Happy Holidays from Deep Acres Farm

Introducing Gibbs...The Most Cutest Reindeer of All

 

My Grandpuppy Gibbs, Roxie's boy, is the most cutest reindeer of all.   Don't you agree?  Just 5-months-old, his new owners say"we love him to pieces....and don't think we could have a better fit for us." 

Holiday Greetings from Sherpa

A picture of our boy, Sherpa, curled up by the tree at his beautiful home in Connecticut was the perfect holiday greeting.

Peace, Love, and Pawprints

We received the nicest holiday card from our former dog walker/sitter Chyla.  You see she moved to Maine and married Devon.  We really like the message on her card.

Christmas Gift Suggestions

To your enemy. forgiveness. To an 

opponent, tolerance.  To a friend, your

heart.  To a customer, service.  To all,

charity.  To every child, a good example.

To yourself, respect.

-Oren Arnold

Holiday Dogs

We met some beautiful dogs on the street today while Christmas shopping.

Two Beautiful Bernese Mountain dogs, one 6 years and one 3 months, wearing their jingle bells.

Madison, a beautiful 2-year-old Landseer Newfoundland

My Holiday Card from the First Dog

Yes, that's right, I received a holiday card from Bo, the First Dog...and he signed it himself!

I know the cover looks like a photo of Bo, but it's actually a painting and the artist is from our home state, Iowa.  We are so proud!

First lady Michelle Obama chose a Des Moines, Iowa, artist's painting for this year's official White House Christmas card.

Larassa Kabel learned the good news shortly before her husband's band was chosen to open for Bruce Springsteen at President Barack Obama's election-eve campaign rally in Des Moines.

"Those are infinitesimal odds," she said. "I mean, really, that's crazy weird."

Both strokes of luck resulted from the small-world political connections Iowans know well. Kabel was invited to submit a painting in September, at the suggestion of Des Moines businesswoman Pamela Bass-Bookey, whose daughter Natalie works for the first lady. The White House invited artists nationwide to submit artwork based on two photos — one of the mansion itself, and one of the Obama family dog, Bo, sprinting across the snowy lawn.

"So which one do you think I did? Of course I chose the dog art," Kabel said. "My mom was so happy. She's always told me, 'Oh, Larassa, you should do pet portraits.' "

The artist is represented by Moberg Gallery, and most of her work is more serious, with her subjects often rendered in a dream-like blur.

But the imaginary scarf she painted around Bo's neck was a smart move. She can now add "White House Collection" to her resume. Her oil painting is currently on display there, and she and her husband, Chris Snethen, are invited to a party at the White House on Dec. 18.

Snethen's own brush with fame came after the name of his band, Bob Tyler and the Reckless Hearts, came up in a planning meeting for the Obama rally. The band plays each year during the Des Moines Marathon, on the lawn of a guy who turned out to be an Obama volunteer. One thing led to another until security dogs were sniffing the band's instruments for bombs and Snethen was shaking hands with one of his idols.

"Springsteen is one of the two or three best American artists. Period," he said. " 'Born to Run' is probably the best rock-n-roll song ever."

Snethen teaches English at Southeast Polk High School, where his students were duly impressed, especially with the recent invitation to the White House. He and Kabel had to keep the news about the Christmas card under wraps until just a few days ago.

"I don't know what to expect," he said. "I'll wear a suit and shake hands and smile and just sort of absorb it all, I guess."

Kabel wondered about the cards, which will be sent worldwide in the next week. "Will the Queen of England get a card? I mean, she is a dog lover."

Beautiful Oranges

Actually, they're clementines.

Tree Trimmed

Amarylis in Bloom

AKC Names Deep Acres Farm a Breeder of Merit

We are happy to announce that the American Kennel Club has designated Deep Acres Farm as a Breeder of Merit.  Here's what the folks at the American Kennel Club had to say when they presented us with the award:

"Nothing worth having comes easy.  Which is why you deserve this special recognition.  Acceptance into the AKC Breeder of Merit program means being recognized as the "heart" of the AKC.  It is a distinguished title."

Our conscientious breeding practices, including the thoroughness of our health screening prior to breeding, contributed greatly to our recognition as a Breeder of Merit.  Another important factor cited by the AKC is the number of Champions and Grand Champions we have produced.

Pretty great for a small-batch breeder like us!  Thank you American Kennel Club!

A Dog Is Lost; Hope Is Found

LOST in New York:  One small dog. No identification. What are the odds?

Naysayers and cynics beware, this is a story about a black and tan 27-pound mutt named Zoey, who was lost, and about a family’s unrelenting efforts to find her — a pre-hurricane tale about hope that defies logic — and about, yes, the kindness of strangers.   

