Giggster Remembered (Part 2): Giggler's Travels

Whether Gig truly loved to travel...or simply tolerated it because he loved to be with me, I'll never know. Either way, anytime I began packing for a trip...he was there at my heels, sitting in the bags or hopping in the truck as I loaded.

As I criss-crossed the country marketing my art...Giggy co-piloted virtually every mile. Sometimes he made suggestions regarding navigation or driving technique. He probably saw more of this country than most people ever will...all 48 contignuous states, up to Northern Ontario and through Quebec.

To every one of those miles he brought his sense of adventure, boundless patience, insatiable curiosity and good natured companionship.

He was also an intrepid hiker who happily explored deserts, beaches, mountains and everything between.

Gig was a ham...

I'd say "Gig, go stand on that rock!"...and he would. Then he'd strike poses....usually a noble "hero" pose, look left, look right...

Even all my traveling wasn't enough to sate the Gig's wanderlust. Sometimes he went on walkabout. Once he ended up hanging out for part of the day with a parking lot attendant in his booth. Another time he wound up in the doctor's lounge in the basement of a hospital...I don't know how he got down there, but when I arrived to "rescue" him, he was on their lunch table...walking from doctor to doctor sharing their lunches. He spent a couple of days somewhere in a very bad part of Denver near my old house...a reward brought him back...but before that I walked every block of that "bad" neighboorhood knocking on doors and meeting some of the kindest strangers I'd ever encountered.


In Arizona he vanished one night...I searched most of the night and started again at dawn. I was heading toward the house for more "lost dog" flyers when i saw a truck driving slowly down the road. The older guy who was driving would stop in front of each house, point, and speak to his passenger. The passenger was Gig...and the driver was asking him which house he lived in. The gentleman said Gig had turned up at his house and "knocked" on the door. The guy let him in, offered Gig his favorite chair, cooked him dinner and, of course, let him sleep on the bed. Whith folks like this...who can blame the Gig for going "calling"? Nevertheless...he loved me best...and after every walkabout would leap excitedly into my arms as if to say "Where have YOU been?!"

Giggster Remembered (Part 1); Puppy Power

Twenty-five years ago today, a litter of Italian Greyhounds was born in Utah...six weeks later one of them found his way into my heart. He would be my companion for the next eighteen years.

Many of you knew this extraordinary little dog and so I hope you'll enjoy the next few posts as I take a little stroll down memory lane in his honor.

The first name I gave him was Montana, he was so small that he seemed to need a BIG name. It wouldn't last. This little dog always had a way of taking his life into his own paws and his name would be one of the first things he would change. He quickly became "The Giggler"...because he made everyone he met laugh out loud.

The Giggler, Giggy, Snarly Sneerhound, Poodle (because he was the UN-poodle) and Light-bulb-head were among the names he answered to.

From the beginning, he was captivatingly tenacious, gregarious and intelligent. He had a way of winning the heart of nearly everyone he met....except, maybe, Monster Cat.

When I was working a dog show in Denver, strangers kept coming to the booth and asking to hold the 7 week old Gig while they watched judging. He was passed through the crowd, cuddled by one person after another. I finally had to go and steal him back for fear that someone would take him home.

He spent his first two years running with the big dogs in the fields around our little cabin in Tennessee. A stray we called "96" was his first bad influence. 96 liked to roam...and he took the rest of the dogs with him when he could.

96's wandering ways only brought trouble for himself....but Giggy managed to worm his way into the hearts of the neighbors. One couple, in particular, owned "Meridee's" bakery in nearby Franklin and lived about a mile down the road. Their own dogs were not allowed on the furniture at all, but when Gig came to visit, he claimed their bed AND got cookies. In Giggy's world, everyone was a friend...

At home, the young Gig insinuated himself into the Alpha Dog position almost instantly. He did so with such grace, diplomacy and wry humor that the 65 pound Saluki (Max) never knew what hit him.

The only heat source in the cabin we lived in was one small electric heater. The quadruped crew loved to pile up in front of it...but if Max managed to secure the space in front of it first, no one else could fit.

The kitchen had doors on each end of a counter, so Gig would trot into the kitchen and rattle a food dish or play with a toy until Max came to investigate. As soon as Max came in one doorway, Gig would run out the other end and sprawl in front of the heater (soon to be joined by the cats). Poor Max would come back out, look at Gig and the cats in "his" spot, then heave a long, loud sigh and take his place at the back.

Giggy never knew he was a little dog. This only LOOKS vicious...but was just one of the games he played with Max. For all the bared teeth, they were remarkably gentle with one another.

One of Gig's best pals was "Dog George" a three legged rescue and incredibly good-natured old soul. Connoisseur that he was, Gig liked his rawhide bones "tenderized"...

He would bring George a new rawhide to work on...and when George had softened it up sufficiently, Gig would bring another new one and "trade" up.

Gig always had a sense of humor...he embraced his innate silliness, turned it to his advantage and brought smiles to everyone around him.


