The Last Goodbye

April 2009:
The woman from Catahoula Rescue half picked up, half dragged the large 65 pound puppy and pushed him into a crate in the van, like sausage meat into casing. There were at least a dozen other dogs in the van, barking, crying, whining. Then, she was gone and with her, my precious-turned-aggressive puppy, Chinook.

The last four months have been very difficult for me and I'm sure it has been hard for Chinook, too. He spend the first two weeks traveling up and down the Eastern seaboard in the van before finally getting dropped off with Vance in Franklin, TN. He used Catahoulas to help round up lost cattle. We though that Chinook might be re-trainable as a "cow dog." Apparently, that did not work. Vance said, "he was too much of a pet." He didn't really know how to work with the pack and kept running back to the human for reassurance. Ironic since he didn't do so well as a pet. At least, not with me. Vance is not a pet kinda guy. His dogs are pure working dogs and Chinook was essentially taking up space and eating, not earning his keep. He had failed as a cow dog and needed a new home.

From there, he went to Michelle's place. Michelle knew Vance and he told he had a dog he couldn't use. She met Chinook and really liked him. He was given to her and sometime after the fact, when I happened to call Vance for an update, he told me that he'd given Chinook away. Vance had never let on that there was any kind of problem. Obviously, I hadn't been told the whole story.

Michelle was very nice on the phone, sounded young, and trained horses for a living. In the evening, she went back to the 60-acre ranch on which she worked part time in exchange for housing. She seemed to really care about him and had plans for training him, keeping him busy and raising him with her other dog, a pointer-cattle dog mix. And so, they have been together for the last few months. She said, "sure" when I asked if I could come out and see how he was doing. And, sign the pedigree paperwork over to her, the final step in the transfer.

Last Friday, I left Asheville around 1pm, driving up through Knoxville and across the Appalachians to the rolling hills just east of Nashville. Kali came with me for company. I was worried the whole drive. How would he be? Would he be happy? Healthy? Could I see him without falling apart emotionally? I checked into the Motel 6 in Hermitage, TN, uncertain whether I'd be able to sleep for my thoughts & feelings. As it turned out, I didn't need to worry about that due to the raucous families above me and to either side. I think I got about 4 hours total.

We left first thing in the morning for the last 40 miles to Fairview, TN and, after a bit of trouble thanks to Mapquest, found the place. It was a beautiful, sprawling ranch. Deep green lawns contrasting with bright white, split rail fencing, sectioning off squares of fields and paddocks. I drove along the narrow drive, unsure where to go with all these buildings and areas. And then I saw him, in a chain link kennel under a tree. A very small dog house sat off to one side. I called him and he swung his head in my direction, too-long early flying. Michelle came out of her rustic log cabin and opened the kennel door. He came running to me, full speed then leaping up, licking my face before rolling on his back and squirming. I leant over him, rubbing, petting. I began sobbing as Michelle walked over with a casual greeting. I couldn't answer her at first. I managed a "hi" and tried to calm myself.

He looked good, clear eyes, healthy coat, not-too-skinny. He'd gotten taller. I glided my hands over him as if I were checking out a horse. Then I saw the thick circular scar around his neck. "What's this?," I demanded, "what happened to him?" Michelle explained that when Vance couldn't put him to work, he basically ignored him and Chinook's collar began to cut into his neck, unnoticed, as he grew. He became nasty and snippy and wouldn't let anyone touch him. Of course, nobody told me any of this. Eventually, they got a hold of him and discovered what had happened. I still don't know if he healed on his own or got any veterinary care. It was healed. I decided not to dwell on it and make the most of my time with him.

We threw some balls, ran around the yard and did some more snuggling. He went over to my car where Kali waited and they started snarling and growling at each other. We called him back and he came over readily. He seemed truly happy and Michelle seemed to really enjoy him. I got out his records and went over his vaccinaations and microchipping with her, reminding her of upcoming shot due dates. And then I signed him over to her and tried to be nonchalant as I handed her the pedigree form. Shortly after that, I left.

My heart ached and again, I questioned what I could have done differently. And then, I just decided, "I can't do this to myself anymore. He is happy. He has a lovely home. She loves him. It is over." And, I drove the 350 miles back through the Smoky Mountains to my own log cabin with my dog.

Smile though your cart is aching

Late entry for July 25th, 2009

This would be the true test: I would drive to the North Seattle Costco, BBQ shopping list in hand on a busy summer Saturday. I would be patient, kind, friendly, polite, and most of all completely pleasant with a capital “P,” practicing all the skills I’d learned during my first 7 months in North Carolina. Could it work? Would it work?

The first thing that happened is that somebody pulled into the parking space I had been sitting waiting for, baking in the car during the hottest heat wave the city of Seattle has ever seen. Really. It got up to 103 degrees. If that is not evidence of global warming, I don’t know what is. Anyhow, I smiled a broad genuine smile as the driver looked at me while pretending not to see me. No problem. I’m bigger than that. I’m not going to get sucked into a hostility vortex so early in my experiment. I found another spot and walked towards the entrance, people cutting me off right and left in their rush to get in before me. I just breathed calmly and kept a slight Mona Lisa smile on my face. The first surprised response of got was when I warmly greeted the card checker at the door. “How are you holding up today?” The African American woman looked at me quizzically before venturing a response, “uh, fine, I guess.”

I started out in the produce area which is essentially a walk-in cooler. It’s got to be 30 degrees in there but certainly no colder than frigid expressions on the other shoppers faces as they scowled at prices, looking for the best deal. I hummed to myself and selected a few items for my cart. Then, it was off to the freezer section for burgers – beef, salmon & black bean. This is Seattle after all. As I ambled towards the glass doors, a man parked his cart directly in my path and walked a short distance away towards the quesadilla samples being given out. “Excuse me, sir,” I called out cheerily, “would you mind if I moved your cart just a bit?” He tilted his head ever so slightly in my direction and blinked slowly as if to say, “I didn’t hear anything, did I?” When he did not move his cart, I stood there calmly waiting, gazing patiently towards the sample cart with what I hoped was an understanding look on my face. When he came back, I smiled. “Looks good. Maybe I should try one.” He completely ignored me but did move his cart. I loaded up on burgers. The detour to the bun area was mostly uneventful (although I did manage to squeeze in a few smiles, nods and "how are you today"'s) so I headed towards the check out area. As I did, a tiny Asian woman speeding along with a loaded cart at about 40 miles per hour literally crashed right into me. “Oh,” I uttered with genuine surprise, “I’m so sorry, are you ok?” even though it was obviously and totally her fault. She back up a couple of inches, changed her trajectory and headed off towards the dietary supplements. I shook my head in disbelief but quickly regained my composure, determined to stay in character for my social experiment. Just as I got in line, an older man wearing a Hawaiian shirt came scurrying over to me. “I saw that whole thing – people are just so rude, especially those Orientals. I think they should go back to where they came from, don’t you?” This was a stretch for me. I wanted to call him a racist pig and tell him to mind his own damned business. What came out of my mouth surprised even me. I said, “oh, that’s ok, she’s probably got a lot on her mind; it’s no problem.” He stared at me, incredulously. “Are you nuts? She rammed right into you and didn’t say a word!” I just smiled stupidly, nodding. At that point, he turned on his heel and stomped off with frustration at not having found someone to collude with for his racial stereotyping. I stood in the check out line, chatting with the checker and making small talk with the person in line behind me. Then, I was out the door to the car, loading my groceries, proud of myself for keeping my promise, feeling somewhat holier-than-thou. I was also emotionally and physically exhausted from being so darned nice.

Does it count as truly “pleasant” with a capital “P” if one is smug with a capital “S” upon accomplishing one’s pleasantries?? Nope, probably not. Just goes to show, you can take the girl out of the city but you can’t take the city out of the girl. Still, my North Carolina friends would have been proud of me I think. I drove home, tailgating as many cars as I could get away with.

Late entry: Heading West, July 21st

I’m sitting here at O’Hare waiting for my plane which is, of course, delayed. I’m so excited to be going home to Seattle. Just the fact that I phrased it that way should tell me something but, well, does it? But, even so, I can see how living in NC has changed me….for the better. As I find myself wandering through these airport terminals, I no longer feel the normal Seattle-esque inclination to I want to be invisible, not talking to anyone. That was never my natural way, anyhow. I feel an openness, a willingness to look people in the eye and smile, chatting when the opportunity presents itself. I have promised myself that if I do move back I refuse to crawl back into that ubiquitous passive-aggressive, “I don’t see you,” Seattle social attitude. I’m going to be warm and friendly, continue to look people in the eye, connect and share openly who I am. It always amazes me how traveling to a different place or, in this case living in a different place, somehow seeps in through one’s pores in ways that are hard to identify or define. And, you might not even realize these very subtle changes unless you leave that place. Somehow, there is a different filter or sensibility or orientation that colors the way one perceives every other place. In fact, one of the ways to begin to define where one has been living and how it feels to be there is to leave and go elsewhere. I thought I was leaving Asheville on this trip in order to see what I really feel about Seattle. But now I see that by leaving Asheville, I will have the opportunity to have perspective on that life. The cornball, cheesy song that is running through my head right now is, “Torn Between Two Lovers.” I mean, why is it expected that we have to like living in one place. Why can’t it be two…or even three? Why does one place have to “win,” and be THE CHOICE? I guess it basically comes down to finances. If I had lots of money and didn’t have to be dependent upon work, I could actually live in multiple places. And, if I am truly honest with myself, that is what I really want, although I think I’d like to add one place to the mix…Northern New Mexico. So how to make that work….or is it worth it….or even feasible....?

