nicholas on the trail

On the last weekend of August, Nicholas went hiking. Well, two humans went too - the woman with the lap and the tall man who calls him Dog. It may have been some sort of anniversary for the humans. The first trail Nicholas hiked was in a place called Strawberry Island, which wasn't an island and didn't have any strawberries. It did have wild blackberries, though, and the humans picked some right off the twisted, thorny vines and ate them. The woman with the lap reached a blackberry down for Nicholas. He smelled it. The woman loves the fact that anything she offers to Nicholas - blackberry, book, hairbrush - he smells.


Strawberry Island was all waving, golden grasses and blue sky. Wind pushed the hot air around. When a peculiar smell came with that air, the woman with the lap said, "Mint?"

The tall man who calls Nicholas Dog reached down and, with a finger and a thumb, rubbed the leaf of a small plant growing low to the ground, then brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed.

The woman with the lap said, "Poison oak?"

Later when the trail forked and down on the right stood a strange, industrial-looking building, the woman with the lap sniffed that same scent and said, "Sewage treatment plant?"

Nicholas stopped on the trail and twitched his nose. He didn't mind the smell of the sewage treatment plant.

But there were beautiful views of the Columbia River and lovely fields of gold. Overhead cartwheeling against sky were two hawks. They whirled past the sun and threw sudden flashes of shadow down on the hikers.

They were too far away for Nicholas to smell.

The second place where Nicholas hiked was called Fort Cascades and was very different from Strawberry Island. It was forested and green and cool. Nicholas walked among enormous moss-covered boulders unearthed by the flood of 1894.

He did not pee on the replica of a Native American petroglyph. He did not pee on the remnants of the old railway or on the 1861 gravestone.

At the end of the hike, the tall man who calls him Dog noticed another short trail leading away from the area where cars were parked. The trail led down a hill and over and through rocks of various sizes until it landed at the shore of the Columbia. There, at the end of the long day, the man and the woman found places to sit on flat rocks and brought out the liver snacks, and Nicholas sat on a lap and sniffed and contemplated contentment.

pocket shrink

Recently, I created a banner graphic for the new blog Pocket Shrink. I love the problem-solving you have to do in taking an existing space shape, an existing picture and a specific set of text and fitting it cohesively and attractively together. There's also the added element of tone. What kind of look would work best for this particular blog? What can I do with color, what can I do with font? It's definitely not as easy as you'd think.

Here's the final product.


The blog is equal parts psychology and writing, two of my favorite subjects. I've been privileged to witness parts of the book Pocket Shrink as it's been taking shape, and it's lovely. Totally accessible, totally smart writing, discussing issues for which we could all use a bit of "shrink" in our lives. The blog is like a daily dose of the book on a smaller scale. A Pocket Pocket Shrink. Check it out and follow if you so desire! Here's a link!

dogs and roses

One of the things that's made our experience of having a new dog even more lovely is that we're reading the book Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz. I'd been eyeing the book for a while as I shelved bestsellers at Powell's, and when I brought it home, Stephen had the idea that we could read it together. We used to read to each other when we were first together and have read a number of books that way, including Faraway Places and The Man Who Fell in Love With the Moon. It's been a while, though, and when Stephen suggested we do that with Inside of a Dog, I thought it was a perfect idea. Horowitz is a psychologist who focuses her study on animals, and this book explores dogs' perceptual and cognitive abilities and gives you a good idea of what it's like to be a dog.

So lovely to lie in bed together with Nicholas curled up against us or burrowed deep in the covers, and read about dogness. The book is illuminating but also written with a sweet, droll style--and thank you lord, not full of cutesy animal puns. I'd highly recommend reading it if you have a new dog, or otherwise. Here's a paragraph I really enjoyed:

"...Imagine if each detail of our visual world were matched by a corresponding smell. Each petal on a rose may be distinct, having been visited by insects leaving pollen footprints from faraway flowers. What is to us just a single stem actually holds a record of who held it, and when. A burst of chemicals marks where a leaf was torn. The flesh of the petals, plump with moisture compared to that of the leaf, holds a different odor besides. The fold of a leaf has a smell; so does a dew drop on a thorn. And time is in those details: while we can see one of the petals drying and browning, the dog can smell this process of decay and aging. Imagine smelling every minute visual detail. That might be the experience of a rose to a dog..."

adopted

This is a little late, but I just thought to check online again, and here's an updated page on He Who Was Known as Ditka. I remember those first few days I had to try hard not to want to call him Ditka (or, occasionally, José). Now it's strange to see him with that name.

pretty

Fabergé Easter egg.


Fabergé Easter egg.



Fabergé Easter egg.



Fabergé Easter egg.



Red pepper.

and speaking of pretty...

A new interview with the lovely and talented artist (husband) Stephen O'Donnell is up on Laura Stanfill's cool writing blog. It's part of her Seven Questions series. I thought the questions were really smart and gave him a lot to think about and talk about. You can take a look here.

the continuing adventures of nicholas c. o'dittle

When you're moving to a new home, there are lots of adventures to be had.

There's the initial discovery of this place. Running all around as soon as you're let down by the nice Indigo Rescue lady. This weird place with half-made paintings all over and questionable creatures lurking.



There's the scary moment when the Indigo Rescue lady leaves and you're left with these two strange people you don't really know. They talk to you in goo-goo voices and take you on a long walk in the neighborhood, but you don't pee. You're not sure you're ready for the commitment.

There's the trip to the big pet store for more supplies, and there's lots more exploring in the apartment and sitting in laps and being petted, and you think you're kind of starting to like these strange people.

The woman holds you and says, "Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas."

The man is very tall and he looks down at you and grins and says, "Dawg!"

They take you out on more walks. All along neighborhood streets full of Art Deco apartment buildings and up to the park. You don't hesitate anymore; you trot along fast and the tips of your ears make a tiny flopflopflop as you go.

But you don't pee. You're not sure you're ready for the commitment.

Around seven (you know this because you're a very sophisticated dog who can apparently tell time), the tall man who calls you Dog leaves to go to another store and get you a new blanket. The woman kind of wants to give you a blanket that was once used by someone named José, but the tall man who calls you Dog thinks you need your very own, new blanket. You agree with this. Not only are you your own man, but, well, these people have a little shrine to this mysterious José, with a book and a framed portrait and plastered paw prints and things, and you think that's a little odd.

You keep these thoughts to yourself.

You're glad the tall man who calls you Dog is the one who has gone out to do the shopping, because he's clearly the one for the job. He's the Adrian behind your new wardrobe with the dashing green collar and matching harness and leash.



You sit in the woman's lap while she taps at the computer and posts pictures of you for her friends and family to see, and you think this lap fits really nicely. Then the phone rings and it's the tall man, and he wants the woman with the lap to tell him the size of the bottom of your crate (which incidentally matches your wardrobe). As she measures it, you pee on the rug.

You are ready for a commitment.

There are more walks and more adventures. There's trying out different places to sit in this new place.



And discovering the doppelganger who lives in the mirror.

There's the first play.







There's watching the tall man do yoga in the morning.