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Lola's Diary

Since Lola's traumatic experience two weeks ago, I have been trying to re-introduce her to unthreatening members of her species - older dogs that hover near their owners and small well-behaved ones - so that she will recognize that not ALL DOGS are out to get her. Just tonight, I ran three blocks out of our way to hook up with a couple of miniature poodles. It turned out they were interested in each other and not Lola, so she sat and watched the inevitable. At least she wasn't between my feet.

Much of Lola's free waking time (when she's not playing with her toys) is spent sitting underneath the windowsill, which is way above her sight line. Her head is tilted upwards. To an outside observer, this might seem filled with pathos. A city dog cooped up all day, longing to be running in the fresh air, appearing to be in a meditative kind of state with the great outdoors. Sometimes she even stands on her hind legs, one would think, trying to glimpse the sky above. Nothing could be further from the truth. Two pidgeons live underneath our air conditioner, and unfortunately and to the great frustration of Lola, they have grown accustomed to her bark, and no longer fly off at her mere presence. It takes Jeremy or I to open the window screen and shoo them away, though their homing instinct has them back in minutes. Sometimes, as I'm working at the computer, I can hear low rumbling sounds (of course, not growls, more like warm ups to barking) coming from Lola at the window, and she might even emit a short quick bark, but by and large, she appears to be quite resigned to maintaining her pidgeon watch in silence.

Last Saturday afternoon, we went to a reading at BookHampton, the bookstore on Main Street in East Hampton. There's a nice area set up for readings on the second floor, with couches and folding chairs gathered around the author's chair. The book was Dog Speak, the author kept refering to himself as Bosch. He related stories about his clients and included their conversations. He interprets dog behavior into Human Speak so that 'we' can understand what's really going on with that wagging tail. Lola sat up straight (in my lap), in what I had just described to my students as good listening posture, but what was really going on was there were a lot of dogs in a small space and she was hedging her bets. Two obstreperous Golden Retrievers were to our right, one rolling and licking a seven year old with smeared face paint on a couch, the other attempting to sit in the father's lap. A woman sitting in front of me turned to greet Lola and when she looked up, we recognized each other as old roommates. She introduced me to her husband and he informed me they had just adopted a Llaso Apso. Bosch took questions from the audience.

"What do you do about separation anxiety?" a woman from Arf (the local animal rescue group) asked. She had introduced her dog, one of the many in the community that are abandoned at summer's end, a German Shepherd mix who also sat in her lap. Bosch told a story about a client with the same problem. "I went to her house and she said her dog had terrible separation anxiety. 'OK, well, let's go out,' I said matter-of-factly. 'No, no, no, no,' she said. 'First I have to...' and then she took about half an hour setting out ten toys, and ten cookies next to the toys." We had a good laugh over that. Bosch, who also works with famous dogs, has a web site: Dogstar.com. I've yet to check it out.

Nov. 15, 1999
I'm going to start dating these entries. Jeremy and I took Lola to the school yard this morning. I usually take her there a couple of times a week on my own, and Jeremy, also, walks her there most mornings. I was doing some stretching, and Jeremy decided to run and try to have Lola follow him. She'd run about half way between us, sit, and then rush back to me. She just refused to go very far with Jeremy. We were talking last night about how much we project that Lola is thinking (and what she is thinking), when in reality she's behaving on instinct, in the moment, with no 'thought' overlying her actions. So, of course, today's episode was not indicative of Lola deciding who she liked better ( ho ho), but rather the instinct to return to the primary caregiver and food provider.

Nov. 20, 1999
Jeremy pointed me to the playdog.com website - the one that Playboy is suing for name infringement - and it's well worth a visit. There's a contest for dog stories and I'm planning to enter the following Lola tale:

I saw the audition notice in The New York Times: "Small dogs (under 15 pounds) needed for Off-Off Broadway production." Our sweet tempered Shih Tzu, Lola, 12 pounds, seemed destined for stardom. Indeed, the hordes of media assembled outside the Upper-Eastside theater outnumbered the pets and their owners lined up at the stage door. Lola, with a jaunty red bow tied around her top knot, sat patiently while her picture was repeatedly snapped.

