Hood River Christmas parade... Up on the roof - a 7-foot doxie! Windsurfing dogs, and all the Whos in Who-Ville!

‘Tis the season!

Ride along with us - Surf Dog Diaries - in our annual Christmas parade in the Columbia River Gorge. Together, we’re surfing the streets in Hood River, Oregon.

Doxie Doodle and I surfin’ the streets 12/7/18. We did the same thing last weekend in 2019 Photo: (c) Terri Vann, DogDiary.org

All the Whos were out on the streets - Hood River Holiday parade. Photo: (c) Blane Franger, BeautifulHoodRiver.com

We surf dogs love our home town, tiny town - Hood River/ Who-Ville. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Hood River Holiday parade float. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle windsurfs. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surf dogs - human and canine. Photo: (c) DogDiary.org

Back of the windsurf rig - license plates from our three stomping grounds. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Dog Beach. Dog River. Dog Mountain.

We surf dogs have lived (and surfed) in three states, searching for life’s perfect wave - Dog Beach (California,) Dog River (Oregon) and Dog Mountain (Washington).

Yes, those are real places, all important to the history of the wild, wild west. And surf dogs everywhere - man and animal.

By the way, Dog River and Dog Mountain are neighbors here, across the Columbia River where we live and surf.

Surfing the streets

We started parade surfing the streets in San Diego’s Ocean Beach in 1992, promoting our old home beach, Dog Beach, which needed repairs.

Back then, my first surf dog, Howdy Doody and I marched with the O.B. Geriatric Precision SurfBoard Drill Team - an OB institution, and a killer-good surf club.

OB geriatrics were surfers that were 30 or older. We carried surfboards in parades. Howdy and I “skied” behind a ski boat or “surfed” land boards down Newport Avenue.

At the time I was OB Town Council President. Howdy and I were co chairs of the OBTC Dog Beach Committee, responsible for fixing up America’s first leash free beach.

The parade tradition carried on, after the OB Geriatric surf club retired for good, and after we moved to Oregon.

Today, doxie Doodle is the fourth generation Ayers family surf dog to ride waves, and parades, with me.

All four of my surf dogs were low riders- three bassets and a doxie. All were rescue mutts. No pedigree necessary.

Up on the roof! A 7-foot weiner dog. “Doxie Dasher - up, up and away….”

Dasher in this year’s parade. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Windsurfing right behind - 16-pound doxie Doodle...

My dog son, surf doxie Doodle, and his rad rig. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Surfing the streets- downtown Hood River, on Oak Street. The Surf Dog Diaries crew. Left to right: Tree girl Kelsey Jacobson, Barb and Doodle Ayers, dog mom Stacey Castleberry. Photo: (c) Robb Severdia, DogDiary.org

Christmas Tree girl Kelsey Jocobson. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Who’s that green “Who” of Who-Ville?

Kelsey Jacobson, our next door neighbor girl, dressed as the Christmas Tree in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation movie.

On her shoulder is the cat that tore down the Griswold’s Christmas tree, tangled in lights.

This is small town community spirit.

Here, we all come out to celebrate the holidays - together - at the parade. Or ANY day!

Together, we are all the Whos in Who-Ville.

As the parade ends, the countdown to Christmas begins… with kids and adults chanting…

… Then lights fill the sky -

and songs fill the streets - carols filling homes and hearts all around…

All the Whos in Who-Ville. Hood River Christmas parade & Tree Lighting 12/7/2018. Photo: (c) Blane Franger, BeautifulHoodRiver.com

From Doctor Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas:

“Every Who down in Who-Ville,

the tall and the small,

was singing — without any presents at all!”

“… and then the true meaning of Christmas came through…

and the Grinch found the strength

of ten Grinches, plus two!

“Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store -

maybe Christmas perhaps, means something more….”

The front window view the week of the parade. Holiday magic on our Columbia Gorge cliffs! Photo (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

The week of the parade - a Christmas visitor…

Who-Ville got its first gift of snow the week before the 2019 parade, decorating hills and homes… rivers and forests, mountains and roads…

Doodle and I, Surf Dog Diaries writers and riders, lit up by snowflake lights.

Photo: (c) Terri Vann, DogDiary.org

Don’t stop believing!

Snow magic - Santa magic - Grinch magic.

The spirit of Who-Ville.

It can happen any time - any season.

Give with your whole heart - just like your best friend dog does - every moment of every day.

JOY TO YOUR TWO FEET AND FOUR PAWS!

