Iris, our favorite girl

Iris is called a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Ridgebacks originated in Africa, but Iris doesn’t remember the climate since she was never there. Her DNA dictates that she is cold and she shivers. Somehow, she and others like her ended up in Minnesota where it is said to be very cold. It isn’t cold today, but that is off-topic. It was cold the day you took her picture. Iris may have felt humiliated in this outfit when you laughed at her, but she loves you anyway. She shows this by dipping her head and running headlong between your legs. You love her anyway even when she knocks you off-course and you try (sort of) not to laugh at her outfits, but you just couldn’t stop laughing on this particular day. Iris’ mom, Stephanie, does the best she can to keep Iris toasty despite the fact that Iris’ garb is slightly disharmonious. (No, I did not make up that word. Remember I have a very large vocabulary.)

This brings me to Bearded Collies, which is what I am and what Biscuit is and what a new little guy named Booker is. Booker belongs to Sheryl. Booker and Biscuit and I are called Beardies because we have a tuft of fur under our chins that looks like a beard. We originated in Scotland where it’s very cold. Some dogs wonder what we are because we far exceed most dogs in the hair/fur department. One dog whom we will not name tried very hard to wipe poor little Biscuit out of existence a few weeks ago, but Biscuit’s hair/fur protected him from a terrible fate. His opponent’s powerful jaws simply could not pierce through to Biscuit’s neck. You saved him and brought him to iris’ home for comfort and then to our home to me where we carried on as usual in our safe little abode. So we may look silly to some, but we manage to survive because of, not in spite of, our abundance of hair/fur. Dogs, which is what we are, have adapted to their country of origin as well as to their country of adoption. Biscuit and I could never wear what Iris wears, and she would look quite unusual if she had a beard.

Lest you think Iris only stands still, let me explain she is quite a runner. Although she looks like a kangaroo, she runs like a cheetah. And Biscuit and I are pretty good sprinters.

Advice from Oliver: When assessing someone’s attire, remember that their place of origin may dictate their choice of fashion.

PS See my beard?

It is very important to love thy neighbor as thyself. Above you see Hannah. She lives on the other side of the wall. Biscuit and I love her and she seems to love us back, but it’s a long-distance relationship. Hannah rolls over on her back when she sees us and we dance around her. There hasn’t been much actual contact, just extra-polite sniffing. We’re polite with her because despite her size, we believe she exudes delicate femininity…a certain reluctant”Paws off, you brutes!” Oh, well, if she won’t engage in our rambunctious tumult, we will continue to quietly admire her, especially in the cheesecake photo you see above.

For those of you who understand our type of energy, you can relate to the fact that we never give up hope that Hannah will arise from her slumbering pose, leap up, and charge through the door with abandon to chase squirrels with us or with our closest relative, Iris, and her dear friend, Vern, both of whom exhibit tendencies that more closely resemble our own. Every dog is different. We are very tolerant of differences.

It is finally snowing today and I just saw a rumbling truck on the lake path clearing away the minuscule layer of snowdust. Ha! We want the real stuff, but Patience and Prudence are our sisters, along with our elder sister, Hannah, the poseur.

Advice from Oliver: Tout vient a qui sait attendre. I never told you I also speak French. All (good) things come to those who wait.