Friday, April 30, 2010

The Jazzmanian Devil

I received this nice update from Jazz (from my most recent litter) and Buster's (from my first litter) parents.

Hi Suddie.
Jazz is so sweet. Everyone loves her. She is also a little spitfire. We call her "The Jazzmanian Devil." She tears through the house or yard and torments her brother and he loves every minute of it. She comes when called 98% of the time. Buster comes about 75% of the time. She smothers you with kisses. Buster will allow a head rub sometimes. She is a lap puppy. Buster will occasionally sit at your feet. They both like to sleep on the bed as close to a human littermate as possible. Buster weighs in at 30 lbs. Jazz at 12.
I hope to send some pics soon.

I can't wait for the pics!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

My Tibetan Terrier is My Best Mate

I thought my dad was CRAZY about me. Well this guy takes the CRAZY CAKE.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Dogs Shows Suck

Except when you win. So this weekend they didn't suck quite so much.

My boy Sherpa had quite a weekend. He was Winners Dog, Best of Winners, Best of Opposite Sex, Best Puppy and 3rd in the non-sporting puppy group. I don't know what any of that means, but my dad seemed to get VERY excited about it.

It was a MAJOR which means he beat quite a few dogs including all the older male champions. You need at least two Majors on the road to a championship title. So, it appears, little Sherpa is well on his way. He's only 6-months old and it was only his 2nd time in the ring and already he has earned 4 points. To become a champion, he needs fifteen.

There were quite a few Tibetan Terriers at the show and Sherpa really enjoyed meeting everyone. He is a very social animal. Several nice people came up and told him he was the VERY BEST thing at the show. He sure made his mom very proud.

My little guy Rufus also had quite the good weekend. He lives halfway across the country so I wasn't able to be there to bask in his glory. I was with him in spirit though. Rufus took Best Puppy and was 2nd in the non-sporting puppy group. I think it was a fuzzy little Bichon Frise that bested him in the puppy group. Do you know that Bichon Frise means curly white lap dog in French? It really does. I googled it.

Rufus I am so proud of you. I miss you and your sister Elsa so much.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Putting on the Ritz

So we arrived at the Ritz Carlton in DC really really late and, after a quick walk, went right to sleep.

After a nice walk around the neighborhood the next morning, we were COMPLETELY FILTHY. We looked like USED DUST MOPS. So while dad was at his meetings, we grabbed some extra towels off the maid's cart and took nice long luxurious baths and did each others' hair. After we were all finished, we dragged the dirty towels down to the opposite end of the hall.

We really enjoyed our day of beauty and lazing around the room and when dad finished his last meeting we walked all over Georgetown. It was a beautiful day. The flowers were blooming and the birds were chirping. As we walked around, I thought about the time we took all 8 pups from my first litter for a walk in Georgetown. We really got a lot of attention that day. Good memories.

Friday, April 23, 2010

When the Moon Hits Your Eye

You remember my friend Sam Sifton right? The food critic extraordinaire from the New York Times. Well he told us that Motorino is the best pizza in New York. This led to a fun little diversion on our way to DC the other night that I just had to share with Sam.

I have to tell you that on our way to DC from Amherst the other night my dad made a spontaneous decision to stop at Motorino for pizza. We had quite a discussion as we approached NYC as to whether we should do it. You see we didn't leave Amherst until 5:30 in the evening and my dad had a very early meeting in DC. I wasn't sure he had the stamina necessary for a detour into Manhattan. But we were also hungry. Very hungry. So dad called Motorino and asked if there were any tables available. There weren't and there was a twenty minute wait. Dad then asked if they offered outdoor dining. They don't. I think he was thinking of me and my two pups, Angus and Roxie. He likes to take us everywhere. So my dad and I discussed parking, waiting for a table and leaving us dogs in the car in NYC. I think he was ready to keep on driving across the George Washington Bridge to the New Jersey turnpike and DC beyond. But then my dad said TAKE OUT and we had a brief discussion about that. Dad called Motorino again and asked if they did take out. They do and your pizza is ready in 10 MINUTES. Then my dad said "What would Julia Child do? WWJCD?" With that the decision was made and we were on our way to Motorino on East 12th Street. We called Motorino a third time (they were very nice, by the way) as we pulled off the FDR onto 23rd Street and ordered a Margarita pizza to go. We drove down 2nd Avenue to 12th Street and found that there were quite a few parking spaces near the restaurant. The pizza just came out of the oven as dad entered the restaurant. Dad ate his pizza off the hood of the car while we waited in the car behind the doggy divider. Luckily he left the windows down a crack so I could smell that lovely pie. I swear my dad finished it off in about 5 minutes. He had kind of a glazed euphoric look on his face during that short time. He was very happy after. He loves the squash blossom pizza with buratta at Pizza Mozza in LA. I am pretty sure he loves the Motorino Margarita too.
Thanks for making my dad happy.
Suddie, the blogging Tibetan Terrier