Upon entering the darkened theater, we were given a number and told to sit. I was startled to discover that the person next to me, who whispered in my ear, "He does tricks," was carrying a hamster in a cage. I was in for an even bigger surprise when our number was called and I made my way up the aisle and onto the stage. A long table had been set up. Owners stood behind the table with their dogs on top of the tables. Standing next to Lola was a German Shepherd, whose owner was desperately trying to push into a sit. I understood the poundage requirement, when the stage manager scooped up Lola and holding her close, spun around in an artfully choreographed move. Lola ended her performance by licking the woman's cheek. The Shepherd, on the hand, was rejected for being over 15 pounds (I heard another owner say, "He's 75 pounds if he's a day").

I was shocked when Lola didn't get the part, and left the theater with just a crummy tee shirt. However, the true story emerged under the marquis. The man whose dog (a Scottie) had snagged the part, in an interview with a Japanese television company, stated that he was the doorman in the stage manager's building.

Nov. 23, 1999 - Taking Lola To Be Boarded
All week I dreaded dropping Lola off at her vet, where she'll stay for the four days of the Thanksgiving break, while Jeremy and I join my family at Kutsher's (no pets policy, unfortunately - she would have loved running down those long carpeted hallways and careening up and down the golf course greens). The last time we boarded her was a disaster.She's a very small, non-aggressive dog so many things can go wrong. Right after we dropped her off, we took the subway to Manhattan and went to see "The Price" at the Royale Theater. During the interminable wait for the show to begin, I wrote about how I was feeling on the white space of the playbill. The first four years of Lola's life we had the perfect pet sitter. I met her while walking Lola in Sunnyside, Queens, and the woman, who had a screwed up terrier named Pesto (not after the pasta sauce but because he's a pest-o), marvelled at Lola's friendly nature. "Maybe Pesto will learn from Lola," she commented ruefully. The woman lives in a small studio with her husband, and the dogs had the run of the place, meaning they were allowed to chase each other by jumping from one piece of furniture to the next. Lola played with Pesto's toys, and Pesto ate Lola's food. Lola would pull on her leash to get to the front door of the apartment building when we arrived and did not look back.

When I called the pet sitter before our Vermont bike trip last summer, I learned that she and her husband were in couple's therapy and it was frankly, because of, as her husband put it, "that furry creature." It was not a great time to take Lola in. I boarded Lola in Manhasset, at the home of a secretary at the animal clinic - and Lola came back with fleas and worse, colitis, which is a chronic condition. She was also freaked out. What does a freaked out dog look like? Her fur was all disheveled, she was scratching up a storm, and her face was kind of mashed in. Since she couldn't tell me what went down, I could only imagine...

This time when I handed her over, I had simple care directions written on an index card. (Last time it was a single spaced typed treatise.) I called only once - and was told that Lola was not a problem. (Not exactly what I was expecting to hear, but at least not bad news). Jeremy took a car service over to the clinic to pick her up on Monday morning, and reported to me when I called during the day, that Lola was sleeping on the couch (whew) and fine. He was told she barked (who wouldn't locked up in a cage?) but was basically well-behaved. I'm just so relieved she's back and not sick.

We checked our "Travelling With Your Pet" book and found a place that accepts dogs in upstate New York, and that's where we all will be spending our New Year's Eve.

