The Queen of the Castle

The pup has doubled in size since we got brought him home from the shelter at the end of May. He stands a hand taller and half again as long the eight-year-old golden retriever. He’s much stronger and more athletic, too. But as the latest arrival and most foolish member of the pack, he still finds himself at the very bottom of the pecking order, right below the three cats.

The pup is not, however, completely content with his lowly status. He’s trying to move up, but so far, it’s not worked for him, and he’s had a few scratched noses and some hurt feelings to show for it.

Both dogs acknowledge youngest son as the supreme leader. He is, after all, the one who rides his bike on the bush trails everyday so they can race after him. What’s more, he lets them both sleep at the bottom of his bed. Where ever he goes in the house, he has two dogs trailing, and when he uses the bathroom, there are two dogs curled up on the floor outside the door.

When youngest son sits on the couch, he often sits in the middle with one dog on each side. Last night, as he sat between them, the young one put his puppy face on son’s lap and then squirmed until his shoulders were there, too. That seems innocent enough, doesn’t it?

Not to the official enforcer of the household pecking order. Nope, according to the golden retriever, that sort of behaviour is downright come-uppity. She got down from her side of the couch, walked over to the other, pulled herself up and sat down squarely on top of the bumptious one.

He let out a few low growls, which she ignored, so he gave it up. There they sat, double decker on one corner of the sofa for half an hour or so, she with a big smile and he without.

I could have photographed it but some things are better left undisturbed.

Seasons change fast.

This is the front of a flier from a local tire company. It came in the mail today.

Here’s this morning’s photo from my front porch.

Here’s last weekend’s photo.

The flier came too late. I was still wearing my flip flops.

(Note: Comments are—temporarily, I hope—moderated. Leave your comment and I’ll approve you right away. Unless you are a certain someone picking the same old silly fight.)

Down the River with a Paddle

This morning I saw one of this blog’s readers off at the start of the Yukon 1000 Canoe and Kayak Race. Kerry is the Amish looking fellow on the left and at the back of the voyageur canoe above.

Kerry and his wife are the only blog readers previously unknown to me that I’ve met in real life. This is the third year in a row that Kerry has driven from New York to race his canoe in a Yukon long-distance race. This year he’s decided to enter the brand new really long one, the one advertised as “the longest canoe and kayak race in the world.”

Kerry may look Amish—and his hat is indeed an Amish one—but he attends a small Orthodox Presbyterian Church back in his hometown.