It is undeniable that the NC land, beauty, cheapness, friendliness, accessibility, lack of traffic-ness is creeping under my skin, into my heart and consciousness. The warm, rich, deep fragrances of this morning, over at the park, sweet and heavy with honeysuckle and wild raspberries, are precious and fine. It literally makes me want to sob with the beauty of it all. The soft curving lines reaching towards the sky, the dark hollows and winding dirt roads heading off around the bends and disappearing…oh, it is just too wonderful. The land beckons to me…discover me, find me, love me. And I do. And I will. When I get back from Seattle.

The essence of mountain living (sort of) & Sam Knob.

I'm starting to fall in love with this land, the sheer energy of it and the protectiveness of the elder spirits of the mountains. Yesterday promised to be in the 90's so I loaded up Kali & appropriate hiking gear into the car. We headed east on Smokey Park Highway just about 2 miles to the junction with route 151. It starts of broad and rolling through the Hominy Valley, past farms & fields and old country churches before ever-so-subtly beginning to climb. It winds past B&B's, more churches, an elementary school & fire station, a couple RV parks mostly empty this early in the season. All of a sudden, the road narrows. The sign on the right reads "windy, mountain road" and then starts a series of three dozen or more switchbacks and corkscrew turns, climbing sharply, the Subaru in 2nd gear the whole time. The temperature begins to drop and the sharp & tangy Bluegrass tunes playing on WNCW in the car ping off the cliffsides and bounce down the valleys. Joy is what I feel. Freedom is germinating. We climb ever higher for 15 minutes until the sign, "Blue Ridge Parkway." We hop on, heading south towards Mt. Pisgah, driving swiftly past there for another 12 miles to Forest Road 816, otherwise known as the Black Balsam Knob access road. But, that's not where we were going.

We passed the dozens of cars parked on the right after about a mile and kept going til the end, to the Sam Knob trailhead. And, what a glorious trail it was, reminding me of the Alpine meadows and edge-clinging paths of Mt Rainier. The trail was very reminiscent of the Northwest in many ways, being highly forested with evergreens in places, streams and creeks flowing all around. We climbed a moderately steep way up to the summit of Sam Knob, a rock-covered platform surrounded by butterflies and flowers with views of other peaks in every direction. At the peak, it is 6050 feet above sea level. Every step was a joy, every glimpse brought a smile to my lips and a song to my heart. Then, we made our way back down to the open, grassy meadow to the junction with the Flat Laurel Trail which was supposed to create the remainder of a 3.6 mile loops. Except, I made a mistake. We cut across the flowing creek - more like a narrow river - and I lost my bearings.

I read the sign carefully. I swear I did. Only I must not have. With renewed vigor, we plunged down the trail. It sure didn't seem like .9 to the parking lot. We should have reached the parking lot. I got a little panicky, began hoarding water and mentally going through the contents of my backpack as the sky got darker and a storm began to blow in. The temperature dropped a good 10 degrees at least. Yes, I had matches. Rain poncho, check. Space blanket, check. Extra food, sort of check. Compass, er, nope. Extra water, um, nope. On and on through my pack as we walked & walked and I chided myself for not following my own best guidance a little better. I hadn't brought my brand new, very clear National Geographic map of Pisgah Nat'l Forest. It was sitting on the passenger seat of my car. I had a small photocopy of a map from the book. Every dozen steps or so, I pulled it out again and re-examined. The route I now felt we were on was not listed on my map but then, we were no longer on the trail it was meant to depict. We passed beautiful waterfalls as I rehearsed my survival strategy (stay put, don't wander off the trail) and thanked my inner hiker for informing my sister of where we were headed. When was the last time I'd gotten lost hiking.... I think it was on part of the Appalachian Trail (the "AT" as they call it here) with my sister in Pennsylvania about 20 years ago. As we walked, I could hear the parkway so I knew we weren't too far from humanity. I imagined the top story on the news as they pulled us out...."middle aged wannabe wilderness woman and crazy dog survive a cold night in one of the highest elevation areas off the parkway; how'd they do it? tune in at 11." Eventually, we saw a family hiking and I was so thrilled to see them, I almost ran up and hugged them. They confirmed my fears. I had screwed up and we were about 6 miles off course.

Eventually, exhausted & thirsty, we came to a widening of the trail across the creek to some campsites which lead to a road. Down that road about 1 1/2 hilly miles was the parkway. Then it was 3 miles to the access road and another 1.5 miles to the car. So, we did what any lame trail sign reader would do - we hitched. An old beat up red pickup let us scramble into the back and up the steep incline to the parkway we rode, bouncing along, doing what I've cursed many people for doing in the past - riding in the back of a pickup with a dog. They dropped us off at the entrance to the parkway and we began walking in the direction I hoped was north. Some people felt sorry for us, or, rather, for Kali and tossed some water bottles out the car window towards us. It was right around then that I got stung by something. Was it a bee? I'm allergic to bees. Yes, I had my epi pen. Was I feeling short of breath or was that just the pitch of the parkway? Was I feeling dizzy or was that just the lack of sufficient water in the midday heat? We ambled along. I started crying softly, cursing myself and making a list of the lessons I had already learned from this (bring MORE water, bring the good map, get a bigger backpack so I can fit everything, bring MORE food, check the signs more carefully, ask people if in doubt, get a fucking compass you idiot!). Lots of motorcycles whizzed by. They definitely couldn't give us a ride. Then I saw a beige Kia coming towards us. I stuck my thumb out. Then, on second thought, brought my palms together near my heart, praying they would stop. They did! Two Asian women from Jackson, TN on their first trip to the area. They were afraid of dogs but let us in anyhow and drove us the my car with me repeating "thank you" over and over.

Then, we climbed into the Outback, cranked up the air conditioning, thanked my lucky stars and elder mountain spirits and twisted our way back down the mountain into the 20 degree warmer heat and headed home.

A perfect day.

A song is heard in the shadow of Mt. Pisgah...or was that a screech?

This morning, I awoke late to the sounds of an avian cacophony. As I listen, I often find myself mentally transcribing the bird calls onto a musical staff, with my best guess of pitch and approximated rhythm. Pretty cerebral stuff for a self-described nature-lover. I guess you can take the girl out the music conservatory but you can't take the conservatory out of the girl. This propensity towards listening too closely and analytically is the same reason I can't just play background music like "normal" people.

There are pros and cons to this compulsive musical behavior but one of the pros is that I can listen...really listen. Which brings us back to the birds, the ones who woke me up this morning. "What kind are they?," you may ask. Well, that's a damned good question. I don't have the foggiest idea. I mean, here I am, a wannabe country girl direct from the land of Starbucks and pho (amazing Vietnamese noodle soup quickly becoming as ubiquitous as lattes), sitting in a leaky, musty log cabin , within sight of Mt. Pisgah, listening to birds. What the hell do I know about birds? Oh, hey, I know that one - its a crow "caw, caw, caw." Yes, I know what eagles, geese, ducks & red-tailed hawks sound like. I know what robins & cardinals LOOK like. But, can I identify their calls while lying supine. Well, by now, you can guess my answer.

Those poor birds, their efforts are wasted on me. Not that I don't appreciate them for I surely do. I just can't identify them. In the slightest. I know that this area of North Carolina represents a joining of two zones, the northern temperate zone and the southern sub-tropical zone. As a result, there is a huge diversity of life here, not just in birds but in plants, salamanders, bacteria and other living stuff (not the least of which are the freaky, "half-back" people - just take a stroll in downtown Asheville). My ignorance makes me feel guilty, a feeling which defeats the simple joy I am aspiring to today. So, with some finger flicks of the keyboard, I hereby toss that feeling aside and promise to just enjoy my feathered friends who joyfully surround my home in the woods with song. Lucky, lucky me! I am smiling contentedly...at last.

LATE ENTRY ~ "Omni Extaris" or Thoughts Regarding 2009 Commencement at UNC-Asheville

Well, it has acutally been three weeks since this wonderful event at University of North Carolina-Asheville. I had mentioned it a bit in my blog a few weeks ago....the fun & warmth of the dinner party at my house, etc. However, I failed to mention that Doc Watson was an honored guest. there to be granted an honorary doctorate.

He's pretty old and he hobbled onto the podium with the help of an assistant When it was time for him to say a few words, he decided instead that he would sing. He sat down in a chair in front of thousands of people, chit-chatting casual as can be, humble and self-deprecating. The assistant handed him his guitar and right there, as if he were in your living room, started singing a few old tyme favorites. I jotted down the titles because I thought I might forget them and, of course, not only did I forget them but I can't find my notes! But, just trust me, it was fabulous! For about 20 minutes, he jammed & crooned, transporting all of as back to a simpler time. There was lots of toe tapping (never before had I seen so many people wearing cowboy boots with academic gowns - that's Asheville for you. We are, after all, the closest city of any significant size to the mountains of Western North Carolina) and cheering. It was, by far, the most entertaining graduation ceremony I've ever been to.