To be continued...

Take a Deep Breath

In his 1967 essay "Breathing the Future and the Past", astronomer Harlow Shapley wrote:

"Your next breath will contain more than 400,000 of the argon atoms that Gandhi breathed in his long life. Argon atoms are here from the conversations at the Last Supper, from the arguments of diplomats at Yalta, and from the recitations of the classic poets. We have argon from the sighs and pledges of ancient lovers, from the battle cries at Waterloo..."argon atoms associate us, by an airy bond, with the past and the future...
"Our next breaths, yours and mine, will sample the snorts, sighs, bellows, shrieks, cheers, and spoken prayers of the prehistoric and historic past.."

That concept first crossed my radar when I read it as paraphrased in "The Snow Leopard" by Peter Matthiessen:
"each breath we take contains hundreds of thousands of the inert, pervasive argon atoms that were actually breathed in his lifetime by the Buddha..."

To me, it is compelling to think that we are connected to everything that is, was and will be...by something so simple, vital, and intimate as our breath...is compelling.

By Shapley's math/philosophy we are in an intimate relationship with everything that breathes or has breathed. For what can be more intimate than a shared breath?

In contrast to this inescapable intimacy, like most creatures, we are extremely territorial....and, like most other species, we mark our boundaries with sign.

Like bears reaching their height to claw mark a tree...or cats backing up to scent mark as high as possible...or Daffy Duck defiantly wrapping his arms around a pile of cartoon gold and squawking "mine, mine, mine!"...we go to great lengths to define what "belongs" to us.

Human signs may be literal: "no trespassing"..."don't touch"..."no parking"..."keep out", marking boundaries of geographical property "ownership". We often take that one, or two, or ten steps further, though...our boundaries and "territory" may be political, theoretical, theological, ideological, artistic, intellectual, social, racial or sexual.

Maybe George Carlin put it best: "My shit is stuff and everybody else's stuff is shit."

What is it that makes us so determined to draw lines and build fences on the ground, in the air and in our minds?

We clamor for our individuality and independence...but, in reality, we are a species that moves in bands, herds, tribes, cliques, teams, gangs, societies and committees. Most people seek to gather with like minds...be it over politics, religion, music, race, fashion or myriad other "clubs". Do we require "them" to define "us"...or do we need an "us" because we are afraid to stand alone?

Evolutionist vs Creationist...Democrat vs Republican...rancher vs environmentalist...good vs evil...straight vs gay...fundamentalist vs atheist...PC vs Mac...black vs white...and there it is, the bottom line...black and white.

Perhaps people long for everything to be as simple as "black and white".
From the time we are children, we begin to judge, categorize and label everything around and within us.  It begins on the simplest level...Mom/Dad, good/bad, hot/cold, inside/outside, red/green. As we gather more information, we subdivide the categories further and further...simple dichotomous forks become complex systems of branches.

If the move to a polychotomous key for labeling what we encounter isn't bad enough, there are constant variables, tidal shifts, observer effects, "new" discoveries and so forth to keep us guessing endlessly.

Black and white is far easier to grasp than the infinite shades of gray and innumerable hues of color that paint the countless planes of reality.
But what would happen if we could forget about the black and white for a moment and immerse ourselves the plethora of colors in between? If we could stop auto-labeling and begin trying to cultivate empathy and understanding?

Every individual has their own unique perspective on life...their own set of dreams, experiences, hopes, tragedies, sorrows, accomplishments, failures, beliefs, fears, desires, struggles, passions, losses and loves.


How do we learn to find some common ground via our archetypical similarities rather than pre-judging based on race, gender, religion, fashion, politics, geography, sports, ideology or whatever?

It is one thing to have compassion and understanding for "us" and the people/creatures with which we have a sympathetic/empathetic/charismatic connection. Shapley and Matthiessen speak of breathing the argon of Gandhi and Buddha respectively...but we have that same "airy bond" with the Mao Zedong, Hitler, the Kardashians, mosquitos and the guy who just cut us off in traffic.

Having compassion does not mean you have to agree with or even like someone...but rather respect that they have a different point of view and remember that they share essentially the same dreams, fears, sorrows and air as you do.

Maybe being territorial is about being afraid...a base, primal reaction to the "unknown". Sadly, many societies channel that fear into a "strike first" mentality...convert them or conquer them...and if we can't make them into "us", then kill 'em.

How sad to think of the innumerable lives and cultures lost in the name of one god or another, one political system or another, one oilfield or another, one color or another...and to what point? The fact of the matter is that, despite our best efforts to hold tightly, nothing is ever "ours" for long anyway....

Maybe, if we could let down our guard a little, fight our innate tendency to judge and label...we might just learn that "they" have a great deal to offer...and we all have a lot more in common than we'd sometimes like to admit.

And maybe, just maybe...with a little compassion and cooperation, we could channel our "superior intelligence" into finding non-violent solutions for the problems facing this planet and ALL who inhabit it.

