Meet writer dogs. Rider dogs. Best dog friends. Surf the couch, the www, or a wave. Wave back at us!
It's all about the ride. The ride of life with a dog.
The new Black Friday 11/23/18. Photo:(c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
Smell of wood burning stove and melting vanilla candles.
Post turkey day tryptophan narcosis.
Rainy grey Oregon day.
Whacha gonna do?
Absolutely nothing.
There will be no malls or big boxes.
No crowds, no credit cards and no traffic.
It's all about sharing a couch and Hello Kitty jammies.
With love, from our living room to yours.
Our Surf Dog Diaries family - that's me on the nose. Photo (c): Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
Every single thing I’m gonna tell you really happened. Nothing’s made up. You couldn’t make this stuff up. What I didn’t see or live myself, I learned from my dog bro’s, my mom, my kitty sis or some other animal relative.
I am Doodle, fourth generation Ayers family surf dog. The surf dog thing started long before me – almost 30 years ago - before dog surfing was even a sport – at Dog Beach in San Diego. Before surf dog contests were even invented.
Doxie Doodle here - Gen X of the Surf Dog Diaries. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
My dog mom Barb Ayers and my basset bro’s made that scene in So Cal and came home with prizes for dog surfing.
Our family surf dog hang 20 legacy was handed down, dog to dog – from Howdy to Elvis to Dude and to me. I came along in January 2012, the first doxie of the pack. I did my first surf dog contest a year later.
These are our Surf Dog Diaries, memoir stories - all real life, not fiction, not a novel - but totally novel. We are a pack of rescue dogs who found our way from sadness to surfing.
My toes are too pointy and hairy for typing. Lip flapping - talking - is for you dog people. I’m not a verbal guy.
Cat threatens to take over the Dog Blog. HELP!!!! Photo (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
I speak with body. My spine. My nose. My actions. My heart.
I had a little help with the writing part.
Big, blaring cities with wall-to-wall houses, where no one knows each other any more. That’s why we escaped to a dinky dog town in the Pacific Northwest.
Me on one of my favorite dog beaches in the Gorge. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
Back in Cali, beaches crowded with too many towels and tourists. Houses three feet apart sell for a million bucks. The 3-feet-apart part is why everyone hangs at Dog Beach. It’s like San Diego’s national park for surfers, dogs and dog people. Home of Mother Ocean - our old friend.
Our other old friend, San Diego River, the first river of California, is now penned in, paved over - just a glinty tinkle along the I-8 freeway, with a trolley on top, on the way to the mall. River - she floods each year, stealing back parking spaces from Fashion Valley, on her way to Dog Beach. In San Diego, being one with nature meant watching River overflow in big rains – dumping yucky stuff into Ocean at our favorite beach.
Or going to that famous zoo or safari park my mom worked for. Or camping in the desert. Or escaping across the Mexico border, surfing in Baja – which is still sleepy and old school, how US beaches used to look.
Hang 70 - Surf Dog Diaries riders - and writers. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
We love life in small town America - Hood River, Oregon. Mosier, White Salmon, Parkdale, Stevenson, and other dixky-doxie-sized towns in the Gorge.
So Cali’s - we love you guys, but there were just too many of you any more.
Along the way, by hanging 20 toes on the nose of a surfboard, we found love and joy and and home and family and meaning.
We are living proof that dogs and people rescue each other every day. Together, we ride the ups and downs, the waves of life. Together, we surf.
These are the secret Surf Dog Diaries. Moments between moments.
Inside all of that grownup human species tough talk, is a little puppy. Sometimes with all the talk, you people just miss out on the best parts of life. I’m pretty convinced that’s exactly why dogs don’t talk.
Copy editor Tia takes over. Things could get weird. Photo (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
We need each other - extroverts and introverts. People and puppies. Parents and kids. Windsurfers, surfers and SUPpers (stand up paddleboarders.) Grand dogs and seniors. “Domesticated” dogs, feral and wild child friends. People in small towns and big cities all over the world.
Meaningful looks. Heavy sighs. Toes touching mom's on a surfboard ride. A gentle lick on the hand when you need it most. Long leaners - your whole bod smashed against hers, solid and reliable. Thoughtful butt sniffing. Wild bunny chasing dreams on hardwood floors on a cold winter night. Camping snores in the middle of nowhere. Farts. Big dog hearts.
For years, I rode with my mom and my two dog bro’s - all four of us on board. Hang 70!
I am a carry on bag dog - flying through air - something none of my brothers could do.
I even tried surfing with a cat once. Well, that was just weird.
These are our stories.
Come on inside.
Circle around a couple of times - find just the right spot and plop down on the rug.
Sit. Stay.
For the secret surf dog handshake.
Elvis and Tia, of Surf Dog Diaries Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org
So there I was, living at Cat House, surrounded by 25 felines of every size, sense and sensibility. Waiting to be rescued. Elvis stopped by. In 13 seconds, my life forever changed. I was picked out - picked up - by the basset alpha of Surf Dog Diaries. In no time, I was in the car in a box, on my way to my new home with my new surf dog family.
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