“We were never alone,” said Dr. Diana B. Kirschner, an intern at Mount Sinai Hospital, who, with her family and friends, spent seven wild days and nights on a frantic odyssey through East Harlem, Washington Heights and other Manhattan neighborhoods in search of her dog.

“Total strangers,” said Dr. Kirschner, who adopted Zoey five months ago, after seeing her picture on a Web site for abandoned dogs. “They would see me crying and come up to me and ask how they could help.” 

It all began early on a balmy Sunday morning last month, when Dr. Kirschner’s 70-year-old father, Marc Kirschner, took Zoey out to Central Park, where they jogged up to the Harlem Meer together to watch the ducks. They were about to head home when two smaller dogs approached and Zoey, in her excitement, slipped out of her collar and playfully started to run.  Mr. Kirschner gave chase but could not keep up. 

“I’m screaming for help,” Mr. Kirschner recalled, as Zoey left the park at West 110th Street and began dodging cars in the street. Mr. Kirschner flagged down a taxi but soon lost sight of the dog, at West 115th Street and Lenox Avenue. With no identification, no money and no cellphone,  Mr. Kirschner borrowed the taxi driver’s phone to call home to break the news to his wife and their daughter. 

“I told them to jump into cabs,” recalled Mr. Kirschner, explaining that the initial idea was for each of them to take a taxi to try to find her, an approach they soon realized would never work.

Instead, the three returned to Park Avenue, where they decided that the best strategy would be to post fliers within a one-mile radius of where Zoey was last seen and hope that someone would spot her. Mr. Kirschner’s son, Philip, designed a flier that included two small photographs of Zoey, a brief description and a message:  “Lost Dog-Zoey $5000 REWARD,” “family is devastated.” They made 1,000 copies.   

Dr. Diana B. Kirschner and her parents posted fliers offering a $5,000 reward for the return of her lost dog, Zoey.

 By now it was time for Dr. Kirschner to report for work at the emergency room, which she did, while her parents, her brother and her boyfriend, Nicholas Schwartzstein, set off for the streets of East Harlem to post their mountain of fliers on every lamppost and in every storefront they could.  

On  Monday, the day after Zoey vanished, the Kirschners received a call from Capt. Jessica E. Corey of the Central Park Police Precinct, who told them that on the morning Zoey disappeared someone had called 911 at 8 a.m. to report a black dog limping along the West Side Highway near the George Washington Bridge. Could it be Zoey? Initially elated, the Kirschners studied a map and concluded that the distance between East Harlem and the bridge would have been impossible for the dog to traverse in just an hour. 

Nevertheless, they decided to expand the search, lugging sacks of fliers to the upper reaches of Manhattan’s West Side. 

Their mission took them to Fort Tryon Park, Morningside Park and the neighborhoods of Inwood and Washington Heights, through vast boulevards, playgrounds, and dog runs. Still there were no leads. Calls came in, but they were mostly from New Yorkers they had met along the way, hoping for news.

Then a boy who sounded about 13 called, saying that he had seen the dog in the park but that it had run away. When Nancy Fisher, Dr. Kirschner’s mother, asked to talk to his father, the boy hung up. Had he really seen Zoey, or was it a prank call? A man who said he lived in Brooklyn called and said that he had  Zoey in his backyard, but that he would not give any further information to the Kirschners unless they could identify the numbers on her collar. Zoey did not have a collar.  

 A man got in touch by e-mail through Craigslist, saying “hey I know where your dog is ...>same exact dog!!” He claimed that the dog had been found by his daughter’s neighbor “around a train station in Harlem” and that he could “take the dog away without her knowing.” Skeptical, Dr. Kirschner requested further details. The man wrote again: “I can get your dog back,” he said, “but I would like to remain anonymous.” He explained that he could not send a photograph because he did not want to create “suspicion.” When he called and told the family to wire him the reward money, the Kirschners realized that they were being scammed and stopped answering.

Days passed. The temperature dropped. There was heavy rain. The Kirschners spent hours inspecting the long rows of cages at the city’s animal shelters, calling veterinary hospitals, speaking repeatedly with Stray From the Heart, the agency from which Dr. Kirschner had adopted Zoey, which finds homes for dogs that have been abandoned in Puerto Rico. It was Saturday, and almost a week had passed. Dr. Kirschner was supposed to attend a wedding in Texas, but she stayed in New York to continue her search.  That night, after talking to a trainer who had worked with Zoey and who urged her not to give up, she printed another 1,000 fliers.

Early the following morning, exactly one week after Zoey went missing, she headed back to East Harlem with her parents.  It was just after 9 a. m. when her mother’s cellphone rang. Dr. Kirschner answered. 

“I think I have your dog,” said a woman with a thick Russian accent. Dr. Kirschner asked the woman to send a photograph to her cellphone. She did.

