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The ride of life with a dog
  • Surf Dog Diaries - dog blog
  • The ride of life with a dog
  • HANG 20 - DOG BEACH, CA
  • HANG 20 - DOG RIVER, OR
  • ABOUT US
  • BarbAyers.com
  • GIVING BACK
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Dogs ride the ups and downs with us. Real life Surf Dog Diaries

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.

Click on photos for links to related stories. Dude, Ayers family surf basset #3 and Elvis, surf basset #2, were taught by #1 Howdy Doody, to surf on land and sea.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org, Surf Dog Diaries  

Click on photos for links to related stories. Dude, Ayers family surf basset #3 and Elvis, surf basset #2, were taught by #1 Howdy Doody, to surf on land and sea.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org, Surf Dog Diaries  

The Dog Beach ride of life, Part 2 – dog's eye view of surfing

Barbara Ayers March 17, 2018

Based on a true story by Howdy the surf basset with dog mom Barb Ayers

Excerpt from the secret Surf Dog Diaries book in progress

Recap from part 1:

Warm sand. Bare feet. Bare paws. Bare back. A sea of umbrellas and beach chairs, towels and tattoos. I smell a warm meatball sandwich by a dude in the sand.

Dogs dart around in circles, this way and that - chasing freedom and Frisbees and dog butts and fuzzy yellow-green balls.

Blue skies and ocean smelling breeze and all those brilliant rays of light and life. A smile grows wide from deep inside.

Click on photos for links to related stories.   Elvis, first step son of Howdy, of Surf Dog Diaries.     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Click on photos for links to related stories.   Elvis, first step son of Howdy, of Surf Dog Diaries.     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

I'm a surf dog. Surf basset Howdy Doody, more specifically. I’m rolling up on all fours at my home turf, Dog Beach, in OB - Ocean Beach, San Diego. The first leash-free beach in the US.

I’m thinking, I’m going for it.

We wade into the ocean, my mom and I. We jump on a board and head out, toward the magic and the mystery of the surf break.

I’m standing up, hanging twenty toes on the nose of the surfboard, all basset hound manliness in front. A surf dog hood ornament.

Click on photos for links to related stories.  Surf doxie Doodle, named after Howdy Doody, is Surf Dog Diaries' Gen-x, 4th generation Ayers family surf dog. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Click on photos for links to related stories.  Surf doxie Doodle, named after Howdy Doody, is Surf Dog Diaries' Gen-x, 4th generation Ayers family surf dog. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Mom’s in back, paddling out. She’s a person, not nearly as efficient as us surf dogs. She paddles lying down, with hands, not paws. Giggling and making all those funny sounds. Words so cute, but I’ve no idea what she’s talking about.

Bright sun warms your back. Dog hairs swirl around, weightless, like dancing kelp as we go deeper.

I'm thinking.... Here she comes - a big, gnarly wave, barreling right at you.

And whoa- next thing you know, we’re up, and riding.

Surfing the ups and downs of life.

Part 2:

Looking up, looking over – I’m thinking…

Wooo HOOOOO! Surf dog Howdy Doody here! The Big Kahuna.

And right over there, down the wave, were two of my very best buds – a bulldog and a golden retriever. Both standing up with me, at the very same time, at the very same beach on their very own boards. And it was magic. There's no greater gift in life than sharing this moment with friends.

I’d never had real friends before, never really belonged.

Rescue dogs roll that way.

It was an incredibly long ride – ocean curls just kept coming up behind and chasing me, changing me. Waves pushing a little bit left, up toward where the San Diego River empties into the ocean, and the sea wall between OB and Mission Beach.

Then the surf changed and pushed back to the right – toward the OB pier. Ocean was playin’ with me. Teasing and testing me. Could I stay on when she tried to throw me off? I’d been thrown off before so many times. Mostly on land, with humans.

And with a light step, that wasn’t normally my way, and that basset hound dogged determination, we’d made it to this place and the wave was there – the test – and I rode it with everything I had. Everything I’d learned. From the rescue dog ride of life.

And Mom had been there, helping, every step of the way. Together, we were one.

            Number One!

Click on photos for links to related stories.   Surf bassets Elvis n Dude n friends.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Click on photos for links to related stories.   Surf bassets Elvis n Dude n friends.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Normally when Howdy ran away, his mom frantically followed, trying to bring him back home.

