Sasha then and now.

I found this old picture of Sasha taken 3 1/2 years ago and it made me go "awww." Currently weighing in at 115 lbs, she's grown just a tad since then.

Today I am grateful for:

-The love and support of all my loved ones (both the human and animal variety)

-Doing work that I love and believe in

-How adaptable our country is to change and innovation

-The Johnny Cash and June Carter duets playing from my iTunes right now

-The abundance of food that is available to us (I'm most excited for the pies today)

-Houndstooth Photography--that the dream has finally become a reality!

I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving!

What the Dog Perhaps Hears

What the Dog Perhaps Hears

If an inaudible whistle
blown between our lips
can send him home to us,
then silence is perhaps
the sound of spiders breathing
and roots mining the earth;
it may be asparagus heaving,
headfirst, into the light
and the long brown sound
of cracked cups, when it happens.

We would like to ask the dog
if there is a continuous whir
because the child in the house
keeps growing, if the snake
really stretches full length
without a click and the sun
breaks through clouds without
a decibel of effort,
whether in autumn, when the trees
dry up their wells, there isn't a shudder
too high for us to hear.

What is it like up there
above the shut-off level
of our simple ears?

For us there was no birth cry,
the newborn bird is suddenly here,
the egg broken, the nest alive,
and we heard nothing when the world changed

--by Lisel Mueller


***

Check out the pregnant seahorse on this site--amazing photo.

My Grandmother's Furniture

One thing I've always had going for me is good timing. My move last year into a 100 year-old row house in LeDroit Park coincided perfectly with my grandmothers transfer into a smaller apartment in her retirement home. A generous woman with impeccable taste, she offered me two roomfulls of beautifully-preserved antiques. As a dedicated Navy wife, my grandmother lovingly moved this furniture all over the United States and Guam without so much as a scratch on her oak clawed foot end tables. The day of the move, she explained to me once more how hard my great-grandmother had worked to hand-embroidered the cushions of the dining room chairs. I saw her nervousness at giving her free-spirited granddaughter these family relics, and although I have never been much of a housekeeper, I vowed that I would care for her gift. 

A year later, I still am trying hard to protect my family heirlooms. I am proud of my signature move of sliding a coaster under a dripping glass so quickly that my guests don't even notice.   Still, much to my horror, I sometimes listen as my mothers voice escapes from my lips and asks a good friend to take her feet off the couch. Yep, with my grandmother's gift comes the knowledge of how time is laughing at me for thinking I would be different than my parents. Yet, as the only professional artist in my family history, I think that I am starting something new. Which is probably why I recently began to fantasize about  using the lovely pink silk chair in my bedroom for a Houndstooth's portrait.  Upon waking this summer, I'd lovingly stare at it, and then promptly imagine the disappointment in my grandmother's eyes.  

Then came a brisk Sunday morning with perfect sunlight was streaming in through the windows. I had woken up feeling brave and was just finishing a photo session outside with joyful Vidalia and her very sweet owner, Amy, when it the thought occurred to me that we could just try a few test shots.  I glanced at Vidialia, a pit-bull mix, who in her rather dignified way had kept her paws quite clean.  This was going to work. I took a deep breath, spread the thin blue scarf out over the smooth cushion, and asked a silent pardon from my generations past. With Amy's help, Vidalia hopped right up and started posing for the camera. As you can see in the picture, she definitely has an inner supermodel that was waiting to come out. 

I'm starting to understand that the true value of all material objects lies in the memories they evoke for us--and those memories are tied back to the people and animals that share our lives. When one undertakes the understanding that a life well lived is one in which furniture sometimes gets ripped or stained or finally just withers away with use of time, then the most practical thing to do is make a piece of art, which can last for a great deal longer.  An art lover herself, I think my grandmother would actually agree with me, and if not, I find comfort in the fact that she has never quite taken to using the internet. 

P.S.--Congratulations to Amy, who recently got engaged in a very romantic, tropical location!

Rolling in the grass.

Sasha is not worrying about much of anything. 

Welcome to the Menagerie! Lara and I are starting this blog to go further into the lives of our customers and tell hilarious and inspiring stories about sharing our lives with our pets.  Please send stories, pet events, and photographs that you would like featured to houndstoothphotography@gmail.com.

I'll go first. A couple of weeks ago, I went to visit my father's house in Virginia during the last licks of summer.  Leaving the city always makes life seem a little simpler and it helps to satisfy my persistent craving to spend more time in nature. There is a very pretty lake close to their suburban neighborhood, so I leashed up my father's exuberant pair of Greater Swiss Mountain dogs, Cat and Sasha, for a much-needed walk around Huntsman Lake--just five minutes from the house I grew up in.  

Allow me to clarify, I used to say that I was just giving them much-needed exercise, but I've lately come to realize that the walk is just as therapeutic for me.  Walking around Huntsman Lake doesn't solve my problems, but it does soften my attitude and strengthen my faith that things tend to work out in life, if I give them some space and expect the best. 

I walked around this lake so many times growing up, with a number of beloved dogs, but Sasha is by far my favorite exuberant companion. She's a lover with boundless energy and an impressive stride. She takes off optimistically after every squirrel through the verdant foliage, forgetting that she has never caught one, not even once.  Despite my cries of protest, she runs directly into the lake and undoes all of my father's wife's efforts to keep her bathed.  It's impossible for her not to have fun.

On this particular day, a day when the economy of our country look like it was tumbling down without the safety net we had always been promised, Sasha, in her typical fashion, wouldn't have any of my worry. I'd fall back worrying about what would happen if my parents lost their jobs, and Sasha would turn back to bark at me.  It was like she was saying, "Hey, catch up! Where is your head? Don't you know where you are? Have you forgotten how unbelievably fun it is to run and bark and drink water when you get thirsty?"

Seeing her frolic with such abandon helped me to start paying attention. It was a beautiful afternoon that was slowly fading to dusk, with slips of warm sunlight falling through the cracks in the treetops.  There was clean air to breathe and roasted squash with blue cheese and pine nuts waiting for me back at the house. I was healthy and surrounded by the friends, family, and animals that I loved.  Money might be a concern in the future but it wasn't in that moment. In that moment everything was okay and it was my choice of whether I was going to enjoy it or miss out by worrying. I returned back to the house clearer and calmer, and throughly enjoyed my cozy evening with my family.

Sasha may drool an awful lot, but she is a great teacher and consistent friend.

Wishing you all many warm and grateful evenings with your loved ones in this autumn season!

Gracy