PORTUGUESE WATER DOGS AND BAGS OF BEAGLES

With all due respect to my old friend Carole Ottesen, who began writing first class garden books in the 80's and was always ahead of the pack, her Portuguese water dog Nando was scary. In retrospect, interacting with him was a crap shoot; not a dog with which you'd want to be eye-to-eye. I remember being at a lovely party Carole gave and sitting outside on a bench with Nando beside me. I recall a rather tense moment when Nando either growled, snarled or actually nipped.

Now it's entirely likely I didn't read what was going on with him in the moments before it happened so for God's sakes don't get on me for bashing all PWG's or even the sadly over-sensitive Nando. But it is true I've never been attracted to any of the exuberant frothy-haired breeds, despite my own humping wavy-haired labradoodle comme l'enfant sauvage.

My partnership with this dark-haired beauty came as a decided change in physical type for me. Myself I'm a Ridgeback girl and my heart still races when I see one. I was in a big park in Berkeley decades ago when I spied my first one, a sleek creature with great bones standing big-chested on top of a knoll. Queen of the Veldt.

I had a doe-eyed Ridgeback named Lucy Mae, as gentle as they come. I'm going to have to scan some pix so I can show her to you. On the To Do list.

But moving on with this doggishness, should anyone recall my thrilling posts weeks ago about my little Starlet and her incontinence (now under control, thank you), you may recall that she is a beagle. As such, she is capable of great mischief, singularity of purpose and some stupidity. I leave you with a few recent moments of proof.