Tag Archives: Frida

Roof Dogs

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For the fifteen or more years Frida lived with me, this is where she was most of the time, checking out the neighborhood and occasionally barking at someone who didn’t belong there.
Frida II is installed.
And Frida’s ashes went into this effigy which we concreted in place on her favorite place on the dome, to watch for as long as I have any say in the matter.
Keep a watch for us, girl .
And then, across the street on the corner of Ilie Nastase and Wm. Tilden, these puppy-sized sculptures appeared.
As new real puppies joined the family, I installed a gate to keep less experienced little feet off the dome, but inevitably, guests or Pasiano would leave the gate on the stairs up to the casita whose terrace adjoined the dome. This photo was taken by my neighbors before Annie joined us.
Neighbors snapped this photo, then called to advise me that Frida had visitors.
A year or so later, another member of the pack appeared right across from me on Wm. Tilden
Help Frida keep watch, boy!
(Frida as a puppy.)

It all started with Frida, who I first met as she trotted down the carretera traveling west as I walked with my friend Joe, going east.  She was so tiny that I thought she was a big rat at first, but as she drew nearer, I realized it was a tiny puppy who, when she got up to me, immediately stopped and looked up at me with those eyes that indicated that we already belonged to each other.  When she got older, for the next 15 years or so, she spent most of her days up on the dome of my house supervising the neighborhood, and when she passed away, it didn’t take long for me to figure out how she should be memorialized. It took me some months to find a terracotta sculpture that looked like her and to find men to concrete it securely in place.  Inside are Frida’s ashes.  There she has resided for years, surveying all who pass as she did during her life.

As new dogs arrived in my life, they took to occasionally visiting her on the roof, and then a strange thing happened.  In the house kitty-corner across from me, two smaller terracotta dogs appeared, on the post beside the entry gate, Frida directly in their line of vision a story above them on my dome.

Then, less that a year ago, the house directly across the street from me sold, and a few days ago, when Yolanda mentioned my neighbors putting dogs on their roof, I corrected her that they were on a pedestal by their front gate, but she said, no–on the roof–and directed me down the street to look back at the house of the new neighbors.  There, securely affixed to their chimney stack, almost obscured by the trees, was another Frida!

That is how “In the doghouse” came to be a non-derogatory term in my neighborhood. In fact, I am now just waiting for the next roof dog to show up!!

Up on the Rooftop

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Click on photos to enlarge.

Yesterday I had a “Collectors of Mexican Folk Art” group visit my house and forgot to close the gate to the upstairs casita after they left. Today while I was in Ajijic, I received the first three photos above from my next door neighbor. Guess Zoe and Coco wanted to go up and meet Frida.  For those of you who don’t know, Frida (who died a few years ago) used to spend most of her time up on my dome over my bedroom surveying the surrounding scene. That is her you see in the final photo, taken by me years ago. Since my house is on the side of a mountain, she could see for miles, all the way down to the lake and up to the top of the mountains. She loved to see the action of everyone who passed. 

When she died, I put her ashes into this statue of a dog who looked like her and was about her size and cemented it to the top of my dome.  It is accessible by a stairway up the side of my house which leads to the terrace outside the casita. Frida would jump up on the ledge and scurry up onto the dome–a trick she learned from the cats when she was an only-puppy and thought she was a cat. Once when I was at another neighbors, I saw Morrie up there with Zoe and Coco, who never met Frida in the Flesh. They evidently learned the way and at the next opportunity, visited her by themselves. As you can see by the second to the final photo that shows the statue of Frida minus her guests, it is a long way up to the top of the dome!

 

First three photos were taken yesterday by David Bershad. Thanks, David. Last two photos are earlier shots taken by me.

What do you think?

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Is it time for a new bed for Zoe?  This is a photo taken today:


And this is a photo taken a couple of months ago in the same bed:


Look how tiny she was compared to my hand.


But, here is a photo of Frida when she first came to live with me:


She looks pretty tiny too, and this is the size she ended up being:



This is what Forgottenman said to me when I jokingly asked him if he thought I should invest in a larger bed: “She’ll need one eventually when you realize her grandfather was a St Bernard. Maybe get her a bigger bed now and put them side by side. Let Zoe decide.”