December 5, 1999 - Holiday Shopping With Lola

Yesterday, we went holiday shopping in one of my favorite neighborhoods - Park Slope, Brooklyn. It was such a beautiful day, warm with a cloudless blue sky. I remember when we moved to Park Slope, the first Spring day we walked Seventh Ave. We went into Summerday's Dream (now Lemon Grass Thai Restaurant) and bought a bed. The place had that old-fashioned Village-y feel - incense, colorful scarves, rain sticks, futons, big pillows - and the owner, who was closing the store soon and moving to Woodstock, told us that on this kind of day everyone comes out, smiling. It was that kind of day yesterday. The streets were filled with people, but there was room for everyone and the vibe was great. There was a huge parent sponsored crafts fair at P.S. 321. I bought two quilted pot holders. Jeremy stayed with Lola in the school yard. When I came out, there were a circle of small children petting her. We stopped for coffee and banana bread at Uprising bakery, and then carrying Lola, went to Claypot, a fine craftswork shop, and attempted to look at rings. It was a little too crowded. As we made our way back to the street, Lola's head got patted and her chin pinched.

In front of the church on 7th and Carroll, a Christmas tree sale was underway. Two adults sat with their big barking German Shepards watching the trees. It seemed strange, with so many little kids around, that these big dogs were being allowed to hog the sidewalk. Then, all of a sudden, one got off its leash and lunged at Lola. Having had this grim experience recently, I pulled her up to my arms in a second, as the owners went after their dog. They started arguing with each other, "I told you to tighten the leash," etc. We moved on. Of course, I should have picked Lola up or crossed the street as soon as I heard that kind of gruff aggressive barking, but at least, I acted quickly, or quicker than I did last time. I trusted that, it being Park Slope, land of activist parents, the barking dogs would be banished from the kingdom pretty soon.

We walked over to the Green Market at Grand Army Plaza just outside of Prospect Park, and bought a week's supply of greens, potatoes and onions, and apples. I miss the Slope a lot. We moved because the rents went up astronomically about four years ago, and our sublet was being sold. But yesterday was the first time I entertained the thought that we'll move back at some point. Today's another fantastic day, and we'll visit the other fave 'hood - the East Village.

Dec. 13, 1999 - Lola Attends a Wondrous Concert in Woodstock

Where else but Woodstock would a little dog be welcomed into a concert? We stumbled upon a poster for the event as we wandered around town yesterday, en route home from the Catskills. It was a benefit for the homeless, held in the beautiful art center on Tinker St. Where else but Woodstock would every performer tell remembrances of Rick Danko, "the spirit of Woodstock", and dedicate their songs to him? The concert went on for over three hours (we finally had to leave or risk hitting really bad Sunday night traffic) and the music was phenomenal. Performers included Leslie Ritter, Scott Petito, Jules Shear, Ed Sanders and Tom Pacheco. A money donation or food was taken at the door. Besides the unbelievable music (mostly folk rock), the organizers served hot cider and cake and cookies to everyone. We arrived early to make sure it was ok for Lola to be there and set ourselves up in a good spot. Eventually, it was standing room only. Word may have gotten out that there would be a lot of special guests or maybe the community spontaneously came together to hear music so soon after Rick Danko's passing. Then again, Woodstock has always struck me as a community that takes care of its own. We had to leave before Kate Taylor got up on stage, among others that waited in the wings. There was a blues jam going on while we made our way to the door, including two musicians that had travelled with Rick on his last tour, which ended just a couple of weeks ago. One guy sang a song he and Rick had written together - an incredibly plaintive song about never quite getting over loneliness. Three amazing female vocalists sang, one part of a duo from Albany, another part of a duo that included a stand up bass, and the third, dedicated a very sad song to Rick. Of course, I didn't take notes and should have, so I can't match the names to the songs or even remember what the songs were specifically about. The first group featured an electric violinist. I worried as Lola threw her had back and gave her low on key whispered howl. But, she stopped as we rearranged her in our laps and went to sleep. She has never done well with the sounds of a concertina or harmonica. The sound drives her nuts. But the electric harmonica played last night just caused her to raise her head, and then sink back into a deep sleep. It must have been the hike we took up the mountain just outside of town, where a sign warned us that dogs should be kept on leashes because of porcupines and other wild animals. Lola was going wild with the smells. We had a marvelous time.