Doc Watson provided a wonderful icing on the cake to the opening ceremony in which Sam was awarded educator of the year by the Board of Regents from UNC. But, I may be repeated myself. I was so very proud of him, his dedication and commitment to his students made clear by the quotes from evalutations which were read out loud.

The fabulous third course, a treat for all present, was the commencement address delivered by Les Purce, president of Evergreen University in Olympia, WA. Just seeing someone from Western Washington made me feel all misty-eyed & nostalgic. But then, he was very charming, funny and impressive. He spoke of the importance of sometime putting one's neck out and beings oneself, (Omni Extaris is their school motto meaning, roughly, "Let it all hang out"). With that, he launched into a solemn delivery of the prelude to the Evergreen University fight song, words and music by Malcolm Stilson, 1971. After a few hymn-like verses, it morphs into a rousing march-like chorus, extolling the virtues of their mascot, the geoduck!

For those of you who haven't been lucky enough to encounter a geoduck first hand, let me share a bit. The geoduck is a mollusk native to the Pacific Northwest. The geoduck (pronounced "GOO-ee-duck") is the largest burrowing clam in the world, weighing in at anywhere from one to three pounds at maturity. The appearance of geoduck's large, protruding siphon has led to the belief that the geoduck has the properties of an aphrodisiac. The geoduck has a life expectancy of up to 150 years with the oldest recorded at 163 years.

Here are the words & the link if you can handle the sheer emotion of it - http://www.experiencefestival.com/the_geoduck_fight_song:

Go, Geoducks go,

Through the mud and the sand,

let's go.

Siphon high, squirt it out,

swivel all about,

let it all hang out.

Go, Geoducks go,

Stretch your necks when the tideis low

Siphon high, squirt it out,

swivel all about,

let it all hang out.

As one who is often preoccupied by the way that she appears to others, this is excellent advice. We all need to allow our true but unglamorous nature to shine through once in a while to remind us that we are, after all, human and as such, utterly outrageously flawed...

Cherokee Lands & Traditions

Yesterday, I took niece Zoe & nephew Abe out to the remote Little Snowbird community of Robbinsville, Graham County, for the "Fading Voices" demonstration festival of the Eastern Band Cherokee. The main part of the tribal lands are within the reservation Qualla boundary however, as I have been learning, there are many Cherokee communities & Cherokee-owned land outside that specific border. Scattered along the Snowbird, Little Snowbird & Buffalo Creeks, about two hours from Candler & an hour from Cherokee proper, residents incorporate many traditional practices into their daily lives. This community was established when President Andrew Jackson ordered the dispersal of the Cherokee from their ancestral lands to Oklahoma, a long walk known as the Trail of Tears which began in 1828. The ancestors of these folks found refuge deep in the Snowbird Mountains and thus avoided permanent relocation.

We went for the food (of course!) and more. My formerly fry bread virgin niece & nephew are now devout followers of this delectible but very unhealthy, ubiquitous, pan-Indian treat. I've literally eaten frybread from Neah Bay, the far northwest of corner of Washington state to the Tohono O'oadham lands of southern Arizona; from the Rosebud Lakota Reservation of South Dakota to, well, far west North Carolina Cherokee communities.

While at the festival, we met artists & craftspeople who are still practicing old techniques for soapmaking, bow & arrow carving, quilting, coffin-making, pottery & more. One of the highlights was talking with SHIRLEY OSWALT. She was born at home in the Snowbird Community and grew up speaking the Cherokee language. We shared a joke when I showed her the hat I was given as a volunteer at the Center for Cherokee Plants. She explained to me what the writing on it meant (one who plants or gardener) and told me the correct pronunciation, ah-wee-suh-wee-skee based upon the Cherokee syllabary. But, she said jokingly, the folks at the center may not know that with confidence. She said I should go back and say that I'd spoken with a fluent elder who told me it actually says, "your mother is a cow." Very amusing. I think I'll try that. Anyhow, Shirley attended the Snowbird Indian School, a small community school where students were encouraged to speak Cherokee language as well as English. A member of the Seven Clans Art Guild, Shirley learned basketmaking and beadwork from her family, and also carves and paints gourds.

She has taught workshops at schools in North Carolina, Tennessee, and Georgia, and regularly demonstrates at festivals, including The Cherokee Voices Festival at the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, and the Sequoyah Birthplace Museum Festival. At Fading Voices, she was demonstrating her pottery-making while her husband sold her gourd rattles at a nearby table. I still regret that I didn't purchase one of those rattles!

Here are some more photos from Fading Voices:

I mentioned above the Center for Cherokee Plants. I have just started volunteering there. The center, under the skillful direction of Sarah McClelland and her husband, Kevin Welch, has grown in leaps and bounds. As one of the programs of the Cooperative Extension program with North Carolina State University & the tribe, the Center is collecting, archiving, growing & distributing traditional and heirloom food & craft plants. Currently, they are nurturing a small "potted grove" of White Oak trees for basket-making & other crafts, bloodroot for dye, ramps (native wild onion), heirloom potatoes & strawberries among other plants. These are given to elders, children's heritage gardens at the schools & artists in the community. The Center consists of a nursery and garden area for propagating and growing Cherokee traditional vegetables, wild edible plants, plants significant as Cherokee artisans' resources, and native plants for landscape revegitation projects and a building to house the Cherokee Traditional Crops Seed Bank. Public educational programs are also being developed. The Center stemmed from a seed bank feasibility study lead by Kevin Welch. Funding for these projects is being sought from the Cherokee Preservation Foundation among other sources.

I'm really enjoying it so far. If it weren't for Karen, I never would have known about the Fading Voices festival. THANKS, Karen!!

Here taken directly from the Indian Country Extension website, http://www.indiancountryextension.org/extension.php?=27:

Current activities include the revegetation of ramps (a native wild onion) as a traditional food; revegetation of river cane, white oak, and butternut trees for traditional basket making; revegetation of American Chestnut for wildlife; the Cherokee Farmers Market; the Costa Rica Eco Study Tour; for youth and the Traditional Seeds project.

Goals of the cooperative extension office include:

Enhancing Agriculture, Forestry and Food Systems.
Conserving and Improving the Environment and Natural Resources.
Building Quality Communities.
Developing Responsible Youth.
Strengthening and Sustaining Families.

Other programs of the extension program include:

Cherokee Garden
Cherokee provides technical assistance to Cherokee farmers and gardeners. The annual garden contest grows in popularity each year. In 2006, 54 Cherokee gardens were in the competition. Over the past 3 years, the Chief's Cherokee Family Garden Project has distributed 1250 garden kits and 1000 apple trees to families to promote traditional family gardening. Two new interest groups have formed and meet monthly in Cherokee, the Smoky Mountain Beekeepers and the Cherokee Native Plant Study Group. Farming activities on two tribal farms are coordinated though the FRTEP Agent. Field days and on-farm demonstrations occur at these community farms.

Cherokee Youth in Costa Rica
Cherokee youth have the opportunity to travel to Costa Rica each year for international experiences in cultural exchange and learning about the environment and sustainable practices. Cherokee Extension prepare the youth for travel through an extensive educational series monthly classed from January to June. Thi stravel experience has allowed Cherokee youth to grow in their understanding of environmental issues and cultural appreciation. 2006 youth participants initiated a community recycling project, inspired by their experiences in Costa Rica. The youth-led community service recycling project is now established in four high highschools in Western North Carolina.

Hiker's Paradise

Just starting a list here of hikes I've done with Kali in the area. So far, it's not too long a list but will get longer as the season progresses. I'm using my equivalent of a bible from the "Best Hikes With Dogs" series of hiking books, this one by Karen Chavez for North Carolina.

1. LOTS of loops off the Hard Times Trailhead to Lake Powatan at Bent Creek Experimental Forest, part of Pisgah National Forest. This one is not in the book but is mine & Kali's old standby trail when we don't have much time for anything else. It is about 2 miles long with some climbs and drops but can be extended by the numerous other trails in the immediate vicinity. Features include the fresh-running creek, Lake Powatan & the marshy, muddy areas surrounding that and lots of geese to chase (she never catches any - neither do I, for that matter). We've done this one at least a dozen times.

2. Graveyard Fields, near mile 418 off the Blue Ridge Parkway, a moderate trail of about 3.4 miles through a lovely blueberried high valley replete with two waterfalls and numerous blackened tree stumps (hence the name). The beginning of the trail drops steeply and, well you can guess the end-of-trail consequences of that!

3. Rattlesnake Lodge Trail, near mile 376 off the Blue Ridge Parkway & Elk Mountain Scenic Hwy, a moderate 3.2 mile trail with some steep optional additions. This is a peaceful trail along both switchbacks & more level areas through the forest to the remains of the Ambler retreat from the early 1900's. You can still see building foundations, the rounded walls of the old spring-fed swimming pool, the spring house & the servant's quarters. You can add about a mile to this trail by continuing on the Mountain-to-Sea trail past the lodge and looping back on the blue-blazed trail through the rest of the former Ambler property.