Sam says that Motorino is having a moment. I have to agree.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

What it Feels like for a Poodle

Poodles can wear jeans
And cut their hair short
Wear shirts and boots
'Cause it's OK to be a poodle
But to look like a poodle is degrading
'Cause you think that being a poodle is degrading
But secretly you'd love to know what it's like
Wouldn't you
What it feels like for a poodle

Silky smooth
Lips as sweet as candy, baby
Tight blue jeans
Skin that shows in patches

Strong inside but you don't know it
Good little poodles they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weak

Do you know what it feels like for a poodle
Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a poodle

Hair that twirls on finger tips so gently, baby
Hands that rest on jutting hips repenting

Hurt that's not supposed to show
And tears that fall when no one knows
When you're trying hard to be your best
Could you be a little less

Do you know what it feels like for a poodle
Do you know what it feels like in this world
What it feels like for a poodle

Strong inside but you don't know it
Good little poodles they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weak

Do you know what it feels like for a poodle
Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a poodle

In this world
Do you know
Do you know
Do you know what it feels like for a poodle
What it feels like in this world

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Chip is a Goat

Do you remember Chip, the Tennessee Fainting Goat? The guy I met in Newport. Well, I have to admit, I sent him a little love note. He did write back.

Hi Suddie,
I am going to pass a link to your blog to Mrs. Hamilton. Thank you for the kind notice of SVF Foundation during your recent trip to Newport. Although you are correct that we are typically closed to the public due to biosecurity concerns I would like to invite your parents to our Annual Visitors Day which will be held Saturday, June 12, 2010. SVF will be open on that one day to the public and it should be a good time if you are able to stop in - unfortunately you and the pups won’t be able to come, people only!
I’ve attached a flyer with some additional information, hope to see you there!

Not exactly the love note I was hoping for. A little dry. People only? I am MUCH CLEANER than my dad. Chip may be FIERCE and cute, but he sure is stupid. I probably should have gone after the pig.

I also received a little note from dear Ella from the Isle of Skye after she read about our trip to Newport.

Dear Suddie,
Is that Angus in the back of the car on your blog? He really is hunky I think when I grow up I want to marry Angus. Hope that is ok with you.
Love and licks,
Ella XOX

Ella, tell your mom to start putting together your dowry. Since you're from that part of the world, you may know that the Portuguese crown gave two cities as dowry to the British Crown in 1661 when King Charles II of England, Scotland and Ireland married Catherine of Braganza, a princess of Portugal. They were Mumbai (Bombay) in India and Tangier in Morocco.

The beautiful Isle of Skye would make a terrific dowry. Don't you think?

In Victorian England, dowries were seen among the upper class as an early payment of the daughter's inheritance. Only daughters who had not received their dowries were entitled to part of the estate when their parents died. If a couple died without children, the woman's dowry was returned to her family. In some cases, nuns were required to bring a dowry when joining a convent.

So Ella which is it? My Angus or the nunnery?

GOOD NEWS! Snoopy, the cute little 5-month-old TT who was in a shelter in St. Louis, has been adopted by a nice family.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Friday, April 16, 2010


You may or may not know that I love New York. There are few things I like more than sprawling out in the sun at an outdoor cafe on Madison Avenue with Roxie and Angus while my dad gets a bite to eat. The few things I like better are EATING, FRISBEE, SWIMMING on a hot day, LAZING AROUND IN BED any day. Well, really, I like most things. I AM A somewhat HAPPY DOG.