It was Zoey.   

The Kirschners raced in a taxi to the address they had been given on the telephone, a white brick building in Washington Heights.  As they left the cab, a man with a baby stroller yelled to them from across the street: “Hey, I’ve got your dog.” But the man was  clutching a 100-pound Siberian husky. It was someone else’s lost dog. Mr. Kirschner remained behind on the street to help as his wife and daughter raced upstairs to find Zoey. 

Elena Blank and Julia Grossman, both originally from Moscow, had been walking their own small black dog in Fort Washington Park near the George Washington Bridge that morning when they noticed another small black dog in the distance. It was limping and did not seem to belong to anyone. Earlier in the week, they had noticed a flier about Zoey and Ms. Grossman said she had wondered “why someone who had lost their dog in Central Park would advertise all the way up here.” The lone dog headed in their direction and came to a stop. As Ms. Blank reached down to stroke its head, the dog buried its nose in her knees. She took her own dog’s leash, attached it to the stray and, plucking one of the many fliers posted on lampposts along Fort Washington Avenue, proceeded home.  

Zoey suffered a broken pelvis on her odyssey — the Kirschners will never know how, or whether the limping dog first spotted a week ago had really been Zoey, or whether the boy who called had really seen her in the park. They just know they have their dog back. 

“This is like a Woody Allen movie,” Ms. Grossman said, adding that she and Ms. Blank had not realized that they would receive a reward. “People from different cultures. Brought together by a dog and our love of animals. It is a beautiful experience. New York at its best.”

Is it Love?

Is it love or photoshop?  We're not sure.

Max is Great!

Roxie's son Max lives on a farm in Indiana.

King of the TTs

Michael and Sherpa

Sherpa, Champion Deep Acres Autumn Splendor,  felt like King of the TTs when he took Best of Breed last weekend at the Albany Kennel Club Show.  And he really is!   It was a big win too.  A 5-point major!  That means that there were lots of dogs in the ring and Sherpa prevailed.   Only 4 more points and he will be crowned a Grand Champion.  What's next?  King of the TTs?

Sherpa and his dad, Michael, are championship farmers too.  They live with a brood of hens and grow all sorts of tasty produce.  Just check out their sweet potatoes.   Fresh eggs and sweet potato hash browns!  What could be better?  I'm sure our invitation is in the mail.

The blessing of the sweet potatoes

Annie's Search for Sandy

We know what we will be watching this weekend. Check you local TV listings for details.

Happy Halloween from Gibbs

Roxie's 15-week-old pup Gibbs is dressing up as the Travelocity Gnome this Halloween.

Fields of Flowers

Lola in the Nasturtium Field

Did you know that my formal name is Compo de Fiori?  Fields of Flowers in Italian.  And that's what we have here at Deep Acres Farms.  Fields of Flowers.

Last March we ordered tiny paks of Mexican Sage, Japanese Anenomes, and Flowering Tabacco from a seller on ebay.  Later we planted Nasturtium seeds.   The Mexican Sage is now 5 feet tall and in just coming in flower.  They are late bloomers and grown as annuals in cold climates like ours in Iowa.   We took some cuttings which are already rooting and we hope to take them through the winter indoors.

 

Mexican Sage

Japanese Anemone

Roscoe Sends His Love

My boy Roscoe, who turned three-years-old this month, wrote from Maine to send his love.

"I'm quite the young man around town, although I'm often mistaken for a Portuguese Water Dog (thanks mostly to Bo, the White House pup).  I always politely explain that, 'No, I'm a Tibetan Terrier…thank you!'"

Corn and Heirloom Tomato Tart

We like to make this savory tart at this time of year.  With its traditional pastry shell and custard-like filling, the tart is similar to a quiche. The corn filling, a combination of pureed and whole kernels, is pure American, while the compote of cherry tomatoes on top lends a Provençal air. Think Martha's Vineyard meets Saint-Tropez.

The crust, a classic pâte brisée, couldn't be easier to make, and the fluted edge adds a touch of refinement to this rustic dish. I bake it in a tart pan with a removable bottom. Of course you can also use a store-bought 9-inch pie shell (look for one made without sugar, otherwise the tart will be too sweet). For the tomato mélange, feel free to combine red, yellow, orange, or purple heirloom tomatoes — whatever looks fresh and ripe at your farm stand or market. It's worth seeking out smoked paprika, which is a little more pungent than regular paprika; it provides the dish with a smokiness that hints of bacon and balances the corn's natural sweetness. The bread crumbs serve to absorb the tomato juices and will lightly toast as the tart bakes, giving the topping a little crunch, almost like that of a crumble.

The tart shell is fantastic.  We use white whole wheat  flour and we also use this as a crust recipe for our pumpkin pie.

