Fiberly One

Usually I’ve been pretty good about processing pictures off the camera, but I think I must have waited because I knew the last pictures of Cody were on the card. Over the next few days, I’ll be processing and posting as I get done.

May 28, 2007
Cody Rests

Mandy waits

I started writing this on Monday. I wanted to point to pictures of our boy-dog, but discovered that Google wasn’t finding all the Cody-pages. Then I had to find out why…so I’ve been “geeking” it for a few days. The result is a page of Cody pictures, while I redesign my photo pages template.

Before continuing, I want to thank everyone of you who sent your kind words of comfort to us. I have been remiss and not responded personally, but please know that every note is greatly appreciated.

About Cody

At 8pm the house is quiet now because, our canine dinner alarm is now at rest.

I just want to tell a bit about our little dog so you will know why he was so loved.

When Rosie, our well-behaved (mostly) girl became destructo-dog, we knew that she was lost when Stanley died, so we set out to find her a companion. That was in May 1995. In the back of a pen outside the Cupertino, CA Petco store, a small black dog looked demurely at us. That was the first of his acts. Rosie was indifferent to him (as as opposed to full rejection of the other dogs we’d brought out) so we signed the papers with NARF (Nike Animal Rescue Foundation) and he was ours…well sort of.

We took them both to Tom’s nearby office and the fun began. Instead of being the quiet shy little dog in the pen, he became a wild dog running around the office with wild abandon making small “ruff-ruff” noises. Then he stopped and looked up at me and stared—something he’d do for a while.

Cody had been surrendered to an animal shelter south of San Jose. We are convinced he was loved and given up only because of some significant change in life circumstances, because when we got him home, there was no question about whether or not he belonged on the sofa or slept on the bed. But he must have felt abandoned and wasn’t fully trusting of these strange people who had brought him to their house. Still he sat with us on the sofa—albeit aloof.

In time, he adopted us and we learned that he liked to talk (helping previously quiet Rosie discover her voice). He imitated other species, like goat, snake and prairie dog. He was our little entertainer and lover dog. Once he made the decision he was ours and we were his, he was also snuggle-dog and spent much of his quiet time on my hip. He trained us well.
  

The dinner time bossiness began not-so-subtly when he would knock Tom’s crossed leg off his knee. It evolved to trying to push him off the sofa by poking his nose under Tom’s shirt, goosing him, then shoving his head behind Tom’s back. Finally, he settled on a less strenuous method of barking as the dinner hour neared. This bossy-talk became his little trademark when he wanted to hurry us along. “No, you don’t need to wait till Mandy comes in. It’s cookie-time now.”

As with many small dogs Cody was a big dog in a little body. The difference was that he really was “large” weighing in at 21 lbs in a frame that visually was 12 lbs. But his bravado was usually limited to protecting the house looking out from the comfort of the upstairs bedroom window in San Jose, or landing on the stairs in West Linn. Pure entertainment.

In the 12 years he was with us, Cody never bit a thing. He never growled (except at those who dared to encroach on his house). He only doled out single kisses to those he loved. He would talk to us when we got home from work to tell us about his day (or maybe tattle on Mandy) and that was reserved only for us, and ultimately dog sitter extraordinaire, Jane.

We are missing our dinner alarm and hip-pillow, and bed warmer. We are missing the little dog who brought so much into our lives, but his memory will live on in our hearts.

The Cody picture page is here.

That’s the word Dianne used when I told her about our Cody.

It is so good to be home, but we arrived Thursday night to a very ill little dog. At not-quite-fourteen, Cody’s little body has decided to give out and the doctor can’t fix him. Renal failure.

We took him to the vet yesterday and learned how to give him subcutaneous fluids and that perked him up. He is happy at home with us and we will spend as much time as we can loving and caring for him.

The Boys
It was a lovely day Saturday, so we just took a quick walk around the neighborhood. When we arrived home and had “released the hounds” to go outside, we decided to just enjoy the day a little more. Cody likes being on Tom’s lap…but only for a short while.
  

More flowers
You’d think I’d never seen flowers in my life…Here are some cool ruffly pepperminty tulips from the aforementioned walk.