As you can see in the photo above, Frida and Diego were the same size. Now see this photo of Diego and Zoe together so you can see how large a very small dog (such as Frida was when she was the size of Zoe) can become:

And Zoe and Diego and Morrie’s walking buddy, Oscar. Finally, she gets to go along.



Frida and Zoe

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Forgottenman has pointed out how much Zoe looks like Frida when I first found here. Here are their photos, side-by-side.

And here is the video of Zoe bravely challenging the beer bottle that I couldn’t get posted in yesterday’s blog:

 

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/q92ZwGX0WpU

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The Doggone Doggie Blues: dVerse Poets

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First there was Frida, then Diego


The Doggone Doggie Blues

The naughty dogs who leave their marks when jumping up on me.
The naughty bruises that remain, spreading their stains on me.
I cannot stop this rudeness. I cannot find the means.
I cannot stop their tugging at my blouse sleeves and my jeans.

Unruly little denizens of my humble home,
they range wherever they may choose on terrace and on dome.
They jump up in the hammock when I choose to swing.
They jump up on my visitors to see what they might bring.

They dig into my planters and eat the tasty loam.
They even dig into my sleep to bring their mother home
from dreams where she evades them, living her own life
away from doggie pressures, away from doggie strife.

What pleasures might she find anew living all alone?
What pleasures might they miss for which her conscience would atone?
All in all, they make up for the problems that they bring.
All in all, their lonesome howls to sirens are the thing
that swell her heart and make her want to join along and sing.

I wrote this for the dVerse poets Anaphora/Epiphora prompt, but unfortunately missed the deadline. Been there before, will be there again, no doubt. At any rate, here it is for the world at large!

But, just had a brainstorm and posted it on the dVerse Poets Open Link Night, where we can post any poem on any topic. Tardy but still within the law!. Here is a link to others who published poems for Open Link Night.

Across the Street: Thursday Doors, Jan 30, 2020

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This is the ornate front door of my across-the-street neighbors, Brad and David. I came over to admire my newly-installed memorial for my roof dog Frida, now two years gone. Her ashes are inside so she can regain her former favorite spot on the dome of my house, surveying the neighborhood.

For Norm’s Thursday DoorsPrompt.

Frida Resumes Her Perch

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Frida Resumes her Perch

If you have been around for awhile, you know about my dog Frida, who passed away in October, 27 months ago.  At that time, I published this poem in her memory: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/10/11/look-up-poem-for-a-good-good-girl/
which was about, among other things, her love of standing on the dome of my house and supervising the world about her. For two years, I fantasized about finding a dog similar to her and cementing it to the dome with her ashes inside so she could spend eternity in her favorite spot. Finally, I located what I thought was the right dog, and this is the story that followed:

Please click on photos to enlarge and read the captions.

Diego came up to inspect the situation.
Later, I returned to the gallery and brought home a larger dog in Frida’s more classic position–sitting or standing erect surveying the neighborhood.
Gerardo and his brother lugged her up to the roof, and
this one was perfect.
We assembled the concrete, the water and trowels,
And they built a concrete base for the sculpture.
The next job was to get Frida’s ashes into the small hole at the bottom of the sculpture.
I brought a funnel, but it didn’t work.
Finally, they cut a corner off the plastic bag that held her remains and poured it into the hole.
Once she was situated on the base,
Frida II is installed.
Of course, the neighbors soon gathered to witness just what was going on. Brad and Dave were first to notice.
Then Thomas.
Then the construction guys from the house being constructed up the hill behind Thomas and Brad and Dave’s houses.
Then went down to look up. She was going to be perfect.
And Frida’s ashes went into this effigy which we concreted in place on her favorite place on the dome, to watch for as long as I have any say in the matter.
Once Gerardo and his brother had left, I went over to Brad and Dave’s to see how she looked from their house. They definitely have the best view.. from every door and window on the east side of their house.
Keep a watch for us, girl .
For the fifteen or more years Frida lived with me, this is where she was most of the time, checking out the neighborhood and occasionally barking at someone who didn’t belong there.