4. Fryingpan Mountail trail starts near the Mt. Pisgah campground, around mile marker 408 and ambles its way above the parkway but roughly parallel to it. Then it begins to climb & climb until the top of the mountain. When you get up there, these is an ugly 10-story metal structure - an old fire tower. Not looking down, I climbed it, step by step, leaving my dog Kali at the bottom as a witness. The higher you go, the windier it gets until you literally have to grab onto the rails to avoid the sensation of being picked up by the current and tossed into the valley. Very cool!

5. Craggy Nature Trail, the bald & Craggy Summit are all very well-known and loved areas of the parkway about 20 miles north of Asheville. I hiked the nature trail up to the shelter & visitors center with my sister, brother in law, niece, nephew & friend Shanna early in June. We passed through rhododendron tunnels and hundreds of not-yet-bearing blueberry bushes. The bald area is a large, grassy Alpine-feeling meadow with fabulous views of the Asheville watershed area. We followed this with a tasty picnic in the area of Craggy reserved for such endeavors. Then, a couple of weeks later, Kali & I climbed up to the summit where there are viewing area of spectacular scenery. I love Craggy!

6. I wish I had all the dates of these hikes but the next one we did was the famed Mt. Pisgah. The books, the signs, the websites, the maps all say the same thing: Very Strenuous. Well, indeed it was but we took our time, climbing the rock steps up amongst the rhodies & mountain laurel to the very top of one of the tallest peaks off the Blue Ridge Parkway. At the top was a wonderful wooden platform to take in the 360 degree views. Kali discovered the shade underneath. After a bit of lunch and an unexpected phone call (after all, we were right near the transmission tower so I guess it makes sense that I had cell reception), we climbed down feeling smug & contented.

7. Following the Craggy summit hike which was only about 1.5 miles, we climbed Snowball Mountain, accessible from the lower part of the Craggy picnic area. It was, as my book Best Hikes with Dogs North Carolina said, "relentless" in its climb, gaining 300 feet in elevation in only 1/2 mile. We climbed to the leafy summit of Snowball and then, unable to see the mountains for the trees, fought gravity the whole way down. Good exercise but not very scenic this time of year.

8. Yesterday, we hiked Sam Knob and Flat Laurel Creek area with an unintended extender. Read the blog posting for June 27, 2009 for a more thorough description of this glorious/tiring day.

The lovely, the bad & the ugly...and the hopeful

Let me start with the warm fuzzies. Tonight I hosted my parents, my sister and her family, my brother in law's family and a family friend at my cabin for an evening of yummy North African & Middle Eastern treats. I made fish curry couscous and Shelly, Sam's sister, brough all sorts of goodies from the Jerusalem Deli in Greensboro. We had hummas, pita, spanakopita, dolmas & baklava. My sister brought a blintz casserole and a fabulous salad. It was fun and laughter and warmth. Kali, my blue heeler mix, mooched LOTS of food including about half a loaf of challah. I lit a path of candles from the top of the driveway to the big front porch. Inside, the cabin glowed with flowers and candles in every room. It was really fun. So, THIS is what it is like to have family in one's life. I've never ever had this before as an adult and I'm really enjoying it. Everyone ate to their heart's content and then just visited and hung out. It was so much fun for me, especially since I absolutely love cooking for people and entertaining. Tonight was kind of a warm-up for my niece's Bat Mitzvah coming up in September.

Unfortunately, Mom wasn't there. She has been having some very scary blood pressure spikes. Last night at around 11pm, we ended up calling 911 from the hotel. They brought her to Mission Hospital in Asheville with my dad sitting up front in the cab. Lots of tests and waiting. We finally got home around 4am. She was admitted but then discharged late this afternoon. She stayed back at the hotel and rested. I am worried about her health and wonder how they are going to get home all the way back to Wilmington, over 350 miles.

Prior to that, we all enjoyed dinner at Asiana buffet. Are you noticing the food theme here??

Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from the man who fancies himself the reining king of Catahoulas, Don Abney. Honestly, I don't want to rehash the whole conversation but, Lord, that man is pompous. As the head of COBRA (Catahoula Owners, Breeders & Research Association) he was trying to broker a resolution between myself and the people from Chaos Catahoulas who refused to take Chinook back when his aggression finally became too much to handle (for more info on this subject, read back in the blog to the dozen or so entries about the heartache and torment I experienced with that puppy). I made complaints to the BBB, the WI State Attorney General's Office, the National Association of Louisiana Catahoulas (who have not responded yet) and Don's organization, COBRA. The whole thing was very upsetting with him essentially being blaming, accusing, rude and demeaning. Really, he ought to consider meds & therapy with that nger problem. After ignoring my request for COBRA support, I got an email yesterday trying to get me to sign up for one of his classes! That was what brought this whole thing up again - I asked him to remove me from his list since I had not received the support I needed from them. In the end, he told me that b/c I had not euthanized Chinook that he did not believe I was entitled to any money back and that in order to do so, I had to promise and provide documentation of putting Chinook down. Well, he's not an attorney, a judge, a god or even a demi-god. I will say that if you can wade through the muck, he was making an effort to help, albeit in a somewhat self-serving way.

On a happier note, I talked to Derek (not his real name) in Tennessee who's got Chinook now. He's just starting to learn to be a cow dog and, according to Derek, is doing quite well. He's had no behavior problems with him at all. Granted, he doesn't have that much interaction with other humans and is being kept separate from the other dogs for now. It sounds promising and I am hopeful. I plan to go out and see him next month. Incidentally, I intend to contribute to the cost of his upkeep. I am so very grateful to Derek. Thank you.

Enjoying life in the mountains...finally!

Ever since I decided I may try to move back to Seattlle, life here has been much more tolerable and enjoyable. The other day, Kali & I went for a hike up to mile marker 418 on the Blue Ridge Parkway, past Mt. Pisgah to an area called Graveyard Fields. It was beautiful with a meandering big stream that Kali laid in and drank from and two nice waterfalls, see http://www.hikewnc.info/trailheads/pisgah/pisgah/guidedhikes/graveyardfields.html. It starts out by climbing down several hundred feet from the parkway into a lovely blueberry valley which spreads out far & wide. There was such an open but safe and secure feeling down there, I could have stayed there all day.

My dear friend Shanna will be here in a few weeks and we will definitely be heading to Smoky Mtns Nat'l Park. We will try to hike a little bit of the Appalachian Trail or, as the cool people call it out here, the "AT."

Last Thursday, I went with my friend Kelley (who started out as the dog woman)to Jack of the Wood, a cool low key club downtown, to hear the bluegrass jam. I'm really starting to love bluegrass and listen to it all the time (listen to www.wncw.org ) from an NPR station at Isothermal Community College - don't you just love that name! Sorry for the short posting but maybe it's a nice change for the reader!

From the Mountains to the Coast and back

Last Wednesday, Kali & I drove to Wilmington, NC to see my parents. That is AFTER I did some laundry, got my first pedicure of the season, got my eyebrows waxed, dropped off the recycling and bought some locally grown yellow tomatoes for Mom.

It took over 6 hours to get there. As we got closer, the land became flatter and the air more saturated with salt & moisture until we reached the coast. Mom had dinner waiting for us and it was so nice to sit and chat and eat good food.

Mom & Dad had only met Kali one time and it was during the height of the conflict with Chinook so I was totally stressed out and so was she. This time, she revelled in the limelight of grandparental attention, kissing and licking faces until my father giggled with delight. She solidly endeared herself to them and got a giant leg of lamb bone in return. Two days in a row, we went to New Hanover County's Ogden Park, not too far from Porter's Neck where the 'rents live. She had a great time romping through the sand and then cooling off in the public pond. Of course, she wasn't supposed to be off leash but there was one other dog doing it so I took the risk. Nobody complained or gave us annoyed looks. Quite the contrary, everyone was friendly. On the last of our four day visit, we drove up to Topsail Beach where Kali encountered her very first sand crab. She was obsessed with it, wouldn't leave it alone until I took pity on the poor tortured creature.

The drive home was long and hot, in the mid 90's the whole way until we passed Old Fort and the temperature began to drop a bit. It was 84 when when we got to my sister's place in Asheville. I kept waiting for that familiar, "it's so good to be home" feeling to creep in. It did not. Yes, I was relieved that it was not as hot and yes, it was nice to see the deep blue green mountains rather than the monotony of the flatlands. But, the feeling never came. Still it was nice to pull up to cabin, unload, take a long bath and sleep in our own beds.

Moogseum & the Moog Foundation

For those of you who follow this type of thing and are my age or older, you may remember the amazing Moog synthesizer from back in the '70's. When I was a kid in Norwalk, CT, I remember that our middle school music teacher actually brought in a real Moog synthesizer & played it for us. Just for clarification, it is not pronounded Moog is in "moo" like a cow with a "g" on the end. It is Moog, rhymes with "vogue." A sure way to alienate Michelle Moog-Koussa, director of The Bob Moog Foundation, is to pronounce it like the ignorant masses. Conversely, she will smile deeply and count you as damn near one of the family if you say it correctly. They are based here in Asheville, NC and have remained quietly but consistantly dedicated to the work of Bob Moog, preserving his legacy & teaching about the mathmatical foundations of this electronic sound. He is credited with being the grandfather of electronic music, having made synthesizers & other instruments such as the Theramin available to "normal" people.