1/1/00 What's Up With Groomers?

Hey, just wrote '00' for the first time. I'm wondering how many times I'll write 99 in unconscious bliss. I need to record a weird experience at the groomers day before yesterday. We've used Pampered Poodle in Astoria for a good four of the five years of Lola's life and I've always felt comfortable leaving her there. The two sisters who run it have been in business for over twenty years. They remind me (in a good way) of Bart Simpson's aunts. They have that heavy throated smoker voice and they look from another time - like the 70's - as does their shop with odd old dog toys and treats. A couple of times they've discovered things wrong with Lola before I have, and in general, I've felt they groom her with an ok no nonense approach. When Lola had an ear infection and she wouldn't let anyone near her (I took her to the vet and they gave me valium so the groomer could do her ears), the groomer refused and said they never use drugs with the dogs. (I gather that's a warranted fear that a lot of people have about groomers in general.) So it came as kind of a shock the other day, when I walked in to the store a little early and heard screaming coming from the back. I mean loud, angry screaming. "STAY STILL," "STOP MOVING," etc. Then I heard "I'm not doing her ears." one of the sisters, in the front grooming room had seen me enter, but obviously, the one in the back hadn't. Next, I saw Lola being carried into the front grooming room.
I knew she had been giving the sister a run for her money. I know she's impossible about her ears. But still, what good does yelling do? The other sister finished grooming her. She snipped the bottom of her ears, I thought unevenly, but I kept my mouth shut, because I felt a little embarrassed for her and for myself, having heard something I shouldn't have. She quickly tied a black sparkly bow around her neck, put her on the floor, and Lola rushed out to me. I wondered if the reason Lola goes flat on her stomach when we enter Pampered Poodle or heads for the door had to do with the yelling or the general grooming experience. I said to her, 'were you a bad girl?' in a friendly way, partly so that the groomer would know that I knew Lola was difficult and I wasn't blaming the groomer for that. But I'm wondering about the yelling. Does that mean they do anything else to Lola in the back room (like hit her)? It seemed to me that yesterday Lola was very lethargic (my mother always says that's because they give her drugs), but Jeremy said not, that she was her usual goofy self. Hmmm. Makes me think of those day care centers that parents discover have been abusing their kids, but, I may be far off here.

Jan. 15, 2000 Lola's in the Dog House
A dog that lives indoors for the most part, must create its own safe spaces, its own home within the home. Lola has indeed done that. When she's in the bedroom, as often as she's lolling on the bed, on top of as many pillows as she can manage or nested in the duvet comforter, she is under the small table next to the bed. She curls up under it and sleeps. She carries toys underneath there. In her line of vision, she sees my slippers, newspapers and books that I have put aside on the rug, sometimes my glasses. So she has the illusion that I am near by (and it's true, I am) at the same time as she's got a roof of her own. In our old apartment, she slept under the bed on a wood floor. Perhaps it's also an instinctive way of protecting one's home, being in a 'home' or space of one's own as opposed to the house at large. Lola's genetic background being what it is - the Shih Tzu's guarded the rooms where royalty sat within the palace (Tibetan Mastiffs guarded the outside rooms) - it would make sense that  she would be nearest to the throne (excuse the stretch of metaphor here). Gives new meaning to the adage "a man's home is his castle."

