNwqMTwqCjylKfxk2S/s1600/IMG_8578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSFA33LMm-_mY6oFPAezNeBV47LfIaINJrf3glKb-Qio5bWfejLnbAPWNBb7QJSgvWz5IL5fCvLitX2vfEufOCloK93eK8JzzybOQP8cV67zCqit5d3M4JMaD8ABNwqMTwqCjylKfxk2S/s1600/IMG_8578.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She'd watch the world go by through the front windows from the comfort of her bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ptvZ_uLq2rSPhJaQSLwyC8ikxdGgOXbNk6tq14PWs2-rqbnRsLuH7AQXlSlwe9GFK00HPtxBH-q2dxe5BGDaihQVYqps_bxX1mEpsSIvlq-AvGFIEs0vV-JUHAZRsfM5JLh7z0dEPlpk/s1600/IMG_7943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ptvZ_uLq2rSPhJaQSLwyC8ikxdGgOXbNk6tq14PWs2-rqbnRsLuH7AQXlSlwe9GFK00HPtxBH-q2dxe5BGDaihQVYqps_bxX1mEpsSIvlq-AvGFIEs0vV-JUHAZRsfM5JLh7z0dEPlpk/s1600/IMG_7943.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was capable of great silliness and loved rolling around on her toys even after she was too old to chase them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHaCPtZJo7P1hhOXsl36RG_BpEsqJrIiqghsWVE9x_aDli7zMB9MpooaNzQawHBHilWm317vnuhTcZqcsksVQSNQQsRt4vqBmmhdW4cNDoDeYyX_UFCSzZkXld9xaZanaZj2_wgeXWrB0/s1600/IMG_7962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHaCPtZJo7P1hhOXsl36RG_BpEsqJrIiqghsWVE9x_aDli7zMB9MpooaNzQawHBHilWm317vnuhTcZqcsksVQSNQQsRt4vqBmmhdW4cNDoDeYyX_UFCSzZkXld9xaZanaZj2_wgeXWrB0/s1600/IMG_7962.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was a beautiful, loving soul.</td></tr>
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Dogs on the decline have been a bit of a theme, so I'd like to introduce you to a dog I'll call Smoky, who belongs to the woman who cuts my hair. He's seventeen and is down to his final days or even hours, so I offered to take some photographs of him before he passed. I took some shots both indoors and outdoors so his loving family will have some special images to remember him by after he's gone. (And, thanks to Photoshop, they will not have to remember the thick green snot that he has been producing in great quantities during his final illness.) I've made memorial photo books for Sweetheart, Lady, and the Ancient Kitty's families; I love that my camera can help keep the memories of a beloved pet alive after it's gone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SKrtkMfPwPXgbDSO2DFWy2uCZvTMCueRFOTj8x9LnfXqc0t-dX22LGawwelHjM8Wz06KqzoykHPecQ85JCs5c-jbRajTrCtsgE-JYgVZikDgTs1CHhTDIqnocdNJzC0R02UXeXo04H_x/s1600/RockyGray1edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SKrtkMfPwPXgbDSO2DFWy2uCZvTMCueRFOTj8x9LnfXqc0t-dX22LGawwelHjM8Wz06KqzoykHPecQ85JCs5c-jbRajTrCtsgE-JYgVZikDgTs1CHhTDIqnocdNJzC0R02UXeXo04H_x/s1600/RockyGray1edit.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indoor Smoky with backdrop. He's actually had that grizzled muzzle since he was a puppy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnNZgv0MpjOZ1GRDlThuhQzzfJeEX5xsGny7-_w2Rkl9p3KOfLlKGf0WfqkgnGC-qr5Um68PtwBNOs4nZerrwgf9ShCZTD61ic3bTuCkChsCNM6ASVu2nip8lNxyfG63uXb_Edte6AqOR/s1600/IMG_0919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnNZgv0MpjOZ1GRDlThuhQzzfJeEX5xsGny7-_w2Rkl9p3KOfLlKGf0WfqkgnGC-qr5Um68PtwBNOs4nZerrwgf9ShCZTD61ic3bTuCkChsCNM6ASVu2nip8lNxyfG63uXb_Edte6AqOR/s1600/IMG_0919.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smoky on the lawn.</td></tr>
