People are crazy for their pets--if the millions of dollars spent on pet food, toys and health care are any indicators.

Of course, we haven't spent that much on our first Airedale and our current Rescue Dale, but darned near. This year I succumbed to buying a "dog holiday costume" for poor Emma, who may be wondering about the turn of luck that sent her to our house four years ago. My dad, the former cowboy whose dogs were not pets but working dogs, would sneer mightily at putting an elf hat and holly collar on a dog, much less spending good money to do so. What can I say in defence of my choice to humiliate an unusually patient and almost long-suffering Airedale Terrier? I did it because I could. Hardly the decent thing, but it is what it is. Our first Airedale wouldn't have had it for one second. She was the queen and a rather surly one who loved to eat twenty dollar bills and the DH's white handkerchiefs, preferably unlaundered. Also, she would have eaten the elf hat and holly collar in the wrapping to avoid any undesired dog dress-up aspirations we might have had. That sort of thing just wasn't on with Haynes's Glenne Glee out of Grand Champion Rondo Von Garnsey and Jerzac's Katie My Lady.

Now, Emma the Rescue Airedale out of who knows what is of a more tolerant temperament. Could be because she spent a year and half among Pugs after being rescued from the pound by a Pug lover who fostered her until she came to us. Due to that experience, she will still snort and snuffle-wheeze like a Pug on occasion, which is very unAiredale-like but great fun. Before that we think she was on her own a good bit after being raised with a mastiff and dropped off at a neighbor's house while her owners went on vacation. They never came back to get her or the mastiff. So, considering Emma's sorry past, it's no wonder she takes with supreme patience and humility our dressing her up, brushing her teeth, combing her ratty beard, showering her regularly and pressing cookies upon her after every trip outside. We've given up trying to teach this old girl some Airedale tricks such as clicking her teeth and raising her top lip in a truly horrifying smile like our Glenne the Perfect Dale did.

After Emma came to our house, for the first two weeks she was very reserved, quiet and too cooperative. It was weird and we were worried. This dog looked like an Airedale, with stand up Scottie ears but beautiful color. But she acted like a Pug on Prozac. Then I put out the Christmas decorations, setting a stuffed, fabric Canada goose on a wreath "nest" on the living room floor as a last decorative touch. Emma got up from her bed, strolled over to it, snatched it up by the long neck and shook it to death or pieces, all in about ten seconds. Yup, this was indeed an Airedale. Except when I yelled, she obediently dropped the head and neck and returned to her bed. Unlike any Airedale I'd ever known. Emma's sister, as we refer to our departed first Airedale now, would have swallowed the pieces and headed to the Christmas tree for the next course. She did so love handmade wooden ornaments from Germany. So tasty, apparently.

Since that first Christmas goose attack, Emma has laid a lip on tinsel garland or the odd ornament, but will always "leave it", if you catch her. We'll take Emma as she is and bless the day she came to add Airedale joy to our lives.

Wishing you Airedale joy and the best of the Season!
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmelinda

On this MMMLog I've gone on a bit much about the eternal darkness that is autumn and winter in Seattle. Some suggested that since I'm so affected by the lack of sunshine that I might be suffering from SAD or seasonal affective disorder, a type of depression. It's thought to be triggered by lack of sunlight. Wouldn't you know someone would decide this ugh feeling is a disorder and needed to be treated, if not by pills or counseling, then by light therapy, don't ya know.

Apparently, we SAD sufferers can buy a light therapy box that has the right light intensity and some UV or ultraviolet light, say, one with 10,000 lux of light. Studies say that people benefit most from light therapy or putting their head in the box in the morning when they wake up. I guess you have to wear sunglasses or squint as the light should enter the eyes indirectly. And like everything else, you have to stick with it to see improvement in your SAD outlook.

My remedy for my particular seasonal affective disorder is to go home to Arizona. The sun shines there pretty much all day and I can wear cool sunglasses, both of which always happys me up. I much prefer this to staring into high lux lights that can sunburn both skin and eyes to the painful zone. I found this out when I was a graduate student and worked for a trade show temp staffing agency. I was hired as an on-camera model for Panasonic video cameras. The low lux capability of those early video cameras was really poor and required huge spotlights that hung less than five feet above the models' heads so that they would show up on camera. I worked for eight hours that first day and the next morning when I awoke I couldn't open my swollen eyes. They were sunburned as were my scalp and face. Nevertheless, I got soaked my eyes open, put on sunglasses, makeup and reported to work. The Panasonic sales execs were horrified and quietly told me I "didn't have to work on camera" and they'd pay me for the whole gig. Sweet, huh?! No so much. Sunburned eyes really hurt! And these days I'm really tired of hearing the dermatologist pass off everything as "sun damage."

So, really, I say heck with the light boxes and huge sunburning 10,000 lux. Go to Arizona and you won't be SAD.

Mmmmmmmmmmelinda