Barb & Doodle Ayers

Surf Dog Diaries

Columbia Gorge sunrise. Cliffs and rivers and reflections and dogs and friends.

I woke up with what felt like a penis pressed against my ankle. I slowly inched my leg away. I’m pretty sure it nuzzled closer. I was afraid to look.

“Doodle?” I asked.

Sleepy doxie face. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

The doxie sprang to life, underneath the covers. Oozing out, like a naked mole rat, burrowing toward daylight. Pops out his little red bed head. Squinty almost-morning eyes.

Ball, his second best friend (after me,) was clenched tightly in his jaws as he thrashed against the tangle of great grandma’s quilt.

Doodle and Ball emerged together, victorious, into the orange glow of near-daylight.

Those two often spent the night together, under the covers - Ball snuggled up inside Doodle’s canines. I worry my doxie will get doggie TMJ (Temporomandibular Disorder) from all that night clenching.

Inching closer, the doxie’s mouth stretches tight around bright purple Ball in a silly grin.

With Ball, he morning stretches. Doggie yoga. Butt up– downward dog.

Then, the ultimate sign of trust, in one smooth move, he yawns and Ball drops onto my lap for safekeeping.

Doodle and his bff Ball. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Inching closer - red paws on my chest. Clossseeerrrrrr… dinky doxie face expands, overshadowing my face. He stares deep into my soul. Dog breath on human skin. Nose to snout. His snout, my ear, for one quick wakeup kiss.

Then, the beginning and the end. That moment I live for. Doodle wraps his paws around my neck for the good morning I love you wakeup hug. And officiates the day.

“What was that pressed up against my leg?” I ask him.

Eyes on mine, intently. A squirrely mischievous glow. He must have understood, because he dodged under covers and rummaged around at my feet. Triumphantly, he emerged with a squeaky toy, a turtle named Turd - gaudy goose poo green. Doodle’s third best friend in all the world, after me and Ball.

“Oh Doodle! You brought me your Turd! What a good boy!”

I wave and squeeze Turd overhead. Swirly, girly high pitched squeal echoes at sunrise. Doodle, possessed by that sound. Insto-Dog! Despite the hour.

I heave that toy with all I’ve got - across the room, over the couch and the bearskin rug – and he lands just inside old warpy farmhouse windows. And the blinding backlit glow of our closest neighbor. Our River - the Columbia.

Doodle is skying - mid air, ears flapping back - doxie Superman! Lights and sirens! In hot pursuit of flying Turd. Patching out on hardwoods. Tumble turns, side slides, to roll-over recovery - just like an all-pro barefoot water skier.

“Doxie retriever!! Doot- Doodle doo!!!” I bugle proudly, in my jammies.

Doodle roots around the living room. A Gorge granite cliff observes quietly in the distance - that distinctive chiseled face of our neighbor, Syncline Man, a.k.a. Coyote Wall Syncline, a volcanic masterpiece of the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area.  

Syncline sunrise, sunset. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Another deep dilemma awaits Doodle’s return with the Turd. Which BFF to coddle now? We’re all in bed together, competing for attention:

Bright purple bouncy Ball.

Loud-mouthed neon Turd with the cartoony joker smile.

And me. Dog mom and windsurfing and paddle boarding partner. Random roaming of dog and girl on Mount Hood forests and trails. Rambling dog beach at the Hood River sandbar.  

Syncline Man - our neighbor. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Just inside the view of all those great places to get lost, and find yourself… Doodle chases his bff’s around our house for hours.

Sometimes Ball rolls underneath the couch, or gets trapped behind wood-burning stove and OMG! All Is Lost! The doxie barks and paces and howls and sounds the alert our closest neighbors, a half-mile away, can hear. Life only resumes when Ball is back in bed, tucked safely inside doxie jaws again.

Sometimes I find Turd lurking under another of our roommates, claw foot tub.

There’s the morbidly obese calico who takes up the rest of our bed.

And the quirky quail covey that mows the front lawn.

And Syncline Man at the window, smiling at sunrise, frowning at dusk. Watching over Lady Columbia, our wild and scenic river. The historic Columbia – the Lewis and Clark one.

Bright orange wolf moon glow. Our own galaxy of night lights, standing guard over old Blue, our 1907 farmhouse. Who, in turn, watches over dogs ‘n friends inside.

Circle of life on our dead end road. To nowhere. To everywhere.                

Doodle on our hometown Mosier trail. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

The ups n downs of life – this is the ride. Surfing over, and through, that dreaded word - “cancer.” (Part 4/finale)

Part 4 of “The Elephant in the room” mini series

Now, after surgery, banging around the house with a Cone Of Shame, doxie Doodle’s eyes are a little less glisteny. The indignity!