But this time, she’d let him go – in a good way.

Into the wave, on his own, riding the wave like one of the big boyz.

She’d paddled him out through the break, picked out the wave, paddled him into it, then slipped off behind and gave the board a huge shove at the critical moment, to launch him into the curl.

She got him his wave, his moment - and then she knew enough to let him go it alone. How’d she know that?

Seemed like hours and days passed - surfing suspended all time, all rational thought and all other feelings. That one-with-nature moment lasted forever.

That same wave that threatened to drown you, gave you pride and hope and peace and joy - the thrill of a lifetime – all, in under a minute.

It makes you want to race right back out after wave #1, for one more who-knows-what’s-gonna-happen-next Dog Beach ride of life.

It’s been said that the average surf ride is about ten seconds, but this ride lasted way longer.

The board with the dog took its time heading in – heading home.

All the way from outside the surf zone, back through breaking waves toward the beach, through indigo, to blue water and white water, to ankle biters, to bubbles, to shore. The fin of the board dragged up in sand. Howdy stepped off in ankle deep water.

Top dog style.

He smiled a big, toothy grin. Maybe it was there the whole time, for the whole ride. Who knows.

He felt like a king. King of the beach.

And together as one breed, dog and man - surf dogs all - we say or howl, bark

 or sing...  

Waaa-Roooooooooo.

Surf is UP!

Howdy rode solo in surf  - here, with a cool dude at the Dog Beach Sandy Claws fundraiser.   Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org   Click on photos for links to related stories

Howdy rode solo in surf  - here, with a cool dude at the Dog Beach Sandy Claws fundraiser.   Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org   Click on photos for links to related stories

Howdy could see their mouths hanging open on shore - the sense that something amazing had happened.

He felt like, for once in his life, he got noticed. He was a throwaway dog in a former life. Many lifetimes ago.

They were clapping, laughing, running towards him.

And the surf dog shook it all off – the time and the tides and cold water and heavy thoughts he used to drag around - with a full-body side-swiper back-n-forth salt- water-in-flight slow-motion of the ocean notion.

He trotted off down the beach. 

Dog Beach - his home beach. Cross roads of all breeds and all creeds. Dogs and their people and surfers and seniors and families with kids and lawn chairs and floating umbrellas and Frisbees and lots of dog-butt sniffing, too. Tattoo viewing. Yes, he knew what tats were, even though a dog shouldn’t.

His new mom finally swam in from the ocean, walking back up the beach to join him. She was panting, exhausted, dog-tired. He’d surfed; she’d swam. She’d paddled the two of them together out past the break, then hung back when he took off on board.

Now she was laughing and running toward him. She scooped him up and held him upside down, on his back, cradling him in her arms like a tiny puppy. Even though he was a big, manly surf dog, he didn’t try to wriggle out, or break free. Like old Howdy would have.

Because this was their most secret, sacred moment - her giving him the gift and him, stepping up. Believing.

He was big and small, young and old, man and dog, crazy and chillin,’ happy-sad, all at the same time.

He'd never needed anyone in his whole life before that moment.

He just let her coo and kiss him.

He totally deserved it!

Right then and there - he was King of Dog Beach.

And then hoards of people came running up, laughing and chatting and cheering them on.

“Whoa- what a good dog!”

"How’d he learn to do that?"

"How long did it take to teach him?"

"His wetsuit says Howdy – is that his name?"

His dog friends that rode the same wave he did, were just swimming in. Sopping wet dogs. Dragging, drowny dogs. They’d fallen off that beast of a wave. The one he rode all the way in.

Big Rich, the overweight boxer with a big, loud bark and this whole. I’m the Big Man body language. Even though he wasn't.

And Hookipa, the hot-babe golden retriever with a white, bright smile. And a big fancy pedigree. Born and bred for water, not like land-hunting low-rider basset hounds.

Not like him – not like Howdy.

He was so not your typical water dog.

With a low-man physique – short basset hound legs.

A long-board basset hound back.

And extra-wide UGG-boot feet. Toes splayed out in the sand. On a surfboard.

Grip it and rip it.

So maybe basset hounds were really bred for surfing after all – not just for hunting.

Maybe the whole low-rider-surf-dog-custom-basset-hound-specialty- package wasn’t just an accident.