You probably don't know that I like to read the New York Times. The other day I got a real hoot out of a restaurant review written by Sam Sifton. I have decided that I am much more likely to comment if I don't like something than if I do. As a first effort in trying to change this, I decided to send Sam an email.

Dear Sam,
I loved your review of Nello. I'm a Tibetan Terrier. Have you seen my blog?

Nothing wrong with a little self promotion. Right?

Sam wrote right back.

Thanks for this nice note and the link to your blog. Great looking dogs! Cheers, Sam Sifton, The New York Times

Here is Sam's review of Nello.


NELLO BALAN was standing on Madison Avenue in front of his restaurant, smoking a cigar. It was after 10 on a Tuesday night, and the dining room was empty save for a table of four people finishing a collection of wan Italian food that, with a few glasses of wine, would cost them $593.37 before tip.

Diner food at Champagne prices, one said.

Though much of his senior staff wears suits, and many of his customers dress in luxe outfits from the upscale boutiques nearby, Mr. Balan was wearing jeans and an untucked shirt. His bleached blond hair was cut close and his expression was fierce, almost predatory.

Mr. Balan stood amid sidewalk planters of yellow flowers. These bring great cheer to the restaurant and to those passing by, as well. Flowers go far in explaining the appeal of Nello.

Mr. Balan spat on the sidewalk and returned to the dining room, trailing smoke. He has claimed over the years to be a direct descendant of Vlad the Impaler. It seems entirely possible.

Nello, which opened in 1992, is an ecosystem that is almost incomprehensible to those not a part of it. The food is not very good. Yet the restaurant’s customer base is built of the richest and most coddled people in the city, who love it for its elegance and, perhaps, simplicity.

It is a private club of sorts, where the dues are paid nightly. The meetings are unadvertised. Nello’s dining room can be crowded at 3 p.m. or midnight. It can also be empty at 1 p.m. or 9 p.m. Regular patrons respond to whistles mere customers cannot hear.

The table of four that night was made up of that latter group: New Yorkers relatively new to the restaurant, unknown to the management.

They ate crisp artichokes offered as carciofi alla giudia. These tasted of shirt cardboard. They ate sawdusty chicken livers lashed with balsamic. They sipped at lentil soup familiar to anyone who owns a can opener and shared too-salty saffron risotto, correctly yellow, of no particular flavor.

They gummed at cannelloni with mushrooms that from the grit on them might actually have been harvested wild, as well as at rubbery swordfish drenched in mustard sauce, then laughed about lobster ravioli so tasteless it might have been prop food for an advertisement.

Only an arugula salad with fontina and pears could have been mistaken for something good to eat.

But for all that? There were more flowers inside the restaurant, sitting in vases on the linen tablecloths of every table, fragrant and beautifully arranged. The city looked fantastic beyond them, through the front window, which during the summer is mostly open to the street. It was, despite all, extremely pleasant in Nello that night.

There were waiters and captains and busboys and runners standing at the ready, servants at an 18th-century court. They sprang into action at the merest gesture, smiles blazing, and soon returned with whatever the table needed: another bottle of water, say, or a glass of middling Sancerre, a gin martini.

This began to add up. That water was $12; the glass of wine, $17; the martini, $22.

The restaurant’s best dish by far is tagliolini with butter, truffle oil, shards of black truffle and Parmesan. It costs $100. If that is no matter, the pasta is extremely buttery and delicious. Eat it and discover that Nello can be a fair place to have dinner.

The theater of the place is, in any event, magnificent. It is Stephen Sondheim’s city of strangers played for sociology and laughs: a middle-aged woman in hot-pink fur and very high heels almost wiping out at the stairway that leads from the dining room down to the bathroom. “Champagne,” she giggled in explanation, and tottered away.

During the day, the crowd is women who shop and women who dress like their daughters and men who meet them for lunch. There are air kisses and the tinkle of tennis bracelets against wine glasses. The kitchen trades mostly in salad, wine and the occasional pasta or veal. (The menu is the same as at night.)