The Tart Shell

• 1 1⁄4 cups all-purpose flour
• 8 T cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 1⁄8 tsp. salt
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten
• 2 cups dried beans or rice, for baking shell                                    Combine flour, butter, and salt in a food processor and pulse until crumbs form. Add egg and pulse until the mixture resembles moist curds. Turn the dough out onto a work surface, and knead once or twice to pull dough together. Flatten into a disk, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. (At this point, the dough can be kept refrigerated for up to two days or frozen for up to a month.)
  Center a rack in the oven, and preheat to 350°F. Cut a 10" dia. round of waxed or parchment paper. Place a fluted 9" tart pan with a removable bottom on a baking sheet. Lightly dust a work surface and the top of the dough with flour. Roll the dough out into a round that is approximately 10" dia. and 1⁄8" thick. Fit the dough into the bottom and up the sides of the pan. Trim excess dough even with the pan's rim and, with the tines of a fork, poke a few holes on the bottom. Line the shell with the paper round and fill with dried beans or rice. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes. Take the pan out of the oven and carefully remove the paper and beans, then bake the shell for 3 to 5 minutes more, or until lightly browned. Remove and let cool in pan on a rack. (The shell can be kept covered at room temperature for up to 8 hours.)
  
  The Filling
• 3 T unsalted butter
• 1⁄4 cup chopped onion
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 11⁄2cups uncooked corn kernels (about 2 ears)
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 4 eggs: 3 whole eggs, plus yolk from 1 egg
• 3⁄4 cup sliced scallions
• Dash Tabasco sauce
• 1⁄2 lb. heirloom cherry tomatoes, halved, or 1 to 2 large heirloom tomatoes, cut in thin wedges
• 1⁄4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1⁄2 tsp. smoked paprika
• 1⁄3 cup panko bread crumbs
• Salt and freshly ground white pepper                                                                                                             Preheat oven to 300°F. Melt 1 T of the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring, for 4 minutes, or until the onions are translucent. Add the corn, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Reserve 1⁄2 cup of the corn mixture in a medium bowl. Add the cream to the saucepan, bring to a simmer, and then transfer to a blender. Puree until smooth and transfer to the bowl with the reserved corn. Whisk in whole eggs, egg yolk, 1⁄2 cup scallions, Tabasco, and another sprinkle of salt and pepper until well combined. Pour the mixture into the prepared tart shell, and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the custard is set.
  Meanwhile, melt remaining butter, transfer to a medium bowl, and toss with the remaining scallions, tomatoes, Parmesan cheese, smoked paprika, bread crumbs, and salt and pepper to taste. Once custard is set, remove tart from oven, and arrange tomato mixture on top. Return tart to the oven and continue baking for 15 more minutes, or until tomatoes are soft and bread crumbs are golden. Let tart rest for 20 minutes before slicing.

A Dog's Grace

We were moved by this article in the New York Times today.

 A Dog’s Grace

By KIMBERLEE AUERBACH BERLIN

I was standing on a ladder in the closet, cleaning out the shelves, when I noticed Gracie, our standard poodle puppy, throwing up in the corner.

“Ethan, could you please help?” I asked my husband.

He wiped up the mess with a few paper towels, but she threw up again, and then again.

“I’m taking her to the vet,” he said, grabbing her, practically carrying her limp, dehydrated body out the door.

He came back empty-handed. They wanted to hold her for observation.

Four hours later, the only things left in my beloved 600-square-foot Upper West Side apartment were dust balls and a broom. I couldn’t believe I was moving away after 15 years; it was longer than I’d ever lived anywhere else. The place had history. I didn’t want to leave, but Ethan and I had just gotten married, and I was almost 40 years old, pregnant with our first child. The apartment was clearly too small for our growing family. But I still had to get out fast before I started crying.
I called to check up on Gracie as we drove over the Queensboro Bridge to Long Island City, where our new, bigger apartment awaited us.

“We think she might have an obstruction is her small intestines. We’re going to have to keep her overnight,” the vet said.

I caught my breath.

“It’s going to be O.K.,” Ethan said, rubbing the top of my hand.

After the movers had gone, and the “couch doctors” had successfully broken our couch to get it inside, Ethan and I sat in our new kitchen, eating pizza, missing Gracie at our knees.

The next morning, the streets were covered in snow, inches and inches of white snow, the kind that creates an unusual hush for New York City. The phone rang. It was the vet. “You need to bring Gracie to the emergency clinic on 55th. She needs an operation and we don’t have anyone here who can do it. You have to pick her up within the hour.”

My body started to shake and I held my stomach protectively. I was only nine weeks along, but we’d heard the heartbeat, and I didn’t want the baby to know how upset I was. “If we still lived on the Upper West Side we could just cross the street and get her,” I said to Ethan, wishing we could have afforded a two-bedroom in my old building. Now we had to walk seven blocks to the E train and transfer to the 2.

