One of the most frequently asked questions we have been asked through the years,is “Do you have anything for my friend’s dog that died?” For years we struggled with the incongruity of our whimsical illustration style with the somber serious message of condolence for the loss of a waggily-tailed family member. We are now pleased to unveil a resolution to our design conundrum with six new cards that are consistent with our fine-line design style and simple but succinct heart-felt message. One of the hardest aspects of the creation of this category was re-visiting our own remembrances and sorrow at the loss of our two CEO’s (Canines Extra Ordinary) Pepper and Carmelle. So the resulting sentiments were born of personal experiences with grieving. They are the cards we would have been moved to receive in those difficult dark times that everyone who loves their dog dreads.
Long overdue, we have signed up our CEO-in-training, Maddie, to classes with the Obedience Club of San Diego. The students meet every Thursday evening in the beautiful grassy knoll near the War Memorial Building that adjuncts the San Diego Zoo parking lot.
And so we begin….
Eager to start, we arrived a little early for our first session, where an informal soccer game was being enjoyed on the grass by a group of ten aspiring World Cup champions. Excellent pre-class entertainment was my first thought. Excellent play opportunity was Maddie’s first thought. She lunged for the soccer ball so rapidly and determinedly that she wrangled out of her collar to get in on the game. She bee-lined towards the ball, expertly locking her canines on it and executing a lightning wild dash with offensive, defensive and evasive moves and speed worthy of the seasoned German team. The humor the fellows found in chasing her to retrieve the ball quickly ebbed when they realized that she enjoyed not only running with her prize, but biting it as well, as the leather seemed appealingly edible. I finally managed a linebacker’s tackle and headed to class after profuse apologies. The ball survived. I wasn’t so sure that I would.
Session two. Hard work. A little progress. A major hurl through-the-air jumping nasty temper tantrum three-quarters of the way through class. Oh, my.
Session three. Maddie’s addiction: golf balls. A fellow had brought a few to practice his putts on the well-maintained level grass near where we held our class. Maddie noticed. This tackle resulted in a scratch to my chin which made me appear as a dog abuse victim to my fellow class mates. Her non-compliant behavior during an exercise was labeled passive-aggressive by our trainer and she was singled out for remedial correction by a no-nonsense approach. It worked.
Session four. Again, an early arrival, after extensive park time and heel homework around the neighborhood. The lovely training area is bordered by majestic old trees. Trees are home to squirrels. Maddie considers them a blight on the planet to be obliterated. Every effort was made to achieve this goal. I was glad I had worked out that morning, as at 30 lbs, she has the strength of Hercules when motivated and is a swirling speedy Tasmanian devil when on a mission. Suffice it to say that we made it to class on time. Amazingly, she performed her commands quite well.
We’ve got quite a stretch yet ahead to travel. But at least we’re on the road.
Obedience training may well be more difficult for owners than dogs.
Intense homework e v e n t u a l l y begins to yield results.
Patience and commitment are virtues which will be thoroughly tested.
Local San Diegans: May 27,2014 We need help in finding this little DearHeart a lifelong loving home. She currently is hanging out with us at PPP, and though Maddie thinks she’s the best toy I ever brought home to her, she is needing a homestead of her own. Read all about her.
My name is Pixie.
Momma used to call me Pixie Pea or Little Rascal.
She’s a kindly gentle woman who at 89, has suffered some medical issues that make it unfeasible for her to care for me like she used to so well. She has agreed to generously send me off into the world to find a new family to please with my impish personality and huge capacity for affection and devotion.
I was a surprise birth for the Human that rescued my Mother and was meticulously cared for from birth, along with my three siblings, by a team of dedicated amazing extended friends. “It takes a village….”
I am now a sprightly two years old. I weigh 10.9 lbs. with tan and white markings – possible Chihuahua/Terrier/Russell mix. (good-lookin’,don’t you think? I take after Mum.) If I must say so myself, I’m very curious and smart. An agile athlete with amazing balance. A lapdog and under-the-covers burrower. Have recently learned how to play with other dogs and love it. Not a fussy eater and excellent co-pilot. On top of that, I’m easy to groom with a quick shower in the sink. I have been spayed. As I have acquired the Princess version of doggy manners, I will need a fresh start with Basic Commands and etiquette. But I aim to please, and am a quick learner. Bonus: With my soft-as-velvet radar ears you can pull in extra cable channels if I’m in your home. Contact : email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org
Pixie is a delicate 10.6 lb. chihuahua/rat terrier mix with erect paper-thin ears that could pull in Direct TV stations. Sweeter than honey, south of the skittish side, she’s got liquid eyes that melt your heart like butter. More mini-reindeer or gazelle, than canine, her aim in life seems to be the hunt for a warm lap and a soak in the sun.
As anyone is aware that has brought a new pet into their home, adding to the household of dogs used to being the one-and-only child, requires some adjustments.