Ironically, the day Gerardo and his brother were due to come permanently install Frida’s memorial, my cat of 18 years, Annie, finally grew so ill that I called the vet to come to the house to put her to sleep, and luckily Gerardo and brother didn’t make it, but came instead today. Somehow this reaching of the goal to memorialize Frida helped somewhat to dilute the sadness over Annie’s  departure. Plans are in the works for her memorial.  R.I.P. beloved friends.

Look Up! (Eulogy for a Good, Good Girl)

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Look Up!

She used to chase the shadows of birds across the ground
and dig where they disappeared
and never once thought to look up,
no matter how many times I tried to tell her to.

Chasing light across the pool, she’d pace
back and forth, along its further edge.

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Her first playmates the cats,
she could not follow them up into the trees,
but stood instead, barking at the bark they clung to.
Thinking herself a cat, perhaps,
or all of them some new species in between,
she followed wherever it was possible to go.
Up the broad steps to the second floor,
across the terraza and just a small leap
to the ledge of the high sloping dome of the roof.
Up to its top to lie or stand and bark at all who trudged up our mountain
to intrude into her world.

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She could see for blocks,
turning like a sundial with the sun
to change her focus, but usually starting at the point,
southward, that most invaders came from.
Neighbors led by unwelcome dogs on leashes
passed below her on their morning walks,
or farmers carrying hoes or machetes
up to the fields above.

Lines of burros plodding beneath her, facing uphill,
small herds of cattle
flooding down to the lake for water—
none escaped the attention of this reina,
who would bark directions to be on their way, fast,
and not to loiter.

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No creature had greater staying power than she.
The cats, bored with the high view,
moved to the bushes and trees to hunt possums, squirrels and salamanders.
Only she stayed true to her original position
as she looked ever down from that high dome,
only deserting it a year ago,
when I locked the gate that blocked her progress up—
not because I judged it unsafe for a dog grown arthritic and less sure of her step,
but because of the new puppy,
untrained by cats and with feet less experienced than hers.

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Feeling punished, perhaps, she traded her high domain
for a place beneath the terrace table

from which she watched the two upstarts
speed by to cavort in the lower garden
where she once chased bird shadows in the grass.

Version 2
She exercised her staying power one last time
as, looking down on a world reduced to only me,
never once blinking, she stared into my eyes
as I crouched beside the vet’s high table,
and looked straight back up into them,
the closest I’d ever been to her.

That table’s surface, straight and gleaming stainless steel,
was where she lay with her front legs spread-eagled
for the long hour it took to finally climb up that high dome again.
I wonder if she heard me as,
“Good girl,” I told her a hundred times that final hour, and meant it.
“Good, good girl. Look up now. And go on.
You were always such a good, good girl, watching out for us.
But now, look up. Go on.”

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The prompt word today is “Original.”

The Blessing of Animals

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The Blessing of Animals

Written at 9 a.m. this morning:

Every year, St. Andrews Church does a blessing of the animals on a day near his saint’s day of October 4.  It so happened this year that the night before the date of the blessing, Frida suffered a seizure.  We arrived home from our emergency trip into town to see the vet at some time around midnight, at which time Frida seemed to be doing fine, if not exactly chipper.  The vet had examined her and gave her some medicine, instructing me to bring her back the next day, and since the church was just around the corner, I decided perhaps Frida needed whatever help she could get and took her for a blessing.

As you can see from the photos, hundreds of animals were brought by their humans.  Dogs, cats and (as you will see from the photo) the longest white burro in the world all existed peacefully.  Not one tussle or bark or fight during the entire 1/2 hour I was there.  When I commented on this as we left, one of the congregation members standing at the door said, “Perhaps St. Francis had a hand in that.”

I thought you might like to see some of the photos. Frida, by the way, seems back to normal. I’m about to take her back into the vet and will perhaps take my computer and post the photos in the vet’s office while we wait to see him.