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So, I've had a lot to say about old dogs in this post. The next dog is old, too: at the age of nine, he's considered geriatric. But he's also new, as in a new client! I've long joked that my dog-sitting business should be called C's Large Geriatric Dog-Sitting Service because other than Cutie the Pyrenees, who is large and young, everyone is currently eleven or older. I haven't planned it that way, it's just what life has tossed in my direction. Goldie has been my smallest client, and while she's on the petite side for a golden retriever, she hardly qualifies as a small dog! I was actually a little trepidatious about taking on a small dog because I'm not always all that keen on them. I dislike yappy dogs, and dogs with super-runny eyes (especially that stain the fur), and I don't care for the appearance of a number of long-haired small dog breeds, like yorkies or shih tzus. I also don't like it when people allow or even encourage their small dogs to act in an aggressive manner because they think it's cute. </div>
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Fortunately, my new client, a King Charles spaniel that I'll call Little Buddy, has none of these issues! He seldom barks, doesn't have goopy eyes (Goldie's are much worse!), his super-soft fur is trimmed short so as to not to collect debris in the yard as he goes in and out of his dog door (best invention ever!), and is sweet as pie. Thanks to the doggy door and a disinclination toward long walks, my primary responsibility was to simply spend time with him. So that's what we did: we hung out together, which mainly consisted of him sleeping somewhere in my vicinity while I read or used my laptop or watched TV or slept. He'd come to me advertised as a lap dog, which I was eager to try, as I've had cats on my lap but never dogs, but as much as he enjoyed my company, it took him a few days to be ready to settle on my lap for a snooze. Of course, it also took me a few days to get the hang of picking up a small dog! But other than the lap dog learning curve, Little Buddy proved to be cute, sweet, and easy. I particularly liked to give him an extensive ear massage, which he'd then repay by carefully and thoroughly licking my hands. It's a very different thing to be licked by a little dog than a big, slobbery dog like Sweetheart! I did find myself falling a bit into the I-must-baby-the-small-dog mindset: I was far more reluctant to leave him for more than a few hours than I am my other clients. He just seemed so...small...to be out there alone in this big world. But he always survived those short periods when I left him and was very merry upon my return before settling back into snorting and snoring sleep. I very much hope to see Little Buddy again!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFktSmedKofFFENGM2umiJTtsu1e9cCTZTvR81T7MPa3FoFB6F1c3_Xy2Dis3XjGIhT3m1QFz4p7ecakx209o-k-rzGIgL6MuOh3th8cdmI2SOt_ozvyUB8C0sJnJjCH_NmKRuSVUP5BT5/s1600/IMG_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFktSmedKofFFENGM2umiJTtsu1e9cCTZTvR81T7MPa3FoFB6F1c3_Xy2Dis3XjGIhT3m1QFz4p7ecakx209o-k-rzGIgL6MuOh3th8cdmI2SOt_ozvyUB8C0sJnJjCH_NmKRuSVUP5BT5/s1600/IMG_0934.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have to say, I thought he looked pretty cute when he slept, as he often did, with his head between his front paws and his flowing ears draped over them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0AW7RzVuMffEuvIVcNJgOZvb-UXc6JgtHdpp-VPVuM90fB_SBky0tuiVs_Vn0v17NRNRxr7XRXo9L-dzwPzZD7wYA_VJ8J0PD8tS_K7xpypNVnnqlNr7JXMB8-cs_UhINreAOoljoATr/s1600/IMG_0948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0AW7RzVuMffEuvIVcNJgOZvb-UXc6JgtHdpp-VPVuM90fB_SBky0tuiVs_Vn0v17NRNRxr7XRXo9L-dzwPzZD7wYA_VJ8J0PD8tS_K7xpypNVnnqlNr7JXMB8-cs_UhINreAOoljoATr/s1600/IMG_0948.jpg" height="220" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After sleeping in the sun, he'd cool down by sprawling on the cool tiles of the hearth.