Recently, the board announced plans to build a Moogseum here, an archive/gallery/exhibition space/sound lab/sonic exploratorium experience downtown. The idea is that it will provide a real studio space to encounter Moog which is separate from the assembly facility, thus fostering creativity and contributing to this tourism & arts-based economy. It's really a cool idea. They are even interested in incorporating some sound & music therapy components. I volunteered to work with the board on this but haven't heard anything back. I really need to get on them about this.

Back in late February (sorry, I'm a little bit slow about getting this up information up), , the 26th actually, they hosted a fundraising open house to lure in funders and other interested parties. Thanks to my brother-in-law, Sam Kaplan who is an esteemed math professor at the University of North Carolina-Asheville, I managed to finagle an invitation. As a musician & mathmatician, Sam has a great interest in math-influenced arts & music. They gave us a tour of the factory which is an an old warehouse - you know, the kind they make "lofts" out of these days - beside the French Broad River just north of Asheville. To see all the photos from that day, see my Facebook page. Above are just a few. The Moog Foundation is just a small part of the rich music heritage in Asheville.

UPDATE UPDATE: My dear friend Les just sent me an email about the theramin. This is what he says, "funny about the moog because we just watched a documentary about theramin the other night and mr. moog was all over it. theramin w kidnapped by the kgb when he was in new york and taken back to russia and everyone thought he was dead for years. he invented the instrument while working on a kgb "body detector" or something in the early 20's." Spooky, eh?

It has to be said

I have been biting my tongue for all these months, even editing some of my posts to remove any references to my job which may be interpreted in a way that reflects poorly upon me. But today...today really takes the cake and pushes me toward speaking. The unemployment rate in this state of North Carolina is 10.8% and I certainly do not want to become a statistic. And, it is true that I am on probation for a full nine months, long enough to birth a baby! It has been made clear to me that no reason is needed. I can be let go at any time, without cause. All that being said, I must take this risk. There is a culture of heroism, nay, martyrdom that exists in this field in Western North Carolina. Working ridiculous hours without breaks, driving hundreds of miles across mountains, gorges, valleys at night, in the dark without cell phone signal. Being expected to meet with people in crisis in unsafe community clinic settings, hotels, homes. I have been so incredulous about this, wondering where any of the most basic protections exist for workers in this organization and in this state. for the most part, the answer is "no."

This is taken directly from the North Carolina Department of Labor website:


Does an employer have to give all of its employees rest breaks and meal breaks?
No. A rest break (generally 10 or 15 minutes) and a meal break (usually 30 minutes or more) are not required by law for anyone who is 16 years of age or older. A 30 minute break after 5 hours is required for youths who are 14 or 15 years of age.

Ok, let's just stop and think about this. First of all, you don't have to be 16 years of age to work in this state. Nope, 14 is the minimum age. That alone is amazing. Luckily, those poor kids DO have to be given a short break after 5 hours of work, unlike we old people. I work 12 1/2 hours with NO BREAK. I asked my supervisor about this once and she said that if I were to take more than 2-3 minutes for a personal call that I would have to reduce my hours by 15 minutes on my time card.

Here's another quote from NCDOL website:


Is there a restriction on how many hours an employer can work an adult employee?
No. Employees 18 years of age and older can be required to work as many hours as an employer wants. The employer has to make sure to pay the employee at least the minimum wage or promised wages (whichever is greater) and pay time and one-half overtime pay based on the employee’s regular rate of pay for all hours worked in excess of 40 in a workweek unless the employee is exempt from overtime pay for a specific reason.

I spoke with a woman today who works at one of the chain fast food locations. Her shifts are 14 hours long WITHOUT ANY BREAKS. When I was out here interviewing last Fall, I spoke with an employer who wanted me to work 15 hour shifts and was surprised when I balked.

Slavery lives on today in 21st century North Carolina.

Emergence

Friday I began unpacking myself, bit by bit. I hadn't even realized I had still been closeted away despite the empty boxes & being in my new place for a month. But, I was. Part of me was bound up in my cherised Paiste Planet & Sound Creation gongs, zippered up tight like them inside their padded cases. With each unzipping, unpadding, unpacking, more of my 0wn life essence emerged, blinking in the bright light. As I screwed together gong stands and hung the gleaming discs up, it was as if I were breathing for the first time in months. And as I struck the Sun gong for the first time since December, it was as if my heart had begun to beat again. As the distant thunder sound closer, my arteries finally unblocked & the blood began to flow.

I've known for years that we have developed a close bond, me and the healing gongs. And, on a cerebral level, I knew that my means to self-expression was "in storage" - underneath the bed, in the closet, on a shelf. But, it wasn't until "the reveal" that I truly realized how much about being alive in the most basic sense was connected to these sacred instruments. We have worked together to support healing & transformation in so many people. I forgot how much our relationship has not only healed & transformed me but enabled me to exist more fully on this Earth.

Now they are assembled - Earth, Venus, Uranus, Neptune, Fire, Fight, Water & Moon - gathered around me in an arc of resonance. As I play the gongs, it is as if my battery were finally able to recharge. They stand tall, available, strong, ready to speak with and to me as I speak through them. The contract between the rich, dark brown wide floor boards and the bright shining metal is strikingly beautiful. Out the second story window, the tops of the flowering fruit trees and clear blue sky create a lovely backdrop for my dear friends to wait for the next time their resonant voices are invited to speak. A part of me waits there, too, silent and dependent, ready to vibrate with life.

This should be a reality TV show...

It would probably be too boring for other people but, it's great fun for me. I am proud of how little I have spent to create this warm, homey, stylin & cute environment in the cabin. I want to make a list of how much I've spent on the all the stuff I can recall. "Never buy retail," was the mantra I grew up with. It is one value from my childhood that I have never even tried to slough off! Nothing thrills me more than a deal.

Pink sectional sofa: FREE
Four funky tasselled pink & chartreuse pillows:$8
5' x 8' old Oriental rug: $40
Two bent wood chairs: $6
Two cane dining chairs: GIFT from Kelley
One dining chair: GIFT from Geri, Sam, Zoe & Abe
Dining table: GIFT from Geri, Sam, Zoe & Abe
Brand new glass-topped coffee table: $25
Large wooden desk: $35
TV table: was here already
32" flat screen TV: $50
Metal candle holder: $1
Gray wicker basket: GIFT from Bobbie
Low wooden meditation table: $5
White plastic bookcase: $1
Hand-carved wooden pineapple lamp: $5
Lampshade for above: $7
Plant stand & plant: GIFT from Bobbie
Ginger jar lamp & shade: $1
Brand new king-sized quilt: $30
Newer Oriental rug: $20
Rattan night stand: on loan from Geri, Sam, Zoe & Abe
Dresser: was here already
Futon frame & mattresses: on loan from Geri, et al
Clock radio: $1
Cool Bright Blue Toaster: $6
Tea kettle: $4
Set of 3 blue frying/saute pans: $9
Set of 3 knives: $2
Large new saute pan: $8
1 soup pot: $1
Flatware: GIFT from Geri, et al
Cool Red Dishboard: $4
Handmade colored glasses: $4
5 glass bowls: $3
Step top trash can: $7
8 Hand-painted dinner & salad plates: $14
Bunch of kitchen stuff: $20
Ceramic toothbrush holder: $1
Ceramic Asian cannister: GIFT from Geri, et al
Flip top trash can: $1

Tongs: GIFT from Mom

Large frying pan: GIFT from Mom

One small & one large covered roasting pan: GIFT from Mom

Garlic press: GIFT from Mom

10 large ceramic plates: $10

Beautiful set of cobalt blue glasses: $5

High-powered blender: $10

Microwave oven: $10

Smattering of serving pieces: $4

Stove-top cappucino-maker: GIFT from Mom

New set of sheets on sale for Mom, Dad & Shanna to sleep on: $25

Dozen pillar & glass-contained candles: $10

Running total as of May 24, 2009: $333

Ok, I'm exhausted now....off to sleep...zzzz

Detritus

I keep running into thoughts of him whether I want to or not. Here's a list:

for Chinook-
purple leash
envelope of pedigree/shots papers
dog food
stuffed animal - half eaten
blue fleece blanket (torn up one)

I found that short list on my desk when I was cleaning up. Those are the items I needed to remember to give Christine when she came to pick him up. I crossed that out and used the rest of the paper for a list of parks in the area to take Kali to.

When I went to let Kali outside, I noticed small bits of puppy shreddings in the yard and went out to clean it up. Soggy cloud-like stuffing substances clinging to wet leaves, gnarled black plastic planter, flattened dead squirrel (hence the aforementioned stuffing), naked softball, stitched leather softball clothing on the other side of the yard, peeled tennis balls, a headless stuffed parrot, now all in a plastic Ingles bag ready to be tossed into the trash along with a piece of my heart.

Now I turn my attention to other matters like repairing the fence so Kali can't get out and mundane things like dressing, bathing, cleaning. Here I go.

