Pure Genius

Ayla and I differ in one key aspect. She is all about food and I am not. Ayla cannot resist my food, the cat food, crumbs on the floor, things that look like crumbs on the floor. Ayla actually happily eats (ahem) dog food (gasp) which I guess makes things easier for Mom and proves that Ayla is a dog and I am something else entirely.

When I was a pup and even now, when Mom didn't want me somewhere and placed anything in the doorway, I wouldn't go there. I don't like to go where I might be stuck or something might make a noise. Ayla is fearless and driven. I don't go in the CAT ROOM. Misty told me not to and so I don't. Ayla, despite being contained at night and various chairs and baby gates, has found her way into the CAT ROOM and eaten much cat food. And, unlike me, Ayla does not need more junk in her trunk.

So, in a stroke of genius and cheapness, Dad cut a Misty/Anna sized hole in the baby gate and lined it with foam. On the internet, these babies sell for like sixty bucks. Dad did the whole deal for a few dollars worth of foam.

Most importantly, my sweet, sweet Anna, the adventurer, loves it.

Taking the Kid on the Road

It is amazing how a hike in the woods can bring a family together.

I've been tolerating Ayla, training Ayla, licking Ayla, watching Ayla, ignoring Ayla, but really accepting her is taking some time.

This weekend, we took her on the road to Vermont. At least in the eyes of my fans, I am still the most interesting dog. People ignored the fluff ball and admired and questioned my flocky goodness. Dad would occasionally point out Ayla to people with a "and that's what they look like as puppies." Oh, please. I didn't look like her. I had my mottled black and gray spots. I was sleeker through the hips. I had my boyish charm.

In the woods, though, I found something else in Ayla. I started to see what Mom and Dad see. She can be a good friend to me. We ran and ran and ran some more. She really understood that I am in front of her on the trail. She stayed on the trail and listened to all of us. And most importantly, we found a new connection. She got a glimpse of what it really is to be in our family. And we, all of us, started to fall in love with Ayla.

Couch Potato Puffs

There's tired and then there's we have a puppy in the house tired. Ayla really looks to me for direction and safety. It feels very important to give her the closeness and comfort she seeks even if I'm exhausted. Yesterday, Mom brought us both to work. Ayla was good and quiet but I felt like I really needed to check out all the people who wanted to say hello to her. I'm not sure everyone realizes that she is a special girl and is still so young. It's good that she has me to protect her.

Today was raining. Like really raining. Like there is no way I'm stepping foot out in that weather raining. Ayla just went bounding out into the yard into puddles and into the mud. There is so much she has to learn.

I tried to tell Mom that allowing Ayla on the couch at this age is completely inappropriate. I was at least 3 before I was allowed up on the couch. And I'm not sure she knows where we are allowed to be, but as with most things, she looks to me for direction.

Ayla's favorite thing is to mash herself against me and go to puppy sleep. I'm getting used to it, but I can't really get a solid nap when I'm being careful with her. At least at night, Mom and Dad keep her barricaded to the bed so the cats and I can get some much needed rest. Mom has been praising the gods who brought coffee to the universe.

Share the Love

Well, yesterday started out like other days. We got up, had a snack, and then I got to go on a road trip with just Mom. We're driving down the road, sharing an egg and cheese croissant, and feeling the tingle of adventure.

We end up in New Jersey at a big building filled with people and Bergamascos. Aria wasn't there this time but Mezza and her two pups were there as well as Donna and Stephen who lived with my Bergamasco mom where I was born. I do love the ladies and there were some fine Bergalitas-so-sweetas at the event. They were playing it cool but I know they saw me. I was the oldest guy there and talked more than any other dog.

Eventually, I went out to the car to have a little drink and some air. When I turned around, Mom was coming to the car carrying a little black puppy. And then she put her in the car with me in my seat.

In my seat.

Mine.

Sharing can be nice but I was sort of tired from the show and really wasn't expecting any of this. The puppy kept trying to get closer to me. I ended up pressed up against the side of the car and still she nudged against me.

I went up in the middle to talk to Mom. "Are we taking her somewhere? Is she coming with us? Am I still the center of your universe?"

"Yes, my love. You are my first dog, the most wonderful being, my sacred companion."

So, I let the puppy snuggle me a little.

Her name is Ayla. And she is staying. And I'm teaching her how to be in our family. And I'm showing her how to walk around the block. And I'm going between her and our sisters, the cats. And as it turns out, I think she's kind of sweet. I gave her a kiss today on the head, just to let her know I am here for her.

A Song In My Heart

Aria. Aria. Aria. Words on a page cannot explain. A picture is but a reminder of her beauty. And somewhere in Mom and Dad's laundry there clings just a slight bit of her essence. Yesterday I reencountered my one and only love and today I am exhausted and quiet in the tender memory of my hours in her presence.

Aria is a beautiful Bergamasco lady, born black, faded to Isabella. She is full of spirit and unconditional love. When I am with her, I feel my deeper, ancient mind. I am one with my physical and spiritual aspects in my connection to her.