Feb. 28, 2000 Travelling With Lola in the Great Southwest

Just returned from a week in Arizona. Taking Lola along was a mixed bag. As we hiked the red rock Broken Arrow Trail in Sedona (Lola's legs were red by the time we were finished) or Hubert's Trail outside of Phoenix, I thought - you haven't lived til you've hiked with a dog. You keep up with them because they lead. The dexterity with which a dog can climb up and down rocks, the incredible keeping to the trail (it's by smell, I guess), the perserverence and lack of complaint! All of the good things about a relationship with a dog come through loud and clear. But then the down side - which has less to do with the dog than with social conventions. We stayed at one place that didn't allow dogs - but it was late and we were really tired - so we snuck her in, only to find that when we wanted to step out for dinner, she started barking. So, Jeremy went for 'take-out' and we were stuck in the room all night, and had to 'sneak out' the following morning. We actually found a cafe in Flagstaff that allowed dogs (after we asked the patrons if they minded - they didn't), but I was sick that day, and so ate nothing and kept my head on the table, while Jeremy had a bowl of soup and some watery coffee. A five hour delay at the airport is no fun, and with Lola (luckily she wasn't boarded with the luggage!) meant leaving the terminal for a walk and rushing back - as the clerk made no guarantee of when the plane would actually be leaving. Going to and from Phoenix, I was able to hold Lola on my lap (you're supposed to keep the dog in a bag under your feet). I hid her under a sweater with her little nose peeking out, and she slept like I wished I could. When we got off the plane, I openly held her, and someone sitting nearby us said, "Is she always this good?" Speaking of commentary from strangers, this trip must be the all time record number of interactions with people and Lola. One lunch in Sedona, Jeremy and I sat inside a restaurant where I watched Lola in full view seated right outside the glass door. Fifty people must have stopped and petted her, scratched her stomach, etc. as her tail wagged madly back and forth. In the airport, dozens of people came up to me and said a version of, "I left mine at home! I miss my dog!" One little girl (this, during the five hour delay), took over Lola's leash, and walked her around, sat with her, talked to her, calling her "Sweetie,"  while I read a magazine. 
I've found that after these heavy bonding experiences with the dog, she gets very clingy for a while afterwards. Today, when I came home from school, beside the usual greeting, Lola wanted to sit in my lap while I made phone calls, and now she's doing that with her head over my arm as I type (sleeping, of course. Oh to be able to sleep wherever, whenever). I expect tonight she'll sleep on my head or right next to my face, which she does at times like this. Nothing like waking up in the morning to a big breathy sigh in my face as Lola gets more comfortable.

July 10, 2000
It's amazing to me that so many months have passed since my last entry. I'm looking at Lola and she at me from her restful perch on the sheet-covered couch. Lately her familiar terrain has been turned around because of Jeremy's bookcase building project. The living room rug was rolled up and put in the back bedroom. Most of the furniture was moved to elsewhere in the apartment, and the floor is covered with a plastic dropcloth. Even more disruptively, a piano (also covered with a dropcloth) has been moved into the center of the living room. (This new arrival is actually a used piano from my elementary school. It took me a year of finagling with the school district to get them to give me the piano instead of throwing it out.) 
Jeremy has built saw horses and made a worktable for himself on one side of the living room. The disturbing combination of the electric saw noise and sawdust has made Lola one unhappy camper. The first few nights she did her 'let's climb on Ellen's head as many times as possible while she's sleeping' routine. You can't overestimate how much a dog reacts to changes in her environment. On the positive side, since it's my summer vacation, I'm around a lot and she's accompanying me on more walks and trips in the car. She is adjusting, even sleeping on the plastic sometimes.
I'm sporadically reading Elizabeth Marshall Thomas' new book, The Social Lives of Dogs. I found her previous book, The HIdden Life of Dogs much more interesting. This one has fewer observations and more flat descriptions of her dogs.  She mentions an intelligence test for dogs and of course, I administered it to Lola immediately after reading about it. Place a dog biscuit under a towel and see how quickly the dog gets to it. This test mirrors a game I've been playing with Lola since she was a puppy, but I use a toy not a treat. I hide a toy under a pillow or under a blanket and she has to find it. She has played this game, and variations of it, almost every day of her life. Needless to say, the biscuit/towel game was a total snap for her, with the added incentive of it being food instead of a toy. I don't know if she gets extra points for continuing to paw the towel  for the biscuit well after it was gone or returning to the same spot later (with no towel in sight) and sniffing around. I do feel it's important to provide little stimulating activities for dogs with great regularity. Lola is such an alert dog and (not to brag or anything), people often think she's a puppy. Well, on that 'proud parent' note, I'll sign off.