When we arrived, Gracie hobbled over to us with a catheter taped to her front right leg. Her tail was wagging, but she didn’t have the energy to jump up on us. We rushed her outside and tried to hail a cab. The first driver took one look at her and kept driving. The second one didn’t see her until we had all slid into the back seat.

“Get out,” he screamed. “No dogs!”

“But she needs surgery!” I screamed back.

“No dogs!”

Then I lost it. I started crying, cursing, my eyeballs bulging, yelling at this man with no heart.

Ethan carried Gracie out of the car and stood on the corner, waiting for someone who would take us. I kept crying even after a taxi picked us up, was still sobbing by the time we met with the new vet.

“We can’t be sure that there is something in her small intestines,” he told us. “But if you look here, you’ll see this dark shadow is not normal.” He pointed at the scan on the screen. “It’s your call, though.”

“If there is something, could she get sepsis and die?” I asked, finally calm enough to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

Ethan and I went off to discuss what we should do. It was the first real decision we’d ever had to make as a married couple. To spend $4,000 we didn’t have. And to put our dog through something that she might not need.

“This is why it’s scary to love anything,” Ethan said.

I hugged him, and then we decided yes, we would do it.

We left Gracie and took the two trains back to our box-filled apartment with a washer and dryer, two bedrooms and no dog.

A few hours later, the doctor called to tell us there was nothing in there.

Over the next five days I had to ice Gracie’s belly, lined with 30 staples, every four hours, give her painkillers and antibiotics, and make sure she wasn’t developing a post-op infection. Teaching online classes from home made it easy for me to take care of her. Ethan’s work had gotten crazy and he wasn’t getting home until 2 a.m. It was just me and Gracie, lying on the floor, out of place in this new space, both feeling our bodies change.

Two weeks after the move, I tied Gracie’s plastic cone to her neck and left her in the crate so I could go to my 11-week doctor visit.

“Is spotting normal?” I asked.

“Let’s take a look,” the gynecologist said.

Our faces both turned to the monitor, seeing the same thing at the same time: a dark blob, no flickering, no life. I had lost the baby.

“You did nothing wrong,” she said.

But I had. I had moved. I had yelled at that cabdriver. We had given our puppy unnecessary surgery.
Ethan left work to meet me. We held each other on the couch, cried and called our parents, taking back our good news.

I wanted to shut my eyes and go back home, to my real home, on West 72nd Street, back to the refuge that had gotten me through 15 years of breakups and bouts of depression and changes I couldn’t control.

That night, Gracie put her chin in my lap and looked up at me. She couldn’t give me medicine or make my night sweats go away, but she wagged her tail and forced me outside to explore our new streets of Long Island City.

When the weather got warmer, Ethan and I took her to the dog park two blocks away and watched her jump high in the air trying to catch the ball. She was O.K. Turning to Ethan, I was starting to feel O.K. too. This was my family, and it helped to know that whenever Gracie bounded up the stairs after playing, she had no clue why the back bedroom, the reason we moved in the first place, was empty.

Kimberlee Auerbach Berlin is the author of the memoir “The Devil, The Lovers & Me: My Life in Tarot.”

My Sister Mary

The Miss Mary Brood in Sheryl's Cherry Grove.

You may remember my sister Mary lives with her brood in the middle of the prettiest cherry grove you ever did see.    Well, she got together with my friend Beamer who lives with the famous James Beard finalist Bunkycooks.   Now that's what The Housewives would call friend hopping, but we are quite happy with the result... a sublime cherry pie whipped up by Ms. Bunky using Miss Sheryl's (Mary's mom) cherries. 

Now, get to Bunky's blog and bake a cherry pie.  bunkycooks.com

And, if you'd like, check out our visit with Miss Mary in Montana.   We call it Heaven.

BumperPet

Our friends at BumperPet sent us a dry erase decal in the shape of a dog bone.  It's pretty nifty.  You can apply it to any surface and it peels off easily when you have had your fill of it or want to stick it somewhere else.  In addition to the dog bone, BumperPet's dry erase decals also come in in the shapes of many popular dog breeds.  But, alas, no Tibetan Terrier silhouette at the moment.

Grace decided the perfect place for our dog bone decal was above little Lola's crate and she began to decorate it right away.  As a matter of fact, she has erased and re-designed it several times since!


You might remember we wrote about BumperPet's removeable stickers that you can create with your favorite photos just about a year ago.  We really liked the photo we created using a picture of Angus.  You can see how we used it if you click here. BumperPet has so many cool pet inspired projects.  You can check them out at bumperpet.com.