And somehow this dog - adopted, rejected, returned to the pound, the 3-time rescue mutt, least likely to succeed - had shown everyone else, all water dogs and would-be surfers and gnarly surf dudes and beach breeds, how to get ‘er done. How surf dogs roll.

A stray, a mongrel, a runaway, an “incorrigible pet,” according to those judgey people he used to know.

A basset, a born “sinker" – like short boards that sink into water. 

But here, now, a “floater” - a long boarder, riding with style and pizazz. 

And with a whole lot of genetically engineered basset hound pride and stubbornness.

Which, when you think about it, is the most important secret to surfing waves of any kind.

He was maybe three years old, still in his first year of surfing. After riding out a couple of lifetimes already, all former failures.

Surf dogs on vacation. Elvis n Dude apres surfing in Baja.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surf dogs on vacation. Elvis n Dude apres surfing in Baja.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Before he found Her, the surfer, Mom #3.

Third time’s a charm.

Howdy and me, surfing on the Colorado River, circa 2002.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Howdy and me, surfing on the Colorado River, circa 2002.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 

She wasn’t really #3, She was the Only One.

And he was Her One and Only.

 

Finally, they'd brought each other home.

Tags Dog Beach in Ocean Beach, surf dog diaries, Surf dog diaries, Surf Dog Blog, Howdy the surfing dog, Elvis the basset, Dude the dog, Doodle the surf doxie, dog mom Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, dog diary, dogdiary.org, secret diary of a dog, secret life of dogs, I love my dog, stray dog books, hang 20 dog tales, my diaries, diaries by dogs, San Diego dog beach, writer dogs, dogs n friends, best friend dog, my surf dogs, surfing dogs, windsurfing dogs, SUP dogs, memoir story, small town dog, small town diary, dog book, secrets of dogs, 4 paws 20 toes, author dog
Dog Beach - in Ocean Beach, San Diego, CA. Where the Surf Dog Diaries first began.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dog Beach - in Ocean Beach, San Diego, CA. Where the Surf Dog Diaries first began.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

The Dog Beach ride of life. From the secret Surf Dog Diaries

Barbara Ayers March 9, 2018

Based on a true story by surf basset Howdy Doody, 

with surf dog mom Barb Ayers

(Part 1) Excerpt from the book in progress 

 

Ah, the smell of the ocean. You sense her before you see her. Rhythmic breaths, rhythmic breeze, rhythmic tides. Back and forth, drawing you in. Irresistible.

Warm sand. Bare feet. Bare paws. Bare back. A sea of umbrellas and beach chairs, towels and tattoos. I smell a warm meatball sandwich by a dude in the sand.

I'm a surf dog. Surf basset Howdy Doody, more specifically. I’m rolling up on all fours at my home turf, Dog Beach, in OB - Ocean Beach, San Diego. The first leash-free beach in the US. Doggie wonderland.

pawprints LOGO placed SMALL and footprints in sand baja_edited-3.jpg

 

Dogs and dog people from all over the place hang here - and together we say….

     Oh yesssssss!  

     Baroooooooo!

Dogs dart around in circles, this way and that - chasing freedom and Frisbees and dog butts and fuzzy yellow-green balls.

 

 

Blue skies and ocean smelling breeze and all those brilliant rays of light and life. A smile grows wide from deep inside.

I did my best basset-squinty-eye-cool-dude-look-west-surf-check pose.

I’m thinking…. I’m Joe Cool in a wetsuit for the beach boy strut with a surfboard.

I’m way more into the feeling, than the look, I swear. It's how I roll, it’s what surfers do.

Seagulls swirl, "caw-caw-cawing" overhead.

The pelican patrol escorts you out to sea, sky surfing in straight rows of bird V- formations, like military airplanes. Yes, I'm a dog and I know what airplanes are. You live in OB under the airport flight path and get what that’s all about.

A little airplane buzzed overhead, pulling a long banner with human words on it. There’s a beach full of people and dogs – plenty here to see whatever that message is. But it’s just blah, blah, blah, to me.

A skinny dude slides around on a skim board in ankle deep water like he’s surf dog Laird Hamilton. I bet Laird got his start that way.

Laughing kids splash around without wetsuits, as if ocean isn’t cold - we all know it really is. They bounce up out of water as waves roll by, so their faces don’t get wet.

I'm thinking.... Tourists! Spray in the face is one of the greatest gifts of surf dog life.