We’re pleased to report that for the most part, those have been made – territories have been named and sleeping spots and resting posts claimed. In fact, both have seemed to come up with a daredevil play activity that leaves the place redecorated, but seems to expend much-needed energy from our rambunctious CEO-in-training, Maddie.
The Daytona 500 takes place every morning at 7 am. Pixie initiates the speedway chase by dropping the tennis ball from atop the back of the sofa with a beckoning THUD on the hardwood floor. This is the flag drop, as Maddie races to the starting line. The course consists of up-and-over around and around two couches, a beeline to the bedroom, up-and-over the bed, repeat 20-25 laps. All at lightning speed with the sound of skidding nails on the hardwood and loud landings from Maddie’s couch leaping. Pillows fly, rugs are buckled, bedclothes bunch. Midway through the race Maddie grabs her faceless stuffed lion and raises the stakes of the chase, leaving trails of white cotton stuffing for Pixie to follow. There are pauses only to assess race position and plan advantageous routes. Otherwise , they are simply brown blurs. No need to refuel till they declare a finish line. Observation from the stands is not for the fainthearted, as one prays for no crashes and that the speedway survives relatively unscathed.
As the thunder dies down after this daily morning ritual, each seems self-satisfied they will bask in the Winner’s Circle and they bond companionably in their sporting rivalry.
Naturally the cleanup is left for me.
Fear not. We’re back.
As we are building our new website and refreshing our logo, we plan to keep you in the loop of the Puppy Paws Production’s world here. There have been lots of transitions since last we posted. Most notably, we lost our last two CEOs – Pepper and Carmelle. They’ll be furever in our hearts and missed immensely.
Our new CEO-in-training, Madelein, or Maddie as we call her, is now one year and three months old, having begun her career with us at a mere eight and a half weeks old.
Is there anything more precious than a new puppy? Is there anything that tries one’s patience and is more time-consuming than a puppy? If you’ve followed our Facebook Page and/or subscribed to our (free) Paw Prints newsletter you’ll be up to date on Maddie’s journey, world viewpoint, and adventures.
Thanks to our new followers for your interest, even though we have been dormant in content for eons.
We are currently adding our product line to our new website, which we hope you’ll find cleaner and easier to navigate. As we need to add nearly 400 images, we appreciate your patience. Let us know what you think at our new email address email@example.com.
We’ll also be likely moving our Maddie Matters column in our Paw Prints newsletter to this Parcel Post blogging platform and phasing out Paw Prints.
The reality of a constantly moving your wares is quite different.
Those of you that participate in Artisan/Craft Fairs, Farmers Markets, Trade Shows, Exhibitions and the like know what I’m talking about.
First there is the consideration of your booth, stall, space, patch of grass, piece of sidewalk…whatever. How big is it? Do you have access to electrical outlets? What’s your accent lighting plan? How much merchandise can you cram into it without being cluttered? What’s the design? The look, the feel, the color scheme? What elements will support your wares? Tables, cubes, crates, display racks, baskets, etc? What merchandise do you bring? How do you arrange it attractively? What signage will you use to bring attention to your goods? Where will you set up your “cash register”, bags, and order placement tools?
Once you’ve got all the answers and the vision is solid (though slighty blurry from exhaustion) in your skull, the challenge of giving your blueprint life begins with the mock run. You adjust, re-arrange, fine-tune, fluff and tweak your master plan to perfection and then comes the real challenge.
How the HE double hockey sticks will you transport your spectacle of brilliance and loveliness to where it needs to be? If we’re talking San Diego to the National Stationery Show in New York, we’re talking shipping freight. In which case, we’ll need to address that issue in a whole article unto itself. If we’re talking local, we’ve got a. the luxury choice or b. the “Are you kidding – I’m on a budget!” choice. Luxury would include renting an appropriate size truck or van as well as bribing 4 friends with a tequila party in your backyard to help load, pack, unload and re-pack. The budget choice would include you doing heavy lifting, puzzle-solving skills and spatial relation testing, as well as tedious hauling… you’ve got to fit this whole shebang into your non-hatchback compact car. If you’re really a gold-standard person, a friend may assist, if you’re lucky.
Inevitably, when you finally have managed to use every square inch of your transport vehicle and have finally arrived at your market space and unloaded your cargo, you’ll find the whole process of re-arranging, tweaking, and fine-tuning replays itself again dependent on your booth position, the slope of the concrete, your neighbors, the weather, or any of a number of unforeseeable factors. Through it all, you hope you can improvise, glue/nail back together, or create what you forgot to bring, doesn’t work, falls down or was damaged in transport before the scheduled opening.
If the Gods are with you, at the appointed hour: Voila, you are open for business. If the Gods really are fond of you, the throngs will be enamored by your wares. You’ll reap the benefits of hearty sales and compliments on your presentation to boot. And at the end of your market day, you’ll be inspired to do it all again the next time.
Just call me Gypsie Rose Barbara.