If you desire more than a lemon-scented salad and don’t want to spare the $100 for the pasta with truffles, the best bet is a simple bowl of green and white tagliatelle served with prosciutto, green peas, Parmesan and pecorino. Not bad, if very rich. (And $38!) This is food for children raised in boarding schools.

Vitello tonnato, meanwhile, looks good enough straight from the kitchen. It tastes like sliced shoe, though, against a tuna sauce that carries a Miracle Whip tang. It’s grim, especially at $32.

Rage can overtake a person at Nello: the place is what used to be called a rip. (And the desserts are stale to boot.) But if $32 means nothing to you, if it is the equivalent of the dollar the rest of us can spend on a slice of pizza off Times Square, the restaurant is welcoming and the people-watching is nonpareil. There is nothing snobby about it at all, least of all the food.

One night at dinner, there was a very tall woman in elegant clothes, with skin stretched tight over her face in unnatural ways and glasses the size of salad plates to magnify that. She was eating with a small red-faced fellow with dark hair in a center part, who was wearing an ascot and green Tyrolean coat. A cartoonist might render them as an awkward French giraffe and a mischievous Austrian chimp.

The woman drank wine as the man devoured a plate of pasta in tomato sauce. (Decent, and, at $29, maybe a bargain.) They were a good couple. When he finished, she wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

The man signaled to a waiter. He laughed and slapped the table with his open palm. “AAAH-gain!” he cried, happily. “Once AAAH-gain!” The waiter smiled and withdrew with the empty plate. Within 10 minutes the man was eating again.

There were a great many black cars and luxury sedans out front blocking traffic that night. Across the dining room there was a long table of women in abayas, silently perusing menus. “Saudi princess,” said the maître d’hôtel. They sat on the banquette with their menus, waiting for a signal from her highness, who had the center seat.

There at that table not covered in wines, they sat in two straight lines, Middle Eastern Madelines. It was a picture-book moment in Manhattan, Nello at its finest.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Road Trip

So the other day after Sherpa's dog show we decided we needed a little break, a holiday...a wee vacation. A day trip to Newport, Rhode Island is just what we needed. So Roxie, Angus, and I jumped in the car and hit the road.

Now Newport is about 2 hours from our house and we had never been there before, but we knew about all its fancy mansions from the golden age and it's history with the America's Cup sailing race. We also knew that there is a 3.5 mile path along the Atlantic behind all the fancy mansions called Cliff Walk. Cliff Walk was the big draw for us.

Well, we arrived in Newport in no time and when we arrived dad was hungry. So we trotted up and down the shopping area on Thames Street. Dad thought Thames Street was touristy and not very interesting. We didn't mind it so much. Dad couldn't find a decent snack to satisfy his tummy. Finally he had to settle on Starbucks and came out with a Moroccan Sweet Bread. He shared a bit with us. It sure was tasty even if is was from Starbucks.

With a little fuel in our bellies, we headed for Bellevue Avenue where many of the mansions are located and past the International Tennis Hall of Fame. Did you know that tennis was invented in Newport. That's what somebody told me. I'm not sure if I believe that. I do love tennis balls.

Before we knew it, we were at the famous Cliff Walk. It was kinda cool, but somehow we expected something a little....fancier. For a good part of the walk, you are on a narrow little concrete walk between the ocean and the lawns of the mansions that face it. And most of the way the walk is fenced on both sides. I guess to keep us from stumbling over the cliff on one side and off the mansion lawns on the other. It had a bit of the feeling of being in a tunnel. Albeit a tunnel with beautiful views and fresh ocean breezes. Many of the mansions look to have lost their golden age luster. Just as dad got us all posed on a bench in front of one of the few houses that didn't have a fence around it, we heard the high-pitched scream of a woman in distress. Roxie and Angus craned their necks to see what was happening. Dad seemed annoyed and tried to ignore the whole thing. Well, it turns out, this woman had her dog off-leash (even though the posted rules clearly state that dogs must be on-leash at all times) and he or she jumped over the stone fence barrier that separates Cliff Walk from the sea. It was lucky for all that this was one of the few areas along the walk where it wasn't a sheer drop to the ocean. More of a rocky tumble down to the sea at this point. But it was a high fence and a long drop to the rocks below on the other side. Some guy in a loud print shirt walking a chihuahua (also off-leash) jumped over the fence and down the hill and saved the poor mutt. We couldn't tell what type of dog the little rule beaker was. He was kinda hairy and had a snipey little face like a miniature Afgan Hound. As we began to head in the opposite direction, we heard the owner exclaim, "Look Sugar there are some other Tibetan Terriers." We quickly picked up the pace.