October 3, 2000

We did okay carrying her on the subway and to NJ Transit and then Septa. Lola did her usual 'nocturnal wanderings' in the apartment. The clicking of her nails on the wood floors warned of her arrival, and she was escorted out of various rooms, to finally return back to the familiar sides of her owners. 

November 23-26, This Thanksgiving With Lola

A sudden snow shower in Southampton, and we ran back to the car, regretting not taking Lola's sweater. She's freshly groomed, and her coat is short enough for her to shiver in temperatures just below freezing. As always, my parents had Lola's toys laid out for her, so when she ran into the house (or more like slid in on the slippery wood floors) she knew where to direct herself (after giving my parents a very excited greeting).  We were just the four of us for Thanksgiving dinner, so went to a restaurant. The waiter wisked off the bone I had saved from Jeremy's lamb, so Lola had no 'treat,' until Saturday, when we were absorbed in eating a wonderful dinner that Gabe prepared in Philadelphia along with Ellen, Coleman, Miriam, Blythe and Craig. Blythe went into the kitchen and found Lola licking the last of a stick of butter. Jeremy ran after her and she continued to lick her mouth and look mighty happy. She actually remained quite content for two days, and then, her reaction was less than expected.  Of course, we had to tease her about being a butter ball, etc.

January 14, 2002: Lola and Sylvia

'Dog, dog, dog,' says Sylvia, pointing her finger, as we roll past any dog being walked on the street. This was her first word -- dog. Her second word was da da, her third -- ma ma, and just this past week she started saying ba ba, for baby. She now can identify everyone in the family. So Lola knows she is included in this new configuration. She has also gracefully acceded her position as top dog to Sylvia. Here's why: most importantly, food. Before Sylvia, Lola was on a strict diet of ID Prescription dry dog food, one cup a day. Occasional dog treats. Now, positioned right near Sylvia's high chair, usually three times a day, she receives everything from chicken to rice as it is swept and dropped off the tray. Lola sometimes sits literally under the high chair so she can get to the food from any angle as quickly as possible. But I think she's figured out that there are two directions the food falls from and it's usually the left side of the chair. She sits, alert, looking up at the tray, waiting for the magic hand to release the food. 

Next, Lola now has company most of the day. Before, I would leave at 7:30 AM and return at about 4. She was home alone. Now, she not only has me, she also has Sylvia. Wherever we are, she is. If we are playing on the living rug, she is lying right next to us. If we are sitting on the couch, she is snuggled in too. When I put Sylvia down for the night, we sit on the glider chair reading or singing, and Lola sits on the furry rug or the ottoman. When I give Sylvia a bath, Lola sits on the bath mat. Best of all, Sylvia gives Lola stuffed animals to play with -- Lola's and her own. She hands them to Lola and Lola takes the toy and runs around with it. Over the week end, Sylvia received a furry creature on an elastic string that makes a boing sound when it hits the ground. Lola is more fascinated by this toy than any of us. Sylvia has given it to her. 

At night, Lola still sleeps in our bed, and this is comforting to her -- the best seat in the house, so to speak. In the morning, before Sylvia gets up, I straighten up a little, read, answer e-mails, etc. One morning, Lola heard Sylvia wake up before I did, and not only did she stand at her door (as always), she barked. Good dog. 

Before Sylvia came home, many people raised the question about whether Lola would be jealous, but it came out as more of a statement -- Lola will be so jealous. Since Sylvia has been home, people ask "How is Sylvia getting along with Lola?" or "How is Lola adjusting to Sylvia?", expecting an answer that speaks to the difficulty of bringing a young child into a home with an established pet. 

