We're nuts for mutts

Gusty winds, ominous clouds, even a little rain couldn't keep our first annual Nuts for Mutts 5K Walkathon from being a big success. The funds we raised were modest for the effort involved, but there's no way to put a price on the fun we had, more than 70 people all walking our dogs up the main boulevard of town and back to the beach, for live music on the beach.

Eight puppies from the San Carlos Canine Refuge were on display in a pen, and at least four were officially adopted before the day was over. Everyone wanted a chance to cuddle a puppy.

One unanticipated bonus: the presence of all those dogs attracted a fellow a number of dog lovers had been trying to capture for years. He's known as Blackie, and when he was a puppy someone tied a wire tightly around his neck, attaching a heavy stone to it. A local doctor's wife had offered a $1000-peso reward for anyone who could catch the elusive Blackie, so the wire can finally be removed, he can get wormed, spayed, vaccinated and rid of parasites. No one had been able to catch him, in spite of his impediment, but today a lanky cowboy named Pepper spotted  Blackie when he showed up curious at the sight of all those dogs, and managed to lasso him. He's unadoptable, but when he's been treated he'll be released back into one of his old haunts, sure to have a better life than before.

No dog fights. No injuries on the walk other than a few blisters. No conflicts with neighbors or police. For one glorious day we showed ourselves that we could indeed all get along. We had decorated the street with red ribbons yesterday, to mark our route and someone came along behind us and pulled them all down, but we just waited until this morning and put up more.

I've been bottle-feeding a litter of four two-week-old orphaned pups for the past few days (above, Bruiser the alpha male and Cleo the runt female). The lack of sleep has me in a bit of a daze, but I had a wonderful time, and when it was all over the Capt and I came home for a long siesta. Now it's all like a sweet dream.

Miles out of the comfort zone

It all started when one person formerly involved with our Canine Refuge (where I volunteer) came up with the bright idea of putting on a 5K walk as a fundraiser. I've only even participated in a walk once myself, and have no notion of what is involved in organizing one, not to speak of making money with one. Did I mention that I've somehow been annointed the fundraising chairman for this organization? This is so far out of my comfort zone, I don't know if I'll ever get back.

So here we are, a week from the event, scrambling to get things done. We've had a couple of meetings and some issues have been resolved, but there are dozens more. Did I mention that dogs are coming along on this walk? It's a noncompetitive 5K dog stroll down the main boulevard of town and back, followed by live music, silly dog contests (longest ears?) and—most important—several of our Refuge dogs will be there, sporting Adopt Me vests. I'm praying for a good turnout, an adoption or two, and no dogfights.

The Refuge kennels are full to capacity, with 20 dogs, 14 of them puppies. We visited the dog pound in Guaymas last week and there were two litters of pups in line to be euthanized. Beautiful, bright and, except for two, very healthy. We took them all back to the Refuge, including the two that appeared to have health problems but now seem to be getting better with supplemental feedings. We have no plans to rescue every litter that ends up at the pound. But there we were, there they were with one day left to live, and we couldn't walk out without them. And there are another 20 puppies being fostered here in town, but destined to wind up with us once they've been weaned.

W're calling this event the San Carlos Nuts for Mutts 5K Walk. I'd like to say we have a dandy website to promote it, but our webmaster seems to have endless excuses in spite of the fact that he's being paid to do it. This is particularly annoying since I could have done it myself, using Weebly, as I did for the cooking club. Took me one afternoon to get it online.

I had adopted a puppy myself, which I named Daisy, but plans have changed. The young woman who had fostered Daisy before I took her home emailed me a few days later telling me that if I ever changed my mind, Daisy could come back and would have a permanent home with her. By then my other dog Chica had made it abundantly clear she wasn't happy with the new addition to the family by getting on our bed and peeing on the down comforter, and I was beginning to get seriously stressed. So I emailed G. back and said, "Take her, she's yours." I chalk it all up to my first experience fostering and bonding with puppies, and now I remind myself that I can't keep them all. At present I'm particularly attached to a fuzzy black male named Bear. And so it goes.

That went well, I thought...

The show Wednesday night went better than expected, with a full house and waiters bringing even more tables out for the people who kept coming.  I didn't need to worry about what to wear, it was a chilly evening and I was wrapped in a warm rebozo.

A video will be sent to us soon, which I hope to be able to upload here.

"...music is about as physical as it gets: your essential rhythm is your heartbeat; your essential sound, the breath. We're walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we couldn't get to any other way."
— Anne Lamott

Faking it 'til we make it

It's been said (I forget by whom) that as we grow older we begin to give a lot of thought to the Hereafter. Mainly because often when we enter a room, we stand there wondering, "Now what am I here after?"