Just take a deep breath...

Take a Deep Breath

In his 1967 essay "Breathing the Future and the Past", astronomer Harlow Shapley wrote:

"Your next breath will contain more than 400,000 of the argon atoms that Gandhi breathed in his long life. Argon atoms are here from the conversations at the Last Supper, from the arguments of diplomats at Yalta, and from the recitations of the classic poets. We have argon from the sighs and pledges of ancient lovers, from the battle cries at Waterloo..."argon atoms associate us, by an airy bond, with the past and the future...
"Our next breaths, yours and mine, will sample the snorts, sighs, bellows, shrieks, cheers, and spoken prayers of the prehistoric and historic past.."

That concept first crossed my radar when I read it as paraphrased in "The Snow Leopard" by Peter Matthiessen:
"each breath we take contains hundreds of thousands of the inert, pervasive argon atoms that were actually breathed in his lifetime by the Buddha..."

To me, it is compelling to think that we are connected to everything that is, was and will be...by something so simple, vital, and intimate as our breath.

By Shapley's math/philosophy we are in an intimate relationship with everything that breathes or has breathed. For what can be more intimate than a shared breath?

In contrast to this inescapable intimacy, like most creatures, we are extremely territorial....and, like most other species, we mark our boundaries with sign.

Like bears reaching their height to claw mark a tree...or cats backing up to scent mark as high as possible...or Daffy Duck defiantly wrapping his arms around a pile of cartoon gold and squawking "mine, mine, mine!"...we go to great lengths to define what "belongs" to us.

Human signs may be literal: "no trespassing"..."don't touch"..."no parking"..."keep out", marking boundaries of geographical property "ownership". We often take that one, or two, or ten steps further, though...our boundaries and "territory" may be political, theoretical, theological, ideological, artistic, intellectual, social, racial or sexual.

Maybe George Carlin put it best: "My shit is stuff and everybody else's stuff is shit."

What is it that makes us so determined to draw lines and build fences on the ground, in the air and in our minds?

We clamor for our individuality and independence...but, in reality, we are a species that moves in bands, herds, tribes, cliques, teams, gangs, societies and committees. Most people seek to gather with like minds...be it over politics, religion, music, race, fashion or myriad other "clubs". Do we require "them" to define "us"...or do we need an "us" because we are afraid to stand alone?

Evolutionist vs Creationist...Democrat vs Republican...rancher vs environmentalist...good vs evil...straight vs gay...fundamentalist vs atheist...PC vs Mac...black vs white...and there it is, the bottom line...black and white.

Perhaps people long for everything to be as simple as "black and white".
From the time we are children, we begin to judge, categorize and label everything around and within us.  It begins on the simplest level...Mom/Dad, good/bad, hot/cold, inside/outside, red/green. As we gather more information, we subdivide the categories further and further...simple dichotomous forks become complex systems of branches.

If the move to a polychotomous key for labeling what we encounter isn't bad enough, there are constant variables, tidal shifts, observer effects, "new" discoveries and so forth to keep us guessing endlessly.

Black and white is far easier to grasp than the infinite shades of gray and innumerable hues of color that paint the countless planes of reality.
But what would happen if we could forget about the black and white for a moment and immerse ourselves the plethora of colors in between? If we could stop auto-labeling and begin trying to cultivate empathy and understanding?

Every individual has their own unique perspective on life...their own set of dreams, experiences, hopes, tragedies, sorrows, accomplishments, failures, beliefs, fears, desires, struggles, passions, losses and loves.


How do we learn to find some common ground via our archetypical similarities rather than pre-judging based on race, gender, religion, fashion, politics, geography, sports, ideology or whatever?

It is one thing to have compassion and understanding for "us" and the people/creatures with which we have a sympathetic/empathetic/charismatic connection. Shapley and Matthiessen speak of breathing the argon of Gandhi and Buddha respectively...but we have that same "airy bond" with the Mao Zedong, Hitler, the Kardashians, mosquitos and the guy who just cut us off in traffic.

Having compassion does not mean you have to agree with or even like someone...but rather respect that they have a different point of view and remember that they share essentially the same dreams, fears, sorrows and air as you do.

Maybe being territorial is about being afraid...a base, primal reaction to the "unknown". Sadly, many societies channel that fear into a "strike first" mentality...convert them or conquer them...and if we can't make them into "us", then kill 'em.

How sad to think of the innumerable lives and cultures lost in the name of one god or another, one political system or another, one oilfield or another, one color or another...and to what point? The fact of the matter is that, despite our best efforts to hold tightly, nothing is ever "ours" for long anyway....

Maybe, if we could let down our guard a little, fight our innate tendency to judge and label...we might just learn that "they" have a great deal to offer...and we all have a lot more in common than we'd sometimes like to admit.

And maybe, just maybe...with a little compassion and cooperation, we could channel our "superior intelligence" into finding non-violent solutions for the problems facing this planet and ALL who inhabit it.

Just take a deep breath...