I always knew Lola would be great. She has been raised to be gentle and friendly, encouraged to interact with kids at every chance, since we got her at age 3 months. We've known that one day we would have a kid of our own. Lola, with close to eight years of preparation, was ready. 

Luckily, Sylvia really enjoys the presence of Lola, her busy-ness, activity, soft fur, easy access. And she has picked up on a theme -- when we read a book with a dog in the illustration, she points to it and says, 'dog.' When we were at music class, and Sylvia noticed there were dogs in the rug pattern, she picked them out, and said, 'dog' each time. Lola, and by extension all dogs, seems to have given her one way of contextualizing her environment. 

March 4, 2002 

Visited with Lola’s Mom, Monday, today (and with my old friend DeeDee). Monday is not in great shape – she’s blind in one eye, has diarrhea, and moves like it’s painful. Sylvia took to her immediately – patting her, and looking for her as we made our way around the house. 

When we arrived home, she and Lola were climbing on pillows that I had stacked on the floor. I heard Sylvia laughing, so went to see what was happening. Sylvia was bouncing a little ball to Lola, and Lola was catching it, while alternating with chewing a stuffed cat that has become a favorite. Lola was really working herself into a frenzy, and Sylvia found this quite amusing. 

When I pet Monday earlier today, she sighed in a way that reminded me of Lola. I felt sad that Monday was not doing well, and also, thought about Lola’s future – what it will be like as she gets older, and loses some of her bounce. 

June 14, 2002

Saw a 14 year old Shih Tzu today curled up in the middle of a pillow and thought about Lola – what will she be like at that age? She’s still playful, jumping, attentive, and alert at age 8 ½, very puppylike. I was surprised to find that she hadn’t gained any weight at our last vet visit, what with the array of extra food she eats from Sylvia’s tossings and mishaps. I guess she is getting more exercise running around the apartment with us, although she certainly is not getting as many walks with me. Now, of course, it’s Sylvia I take to the post office, to the green grocer, to the laundry room. Lola, with her propensity towards being carried about half the time is too difficult to manage with Sylvia in the stroller, although I’ve done it often enough. Pushing the stroller with one hand, Lola riding on my other hip (happily), it’s a trip maneuvering up and down the curbs, into stores, etc., or even weirder, carrying Sylvia (22 pounds) on one hip and Lola (13 pounds) on the other, then trying to get my keys out of my pocket. Someone looked at me and said, “That’s why God gave women hips.” How about an extra arm? 

May 22, 2003

Lola, middle aged

My father in law was visiting from california last weekend and commented after taking Lola for a walk that she’s definitely a middle aged dog now. He remembered how she used to pull at the leash, and now, she ambles alongside you.

She’s loving being in the new house – the yard, the kids coming over to play, and of course, the ready access to us. Sylvia continues to interact with Lola a lot. In the morning, she always finds Lola on my bed and says, “Good morning, Lola, good morning little doggie.” She commands Lola out of the room when she eats breakfast, and Lola always finds a way back in, invariably eating what’s left of Sylvia’s waffle, which Sylvia then reports back to me as if it has never happened before. Sylvia also relates when Lola has had an accident in the house – somehow she always finds it before I do – and runs with the news. “Lola made a poopie inside!” “Where?” I say, in a voice of indignation. “In your bedroom!” she cries, and runs to show me. It’s hard to get really angry at Lola, in this context, although I do make some show of it, as does Lola in looking contrite. Since Sylvia is crazy about Clifford (no doubt in part connected to the fact that he’s a dog, and she has a dog), Lola serves as the perfect foil. Clifford is big and red, Lola is little and gray. Lola continues to be a wonderful companion – when we see a dog on the street, Sylvia says, “I have  a dog, too, and part of the family (except when Sylvia gives the caveat – ‘but not Lollie.’)

March 8, 2004

"Sylvia had a little dog, little dog, little dog, Sylvia had a little dog who's fur was brown and white..."