He's gone.....(sob)

It's 8:22pm and he was just put in a crate in a big white cargo van along with 10 other dogs and taken away. I HAD him taken away. I didn't think it would be like this - I thought he'd leave from Kelley's but, she couldn't deal with him anymore and I had to take him back. Oh, my god, the pain in my heart is so tremendous, I don't know how I'll stand it. My baby boy Chinook. Oh, please, I hope he will be happy. He's got to be happy or I couldn't bare it. She said, "we'll be home Sunday...I'll bring him over to Vance's on Sunday. He'll start his new life then."

I thought about keeping his tags but, it's not like he's dead. He might run away. He might need them. At least my number will be on his bright blue bone-shaped tag that says simply, "CHINOOK 206.228.9449." He also had a rabies tag, one of Gibson's old expired Seattle dog license tags and a plastic tag with the phone number of for the national microchip company. He was wearing Gibson's old collar, that rolled leather collar he wore until his dying moment. Both my boys worse the same collar.

How will I ever get over this pain, this guilt.....? For now, I'm off the Asheville to pick up Kali. And, then it will be just the two of us. Goodbye my dearest Chinook. May the dog gods & goddessed shine their brightest countenance upon him. I will miss you, dear Chinook.

Is normalcy a possibility?

Chinook has been out of my home since Friday (he's staying with Kelley). Saturday was literally the first "normal" day I've had & the most balanced I've felt since arriving in North Carolina. Kali & I got up, made coffee, sat on the porch swing watching birds. Then, we went off to look at coffee tables. All of the nearby u-stor-it facilities had morphed into roadside marketplaces. People just lift their sliding doors and haul their stuff out and *voila*, yardsales! All up and down Smoky Park Highway, these instant junk shoppes sprouted. It was great fun visiting them, discerning the antiques from the junk, the quality from the flimsy. In the end, I ended up buying a rug & a fold-out, rollaway steel cot (sans mattress) for $5.

Then, exhausted, we came home, ate lunch and started into our gardening projects. I started seeds from lettuce, beans, peas & chard. I did some raking, weeding, sweeping, cleaning and overall nesting. It was a lovely day with Kali runnning around the 11 acres surrounding the cabin, leaping at bees and sleeping atop the picnic table. Then, we took a short walk at Hominy Creek Park along the French Broad River (pictured above). I felt so grounded and stress-free for the first time in I can't remember how long.

Today it was back to work with trying to avoid driving to Marble in the snow - yes, it is snowing on April 6th! I managed to make it back to Balsam before the snow came in full force. Kali is staying at my sister's tonight so I will be alone & dogless tonight - my version of hell. But, that's ok. I'll take a long bath and a short drink & call it a night at an early hour.

The calm/grief/sadness after the storm...and redemption

I'm sitting here on the futon bed, in the cozy bedroom of my log cabin leaning against the massive wooden logs, my laptop perched on my knees. Across my legs are several layers of bedding - pink striped sheets, the thick comforter my parents & sister bought for me after Les moved out, the new pale green & dark pink velvet quilt I bought at the big Asheville Goodwill last week. All of this is topped off by the hot pink coverlet I got during the worst of my Seattle seasonal affective disorder bout several years back. There are a number of bites taken out of it, courtesy of Chinook & there are a couple of splotches of caffe latte-colored paint from when I painted the bedroom of my Northwest cottage and missed some of the edges with the dropcloth. This one is on top to protect the new one, one layer beneath, from muddy paw prints, fur and random gravel.

To my left are both dogs in the exact same position, facing the same direction. They are asleep on their left sides, doggy fetal position, feet and front paws gathered up in a pile of toes & padding. Tails curled under, eyes closed, calm steady comforting breathing with little snores coming from Chinook. Kali is closer to the foot of the bed and Chinook is right next to me. As I imagine this scene a week from now, there is a big, empty cold spot along my left hip and huge hole in my heart where a big, sweet puppy used to be. He's slept in bed with me almost every night since I brought him home at 8 weeks, 17 lbs. Now, 50 lbs later, he is still here. I reach out and stroke his single coat. Will he freeze sleeping outside? Christine says "no." At Vance's, he'll have a hay bedding inside his dog house, inside the kennel where he will be chained up. Oh, god. How can I do this to my sweet puppy? Everyone keeps saying to me, "maybe this is what he needs." Yes, he may need to run all day, learning how to work the cows on that ranch in central Tennessee, 6 hours from here. He may need a stronger pack of powerful dogs around him as an outside "working dog" who, as Jennifer said in her reading,"doesn't have to mind his 'p's' and 'q's." But what about the love, the human touch, the kisses. Doesn't he need that, too?? Or, is it just me who needs that? Is it my needs all along that have kept him here? Maybe he was never meant to be a pet to begin with....

When I first spoke to the breeder, Carol West, on the phone, I told her, "I'm looking for a pet. I'm not going to show him or anything. I don't have wild hogs or cattle. I live in Seattle. His 'job' will be something like guarding the house or agility or occasional tracking or something like that." She assured me that he would be fine. I know now that she was lying. I believe she knew all along of his aggressive tendencies. That first day when he growled at me as a very young pup could NOT have been the first time he growled. She knew. And, she knows. Which is why she hasn't returned my calls or 0ffered to take him back or refund my money. She knows. She knew then, too. Her mother stepped in and sent emails to various Catahoula trainers and breeders in the Southeast saying, "I have a friend who is trying to re-home a Catahoula....." What a crock of shit! I ain't no friend of yours, bitch. You are the mother of the dishonest breeder who won't take responsibility for her poor judgement and dishonest dealings. Beware, all, of Chaos Kennels. Beware Carol West & her partner in crime, Linda. She knew. She knows.

But, maybe this truly is meant to be. If he shows any potential for working cattle, he will be trained. Then, he will have a skill. He can then be adopted out to someone who truly wants a working dog. He will have a place, a home, a purpose. He will not die.

Christine said that she had misjudged and that she now thought she'd be more likely to pick him up next Wednesday or Thursday and asked whether that would be ok. I told her it would, as long as it wasn't in the evening since I would be involved in a religious observance. "What holiday is it?," she asked. I told her that it was Passover. I invited her to join us for our seder saying, "I don't know if you've ever been to anything like this before but, if you are interested, you are welcome to join." There was an odd pregnant pause and I thought to my self, "is she antisemitic?" But, a moment later it was clear that this was not at all the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. Christine relayed a bit of her story, of her ex-husband who learned as an adult that he was Jewish, how he began to re-claim his tradition and she, in turn, began to learn Hebrew. They joined a synagogue in Reno, NV and she became the devoted student and follower of the rabbi there. How this period of her life ended, I do not know. But, after hearing this, I immediately felt better, as if there were a deeper bond and a stronger element of trust. I don't think of myself as being all that religious or connected to Judaism but, I must be. Otherwise, why would this matter at all? But, it did matter. I began to feel a twinge of hope about this whole situation and a flicker of acceptance. We hung up with the plan to reconnect early next week after she returns from the Catahoula show in Louisiana.

When we hung up, I called Jennifer to tell her of this amazing coincidence of the Jew-ified dog woman who lives in rural TN. Jennifer said, "oh, yes, and how apropos that Chinook will get his freedom on the first night of Passover." The holiday celebrates the story of how the Jews were released from slavery by the Pharoah of Egypt and went forth to wander, seeking the promised land. A deep chord resonated within me. Yes, the timing, the situation, the whole thing was looking like an amazing serendipitous occurrance. Maybe it is all as it is supposed to be. Something felt settled and trusting within me.

I will try to remember that trust and feeling as I curl up now to sleep next to Chinook and my thoughts inevitably turn to next week. Please, boy, make the most of your freedom. LIVE. CHASE. WORK. REST. On this Passover, I will attempt to do what Sting says, "if you love someone, set them free."

This was not what I imagined....Goodbye, Chinook

My heart is breaking but I cannot keep him anymore. He attacked Kali twice in two days. I mean, he'd only been home for 30 minutes when he went after her for no discernable reason. Then, a while later, he was literally stalking her - would not let her rest - growling and staring like he was ready to tear her apart. I caught him just as he was going after her. But, I cannot do it anymore. I've lived with this pit in my stomach for some reason or another since the day I arrived here in NC. I've tried everything I can with Chinook. Literally, I feel like this thin thread of my life is about to snap. It is just not working. Now, they can't even be in the same room. So, much as I have my concerns, he needs to go be with someone who understands Catahoulas and can offer him some pack experiences and rehabilitative activities. Heaven knows I have tried my hardest. But, todays events just put me over the edge. As much as I love him, when push comes to shove, I have to choose my best friend, the Priestess dog Kali. I'm sorry, Nookie. I just cannot do this anymore....Christine will get him next Tuesday and, in the meantime, I'll have to try to keep them separated. Maybe Chinook can go stay with Kelley for the next week....? Oh, and I forgot to mention that Kali has learned how to jump the fence. I got a call from a business down the hill from me that she had wandered into their trailer manufacturing shop to say hello. They checked her tags, called the vet's number who called me. I had to sneak out of work and drive 25 minutes back to pick her up and lock her in the house. I really need these next few days to work on the fence. Oy, dogs!

I know it sounds pitiful but....

