This is to announce the first Cavalier Symposium centering on topics of interest about the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.  The symposium will be held in Belgium on October 25^th. Organized by Arnold Jacques, this Symposium is the first of its kind.  For more information see below and contact Arnold Jacques at a.l.m.jacques@gmail.com. Please include a link to the symposium website on your website

From Arnold:

“The website of the International Cavalier Symposium is ready.
www.cavaliersymposium.com
May we ask you to spread this link, as much as possible, among all your friends.
May we ask you to create a link on your website, preferably by using attached banner.
We hope to welcome you on the symposium.

Kind regards

Arnold Jacques
www.cavaliersymposium.com”

I have seen all these patterns of sleeping in all my years with dogs and one husband (God rest his soul).  Too cute!

Make sure your sound is up!

http://www.wimp.com/sleepingdogs/

A Dog’s Last Will and Testament—Unselfish to the End     (Author anonymous)

 

When humans die they prepare a will in order to leave their home and everything they own to all those they love.

 

If I were able to write I would also make out such a will:

To a poor lonely full of longing stray I would leave my happy home, my food bowl, my cozy bed,

my soft pillow, my toys, and my beloved lap– The gently stroking hand, the loving voice, the place

I had in someone’s heart, and the love which at the end will help me towards a peaceful painless end

while being held in loving arms.

And when I die then please don’t say:

“Never again will I have a dog the loss is much too painful.”

Find yourself a lonely unloved dog and give it my place in your heart.

That is my bequest.  The love I leave behind is all that I have to give.

 

You gotta see this:

This man takes his 16 dogs out for a bike ride and swim in a river every day.

Look how well trained they are and how much they love him.

By the time they return home, they are exhausted and ready for a good rest…….

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=qFP28ANXLLA&vq=medium

You gotta see this:

This man takes his 16 dogs out for a bike ride and swim in a river every day.

Look how well trained they are and how much they love him.

By the time they return home, they are exhausted and ready for a good rest…….

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=qFP28ANXLLA&vq=medium

Great Dog Story and well worth the reading! I know that I have included this poignant, bittersweet story (true) on my blog before, but it is timeless.  I never get tired of reading it and crying over it.  With Al’s passing I am considering my own mortality; hopefully, I will have years left to give back to society as I have been very lucky and fortunate in my life, especially in my choice of a husband. This story reminds me that one must not forget to provide for one’s dogs in one’s will; one should create a trust for one’s dogs to ensure their welfare when their owner can no longer love and care for them. I am very aware that the dogs I breed and keep now will be ten by the time I am 76.  I want them in good, loving homes when I am no longer able to care for them. Just think about it please. 

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie,
as I looked at him lying in his pen..  The shelter was
clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.
I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere
I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open

Everyone waves when you pass them on the
street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to
settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog
couldn’t hurt.  Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local
news.  The shelter said  they had received numerous
calls right after, but they said the people who had come
down to see him just didn’t look like "Lab
people,"  whatever that meant.  They must’ve
thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me
in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad,

bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis
balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous
owner.   See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off
when we got home.  We struggled for two weeks (which is
how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his
new home).  Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to
adjust, too.  Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis
balls — he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in
his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked
boxes.  I guess I didn’t really think he’d need
all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he
settled in.  But it became pretty clear pretty soon
that he wasn’t going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he
knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and
"come" and "heel," and he’d  follow
them – when he felt like it.  He never really seemed to
listen when I called his name — sure, he’d look in my
direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then
he’d just go back to doing whatever.  When I’d
ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly
obey.

This just wasn’t going to work.  He chewed a
couple shoes and some unpacked boxes.  I was a little
too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.
The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two
weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search
mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff.  I
remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest
room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the
"damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the
shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys
from the shelter…I tossed the pad in Reggie’s
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most
enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home.  But
then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that?   Come
here and I’ll give you a treat."   Instead, he
sort of glanced in my direction — maybe "glared"
is more accurate — and then gave a discontented sigh and
flopped down.   With his back to me.

Well, that’s not going to do it either,  I
thought.  And I punched the shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope.   I
had completely forgotten about that, too.  "Okay,
Reggie,"  I said out loud, "let’s see if
your previous owner has any advice."…. …..

______________________________ _________

To whoever  Gets My Dog:
Well, I can’t say that I’m
happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter
could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner.
I’m not even happy writing it.  If you’re
reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride
with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter.  He
knew something was different.  I have packed up his pad
and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip,
but this time… it’s like he knew something was
wrong.  And something is wrong…which is why I have
to go to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it
will help you bond with him and he with
you.

First, he loves tennis balls.
The more the merrier.  Sometimes I think he’s part
squirrel, the way he hordes them.  He usually always
has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in
there.  Hasn’t done it yet.  Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after it, so be
careful – really don’t do it by any roads..  I made
that mistake once, and it almost cost him
dearly.

Next, commands.  Maybe the shelter staff
already told you, but I’ll go over them
again:  Reggie knows the obvious ones —
"sit,"  "stay,"  "come," "heel."  
He knows hand signals:
"back" to turn around and go back when you put
your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your
hand out right or left.  "Shake" for shaking
water off,  and "paw" for a high-five.  He
does "down" when he feels like lying down — I bet
you could work on that with him some more.  He knows
"ball" and "food" and "bone"
and "treat" like  nobody’s
business.