Today was "L" day in Sylvia's pre-school class, so we arranged with the teacher in advance, to bring in Lola. Lola had recently been groomed, and wore a green printed bandana around her neck - or as Sylvia calls it - 'a little schmatta'. Sylvia was really excited - on other letter days, we've sent stuffed animals, on J day, we sent in jelly beans. But this was really special. Everybody commented as we walked Lola into the entrance way. Sylvia's classmates were shaken out of their early morning sleepiness, and noticed. Sam immediately went over to Lola and hugged her. Kids sitting in the hallway reached out to her. We took her to the classroom, and first marched with Lola and Sylvia down the hall to visit the director of the school. Sylvia held Lola's leash. The kids in her class followed single file. There's something about a small friendly dog that makes even the two year olds we encountered in the Wonder Room take an interest. When we went back to the classroom and sat in a circle, we showed the kids that Lola could sit and lie down on command. I pulled out a harmonica from my pocket, and told the kids that Lola would now do her best trick. Sylvia played the harmonica and Lola barked. The teachers and the kids laughed. Sylvia liked the special attention, even while being shy and quiet - I could tell by how she took the lead that she was enjoying herself.

September 25, 1004 Lola At the Dinosaur Contest

Last Sunday was Sylvia’s 4th birthday party – and the theme, which she had devised, was a dinosaur contest with tickets and activities. Each kid got a pail, shovel, binoculars, magnifying class and a roll of tickets. They followed a trail of chalk drawn prints to the backyard, where there was a dig in the sandbox for little dinosaurs, a set up for a dinosaur puppet show (theater created by Jeremy and Sylvia, puppets provided by Aunt Amy), an activity table with dinosaurs, a bowl of water, chopsticks, etc., dinosaur tatoos, hatch the dinosaur egg (dinosaurs in balloons), and pin the tail on the t-rex. We set up a dinosaur café with dinosaur shaped chicken, dinsoaur cookies, and three beautifully made (by DeeDee) stegasaurus cakes. There were about 20 kids and 35 adults. The most beautiful fall day after almost a week of hurricane related rain. Lola was outside throughout the party, gravitating towards the snack table. At one high point of the party, I noticed she was lying on her side, sleeping on the grass, I assume from eating lots of fallen cheese doodles and pretzels. One of our friends from the China playgroup, whose daughter was afraid of dogs, is now loving Lola. Lola is the perfect dog for getting over fearfulness. Sylvia continues to be very involved with Lola, having her around to play with (she still puts clothes on her at times), refer to, give hugs and pats, and babytalk.

September 6, 2005 Lola Goes to Kindergarten

This was a momentous week in our household because Sylvia started Kindergarten. The first day, I drove her, as the bus route wasnt worked out. Then Wednesday, the second day, at 12:15, Sylvia, Lola, and I walked to the corner of Montrose and Meeker to wait for the bus. We found a little shade, still hitting the 80s here, and Sylvia and I sat on a part of the curb that faces off the street. Lola sat facing us. We started to play school with Lola. "What do you like to do in school Lola?" Sylvia asked. "I like to run with my friends," I said in a Lola-ish voice. Sylvia lifted Lolas paw, "Do you have a question, Lola?" she asked. "How much is 2 + 2?" I asked. "Four," Sylvia said in a doggy voice. Then I woofed four times. We naturally switched back and forth the role of Lola and the teacher. After the first day of kindergarten when I asked Sylvia what was her favorite thing, she said "everything."

We played the same game on Thursday and Friday. The questions and answers for Lola are starting to reflect a little of whats actually going in during Sylvias afternoon -snack, singing, playing with blocks. And something about seeing Sylvia get on the bus, with her huge spotted dog backpack bouncing on her back, and then watching the bus roll off, waving, seeing her move forward with what I can describe as relative ease, excitement, but also, courage, brings me tremendous happiness. On Friday, Lola and I waited for her bus. When she got off, she said, "You know what is my favorite day of kindergarten? Everyday."