Oskar (aka Henry) Sends His Regards

12-week-old Oskar Henry

Spooky Pooch Howl-o-ween Celebration

Our friend Marjorie Post so loved her dogs that she created a memorial pet cemetery at her Washington, DC home, Hillwood. Once a year, for two very special hours, she invites you to bring your “best friend” to Hillwood for Halloween fun and a parade of costumed canines and their owners. Stroll the wooded trails opened specially for this event, and enjoy the brilliant fall color. Compete in the costume contest. Play “tricks for treats.” Enjoy refreshments for the spooky pooches. Saturday 27 October 2:00pm - 4:00pm — Tickets available. $15 per dog with 1-2 owners; suggested donation applies to additional guests. $10 for dogs of Hillwood members.

Lucky Dog?

A runaway poodle in Massachusetts will have quite the tale to tell when she's reunited with her owners: The fluffy white dog was struck by a car and became wedged in the vehicle's grille -- where it remained for the duration of an 11-mile drive at speeds of up to 50 mph. The dog survived the ordeal with a few injuries, including a possible concussion and what is being described as a "minor bladder rupture" but is otherwise fine, according to supervisor William Muggle of the East Providence, R.I., Animal Control department. The dog's unexpected car ride took her across the border between the two states last month. Muggle has since reached out to the Taunton, Mass., police department in an effort to find the dog's owner. "She's actually doing fine, crazy enough," Muggle told the Taunton Gazette. "She's a good dog," he added. Muggle said the dog, actually a poodle mix, ran in front of a car in Taunton, Mass., on Sept. 20. The driver hit the brakes to avoid the dog, and then continued driving, unaware that the small dog had actually been struck. Muggle told the newspaper that it wasn't until the driver crossed the border into East Providence, R.I., that someone flagged the motorist to the dog stuck in the vehicle's grille. The driver proceeded to a local police station, where animal control officials freed the animal and then took it to an emergency clinic, Muggle said. "We've been searching for the owner since," Muggle told the newspaper. The dog was wearing a collar, but Muggle said he was withholding additional information about the collar to help identify the animal's true owner. ALSO:

Mushroom Hunting

Historic Pet Cemetery

Another cemetery has been added to the National Register of Historic Places, but this one's a little different. It has dogs and cats and iguanas and a lion cub.

 The 116-year-old Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in the New York City suburbs is the first animal burial ground to win the honor.

The designation "is a fitting way to recognize the longstanding and significant role pets have played in our national history and culture," said Carol Shull, interim Keeper of the National Register.
Kevin Moriarty, a historian for the register, said Friday that Hartsdale is the only pet cemetery among the 2,698 cemeteries on the register. He said Hartsdale is notable because it marks a sharp change in how humans related to animals.

"It was in the early 20th century that pets began to be considered family members rather than livestock," he said. "Before then, a dead animal was likely to go out with the garbage."
The cemetery became popular with artists and celebrities — George Raft and Mariah Carey have buried pets there.

About 75,000 animals and 700 pet owners are buried at the cemetery, which is on a woodsy slope in Hartsdale about 20 miles north of Manhattan.

Its many evocative markers often draw tourists. One, written by a man about his cat, says, "Here we sleep forever, I and my beloved Bibi, my loving companion for fourteen years." Another marker has 16 pets' names engraved into granite.

In 2008, a travel guide listed the cemetery among the world's 10 best places to be entombed — along with the Taj Mahal and the Great Pyramids.

Hartsdale briefly ran into trouble with state regulators last year for allowing pet owners' ashes in with their animals, but the regulators eventually relented.

Ed Martin Jr., president and director of the cemetery, said he was delighted with the "honor and prestige" of the historic designation. A celebration on the grounds is scheduled for Oct. 6.
Martin said the cemetery's new status may help him win grants to help preserve the cemetery.

"Some of the old mausoleums need to be patched up and some of the old walkways," he said. "There are monuments that tip or sink. We take care of it now out of operating funds, but it does add up."

Violet, London - In Search of the Perfect Cupcake

Yes, it's true.   While in London my dad went in search of the perfect cupcake.   You see, he had read about this place called Violet before he made the journey.  Opened by an American girl who used to be the pastry chef at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Violet was a treat!

On a postcard smudged with frosting, dad wrote:

 "Now. let me say, that the chocolate cake with violet frosting was a dream.  The chocolate cake with sea salt caramel frosting was a smutty dream.  But the almond polenta with plum topping made the six hour flight, 3 subway changes, and the long trek to Violet fade into mist."

Tomato Thief

Turns out Lola like tomatoes

L-o-l-a Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola

Nine-week-old Lola is taking Deep Acres Farm by storm

Dirty Boy

Deep Acres Farm Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

Beautiful Boy

Roxie's pups are now eight-weeks-old.  We've been calling this beautiful boy Cooper.