And we arrived home to see yellow flowers hanging from a bush by our driveway. Tom says it flowered last year but all the flowers were inside.

Sasha Progress
Now that I’ve reached a milestone in the Sasha skirt, I think I’ll pick up the Luna Shawl again. I need to leave something for the plane and airports.

It was another lovely spring day yesterday. Mandy was sitting on the patio soaking up some rays. So quick like a bunny I ran upstairs to get the camera. By the time I got downstairs her sunning moment was over and she was at the door.

Cody, on the other hand, was protecting us from the mean ol’ lawnmower next door. Those lawnmowers really get his back up.

And for his efforts he flashed me the “Cookie?” look.

The first definition in dictionary.com for promenade is “1. a stroll or walk, esp. in a public place, as for pleasure or display.” And that’s what we did.

It was a day that epitomizes why we are still thrilled with our move to Oregon, two years later (officially in two days, as it turns out.) The sun was shining; it was a balmy 60 degrees and just beautiful. We opted not to go to Mary S. Young again, since neither we nor the dogs fancied another puppy shower. Instead we headed across the Oregon City bridge to the McLoughlin Promenade for a little walk.

In the short walk we viewed a bit of Oregon history from the bridge to the falls.
  

The dogs love their walks.

The treat on the way home.

And resting when we get there.

There was a little more to see on the walk, so check out thehudsons.com

Sunday was so nice, that we decided to take the “kids” to the dog park at Mary S. Young State Park. There were lots of dogs, but they all seemed to be at the back of the park. We quickly found out the reason why—mud!

And there were lots of puddles.

What do you do when it’s 50 degrees out and you are a Newfoundland with a big think coat? Why you splash in a puddle and then just lay in it. And if your big brother is puddle jumping, then you have to get your paws in it, too.

We laughed. Cooper’s mom said it wasn’t funny, but she laughed, too. How could you not?
  

A little meeting and greeting.

Next stop: the river. At least the water is cleaner.

Our dogs are not “water dogs.” If they can’t drink it, they want nothing to do with it. The mud, however, didn’t seem to bother them. Cody is so low slung, it’s thought that he would have drowned in Cooper’s puddle. As it was, his little undercarriage was so covered with mud, he (along with Miss muddy Mandy) was treated to a shower when we got home. Lucky dogs.

The picture of Rosie and her favorite toy got me thinking about all our dogs favorites. Each have had very different preferences.

Stanley LOVED racquet balls. Give him a new racquet ball and his big eyes would get even bigger. They were not only something to be chased and brought back to be thrown again, but he figured out if he just rolled on the ball he got a good back rub. One Christmas, we made the mistake of wrapping a small gift in a racquetball can and putting it under the tree. Stanley was sorely disappointed when he opened the can.

Rosie preferred rope bones. We called them her “rah-rah” because when we brought home the first one, she stood at the top of the stairs and shook it like a cheerleader’s pom-pom.

Cody loves Booda Velvets. If there’s more than one around, he’ll hoard them. If the back door is open, that means burying them, and he’s pretty good at it. We finally caught him in the act and watched him dig into the very hard San Jose clay soil, place the two bones he was carrying around (oblivious to Mandy following him and us watching), then carefully use his nose to cover them up. And I’ll be darned but you could not tell anything was buried there.

Tom makes a pretty good toy, too.

Mandy is a soft sqeaky toys kind of girl, and she has quite a pile of them. Some have stood the test of time, though, including “blue baby” and Cody, her very favorite toy.

Honorable mention goes to Annie, my mom’s past dog. Annie liked noisy toys, but mostly she liked toys that weren’t hers. When she’d visit, she’d take all Rosie or Mandy’s toys and carry them up to bed with her.

After finishing my shirt cutting marathon Saturday, it was time to get down to the rewarding part—sewing. Sunday morning, as he sipped his morning coffee, I finished sewing on the buttons.

The fabric is called “Puppy Love.” I must have bought the fabric last year planning to make him a Valentine’s shirt…Better late than never.

And here are some happy puppy faces for your Heart Day pleasure.