In these moments, the voices of the people fade away. Aria's parents and mine, the other dogs, some puppies, all become a distant buzz as we remember our true selves.

[Note by Jess: This picture has been photoshopped to um... maintain the innocence of Orso's blog]

Missing the Mark

It was hard to post after the last post. I mean, that jumping picture is so outstanding it is a hard act to follow.

We've been deep in discussion about Bergamascos on Treadmills (http://www.chiquebergamasco.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=175).

Dad even went so far as to take me on our treadmill, letting my front paws walk while he was holding my back legs up for support. And I want to say for the record here, you all are missing the entire point of The Walk. Sure the fresh air is nice, the exercise of muscles is lovely, but those are completely superfluous. The point of The Walk is scent. Precious scent.

We go every morning before dawn for a long or short walk through the neighborhood. My neighborhood.

• First stop: Giant old Maple tree where I smell about 6 dogs since yesterday. I cover their scent with mine, and we're off.

• Second stop: Hasta plant outside the lady's house who has 5 cats and feeds the squirrels peanuts. I've never seen this lady but I'm guessing she and I would get along great. She has a great front porch from which to watch cats or taunt squirrels.

• Third stop: Fire hydrant in the mid-second block. It seems cliche or even passe but I can't resist.

• Fourth stop: Man hole cover in the middle of the street. This one usually annoys Mom as she scolds me for being a lazy leg lifter. Yeah, whatever. This is the first place the 10 Schitzu's come to mark when they leave their house, and there is no way I'm letting that spot go.

I could go on to include the corner fence, the front step, the tree in the park, but I think you get the idea. New places are great too; All the mysteries of trees, rocks, and bushes to be explored. A year could go by between visiting a spot and I will remember everything with one whiff.

So you see folks, we may agree to go on your exercise equipment. We may even like it. A lot actually. But let's not forget that our lives are olfactorycentric and blissfully so.

They're Not Flocks, They're Wings

One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singing

Then you’ll spread your wings

And you’ll take to the sky

But till that morning

There ain’t nothing can harm you

With daddy and mommy standing by

Gershwin's "Summertime"

Rock Solid

Ah, Plymoth Rock. Many people come everyday to admire the stone in the cage pictured here just beyond my nose. Many people everyday are forced to suppress their disappointment about the less than grandiose spectacle that is the rock. On this day, at least, the people were given a little flocky something special.

A Quiet Week in Lake Rain-Be-Gone

I've been wanting to post but mom has been too tired to help me out with the typing. You may have noticed from my earlier post "On Couches" that I am not one to venture out in the inclement weather. Well, today was a doozie. I went out for a walk before it got too bad but spent the rest of the day writing masterpieces (in my head actually, while lying on the couch).

I'm sure some Bergamascos don't mind the rain messing up their hair and remain in happy oblivion as their delicate paws are saturated in puddles. But not this Bergamasco. Other than the one time I was distracted by a beautiful lady Bergamasco and wandered in a haze into the sea, I have kept myself out of the wet.

For those of you wondering how to get your companion sheep to stop dragging you out in the wet weather, here are some tips:

1. Act like you are sleeping when they are putting on their shoes. You might want to give it a little four-paws-in-the-air-I'm-really-sleeping look.
2. If they bring you to the door, stick your nose out and then back quickly away from the door. Then it should be pretty obvious that you are not interested.
3. If worse comes to worse, and you are there, on the front porch with your leash on (and god forbid a bright yellow rain coat), plant your feet and refuse to go further.

I would welcome any other dog's tips on getting out of getting wet. Where there's a will...

Never Were There Such Devoted Sisters

As I have previously mentioned, I have two sisters: the cats.

It used to be that the definitions were simple - I am a Dog=I chase cats. Small, furry, fast... Perfect chasing material.

Then Mom fell in love and my dog-centric universe became reshaped - I live with cats. At first I thought it was really cool. Cats! Right here in my own house for the chasing. A few swipes to the nose and severe scoldings later and I was reformed to a tip-toeing, subservient, dog.

After a few interactions, the pecking order became exceedingly clear. Misty is in charge. I really wanted to be, but there is no denying her presence. She is the eldest, the wisest, and the most assertive of us. Mom tends to laugh at Misty's assertion of Queen, but it's no laughing matter. I respect Misty - I give her space, let her eat my share of the turkey, give her a wide berth in the hallway, and always, ALWAYS, lower my eyes in deference to the Queen.

Anna is different. Ah, Anna, beautiful, sweet Anna. She's a furry ball of yellow/orange love. I always know where she is. She lets me give her a bath sometimes if I can hold my excitement in check long enough. The most loving thing about Anna is that even though she is certainly ahead of me in the household alpha order, she pretends she doesn't know it. Anna completes me.

There are other cats in my life now - the aforementioned Tuck and other family kitties. As you can see from the aforementioned Tuck incident, I have a little more trouble ignoring that essential dog equation with those cats. Those cats get me into trouble. Cats. They really demonstrate how your beliefs can shape your reality. They really think they are always in charge - And so, they are. Cats.