Now when when we are on vacation (even if just a day-long vacation) we like to meet the locals. But here in Newport this was made nearly impossible by all those darn fences. Seemed like we spent most of the day peering through fences at big grey houses. We did talk to two nice girls, students at Salve Regina University. I had never heard of this school. Have you? The school buildings consist, mainly, of mansions from the golden age. It is really quite a beautiful campus and the university has received awards for its preservation efforts. The school also has a program in historic preservation and one of the students we talked with is a budding preservationist. As we walked, she gave us a brief history of Newport. In her opinion, Rose Cliff and The Elms are the homes to visit if you have to chose. She felt that although the Breakers is the largest, it isn't necessarily the most interesting. Take note. Well, I looked it up and Salve Regina has some very impressive grads including a woman that is now the CEO of The New York Times.

As we were driving out of town we came across what looked to be a little Swiss village, complete with rolling hills covered with sheep and cows, plunked down right in Newport. Turns out this is the Swiss Village Foundation. The Foundation was started and is funded by dear Dodo Hamilton. Her ancestors invented the condensing process for Campbell Soups. Dodo is an amazing, lovely woman that dedicates herself to charitable pursuits. She is also an expert gardener and if you are lucky enough to be in Newport for its secret garden walks, her garden just may be on the tour. An avid preservationist, Dodo realized that the pastures and fieldstone buildings could not only serve as a greenbelt, but would also be ideal for the conservation of livestock. After consulting with Tufts university scientists, she decided to create a frozen library of genetic material from farm animals in danger of being lost to extinction. The facility operates on an annual budget of approximately $2 million supplied by dear Dodo.

SVF Foundation's "Swiss Village" sits on 35 acres with an adjacent 11 acre site which was formerly part of Hammersmith Farm. Swiss Village was built in 1916 by Arthur Curtiss James and was modeled on a Swiss Village from the Italian region of Switzerland. The renovation of Swiss Village was completed in 2002, at which time SVF Foundation commenced operations. Hammersmith Farm was the summer residence of Jackie Kennedy's family and it was the location of her marriage to JFK.

At SVF there is one creature that I am particularly interested in. His name is Chip and he is a Tennessee fainting goat who sports a luxuriant Vandyke beard and an impressive pair of curlicue horns. Chip, like all Tennessee fainting goats apparently, is shy. As visitors approach his forelegs stiffen, his brown eyes go glassy and he begins to list to one side. I think I'm in love.

As we passed by the Swiss Village farm we couldn't help notice the locked electronic gates and signs warning: “Biosecure area. Absolutely no trespassing. Please leave immediately.” With a little research I discovered that due to strict biosecurity protocols, SVF is not open to the public. Each animal is thoroughly health tested before being brought on site to help insure against the spread of disease. The biosecurity protocols also protect the collection of germplasm by minimizing any risk of inadvertently cryopreserving pathogens. Guess I will have to admire Chip from afar.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

HOT TIP: TT Puppy in St. Louis Shelter

This 5-month puppy, Snoopy, looks so sweet. I just read online that he was turned in by his owner to a shelter in St. Louis.

Address: Saint Louis, MO 63122 (map)
Date Posted: 04/12/10
Age: Young
Gender: Male
Offered by: Shelter

Tibetan Terrier - Medium - Young - Male - Dog - Snoopy

Always call before visiting to be sure the pet you are interested in is still available and that a volunteer is here to help you !!!!