The Dogs of Downton Abbey

  

Dad texted us this pic from London.  It's of Fern (with stuffed toy in mouth) and Cammie.   They work in the ticket office of Highclere Castle where our favorite TV show, Downton Abbey, is filmed.

DogTV

I thought you might enjoy the following article from a dog-loving friend, Neil Genzlinger, who works at the New York Times.

Cross-species experimentation can be dangerous, as Syfy channel movies like “Piranhaconda” and “Sharktopus” have made clear. And yet if a journalist isn’t willing to court danger in pursuit of truth, what good is he?

That is why I have spent the summer making species other than dogs watch DogTV, a television and Internet channel made specifically for viewing by dogs. Not to brag, but my research raises provocative questions about perception, genetics and the very definition of sentience and life itself. It also proves conclusively that snakes do not appreciate the miracle of Tupperware and that putting birdseed on your laptop keyboard is a poor idea.

DogTV, marketed as something for dogs to watch while their owners are at work, was first offered on cable systems in San Diego in February and received a burst of national publicity in April when it became available as an Internet stream. A few weeks ago it was in the news yet again, when dog owners turned out by the hundreds for a casting call in San Diego for future DogTV videos.

All this attention demands some critical assessment. I will leave it to dogs to judge the quality of DogTV programming, which includes footage of frolicking dogs, relaxing dogs and cogitating dogs, along with the occasional human or other nondog life-form.

What I decided needed examination was the core concept, the whole notion that dogs have distinctly different television preferences from other species and that those preferences are knowable. DogTV, the service’s Web site says, is “scientifically developed to provide the right company for dogs” and is the product of “years of research.” Sure, but did they show their dog programs to a squirrel?

I realized in early spring that it was going to be a critter-heavy warm-weather season in my New Jersey yard because rabbits, chipmunks and squirrels were already lined up at my gardens with cutlery and napkins. So I resolved to test DogTV on whatever wildlife I could in the ensuing months and to augment those studies with tests friends and family members conducted on their domestic animals at my request. (I have no pets myself, ensuring objectivity.)

First I had to establish what we researchers call a control group, by seeing how DogTV was received by actual dogs.

I should note that I did not subscribe to DogTV to conduct these experiments. The Internet stream costs $9.99 a month, and our office manager is rather humorless when it comes to approving expense reports. I used only the sample videos on the DogTV site, which come in three variations: “Relaxation,” “Stimulation” and “Exposure.” This would no doubt meet with disapproval from the DogTV staff, which counsels owners to “give your dog some time to adjust.” Too bad; science waits for no dog.

My control-group dogs had mixed reactions to DogTV that bordered on randomness:

¶Mitzy, a Border collie mix in Westerly, R.I., was certainly stimulated by the “Stimulation” video: she was stimulated to get up and leave the room.

¶Dakota, a Dalmatian in Westford, Vt., “quickly realized the dogs in the video were not going to try to take her spot and went right back to sleep,” her owner reported. Her companion, Otto, a German shorthaired pointer, “watched for about a minute and a half, then tried to lick the iPad.”

¶Maxie, a bichon frisé in Hawley, Pa., who is said to prefer Yo-Yo Ma delivered by radio to any sort of television, looked everywhere but the screen for most of all three videos, the exception being a brief glance when a dog owner in “Exposure” aimed the command “Sit” at her dog after a doorbell rang.

¶Walter, an Airedale in New York, ignored the screen for the first two videos and walked out on the third. His housemate, Fadilah, a Lakeland terrier, was also uninterested except during that controversial doorbell scene. “Her head did the telltale sign of paying attention (slightly cocked to the right) as the dog sat for his/her owner’s ‘sit,’ ” Fadilah’s owner reported, adding, “Then the image shifted to the people walking across the street, and she was done.”

So much for the dog verdict on DogTV. The first out-of-species test subject was an 18-inch garter snake I apprehended in May. About one snake a year makes the mistake of coming into my yard, in which I enforce a strict no-snakes policy, and I have become quite adept at nabbing them.

I decided to show this one “Relaxation,” since it seemed annoyed, possibly because I had imprisoned it in a Tupperware container for transport to someone else’s yard. Surprisingly, the video noticeably calmed down the snake. “Stimulation” and “Exposure,” however, seemed to have no effect at all, even though “Stimulation” includes images of an animated mouse, a favorite food of snakes.

As the summer wore on I tested DogTV on various critters that convened to eat my flowers and vegetables. These animals’ fearlessness — sometimes they came into a garden while I was weeding it — enabled me to play DogTV for them occasionally on one of my two laptops, which I would set in the grass.