I need an acknowledgement and a purging off all that has gone "wrong" since I first announced that I was moving to Asheville. Here is a list, not necessarily in exact chronological order:

• Roof leak in Seattle house & bids from $250 for repair to $4500 for replacement.
• Three freak snowstorms which prevented me from having ANY going-away events.
• Three freak snowstorms which made it impossible to consider driving with a trailer.
• Problems with getting my stuff shipped, eventually going with Amtrak to Greenville, SC.
• Three freak snowstorms which closed all the mountain passes from Seattle.
• Weather all over the West prohibiting me from taking a direct route to NC, costing me 900 additional miles.
• Horrible weather throughout the country, costing me 1 1/2 extra driving days.
• Property manager calling to say that tenants were pissed about the dog poop which I couldn't pick up before I left because it was covered in snow and demanding a rent reduction.
• Starting work & finding out I only get paid once a month, causing incredible financial challenge with the first paycheck being only for three weeks.
• Getting a call from Allstate that they were cancelling my homeowners insurance.
• Having a tick embed itself in my back in freezing February.
• Behavior problems in Chinook emerging.
• Serious behavior problems in Chinook blossoming.
• Behaviorist telling me to euthanize him.
• Trying to find another home for him and instead finding a dead dog.
• Getting my second paycheck only to find that a big chunk was left out accidentally and my tax withholding is all wrong, resulting in shortfall of over $1000.
• A flying rock cracking my windshield.
• Realizing that the grass is not necessarily greener and watching my old job be chopped up into pieces.
• Seeing my old employer having to lay off 200 people and implement a hiring freeze, thus ending any fantasy I might have of returning anytime soon.

Let's see - what am I leaving out? I guess this will have to do it for now.

Catching you (and me) up!

It is hard to believe that it has been almost two weeks since my last post. Let's see - what has happened...Well, the biggest thing is that I moved to a great 1200 sq ft log cabin in Candler, NC, about 20 minutes from my sister's place. Since then, I have been very focused on getting it "set up" with furniture, rugs, kitchen stuff, etc. And, since I pretty much have no money, doing that as cheaply as possible. I got an amazing pepto bismal pink sectional sofa completely FREE off Craigslist. Sam & Geri were fabulous about helping me - from borrowing a truck to loading the thing up to driving 40 mph down the highway to bringing it in the house to thrusting one of the pieces up the skinny steps to the loft! THANK YOU! Then, I found an awesome Oriental rug at Goodwill for $40. It was nasty dirty, covered with dog hair and smelly. I worked on it for about two hours with some Arm & Hammer cleaner and a high powered vacuum. Now it looks great.

The moving thing has been great for the dogs, especially Chinook. We've got 11 acres for him to romp on, go sniffing and chasing. Since we moved (it's been a week), he only half-growled at me one time and it was when I gave him the dirtiest stare-down look I could muster. Then, yesterday, I had him by the collar when a co-worker showed up with her dog outside the fenced yard. He became very riled up and I had to put him in his crate. Still, he's only been here a week and we've been through such a hard time that I think it's normal for him to be protective. I had made an agreement with him that we would try things out for a month in our new place before anymore decisions were made. I'm still taking him to obedience and we had a bit of a rough go of it last class with him getting snippy with another dog. I corrected him with his pinch collar on but one of the teachers came over and told me I was being too wimpy with him, that he was a big dog, could become aggressive at times, etc. With that, I burst into tears. The poor woman was so shocked. She said, "I didn't think I was that mean - I was trying to be helpful." I tried to explain to her all we've been through lately with Chinook barely escaping with his life. She seemed to understand and referred me to the owner whom, she said, is very good with "aggressive dogs."

I'm coming to absolutely hate that term. The power of that label strikes fear in the hearts of all who hear it. What does that even mean? I can really start to relate to clients who's lives have been powerfully impacted by labels that they were given, say, in medical charts, which never ever go away. Words like bipolar, schizophrenic, learning disabled and such. Those words are really for the benefit of those who use them and not at all for the ones who have them stamped onto their virtual foreheads. And, a lot of it is my fault because of the ways that I've used the word "aggressive" to describe him. He has shown some aggressiveness in some of his behaviors. That's much different that saying he is flat out "aggressive." It's the difference between saying, "he's schizophrenic" versus "he has schizophrenia." As if, in the former, that word completely defines who that person is. Same with Chinook. Is he "aggressive"? He's so much more than that - smart, loving, attentive, curious, has good stays-near-me-off-leashness. Enuf of this. You get the point.

The other thing that's been going on is that our work has truly gone mobile. As part of my mobile crisis work last week, I had to drive to Murphy, NC two days in a row. Now, there is nothing inately wrong with Murphy. It is just F-A-R away, either through a narrow gorge or over several large mountains, about 2 hours from Asheville. Although it is an absolutely beautiful drive either way, I am very concerned about ending my 12 1/2 hr shift there and having to drive all the way back to Candler from there. The shifts are so long and it is soooo far away, that I end up completely exhausted. It could and probably will happen that I'll get home at 10:30 pm only to turn around and have to leave again at 6:30 am. Thank goddess it is only three days in a row. The challenge is that we are pretty much "it" when it comes to mental health and substance abuse care access is that very rural area (although there are some areas that are much more remote - up "hollers," without electricity and with dirt floors - true Appalachia - but I haven't seen them yet).

I was pretty miserable and, actually somewhat hysterical on Tuesday. I feel trapped after having given up my perfect situation in Seattle to come out here where there are few jobs and those that there are pay horribly. I've found the best of the best, pretty much. And, my Seattle job is gone....for now. So, I've decided to reframe the whole thing: it's not a job, it's an immersion-based internship in a rich and beautiful cultural & geographic environment.

The Legend of the Cherokee Curse

Maybe it's true. It sure seems like it. I've lost count of all the difficult things that have happened since deciding to move to NC, not to mention what's happened since I've been here (did I mention that Allstate wants to cancel my homeowner's on the place in Seattle cuz they don't like the roof "waves;" also a rock cracked my windshield yesterday AND my payroll deductions are all screwed up so I am hundreds of dollars shorter than I expected to be, etc, etc.)

My sister & BIL's friend Michael told me that after the Cherokee were forced to move to the West side of the state by the White Man, that they put a curse on the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Asheville area saying that all newcomers would have to endure many hardships. If, after the first year - 18 months they manage to stick it out, things will improve. I need to research this a little bit.

One very positive and exciting thing has happened: I found a lovely log cabin about 10 miles from where my sister lives. It is two stories, about the double the size of my house in Seattle, surrounded by 11 acres of rolling landscape. I can see Mt. Pisgah from the yard. The downstairs floors are all flagstone & the house is surrounded by apple & cherry trees. We move in next week. I hope and pray that no danger will befall us in our efforts to move in. I plan to do some smudging and gonging to clear and sweeten the energy. I can't wait to move!

A Story

The mud glopped up above the tops of the mud flaps as the car weaved, rocked and bucked it's way through it. Her thoughts were loose, fluttering from the ridiculous to the sublime; from, "Where is the Subaru TV commercial film crew when you need them - they oughta see this" to "How can I possibly leave him?" Words played over and over in the tape loop through her brain: The prognosis is poor; the prognosis is POOR, THE PROGNOSIS IS POOR! "How can that be - he's just a little puppy," she thought.

Yesterday morning, it has seemed like an adventure, loading the dogs up in the car in the bright morning sunshine and starting out into the mountains of Western North Carolina. Driving through the solid rock that had been blasted out just large enough for a narrow 4-lane roadway, 6 foot icicles hung from the cliff faces and hawks circled overhead. Rising, rising, emerging just shy of Gatlinburg into the big blue skyness of it all.

But that was yesterday. Today is was about finding a place for this Tasmanian Devil-of-a-Dog, so sweet and warm one minute, growling and threatening her the next. She wasn't sure if it would be temporary (hopefully) or permanent (the mere thought of it caused her eyes to swell with tears and her heart to ache).

They could hear all the dogs before they saw them. As they rounded the bend up toward the house, there were wire "settlements" of dogs in every corner of the yard - 10 down front, 5 out to the side, 20 or so out back - every one of them barking, BARKING! It was hard to think with all the noise. Her head spun as she tried to focus on each individual Catahoula, the same breed as hers. "They are a very primitive breed," the behaviorist had said with not-well-masked distain in her voice. "Whatever were you thinking when you decided to get a Catahoula??," she had asked, scolding her subtley.

She walked around the property as if in a fog, noticing empty water dishes, feces and gerry-built kennels sided with corrugated metal sheets, grating, fencing and a smattering of uneven wood pieces. It was if the sheer cost of feeding this many dogs was the only priority - the only goal that could be met. "Can I possibly leave him here?," she wondered for the 100th time. One smallish Catahoula female with a gentle face and demeanor came up to her, licking her hand and sitting in greeting. Then, without warning, she got up and trotted off the middle of the yard, sniffing something in the air and placing herself as if on watch several feet away from the object. The woman followed then saw it: a dead Catahoula with a gaping neck wound, flies buzzing, so utterly still that it seemed to be melding with the contours of the earth.

The earth began to spin and her eyes fogged up. She stumbled down the muddy slope back to the car. As if in a nightmare, she slowly maneuvered the car around and began the long journey back home, puppy on board. She had been given a clear message to help her decide what to do. And, for now, he had been spared.

