The Purple One

Ann and I are tucked into a small cabin by the Metolius River just outside of Sisters, Oregon. The cabin is so old, we walk downhill to enter the kitchen, but it's quiet and clean and just the place for us to be after seeing the puppies for the first time. The picture above is of the "purple one" -- a sweet boy who we held today and may end up being "our dog"...though there is another male (a blue one) who may also be the choice. It's up to the breeder who will choose based on personality and not by the color of the little bands they wear around their necks.

We'd be happy with either...they are so, so adorable (a word I usually avoid using, but today, while holding them in my hands there was no other word for their puppy breath, their puppy smell, their puppy kisses).

It's been a whirlwind trip. Tomorrow we drive 6 hours back home and then back to work Monday morning. Ann has had even more of a whirlwind this week. She left for Madison on Monday morning, returned on Thursday night, we drove to Portland Friday morning and then to Sisters this morning. Sisters isn't close to anything so we drove back and forth between this little cabin by the river and the house of puppies further north, stopping in between for soup and a sandwich at Russian deli and dinner at a Mexican restaurant.

And through it all, we've talked only about the puppies!

Terrie, the breeder, was wonderful. Kind, informative, and very concerned about her dogs, their health, and the health of the puppies. She's an animal person, for certain, with a blue crested Amazon parrot in her kitchen and a bevvy of dogs in the backyard and in the house. She used to own horses, but doesn't have the time for it anymore. Her husband is a painter, but pays the bills contracting a few days a week. We didn't get to meet him, but we saw his paintings. While we would never buy them, he is talented and hopes in his retirement to paint full time.

We originally chose this breeder because she was recommended and the mother of the current pups is named Abbey, which happened to be the name of the first dog I ever owned when I was officially an adult. But the more we talked today, the more we realized how much we had in common with the breeder. She and Ann talked about esophogial (sp?) cancer, which both of their fathers have been diagnosed with -- Ann's father most recently and Terrie's a year ago. Terrie gave Ann some hope because her father is now cancer free. In addition to the father/cancer connection, I used to own an Amazon parrot so we swapped stories about parrots and their funny antics. There were many more connections, but listing them doesn't seem important. What was important is that we felt wonderfully confident that this was EXACTLY the woman from whom we wanted to purchase our next dog.

Meanwhile, Sisters is a trip. I've been here many times before, but Ann never has. I love the scenery and I really enjoy the high desert air, but amazingly I've forgotten how redneck and white the place is. The only people of color we've seen are the Mexican owners and workers of the recently opened Mexican restaurant where we ate dinner tonight. Everyone else is either cowboy boot and dusty conservative or sinfully wealthy and well-pressed Republican. The only moment we felt like we belonged (aside from being with the puppies) was in the local bookstore whose liberal offerings and folkie music (The Weepies -- which the clerk was surprised I'd heard of...) made us sigh and relax a bit. It took over an hour to get seated tonight for dinner and I felt very much as if the "gay girls" were forced to wait while the Republicans all took their seats. Ann thinks I'm being paranoid, but it sure felt odd to be stared at for an hour.

Still, it's been a very successful trip. In a month we'll come back to Sisters, pick up the new pup and head back to Hillsboro to stay with my brother and sister-in-law who've graciously allowed us to stay at their house while "passing through" to puppy land. If you're reading this big brother and dearest sister-in-law, you're absolutely going to go ga-ga over the pup (who I'm pretty sure will be named Rueben or Reuben because that's how it was spelled on the lunch menu at the Russian deli...or maybe Rubin so there won't be any trouble with e before u or u before e...)

Ann says she can't hear it, but the man in the cabin next door to ours is snoring. Could spell trouble, but earplugs solve everything.

Long drive tomorrow...best get my rest tonight. A sweet goodnight to all family and friends who read these blogs and who, we know, are awaiting the new puppy as much as we are.