The world’s longest albino burro was there to be blessed.
As well as the world’s cutest dog.
Humans with a plethora of kids of every variety.
Collies
and one dog that looked exactly like Diego, but it wasn’t Diego as one dog was all I could manage, and it was Frida who most needed the blessing.
There was some doggie scripture read and songs sung
Doggie friends…
Fashionable attire shown off
The blessings of the animals were done in both Spanish and English. Frida’s smart mom noticed the long English line and that there was no one in the Spanish line, so we were blessed in Spanish. Frida died a few hours later!
And in summation, I feel it is only fair to reveal the secret between the world’s longest burro, just in case you fell for that one. It was, indeed, mother and son and a bit of fortunate positioning on their part. Here is a shot that tells the rest of the story. (Almost)The End.This was the end as I wrote it around 4 this afternoon. Please click on the X one the upper left to go back to the main page to see the final ending.

Addendum:
Written at 7:45 tonight:

The only dog there I didn’t get a photo of at the blessing was Frida.  Unbelievable.  Here is one of my favorite shots of her:

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R.I.P Frida, 2004-2016

I was too busy all day taking Frida to the vet, waiting in the waiting room, then waiting for tests, then returning home only to have to make a return rush trip back to the vet. Frida went for her final walk an hour ago at 6:45 p.m.  My last words to her were never truer spoken to any other dog.  “You were a good, good girl.”  She never did one naughty thing (short of eating the cat’s food) that she could help. Good-bye good, good friend.

Her favorite activity was sitting on the dome of my house to survey the neighborhood and bark at intruders. Unfortunately, she was unable to do so for the past year because it was unsafe for Morrie to be up there so the gate remained closed.

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daily life color118This is a photo of Frida the day I found her trotting down the bike lane of the carretera.  She was about a block away, coming toward us, when Joe and I first spotted her and I thought she was a big rat at first.  Surreal that it was trotting straight toward us without veering off.  She trotted right up to me, I picked her up, and she was mine ever after.  R.I.P. dear friend.  We shared a lot of adventures over the past twelve years and even if you let Diego and Morrie think otherwise, you were always leader of our pack.

 

Two Circles

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Two Circles

Two big problems were solved for me today with the construction of two circles.  First of all, the lovely installation created by Leonardo in my garage was removed today and reconstructed in a better spot so the garage is free again to park my car and load it up with supplies for my two month stay at the beach.  Eduardo, an artist friend who is also Leonardo’s father, is here for the next 6 weeks to build flower boxes around my flower plots in the garden, to build a brick sidewalk leading down to the pump for my irrigation system and to repair salitre damage and paint my house.  We have negotiated the terms and most of this work will go on while I am gone.  Here, then, is my first new circle.  It is just to hold the sand for construction, but I’m fond of it already.  perhaps a little pond here later?  No, probably not.

IMG_1163 (1)I love how he incorporated the flower pot into the design! Actually, a semicircle now, but we will imagine the other half of it, for purposes of maintaining my theme!

So, with one problem solved, I set about trying to figure out how to keep Frida from licking her “hot spot” wound.  The neck cone definitely didn’t work.  She was a crazy woman for the one night after I put it on her and that made me a crazy woman.  Also,  although she’s taking a course of antibiotics, they will do no good if she keeps licking the wound and reinfecting it and also it does no good to put Neosporin or other medicine on it because she licks it off. So, what to do?

A friend suggested colloidal silver for the wound.  She had tried this before and it had worked, so yes, I went to town and bought a big bottle of colloidal silver and put it in a spray bottle.  Another blogging friend suggested I tie a rolled up towel around Frida’s neck to keep her from bothering the wound on her hip.  I couldn’t think of how to keep this on her until I had a flash of inspiration.  When my nephew Craig and Jessica visited, they purchased an upscale neck pillow to aid with sleep on the plane.  When they left, they asked if they could leave it as they hadn’t used it and it was cumbersome to carry around.  Voilà!  I was even able to locate it–wonder of wonders.  I took off Frida’s collar, sewed the pillow to it with a huge needle and six strands of waxed linen and fastened it around Frida’s neck.  She didn’t even flinch.  Here she models my new invention which I should patent if it works!  Brilliant!!! (If it works.)

IMG_1170 (1)We will see how Frida’s new “necklace” looks after being outside for a day.

So that, my friends is how I resolved my two biggest problems and how circles came to save the day!!