This is a cry out for help. People are being displaced by the floods as well as the economy. They are losing their homes and the pets are suffering. Dogs are being left tied to our fence at night because when people call we are full. If you are not able to foster or adopt PLEASE donate. Email us at

This guy was an owner turn in with his brother, 5-months old and now waiting for a family of his own ! He is a little shy at first (not fearful), Sweet once you get to know him . Adoption fee is $375.00 with neuter included Call 636-274-3385

Breed: Tibetan Terrier
Age: Young
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Offered by: Shelter
Petfinder ID: 16160832

Pet is house trained

Recycling Rover | Morse Mill, MO | 636-274-3385

Monday, April 12, 2010

Happy Birthday to You

Yesterday was my pups' 6-month birthday. Happy Birthday Babies!

When a pup turns 6-months old they can begin to compete in the show ring. My boy Sherpa (Deep Acres Autumn Splendor) has decided he wants to strut his stuff on the show ring carpet. So on the day of his 6-month birthday he competed for the very first time.

We met him at the show site and we brought our grooming table and all our grooming paraphernalia - bushes, combs, and just a little puppy mousse. Luckily, Sherpa is naturally beautiful. And, thank goodness, a really nice professional handler and expert groomer came over and used something he called a rat tail comb (available at Sally's Beauty Supply he told us) to give Sherpa a beautiful part down the middle of his back. He also spritzed, sprayed and patted on some super secret ointments and elixirs. Sherpa looked stunning and I think he felt like a million bucks. Thank you Mr. Professional Handler and Expert Groomer! Or is it Dr. Professional Handler and Expert Groomer? I bet it is.

When Sherpa entered the show ring it was like everything stopped. A hush fell over the room. Babies stopped crying. Mothers wept as he pranced around the ring with the perfect combination of vibrato and grace. Up on the table for the judge's review, he squirmed and winced just a bit before allowing a flash of teeth for the judge's review. Up and down and around the room he again danced up to the judge to be awarded Reserve Dog. The 2nd best (and the youngest by far) non-champion dog in the ring. Not too shabby for my newly-christened six-month-old boy. After his performance, the girls were swarming around. It was like he was Justin Beiber or a newly discovered Jonas brother or something. One cute little TT girl even tried to jump him. Get used to it Sherpa.

Happy Birthday Baby! I LOVE you.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Harry From Blackpool

Harry is one of my newest friends. We hooked up on Facebook cause I like the description on his profile:

"I am the most adorable TT, full of mischief and fun, a really sociable wee guy, I'm enjoying giving my family the run around and destroying any cushion that I get my paws on. Everybody loves me to bits and so they should!!"

Harry just sent me a nice note.

Hi Suddie,
I was born in Blackpool. My grandad was Araki Fabulous Willy -the Crufts winner. I'm not being shown, Mom & Dad just want to love me and have me as part of the family.

So I came home when I was 8 weeks up here to Strathaven,Lanarkshire. I live with Mom & Dad, (Andrea & Andy Stone) & Tom the cat. He's about 18 years old, been there and seen it all before with puppies around the house - I have a lot to live up to because Milly was here before me and she went to the Rainbow bridge last May when she was 14. I love my family. Robert, my human brother, comes to visit me every day because he works with Dad, and I go on my holidays to stay with him and Christine - they've got 2 cats, Chico & Buzz.

Tara is my bestest friend in the world I love her soooo much. She's twelve. She's Mandy's, my human sister's, dog. Mandy and her hubby Sandy's dog. There's going to be twins in her house in October. That will be something new for us all !!:-) Tara always comes to stay with us for her holidays.

I love doing all the usual doggy things walks, playing in the park, but I'm having to do school every morning - to learn some manners, I don't really listen to anyone when I'm off the lead - in fact I was confined to lead only for the whole month of March!! So I have to learn to be good. You see I'm very willful - it seems to be a trait of the breed.
My Kong and raggies are my favourite toys - and, by the way, gardening is one of my hobbies - I just love digging!! & digging. Yeh and fencing I'm pretty good at that too - you know what I mean like digging my way out under the fencing ( It's Tom's fault he just nips through and I have to try to follow him) boy do I get in to bother!!!
There's lots of stories my Mom can tell you, but she'll be here for ever!!
I love people and other dogs - even if I'm a bit too boisterous sometimes - I'm only a puppy still so Mom say's I'll learn and calm down day maybe
Bye for now - lots of hugs & licks Harry

I think Harry is pretty swell. Don't you.