Cone no mo! Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDairy.org

But, cone is good – it helps protect those eight angry black stitches on Doodle’s head. Those pesky, annoying, scratchy itchy stitches…

Wieners are thin-skinned anyway, with tiny, pointy faces. They’re almost all nose and some eyes and there’s not a lot of hair or skin (or maybe even excess brains) left for a comb-over for the hole she cut.

Our lady vet must have run out of room. Some of his charismatic doxie forehead wrinkles got removed in the process.

It was a face-lift, like his eyebrows were raised all the time, exclaiming “WHASSUP, DUDE?!”

Normally, aren’t we all up for a little face-lift in middle age?

But it’s really weird on a middle-aged doxie.

I didn’t shoot a lot of pictures of his bad side until it was OK. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

I didn’t shoot a lot of photos during this time of our lives.

I waited until emancipation day – the day the cone came off – to resume my normal hundred-plus--dog-pictures-per-week habit.

It was the right thing to do.

We have a dog blog but the cone of indignity was plenty to deal with. You know, doggie HIPPA and all.

My baby doxie a year after surgery. From his good side. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDairy.org

His head zipper slowly melted, from angry raised red skin, to flat, bald scalp.

I clipped the stitches out myself with tools from my own personal disasters.

Doodle was a rather patient patient, which is so unlike the humans of my family.

Another eight stitches swam beneath the surface of his little forehead, and they’d dissolve on their own in another month, vet lady said.

I can’t breathe until biopsy results come back.

I can’t breathe, just thinking about it.

The elephant on his head.

In the room.

The surgery.

How quickly things can change.

Fear.

The Big C.

Doodle, Christmas 2017, after flying with me to his grandpa and grandma’s. Here, living with the shadow of cancer - before elephant surgery. Photo: Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Before that bad year, it was four surf dogs on board - including me. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Phone call, please don't take me back to last year when my old blind dog, Dude, got sick and never recovered.  

I miss my Dude, surfing life, and surfing waves with our Surf Dog Diaries family.

Even after losing one eye, then two.

Surfing with glaucoma. Cancer. And Alzheimer’s.

I miss my Elvis, proud basset nose rider on my surfboard. Seeing Eye dog for his blind brother. And me.

Since that crappy year of dog disasters, we’re still trying to find our Mojo, Doodle and I.  

Trying to act like the house isn’t painfully empty of another 40 toes, tap dancing when the food bowl calls.

Surfing with one dog, not three.

But after the adjustment period, the grieving and the trying-to-act-normal-again, I think Doodle is secretly happy to earn the top dog spot.

He lived in the shadow of the basset boys.  

He has now expanded to fill the void.

He shows me the way through grief – without blinking a stitched-up eye.

Now, no more fast-growing tumor that threatened to take over his head, and our lives, secretly ruining Christmas.

No more elephants.

His or mine. 

Doodle’s only seven and a half - 49 in dog years. Too young for cancer.

Right?

My sweet son. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

RING, RING! 

The dreaded vet call came today.

Biopsy results.

Heart in throat moments until the vet spoke….

“A sebaceous adenoma, nothing to worry about. Should not recur or grow back. It’s all good news!”

But I read up on it –

“Adenomas are a cutaneous condition characterized by a slow-growing tumor usually presenting as a pink, flesh-colored, or yellow nodule”.

Hmm, that’s weird, I thought the elephant on his head was grey….

And Doodle’s tumor grew from zero to one-half-inch in less than a month, which is both fast and huge on a four-inch doxie brain.

His tumor was also not slow growing. What does that mean?

Google said, “Adenomas are not significant on their own, however may be associated with a genetic condition that predisposes individuals to cancer and particularly colorectal cancer.”

Which begs the question; do they do doxie colonoscopies these days?

OK. So we’re back to fake normal. Totally inappropriate thoughts.

Whew!

A couple of years ago, the biopsy wasn’t so rosy for my blind dog Dude.

He had bad cancer that spread.

Still, we cheated death until the very end.

He never stopped living.

We stole another two years out of his cancer’s life.

My brave little doxie walks the plank of life…. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

THE MORAL OF OUR STORY IS THIS:

NO MATTER WHAT THE DIAGNOSIS –

WE’RE IN IT TOGETHER.

DON’T LET FEAR STOP LIFE.

OR DRIVE LIFE.

SURF THAT BIOPSY INSTEAD.

-The end-