 Dog Beach surf dogs - man and animal. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 Dog Beach surf dogs - man and animal. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

We locals, we surf dogs, hang our toes on the nose of a surfboard.

Leaving all thoughts and cares behind, about where you’ve been and who you were.

Rescue dogs like me are rescued by this place and the people that hang here.

Ocean owns us surfers. But she’s not always easy. You gotta pay attention. You gotta do your time. Just like you do with your newly adopted family.

EEK!

Ocean cold zaps through your wetsuit. Cold enough to make you squint.

Surf Dog Diaries writers/riders Dude (step son of Howdy Doody) and Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surf Dog Diaries writers/riders Dude (step son of Howdy Doody) and Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Bright sun warms your back.

Dog hairs swirl around, weightless, like dancing kelp as we wade deeper into water, then start to paddle out.

       I’m going for it.

Here she comes - a big, gnarly wave, barreling right at you.

Going against instinct. Paddling right toward her - dog vs. beast. Trying to get past her. To find the calm, the joy, the ride on the other side.

Ocean pulls you to her - you roll back and forth, a little rag muffin, beat-up dog toy bouncing in surf. All you can do is roll with it. Don’t let it throw you off.

Now wave is rising up, ready to smash you, crash you, break you. You're shaking deep inside. 

That Oh crap moment that makes you want to run way, or turn around.

Like all the other stuff you’d rather not face head on.

       But I stand tall – I stand my ground.

      She comes right at me – we are face to face, wave and I.

And then, at the very last second, she caves. 

And then I'm all… no biggie man, it’s nuthin’. Easy breezy surf dog style. Day in the life!

Stay ahead of the surf break. Get into the lineup. Dive under the wave, or paddle hard, right at her, and fly over the top. Timing is everything, each moment of surfing. The hardest part is getting out, past breaking waves, against gravity and the supernatural force of nature and all that bad stuff that ever happened in your life.

On the backside, you slow-mo paddle into position and wait for something magic to happen.

Pick one out – find your way – take that sweet ride – make friends with waves. And people.

     Waves are good. Waves are like friends – they help you find balance.

     Be bold. Be flexible. Be brave. 

My new Mom’s laughing right behind me on board. She paddled us both out here – I don’t mind the help, really. She adopted me from the pound about a year ago and here we are, facing the ups and downs of life together.

Here comes another wave. Hurry – it's fast moving  – right now!

Mom’s all paddle-paddle-paddle-hard! Facing off against the wave. With me in front! And we’re charging that big, bad wave woman, as the girl in back paddled and pushed.

We went there together, Mom and I.

And at the very last moment, we skyed it – flew over the peak - bouncing down on the backside. To safety.

That wild wave must have been three times my height – that’s what surfers call triple head high. And we rose up to meet it like it was nothing at all.

My own head-high is filled with emotion. It’s hard to describe.

Who’s your Daddy?! Your big bad basset man…

Crap- that was a super close one. We were almost too late.

Another wave is coming, right after. No time to think. They come in sets, one after another after another, like most of our challenges do.

Getting your butt out there without drowning is the hardest part of surfing.

No, maybe it's the just showing up part.

The I’m not running away again this time. The I’m gonna stay and try.

Compared to that…. being chained to a wood pit in the mountains when you’re a puppy, left out as coyote bait in the back woods… or being adopted and rejected by two moms in two years…  standing on a board and riding a wave is super easy. 

Just hang loose.

Surf Dog Diaries basset #3 Dude rode waves for years with his mom He learned from Howdy.     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surf Dog Diaries basset #3 Dude rode waves for years with his mom He learned from Howdy.     Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Rut-roh!

This one is a sneaker – it looks all mellow and easy and then suddenly it changes. It gets mean. That wave almost broke right on top of us – it’s a close-out.

You know, like when they look like they’re perfect and you’re feeling good about it - then they sneak in and do something mean you weren't expecting? Like throwing you back to the pound?

Or a wave, like a cat, all pouncy and stealth-like. That closes-out on you without warning. Dang cats, always pushing innocent doggies around.

“Whew, we dodged that one, hey, big boy?” Her laughter – my surf dog moms,’ right behind me on board. Backin’ me up.

“OK, we’re almost there – hang on for that cowabunga, dude experience,” she says, all soaking wet, smiley-voiced. 

