I can fly!

I have no photographic evidence of my claim but just ask the short one... in an attempt to rescue a particullarly special stick from it's eminent demise I jumped off a 15 foot high cliff into a river. It turned out to be a bit upsetting as I maintained my usual jumping composure and slapped the water hard with my belly. The short one must have thought it looked fun and decided to jump of the rock which was not good for me as I have been left with the responsibility of making sure nobody drowns. It was a rough evening by the river for me but I did successfully rescue at least 40 sticks and 3 people from the frigid waters of the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the Willamette River. I'll see if I can get some photos tomorrow but in the meantime, here is a picture of the peeps and I on a bike ride.

Photos from the summer

Here's Paul. Well that's really just his leg covered in insulation from the attic where he's been crawling around fixing things. He moved in with us for the summer to help out with some projects and settle in Hood River or Portland. He is THE BEST! And he gives good belly rubs and feeds me bacon.


It's been a big blueberry season so the short ones got together with Melissa and some even shorter ones to scour the farm for juice blue bombs.


We've also got a garden going! It's a little one but it's a start and the peppers on this plant, while not smelling exceptionally tasty to this dog seem to be a hot commodity around here.


Here's The tall one on a ride through what seems to be a sprouting forest of lupin. I have a feeling that with climate changing soon these flowers are going to replace the trees. They are HUGe!


The short one went on a solo birthday ride (she didn't even bring me!). I thought it seemed strange that she'd pack an ice pack and a beer in her pack but she seems quite pleased to be enjoying it at the top of the climb with the view reflected in her glasses.


That's all I've got for now! I'm headed off to work with the tall one to supervise while he builds trail.

Near death dogsperience.

I almost died last week. For no reason that my people or my vet have been able to pin point I spiked a dangerously high fever, stopped eating and started looking rather drunk. The small one, being the worrier that she is drug me (literally) to the vet where I was poked prodded, injected, drained and cooed over by three very concerned women. While I do like my vet and her assistants, I do not like to go there. It smells like scared animals and illness and I'm always afraid that I might end up getting stuck in there as it seems many others have. In fact, on this trip they tried to keep me overnight but my amazing people know me well enough to know that staying the night would have created more stress than healing. So, I went home and after a couple days of having pills stuffed down my throat I'm doing much better!