Dear Grandpa, I love you - from your grand dog.

We're Family. I'm yours. You're mine.

My mom and you and me and Grandma and the kids and creatures roaming our backyards.

I look up to you, Grandpa. We all do.

You taught us how to live - you gave us our last name - Ayers.

You showed us all how to rock and roll and ride through life.

Even now, that you don't feel so well.

It's Grandpa Grrrrrrrr time!!!!

Whether you're having a good day or bad - nothing perks us all up, like a good grrrrrr.

Grandpa, you understand, without words, just what I need.

You get my priorities! First project upon visiting: creating total mayhem.

When it comes to play time - you can really last all day! No one is as patient as you, grandpa.

And you get my 2nd priority after play time: toy box inventory.

You're a rad dad.

You taught your girl to be a rad mom. My mom.

Thank you.

Here you and my mom are, camping and riding bikes in the desert. I love camping! 

You taught us all, the whole family, the love of play time, love of nature, love of life.

And you've had the same grrrr friend for 67 years. Grandma Ayers. That's awesome. She's a lucky gal.

Here you are, horsing around on an anniversary, acting like kids. Yeah! That's the stuff!

I try to give back, Grandpa.

Here, I'm helping you with a brake job.  On thanksgiving day. When I'd REALLY rather eat turkey.

What I wouldn't give for a good brake job right now. With turkey and mashers. I miss you. We live too far away...

For you, I jump into a carry-on bag, Grandpa.

Put up with all that airplane travel...  just for you.

And do my carry-on bag dog thing.

You're totally worth it, Grandpa.

Because at the end of the bag - is your lap.

I can't imagine a day without you in it, Grandpa.

I love you, big guy. We all do.

Cutest couple ever. Of all time. Love you, Grandpa/dad, Grandma/mom.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org                                 

Here was our family 16 years ago, on your 50th wedding anniversary.

I wasn't even born yet, but my fellow grandkids made the picture. And mom's on the left, the one that writes Surf Dog Diaries with me.

 

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 

 

 

And then, life changed.

We came back.  I did the carry on bag thing. But it wasn't a happy visit - we came to see you in the hospital.

I did my best Therapy Dog thing. So did the rest of the family.

We tried to help you get your memory back after the stroke. By looking at old photos.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Good times.

Bad times.

The ride.

The ups and downs of life.

 

 

Whatever life brings, we're in it together.

When you were sick, we were trying to act normal. So, we went out on the deck and had a little fun.

We were cheating at cards. You know, like the famous painting?

Here we are on the deck at the care place - playing cards. Or should I say, cheating?  My mom is shooting pictures - she's not that great at cards anyway.    Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

My advice to grandma: don't over think it.

 Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Just deal with the cards you're dealt.

We're all working on that. 

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 

Yeah!! That's it, grandma!!  GO girl!       

 

 

 

 

Now it's my turn.... 

Here's my best card shark look:

My best Card Shark look.                                           Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org           

Doodle, top dog, of the Ayers family card game.            Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Super Jack - the hand. How fitting!       Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Woo hoooo! I'm top dog in the Ayers family card game!

Here's my winning hand, grandpa. Can you believe it?

I call it "Super Jack."

Cuz that's your name.

 

 Grandpa Jack Ayers!

Who knows what lies ahead?

All that matters is today.

And love.

Any good dog could tell you that....

SuperJack!!!

With love from your grand dog - your dinky doxie BFF - your Pen Pal.....

Doodle Ayers

Surf Dog Diaries

Snowmeggadon: will it never end? Yard art speaks out

Rusty. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

 

Dear Dog Diary:

Recycle dog Rusty here.

In a former life, I was a toaster. And scrap metal.

We Oregonians are way into reuse and recycling - so now I have a new life. As yard art.

Tiki Dude and I are surfing, or should I say, suffering, snow in the yard. Lots and lots of snow. In the Columbia River Gorge - surf dog central - normally.

Here are a few pix before, during, and now.

It’s Snowmeggadon 2019 - the biggest winter in decades.

Tiki Dude and Rusty. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Tiki Dude and Rusty. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

We thought two years ago, Snowmeggadon 2017 was bad. Snowpocalapse! It snowed for three months straight! There may be something to this global warming thing. Because winters are not normal anymore.

Ask any person about shoveling snow, every day, for three months and see how they react.

This Snowmeggadon hasn’t lasted as long (yet) - only three weeks so far, with no sign of stopping- but the dumps are way higher, way deeper every day. You can’t go anywhere, do anything, move. You’re just stuck.

It’s late February! It’s supposed to be over!

So, we just hang out. Yard art for Surf Dog Diaries.

Watching, as the girl runs around, shoveling snow. Again.

The dog and cat guarding the house, inside, warmed by the fire. Not motivated.

Snow day! Tia and Doodle, author animals, inside. Photo (c) Barb Ayers, Dogdiary.org

Now she’s scraping the roof – there’s a thing called snow load - too much snow can cave your roof.

For sure this is too much snow.

Tiki Dude and I thought we’d pitch in and do the Dog Blog.

I’m trying my best here to be cheerful but Tiki’s smile is a little scowly lately.

He’s keeping a stiff upper lip….

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Ooh! Sunshine came out for a moment!!! Here’s my happy ear flap up - crumb tray out look….

Hey, would you believe – I have a defrost button!?! We may have to try it out this winter.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

I checked on surfboard dude in the driveway and here’s what he had to say…

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Nada.

Guess he’s the strong, silent type.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

And the BBQ boyz?

They’re pretty silent, too.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

 Momma quail yard art is almost visible again. She’s just peeking out.

Her kids, still buried under snow.

Thankfully, our actual quail neighbors still commute through the yard – their food is buried, too. So the girl puts out seed every day for them.

And defrosts the hummingbird feeder.

On the front porch are the prayer flags. They flitter and float. They’re a little more lively than the rest of us.

Of course, a roof overhead can’t hurt.

Then again, they are hanging with icicles.

Prayer flags, front porch. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Here are cars.

Now they’re yard art, too.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, www.DogDiary.org

Snow day! It’s super fun at first.

But then you want it to go away after about a week. Like normal.

Day after day, snow and snow and snow, just wears you down.

My tail’s drooping a little here.

I may be a little rustier than usual.

We’d appreciate a normal winter, is all.

Can you help us with that, Diary?

Rusty

The secret surf dog handshake. By 4th generation surf dog, doxie Doodle.

Dear Dog Diary:

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.

But Diary - you need to overlook my writing skills. Typing skills.

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.

Our surf dog story is about finding your way in a world that has totally changed.

About being changed.

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

We moved from Dog Beach, California to Dog River, Oregon a decade ago.

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

That's when our pack started taking surfing safaris. And ended up in the Columbia Gorge National Scenic Area.

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.

Melting hearts of grownups, who've outgrown the magic of life. That’s our #1 job as rescue dogs. As kids.

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.

My thing is body language - not human blah blah blah words in the air.

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.

Somehow in our fam, that magically evolved into dogs hanging 20 toes on a surfboard together.

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.



Doodle