I'd never say this out loud but... I might not be up for this without my momma on board.

This time we flew over the wave – hairs flapping in the breeze, over the top of the last breaking wave. Almost home free.

Soaring…  Superman!!!

Break on through to the other side....

Salty taste. We rode that one out and stuck the landing together, neither of us falling off or floating off toward Baja or some other ocean. We made it - outside! Past the impact zone!

So, mid air, I nonchalantly shake it all off. Slow-mo water droplets in flight.

No biggee. Typical day in the green room. It’s what surf dogs do.

Mom bubbled all those funny little human words behind me like something important just happened.

I’m thinking, Geesh, that was close.

You fling everything you have, to get over that mountain - momentum and hope and good intentions carrying you to the other side.

Long, flowing ribbons of water, like drool - streaming behind, like that overhead airplane banner flapping in the breeze, carrying words dogs can't read. At Dog Beach, where we don't talk. We do.

We nailed it!

Almost lost it. But not. Smiling inside.

There was no better place to be, drawn to a life of adventure and thrill and running away from the old ones you were.

Finding your way against the ups and downs of life. Against the odds.

The very essence of surfing.

If it were easy, everybody’d do it.

Quick! Turn around, face the shore – another wave is coming up behind us. Get into surf rider position.

Mom’s all, “paddle, paddle, paddle – we can get this one!”

Here’s a nice big swell, building up… hurry, quick…  swivel around, look up, check the lineup, point just right. Feet in position - not too far forward, not riding back. Step a little left; whoops, I mean a little right.

Wait for it…. that perfect, effortless moment, suspended in time.

Lifted up by the wave – by life - mid air, sailing, flying.

Surf is UP and you rise up with her.

Surfing at last. And time stands still.

Wooo HOOOOOO, what a thrill.

Footwork – stay flexible. Stay with her as wave changes.

Hang loose. Hang Ten. I mean Twenty.

Howdy hangs 20 behind a ski boat with his mom when waves aren't around on the Colorado River.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Howdy hangs 20 behind a ski boat with his mom when waves aren't around on the Colorado River.  Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Step forward a little - your weights' a little too far back, wave will sneak right out from under you.

Too far forward and you pearl - tumble and fumble and bumble underwater, body buried, rip tide dragging, threatening to drown you. Frantic, you’re flailing all around toward the light. You need air so bad you suck in salt water.

That sucks. Is that what they mean by that?

Wipeout. We call it pearling - surfers do. I know that’s weird.

Be patient, Zen-like. Don’t fight it.

Your drowned-rat brains bounce back up from the undertow at last - for your great big gulp of clear blue sky.

Shhhh – don't tell anyone that just happened.

Been there, done that - dragged down, wiped out - on the water. And off.

But that wasn’t now - that was a memory. Every wave, every ride, every make-or-break moment - that fear comes back, from deep inside.

Ah, this one looks perfect. Just the right one. This one could really work out.

And this wave, this woman, she picked me. 

And in this moment, he rose up from the one he had been. So bad, so many times, a rogue runaway rescue mutt.

Barb n Dude surfing the Loews Surf  Dog contest.      DogDiary.org

Barb n Dude surfing the Loews Surf  Dog contest.      DogDiary.org

And it lifted him up – she did – the wave; his mom; and they rose up together.

 

And he stood up, and he stood tall. And he moved just a little, to stay in the sweet spot. And he found it – for the first time in all of his life.

And he rode it – the ups and the downs, like it was nuthin’ at all. 

Because he’d had a lot of experience as a third-time's-a-charm rescue dog.

Our authors at Dog Beach (RIP Howdy)   Photo  (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Our authors at Dog Beach (RIP Howdy)   Photo  (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

He ran away, was blown away, rescued and reinvented.

And he received the gift -- of surfing, of home, and family. New life.

All that running away and sadness and grief and hating it, and hating them - had led to this very moment.

The ride of life.

In his own home town. On his own home beach. Where he finally belonged - and forever will.

Dog Beach.

(To be continued)

Tags Dog Beach in Ocean Beach, I love dogs, surf dog diaries, dog diary, dog blog, Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, dogdiary.org, Howdy the windsurfing dog, Dog Beach Improvement Project, stray dog books, I luv my dog, my surf dogs, my secret diary, secret life of dogs

Reindeer in training - (YouTube video)

Barbara Ayers December 2, 2017

Dear Dog Diary:

See that guilty expression? Watch the video - it explains everything.  Photo (c): Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org 

See that guilty expression? Watch the video - it explains everything.  Photo (c): Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org 

'Tis the season. Doxie Doodle, my 4th generation surf dog, rode his first big Christmas parade without the basset brothers, his mentors, who retired last year.