Jekyl & Hyde Puppy

I haven't, until now, posted anything about the challenges I am having with my purebred 9 month-old Catahoula puppy named Chinook. Suffice it to say that it has been very, very stressful and I can't my brain going 'round & 'round about it playing the same tape loop which sounds something like, "shit, what the hell is going on with him? Is it my fault? I hope I don't have to get rid of him. But, how could I possibly do that?? He is my wonderful, sweet puppy...except for when he's not. But, then, shit, what the hell is going on with him," etc., etc.

So, rather than trying to start from scratch to describe everything, I'm just going to go ahead and post a recent email that I sent to the assistant of "certified, applied animal behaviorist" Dr. Elizabeth Shull, whom we're driving out to see next week in Knoxville, TN.

Before you read this, I will tell you that things have gotten much better since Wednesday now that I am again taking him out off leash. We're doing what all of us love - hiking in the woods. Our new favorite place is called Bent Creek Experimental Forest. I'll tell you more about that sometime soon.

I also want to specifically mention the invaluable assistance of Christine Brown, owner of Travel-N-Blue Catahoulas in Hohenwald, TN (http://www.travel-n-bluecatahoulas.com/home.html). She has provided an incredible amount of support, crisis counseling, telephone advice and encouragement to me. In addition to her kennel, Christine is the Southeast regional coordinator for Catahoula Rescue, Inc. Her female, Copperhead, was the dam of my puppy, Chinook.

I also want to acknowledge my dear friend, Jennifer Schwarz, a very gifted psychic living on the Big Island in Hawaii. In speaking for Chinook, she reminded me that he is just a puppy who is doing his best in much-too-tight quarters and that both of us had intended to find a wide open space in the country. THANK YOU, Jennifer!

Here is the email:

Hi, Olivia-

I really appreciated your help today and your calm, friendly demeanor. That helps. I will get those forms completed and send them back ASAP.

I know I told you I was going to forward a prior email to you so Dr. Shull could read it. I request that she please read this PRIOR to our arrival next week. Well, unfortunately, we had another "incident" tonight that I will describe:

Today was a great day, or so I thought, for Chinook. This morning, we went to obedience class and he did great with sit, early/short time stays, recall exercises. We came home and he played in the yard with my other dog for about an hour. Then he slept - out like a light - for 5 hours! Then, I took him on a walk - about 2 miles. He was fabulous on the leash and very well behaved. I was so pleased. Then, he had dinner and he growled once, quietly & briefly, at my other dog who came towards him while he was eating. That has never happened before today. I reprimanded him. After dinner, he went out into the yard and did a lot of very annoying barking at dogs, people, etc. Just a few minutes ago, we were in my room - Kali (my female), Chinook, myself & my sister. The was petting Chinook & he was quite submissive, on his back for her. Then, he saw something outside out the window that he couldn't get to. He became quite excited, then frustrated with some growling and pacing for about 5 seconds. He started circling Kali and then EXPLODED, morphing into a wild animal. I took hold of him by the scruff of his neck, saying "NO." I jerked him and forced him down to the ground and straddled him. I didn't turn him over on his back b/c I was afraid he would bite me. He kept growling and strugging, his eyes looking wild and crazy. I managed to lead him into his crate and closed the door. Five minutes later, he was snoring and asleep.

I am willing to invest this time & money and give it a go. But, this is happening more and more frequently and I cannot deal with having an unpredictable dog.

I have had mixed breed "American mutt hounds" for 20 years and have learned a lot about dogs, their behavior, training, etc. However, back in August, I purchased a registered Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog as a 10 week old puppy. I bought him from Carol West of Chaos Kennels in WI. The dam is Travel n Blues Copperhead from TN and the sire is J Ann J's Talladega. I also have a 5 yr old blue heeler/Catahoula x Kali. I really need some help - hopefully before I have to simply surrender Chinook b/c he is too dangerous.

We started out attending a puppy kindergarten class prior to my cross-country move from Seattle to Western North Carolina. We spent a week in the car and arrived here in early January. Since then, I have noticed some very, very troubling behavioral issues with Chinook which make me extremely concerned and scared.

First a bit of history: The day I got Chinook, I picked him up at the airport where he had flown on Northwest airlines from Minneapolis. He was, of course, stressed and scared. I brought him home, gave him a little food and loving. After a few hours, I gave him a pressed rawhide bone to chew on. When my friend and dog oficionado came over, I went to take the bone from him and he growled and snapped. I was alarmed but assumed it was b/c he was stressed. I encouraged him and was firm and he dropped the bone. Over the next number of months, I practiced with getting him to give up his bones and he got pretty good at it. To this day, he will always sacrifice his bone to me, usually with just a little encouragement. Unless my other dog is around....

While we were still in Seattle, I used to give both dogs chew toys stuffed with treats to keep them busy. I also used to give them soup and marrow bones. They would each take their bones to a corner of the house or yard and work on them. At some point, they would switch. There was some playing and "stealing" but no fighting. While on the road, in hotels, I would do the same thing. A couple of times, things got pretty heated with Chinook but I assumed it was due to being cooped up in a crate most of the day. They didn't actually fight but the behavior would escalate and I would take away the bones.

Once we arrived here in Asheville, things got pretty bad. Chinook & Kali would get into fights over the stuffed chew toys and rawhide bones, even when they both got one. I mean full on fights, drawing blood. I would struggle to pull them apart and it got harder and harder. I resolved: no more chew toys; no more bones. Most of the time, it looked like Chinook started it but it was hard to tell. So, for the last 5 weeks, I have just avoided the situation by no bones or chew toys. It was very upsetting for me and for my niece & nephew & sister with whom I am living. Once, my sister had to help me pull them apart. I consulted some neighbors of my friends who "rehabilitate" shelter dogs. He told me that it was due to Chinook being young and testosterone filled (although he was neutered right after xmas) and the confusion of a larger pack. As I said, we've just avoided this situation for the last 5 weeks.

Then two times about two weeks ago, something else scary happened. Chinook saw a cat outside the window and started leaping & pawing at the glass, growling in a very scary fashion. When I tried to tell him "no" and redirect him, he turned his aggression and frustration at my other dog. The first time, I caught him just as he was about to attack her. In order to keep everyone safe, I put him in his crate. After about 10 minutes, he was calmer, that cat was gone and I let him out. The second time, he did attack and while trying to pull them away from each other, I found myself IN BETWEEN these two dogs. He snapped at me once, didn't even touch me with his mouth, but he's really starting to scare me. He's only 9 months old and already 65 lbs and quite strong.

Kali, my female, has always been very alpha and doesn't get on well with other alpha females although she's just rude with them, no actual biting. Normally, all her best buddies are males and she tends to play pretty rough. But, she had never drawn blood until one of the recent incidents with Chinook over the chew toy.

After all this happened, I consulted with James Ha - an animal behaviorist in Seattle and also Carol West (the breeder) and Christine Brown, breeder of the dam. They helped me put together a behavior protocol (attached) and, in the meantime, I have contacted behaviorist Elizabethe Shull in Knoxville. We don't yet have a date for a consult set up but, honestly, I'm not sure we'll make it that long.

Then, yesterday, three things happened. First, in the morning, Chinook stole a plastic rotissiere chicken container from the trash and ran outside. I went after him to retrieve it. He growled at me but easily gave it up when I traded him for a biscuit. It troubled me that he had growled at me but I didn't react. Later in the day, he was licking dishes in the dishwasher and as I said "no" and tried to lead him away, he growled again. I verbally corrected him and put him in his crate. Then last night, I was letting him out to pee one last time. Again he grabbed the chicken container (although I had 'triple-bagged' it) and ran to the back corner of the yard in the bushes. When I went out to get it, he had a wild, crazed look on his face and growled at me repeatedly, ferociously like a possessed wolf. I was scared to death and backed off. But, I knew that if I let him "win," I'd been showing that he was dominant over me. So, I went inside, put on my thick coat and pulled the sleeves down over my hands. I got a blanket, a flashlight and a leash and went back outside. Somehow, I managed to distract him with the blanket and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He bucked wildly and tried to bite me (or, at least appeared to but he didn't chomp down hard) twice. I managed to get the leash on him and led him back into the house. We had not gone two steps past the threshhold when, literally, he reverted back to him normal puppy self, wagging his tale and looking a bit confused why I was so worked up (panting and shaking).

I am desperate to get some help!! I'm afraid I may need to get rid of Chinook. I have tried the whole "ignore the dog for several days" routine. He sleeps in his crate most of the night and I have been hand-feeding him the days I am home (otherwise, he's at the dog sitters with one other male dog - a red bone coon hound and Kali). Chinook eats fine next to Kali.

FYI, started an obedience class on Feb 18th and he is learning that type of thing. But these problematic behaviors are not the types of things that they handle. I feel that if I don't get help right away, I may have to surrender him to the pound as my breeder will not take him back. Christine Brown in TN WILL take him but she'd at a Catahoula show this weekend and is not home. I don't really want to give up on him but this is becoming WAY TOO scary for me. I'm just a normal person - not a macho trainer.

I look forward to hearing seeing you next week - if we can make it that long.

THANKS.

Sha'ari Garfinkel