In general, rabbits preferred the higher resolution of the MacBook, whereas squirrels favored the larger screen of the Toshiba. Chipmunks were too hyperactive to linger around either device, even though I sprinkled the keyboards liberally with birdseed, which chipmunks seem to enjoy far more than birds do. I do not recommend this practice, as the alt and ctrl keys on the Toshiba now sometimes stick.

The rabbits and squirrels occasionally glanced at the DogTV videos but soon resumed pursuit of their apparent goal of eating the entire world. A more definitive opinion was rendered by Molly, my daughter’s cat, a sedentary beast roughly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle.

She began her viewing session exhibiting unmistakable indifference but soon graduated to outright animosity. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dogs on DogTV, my daughter reported; it was that she was annoyed at being asked to do anything outside of her normal routine, which is to do nothing. By the time “Exposure” played, Molly chose to curtail her own exposure by diving under the bed, where she remained for four hours.

The last test subject of the summer was a turtle I rescued on Monday as it sat in the middle of Clarksville Road in West Windsor, N.J., trying to get from the bog on one side to the pond on the other. There’s a turtle-crossing sign at the site, but it doesn’t have much effect; the turtle I plucked from certain death was surrounded by the squished bodies of a half-dozen cousins.

At first none of the three DogTV videos coaxed the turtle out of its shell, but after a while its curiosity was piqued. It seemed to enjoy the studied languidness of “Relaxation” and be intrigued by parts of “Exposure.” But a graphic scene in “Stimulation,” in which a dog jumps into a pool and chews up a turtle-size water toy, seemed too much for the turtle. It bolted — yes, bolted — off the computer table.

I caught it before it plummeted to the floor, the second time in hours that I had saved its life. Then I took it back to the pond and, after a brief primer on pedestrian safety, set it free. Other turtles in that pond probably have street-crossing stories to tell, but this one has them beat by miles.

Anyway, it is clear from this summer-long study that DogTV produces exactly the same haphazard, unpredictable responses in nondogs that it does in dogs. Could it be that the distinctions we make between species are artificial, that there are not many types of creatures on the planet, but essentially only one: the one that either stares at a TV screen or doesn’t, depending on factors that remain unclear? Aren’t we all, humans included, looking for relaxation or stimulation or exposure, unless we’re not?

I hope to study these and other profound questions further. If I can ever wrestle my laptops away from those rabbits.

What We Are Loving Now

The nice gentleman at the American Spoon shop near our summer spot in Michigan insisted that dad try their new Rhubarb-Hibiscus Conserve on top of vanilla gelato.   Now, we know, dad doesn't usually like rhubarb.  We have a patch at home that just goes to seed each summer. So we were a bit surprised, but didn't mind waiting outside while dad boldly asked for a second much larger sample.

Now the people in our house make their own Rhubarb-Hibiscus sundae on a regular basis.  They say it is out of this world.  To get some of your own visit spoon.com.

Death by Grapes

Deep Acres Farm Concord Grapes on the Vine

Well, luckily, dad happened to mention how sweet and delicious our grapes are this season to Sherpa's dad Michael.   And how much Rufus and I love to enjoy a grape when they are fresh off the vine.  "Aren't grapes bad for dogs?" said Sherpa's dad.

Turns out grapes are bad and potentially fatal to dogs.  No more sweet concord grapes for us!

According to the AKC:

" Dogs can become fatally ill after ingesting grapes and raisins. In some dogs, as few as seven raisins brought on symptoms, including vomiting, diarrhea, and shaking. The fruits can cause the kidneys to shut down, and often, even aggressive treatment is unsuccessful.

No one is sure why grapes and raisins cause this reaction in dogs. All dog owners should refrain from feeding grapes and raisins as treats to their dogs, and keep them well out of reach. If you suspect your dog has ingested grapes, or if he starts showing symptoms, contact your vet immediately."

To make us feel better, Michael took a pic of my boy Sherpa and texted it to us.  Michael and I agree, Sherpa is one of the most beautiful TTs we have ever seen.

Sherpa, Champion Deep Acres Autumn Splendor

Praying Mantis

It's always around this time of year that we start seeing the praying mantis around Deep Acres Farm.

And speaking of praying mantis, here is a pic of the most lovely 5-week- old Tibetan Terrier you ever will see.  A sweet girl named Lola.

Dad, I'm SURE I Saw a Bird Out There

Angus is a Birder.

Little Pups on the Prairie

We headed out at quarter past six for our morning walk around the prairie.   It's been relatively cool lately, but today is supposed to be a hot one so we wanted to go on our long walk in the cool morning air.  There's a statue of Grammie Jill in her younger days stark naked looking out over the prairie.

We were out for a good hour and a half, but Roxie was eager to get home to her little ones.  They're as pretty as a prairie sunflower and will be 5-weeks-old on Sunday.