Doodle was born a little Dennis the Menace. Just take a look at that face. And then, last night, in the Christmas parade - the Grinch came along....

Needless to say, without the solid, reliable, slow motion basset brothers on board, things went a little haywire.

The City of Hood River is dinky, like my doxie - with about 7,700 residents. This area attracts tourists from all over the world. Small town people have huge hearts - we're proud to live here.    Photo: (c) Blaine Franger

The City of Hood River is dinky, like my doxie - with about 7,700 residents. This area attracts tourists from all over the world. Small town people have huge hearts - we're proud to live here.    Photo: (c) Blaine Franger

 

We love our small town community of Hood River, Oregon.

Here thousands and thousands of people don't live - but somehow they all show up for our annual  Holiday Parade and Tree Lighting on the first Friday of December.

The morning after....        Photo (c) Barb Ayers, Dog Diary.org

The morning after....        Photo (c) Barb Ayers, Dog Diary.org

 

 

 

 

Can you believe another year whizzed by?

Hug the one you're with.

 

P.S. Thank heavens every moment isn't absolutely perfect.

Doodle's mom

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

12/3 update: 

Wow, somehow life steps in when you need it most. 

I've been sick since the parade, wondering if the pain was worth it. And dog people reached out. Thank you! 

I've been home in bed, sick as a (excuse me) dog. Wondering if all I am doing is writing to myself here (dogs don't write back.) But then Christmas came early - with an email this morning and fun Facebook comments - you saved me. The only good thing about being sick is - your fur kids are so very glad they can paste you down in bed. They save me, too.

From dog mom Brenda Neill and her rein-dog Chloe:

Reindog Chloe - Brenda's kid-small.jp
“Hi Barb,

Just had to let you know how much I enjoyed this post.  Loved seeing you & Doodle surfin’ in the Christmas parade.  I had the same reaction as you when Doodle leapt off the board- OH!

Growing up, our dog Dixie earned the nickname Dixie Doodle.  There’s something about a doodle. :)

Here’s a pic of our own Reindog Chloe,  suffering through last year’s Xmas photo session...........

Hope all is well there in Hood River, it sure looks like a beautiful place to live.

Happy Holidays,

Brenda :)
”
— Brenda Neill via gmail 9:37 AM (2 hours ago)

Facebook comments:

“The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself, too.” - Samuel Butler

Proud to call you and your fur child Family!   🐶🐾                   -  Sue Ayers Hampton 
(My cousin on the east coast who I haven't see in years - it was so great to hear from her.)

Sandy Camillucci - We saw that! Lol! So much fun ~ thank you for the smiles Barb ~ you are awesome!

Patrick William Quigley - Putting the stoke in Christmas! Great to see you Barb Ayers with surf dog float (which is usually floating on water). It’s All Good in the Hood!! 

Erica Gerald - It was fun to see your puppy take off! Good recovery. :) As always, nice float.

Robin Panzer - Escapee, lol

Mel Harrah - Doodle, Cuz, don't scare me like that!·

Bill Zimmerman  - Go Hood Riverites and the Gorge folk!

 

SEE? The power of dog.....

Dog People are the best kind of people there are.

Merry Christmas!  Barb, Doodle and Tia
Tags Hood River Oregon, doxie Doodle, funny dog video, Christmas parade, Surf dog diaries, dog mom Barb Ayers, Barbara Ayers, Dog Diary, DogDiary, dog blog, I love my dog, I luv dogs, dogs n friends, my surf dogs, Christmas story, The Grinch Stole Christmas, small town USA, rescue dogs, stray dog books

Surf Dog Diaries.com

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The smell of the river at sunrise will change your life
Jul 15, 2023
The smell of the river at sunrise will change your life
Jul 15, 2023

Dogs and people on the river. At dusk, coyote swims by as you zig jag turns through river glass, reflecting earth and man and sky. River bamboo swallows your wake - as if nothing ever happened.

Secret spot. Shhh! Don't tell....