I trained Reggie with small food
treats.  Nothing opens his ears like little pieces
of hot dog.

Feeding schedule:  twice a day,
once about seven in the morning, and again at six in
the evening.   Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter
has the brand.

He’s up on his shots.
Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with
yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when
he’s due.  Be forewarned:  Reggie hates the
vet.  Good luck getting him in the car — I don’t
know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but
he knows.

Finally, give him some time.
I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie
and me for his whole life.  He’s gone everywhere
with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if
you can.  He sits well in the backseat, and he
doesn’t bark or complain.  He just loves to be
around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is
going to be hard, with him going to live with someone
new.

And that’s why I need to share
one more bit of info with you…..

His name’s not
Reggie.

I don’t know what made me do it, but
when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them
his name was Reggie.  
He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it
and will respond to it, of that I have no
doubt.  But I just couldn’t bear to give them his
real name.  For me to do that, it seemed so final, that
handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting
that I’d never see him again.  And if I end up
coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it
means everything’s fine.  But if someone else is
reading it, well …. well it means that his new owner should
know his real name.  It’ll help you bond with
him.  Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change
in his demeanor if he’s been giving you
problems.

His real name is "Tank".

Because that is what  I
drive.

Again, if you’re reading this
and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the
news.  I told the shelter that they couldn’t make
"Reggie" available for adoption until they
received word from my company commander.  See, my
parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve
left Tank with … and it was my only real request of the
Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone…
call the shelter … in the "event" … to tell
them that Tank could be put up for adoption.  Luckily,
my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon
was headed.  He said he’d do it
personally.  And if you’re  reading this, then
he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting downright depressing,
even though, frankly, I’m just
writing it for my dog.  I couldn’t imagine if I was
writing it for a wife and kids and family … but still,
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as
long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you
make him part of your family and that he will adjust and
come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog
is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do
something selfless, to protect innocent people from those
who would do terrible things … and to keep those terrible
people from coming over here.  If I have to give up Tank
in order to do it, I  am glad to have done so.  He is
my example of service and of love.  I hope I honored
him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough.
I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at
the shelter.  I don’t  think I’ll say another
good-bye to Tank, though.  I cried too much the first
time.  Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he
finally got that third tennis ball in his
mouth.

Good luck with Tank.  Give him
a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every
night – from  me.

Thank you,  Paul Mallory

I  folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope.  Sure I
had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even
new people like me.  Local kid, killed in Iraq a few
months ago and  posthumously earning the Silver Star when he
gave his life to save three buddies.  Flags had been at
half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on
my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said  quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his
eyes bright.

"C’mere boy."

He was  instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on
the hardwood floor.  He sat in front of me, his head
tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each
time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture
relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood
him.  I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried
my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It’s me now, Tank, just you and me.
Your old pal gave you to me."  Tank reached up and
licked my cheek.  "So whatdaya say we play some
ball?"  His ears perked again."Yeah?  Ball?  You like that?
Ball?"  Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in
his  mouth.

 The Dogs Of Moscow – Taking the subway to find food and learning to get off at the right stop – WOW!

          The Dogs Of Moscow –
          An Interesting Story….

          Canine commuter … wild dog waits on the platform
          STRAY dogs are commuting to and from a city centre on underground trains in search of food scraps.

          The clever canines board the Tube each morning. After a hard day scavenging and begging on the streets,
          they hop back on the train and return to the suburbs where they spend the night.
          Experts studying the dogs say they even work together to make sure they get off at the right stop after
          learning to judge the length of time they need to spend on the train.
          The dogs choose the quietest carriages at the front and back ofthe train. They have also developed
          tactics to hustle humans into giving them more food on the streets of Moscow .

           Scientists believe the phenomenon began after the Soviet Union collapsed in the 1990s, and Russia ‘s
          new capitalists moved industrial complexes from the city centre to the suburbs. Dr. Andrei Poiarkov,
          of the Moscow Ecology and Evolution Institute, said: These complexes were used by homeless dogs
          as shelters, so the dogs had to move together with their houses.
          Because the best scavenging for food is in the city centre, the dogs had to learn how to travel on the
          subway to get to the centre in the morning, then back home in the evening, just like people.

          Well trained … dog enjoys a nap on the underground

          Dr. Poiarkov told how the dogs like to play during their daily commute.He said: They jump on the 
          train seconds before the doors shut, risking their tails getting jammed. They do it for fun. And
          sometimes they fall asleep and get off at the wrong stop.

          Dog tired … mutt naps on tube seat in Moscow

          The dogs have learned to use traffic lights to cross the road safely, said Dr. Poiarkov.
          And they use cunning tactics to obtain tasty morsels of shawarma, a kebab-like snack popular in Moscow .
          They sneak up behind people eating shawarmas then bark loudly to shock them into dropping their food.

           With children, the dogs play cute by putting their heads on youngsters’ knees and staring pleadingly
          into their eyes to win sympathy and scraps. Dr. Poiarkov added: Dogs are surprisingly
          good psychologists.

           The Moscow mutts are not the first animals to use public transport. In 2006 a Jack Russell in Dunnington,
          North Yorks , began taking the bus to his local pub in search of sausages. And two years ago, passengers in
          Wolverhampton were stunned when a cat called Macavity started catching the 331 bus to a fish and
          chip shop.