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvWoIX4lWfUX4qjiT-fgm-rjMVDI5r7ASVNyZGK7DROn-Xbru2LTPWRczhwonkTbTdb3WTeWqFMvumAizhFzyb1j8mGLiIMLZ5crGHEfvJVGgtK0qhCpVQ5cYvTKVbBV5S2rTF4mz-mCF/s1600/IMG_0952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvWoIX4lWfUX4qjiT-fgm-rjMVDI5r7ASVNyZGK7DROn-Xbru2LTPWRczhwonkTbTdb3WTeWqFMvumAizhFzyb1j8mGLiIMLZ5crGHEfvJVGgtK0qhCpVQ5cYvTKVbBV5S2rTF4mz-mCF/s1600/IMG_0952.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Buddy sniffs the wind...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkHPSJv1D3J6sVOW4P3K_PHUv2kkFJcraYZ7IuB9nNauF4cLmX82Sz7Se10ztkNgrGJ_oAsX26TE6Ehp6Yk2E5cuf9rTo3uw9sUtOt3Nwwlug8x-o-KhFdke-9yMJsg_ZQaq2LIhXn1Yw/s1600/IMG_2083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkHPSJv1D3J6sVOW4P3K_PHUv2kkFJcraYZ7IuB9nNauF4cLmX82Sz7Se10ztkNgrGJ_oAsX26TE6Ehp6Yk2E5cuf9rTo3uw9sUtOt3Nwwlug8x-o-KhFdke-9yMJsg_ZQaq2LIhXn1Yw/s1600/IMG_2083.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and then settles in a sunbeam just his size.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfiQRfQSPkV30xUNY_G30HoZqdQ323R4Tnv60LgbOh6T1pbG6OMfqQhsG2OqFnzFb_hCKtsQKz27LWYNEjPItBnlQj-mguw1Gjkzl8mw8WFq_oNWRnX1NysbLgh2zBbm6io13mSKh4ZTD0/s1600/IMG_0942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfiQRfQSPkV30xUNY_G30HoZqdQ323R4Tnv60LgbOh6T1pbG6OMfqQhsG2OqFnzFb_hCKtsQKz27LWYNEjPItBnlQj-mguw1Gjkzl8mw8WFq_oNWRnX1NysbLgh2zBbm6io13mSKh4ZTD0/s1600/IMG_0942.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was something very charming and doll-like about him, which extended to his personality!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTEWoJU25Px8NcyCuTpgbJ_0LDGFbb8ADxuTiIkWr9XHvhabWiILLdNrC_hO_DRO1DHCrslgLA_Tc4OWct_iL1ODJWg7KSJwrWTDvVvKRBxoGuJ7BRapMnOSknRLVJDvzH37HiH_UlxCY/s1600/IMG_2188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTEWoJU25Px8NcyCuTpgbJ_0LDGFbb8ADxuTiIkWr9XHvhabWiILLdNrC_hO_DRO1DHCrslgLA_Tc4OWct_iL1ODJWg7KSJwrWTDvVvKRBxoGuJ7BRapMnOSknRLVJDvzH37HiH_UlxCY/s1600/IMG_2188.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He loves people and is eager to meet anyone and everyone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodouWuLrnW_L5_h2RCMSR9La7_KFcBuftpfKEwc13SW8IDNwfPEvhvlsNqy6LBYOySj6Pi8zrOJb8qX4xYxzKnUsvJzhwFUGu0qtP86U1UN4dI5UAWukb6UGZCTdp90vSZrM31LqxAsRf/s1600/IMG_2074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodouWuLrnW_L5_h2RCMSR9La7_KFcBuftpfKEwc13SW8IDNwfPEvhvlsNqy6LBYOySj6Pi8zrOJb8qX4xYxzKnUsvJzhwFUGu0qtP86U1UN4dI5UAWukb6UGZCTdp90vSZrM31LqxAsRf/s1600/IMG_2074.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A soundly sleeping Little Buddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHMjcXV2YCtVyso0NlTXBNG2vX2U6uDUCb0iyzsNXN9Fu8UiP3hJ9wYV-oOcMcp1Uz1wzHY7s07paAE_1H7jgbb9jbiqdw6JFsKOUkrYnynbSnovJfDZXPK2tY66IcYalKdPrQacH-Lxp/s1600/IMG_1101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHMjcXV2YCtVyso0NlTXBNG2vX2U6uDUCb0iyzsNXN9Fu8UiP3hJ9wYV-oOcMcp1Uz1wzHY7s07paAE_1H7jgbb9jbiqdw6JFsKOUkrYnynbSnovJfDZXPK2tY66IcYalKdPrQacH-Lxp/s1600/IMG_1101.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His snub nose profile.</td></tr>
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And how has my own geriatric dog felt about all of this dog-sitting and dog-photographing and dog-passing? It's made her ready for a nap!</div>
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