 

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Jul 15, 2023
Celebrate your indy spirit on Independence Day with Doodle!
Jul 9, 2023
Celebrate your indy spirit on Independence Day with Doodle!
Jul 9, 2023
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Jul 9, 2023
TwinsRETOURCHED_edited-1.jpg
Jul 7, 2023
From Cat House to dog house. Cat takes over the dog blog (Part 4 - last in a series)
Jul 7, 2023

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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Jul 7, 2023
Elvis & Tiapsretouched.jpg
Jun 24, 2023
I met Elvis at Cat House and he took me home. Based on a true story.
Jun 24, 2023
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Jun 24, 2023
Doxie Doodle's ear flapping windsurf ride. (GoPro video)
Jun 17, 2023
Doxie Doodle's ear flapping windsurf ride. (GoPro video)
Jun 17, 2023
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Jun 17, 2023
Cat takes over the dog blog (part 2)  Based on a true story. By me, elegant tabby cat.
Jun 10, 2023
Cat takes over the dog blog (part 2) Based on a true story. By me, elegant tabby cat.
Jun 10, 2023

Dear Dog Diary - In the Beginning - 1991… I remember the day She first picked me up. It was in the Cattery at the jail with all those other kitties.

Actually, it wasn’t bad, it was San Diego Humane Society – but it was still jail. That place in between. For homeless kitties.

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Jun 10, 2023
The secret surf dog handshake! Our new rescue pup steps on board!
May 29, 2023
The secret surf dog handshake! Our new rescue pup steps on board!
May 29, 2023

A new rescue pup, a chiweenie, adopts us on Mother's Day.. He mastered a surf board faster than all four generations of low rider rescue dogs before him.

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May 29, 2023
Kihei on a hot stove.jpg
May 12, 2023
Mod Squad of cat’s 'n dogs - based on a true story. By the tabby cat. (Cat takes over the dog blog, part 1)
May 12, 2023

Elvis, the big ol’ droopy eyed saggy basset hound, swayed around the house, scraping against the walls of the dinky beach cottage. Walking for any length of time ate up his one-big-energy-surge-of-the-whole-day, and he used it to find just the right spot in the sun to plop down for his daily nap. I guess if I carried 70 pounds and a massive square head with neck flaps bearing down on two inch legs, I’d be a super mellow stoner dude too. 

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May 12, 2023
2022 Gaslamp Xmas Pet parade.jpeg
Jan 12, 2023
Christmas spirit is inside us - every day - we crazy dog people!
Jan 12, 2023
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Jan 12, 2023
Dad n Doodle snooze-small.jpg
Mar 13, 2022
Dear Grandpa, I love you - from your grand dog.
Mar 13, 2022
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Mar 13, 2022
Boomers - remember the Flying Nun? Doxie Doodle's ear flapping windsurf ride. (Surf board GoPro video)
Aug 20, 2021
Boomers - remember the Flying Nun? Doxie Doodle's ear flapping windsurf ride. (Surf board GoPro video)
Aug 20, 2021
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Aug 20, 2021
I love my dog. You do, too. Together, we go - surf dog summers are here!
Jul 29, 2021
I love my dog. You do, too. Together, we go - surf dog summers are here!
Jul 29, 2021

Windsurfing is our first passion as surf dogs. We love to sail the Columbia River, right in our Oregon front yard.  My three dogs sons - Elvis, Dude and Doodle sail with me in Hood River, Oregon, the windsurfing capital of the world.

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Jul 29, 2021
OB Law license plate in the bookshelf-small.jpg
Apr 24, 2021
O.B. Law - throwback to another surf dog place and time
Apr 24, 2021
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Apr 24, 2021
Mar 28, 2021
First day of spring. In spite of COVID.
Mar 28, 2021
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Mar 28, 2021
blue sky pekks out_stretched best small.jpg
Feb 14, 2021
Hi, my name is snow. Remember me? Snowmeggadon, in words and pictures
Feb 14, 2021
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Feb 14, 2021
Feb 7, 2021
Snow dog day - Snowmeggadon in Oregon's front yard 2017
Feb 7, 2021

Snow day in the Columbia River Gorge - a DogDiary photo essay

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Feb 7, 2021

Surf Dog Diaries  |  Barb Ayers, San Diego, CA and Mosier OR.  |   All content and images (c) Barb Ayers, copyrighted, all rights reserved