The biggest challenge I face as a singer is remembering lyrics. I've probably spent too much time with a music stand in front of me, comfortably reading along as I sing. I've even done it onstage, more times than I'd like to admit. At the root of this terrible habit is a basic distrust of my own memory. And the result is a loss of contact with the audience and with the true meaning of the song.

Tonight the Capt and I are performing together for the first time in more than two years, at a concert to benefit an orphanage in Empalme. It'll be outdoors on a green overlooking the beach, with four other groups doing everything from old rock songs to Mexican favorites. We'll do the token jazz and blues set of four songs. Here are photos of the groups we'll be honored to share the stage with.

The producers, Bobby and Leslie, are old professionals. Leslie used to perform with the Mamas & Papas and she's made it abundantly clear that relying on cheat sheets onstage is unprofessional and forbidden. Well, duh, of course it is, how silly of me to even wish for my music stand. So I've been running my lyrics through my head almost hourly, every night before I go to sleep (that's supposed to be a learning technique) and while driving. Yet I still manage to botch a word here, a phrase there, every time I rehearse.

I've decided the trick is not to expect perfection of myself, but to learn how to glide on through any mistake and keep going. Most people aren't hearing the song word-for-word anyway, they're busy ordering drinks, joking and greeting friends. Bobby tells me he's having the same difficulty, and almost gave up performing this year, in favor of recording. He loses it on songs he's performed thousands of times! But he'll be onstage tonight too, faking it until he makes it.

Every week I jam with two groups, playing guitar in my entry-level style and doing a lot of the singing: Arturo and the Beach Bums on Thursday and the Toe Jammers on Friday. It's a comfortable way to play songs, music stands in front of most of us, no drunken audience trying to shout over us, plenty of time to make mistakes, do songs over and get it right. But singing onstage is a different challenge, and one I find enjoyable, once I connect with the audience. Many of my Beach Bum and Toe Jammer friends will be rooting for us in the audience tonight, and though I don't expect rapt attention from them throughout our four songs, it'll be a comfort to see them there.

So wish us luck, amigos!

Puppy love

Yesterday at the library the main topic of conversation (besides books) was the fact that nobody can remember our little corner of Paradise ever suffering such a blast of cold air as we've had the past three days. Old-timers who've been retreating from NOB every winter for 30 years said they'd never seen it so cold here. Iced-over birdbaths! Thirty-knot gusts! Thermometers plunging to 37 degrees! Caramba! Much fretting over outdoor events planned for the next week, including a concert where the Capt and I may be performing for an audience of a half-dozen hardy souls huddling under blankets. Still, my sister in Oklahoma provided me with a little more positive perspective when she sent me this shot of her front yard.

For the moment, the winds have died down, skies are blue and the sun (yes, that very same sun we hide from all summer) is making a welcome reappearance.  I'm going to meet fellow blogger Brenda at a little patio cafe for lunch, and meet her friend who's just started teaching at a school in Guaymas. We'll soak up some rays while we can and then tonight we'll be battening down the hatches once again as another norther rolls through.

I also worry about the dogs at the Refuge, which is now full to capacity. I went to tianguis (the weekly Mexican outdoor market in Empalme) last Sunday with another Refuge volunteer and we found a litter of seven puppies wandering around in the crowd that someone had apparently abandoned, assuming they'd be picked up by someone. We were able to catch four of them and bring them back for medical checks, worming and vaccinations. So now the Refuge has six puppies of various sizes. We've bundled them all up in sweaters made by our local professional knitter Alma. Every night the chiminea is stoked and the puppies are kenneled as close to the warmth as possible.

Two adult females have been recently spayed and are recovering, one a rescue from Hermosillo called Negrita (pictured above) and the other from the nearby Santa Rosa grocery store, so we call her Santa Rosa. And she does have a saintly disposition...

In other news,  I fell in love last weekend with a puppy I was babysitting for the weekend while her foster mom was in Tucson. Wink is about the size of a toy Yorkie, only about a month old, but already so bright and responsive, you'd think she was older. Possibly she's part chihuahua, or maybe she's just the runt of the litter. Over the weekend I taught her to do her whizbiz outside, sleep quietly on a cushion next to the bed and walk on a leash. I'd adopt her myself but the Capt is not persuaded, so she will join her siblings on a flight to New York where an agency called Stray from the Heart will find a home for her.

Lisa, who was kept confined for weeks while she recovered from mange and is therefore somewhat shy of humans, has grown back her coat and is looking good. She responds a lot better to human attention.

We have a handsome young male named Rocco who came to us after surgery to remove a wire that had been tightly wrapped around his neck when he was a pup (why? I can't imagine!) so it was imbedded in his skin as he grew. Rocco would make someone a wonderful guard dog or bodyguard for a woman, but he doesn't like children or men. Sometimes I wish we could have a visit from the Dog Whisperer to help us iron out these behaviors that are probably rooted in early abuse. Help us, Cesár!