Roses are Gray, Violets are Blue

For my local readers, it is old news that Minnesota spring has come stunningly early and with no take-backs (so far). My Susan and her gardening neighbors are bemused by the loveliness and earliness of the spring flowers.

Boy #1 and Boy #2 learned long ago that a few oohs and ahhs about the garden make their dirt-caked, bramble-scratched mother beam -- so they seem suitably impressed with this year's flower show. Good boys!

Presumably, Dave has also had the beauty hit his optic nerves. But he is, after all, the founder of the I Hate Gardening Facebook group (yes, it is open to all lazy, hard-hearted souls -- just search and join, if you must).

This year, the spring garden has exploded in siberian squill. This little bulb spreads everywhere and offers the earliest burst of blue. You often see it, to nice effect, in waves of blue in the lawn. Then it dies back in time to mow or make room for all the other flowers. Blue is a relatively rare color for flowers and it is my favorite -- tied with yellow.

Now, I know some of you might be thinking: What business does a dog have writing about the blueness of siberian squill?  Dogs are colorblind! No so, gentle reader. That is a tall tale along the lines of: it takes seven years to digest chewing gum. Trust me. It takes a day. Although I have only ever sampled ABC gum from the sidewalk -- so maybe it had a head start.

Back to dog vision. We are more near-sighted than people. But that is because what is right under our noses is the only thing worth looking at. And really, whoever needed to use sight to locate a strip of bacon anyway?

But humans don't see some stuff as well as dogs can.  For one thing, we see better in dimmer light. And dogs detect motion far better than people do. So stay still, varmints -- if you value your fuzzy-wuzzy coat!

Dogs are most definitely NOT colorblind.  Admittedly, we don't see the same spectrum of color that humans see.  We have dichromatic vision rather than trichromatic vision. Blue, yellow and many shades of gray are how we see the world.

"Instead of seeing the rainbow as violet, blue, blue-green, green, yellow, orange and red, dogs would see it as dark blue, light blue, gray, light yellow, darker yellow (sort of brown), and very dark gray. In other words, dogs see the colors of the world as basically yellow, blue and gray. They see the colors green, yellow and orange as yellowish, and they see violet and blue as blue. Blue-green is seen as a gray. You can see what the spectrum looks like to people and dogs"  above. Psychology Today

So, I ask you human dog-toy designers, why is my Kong® RED?

Red toy, green grass?? Go fetch it yourself!

Water Lilies and Carmella on Japanese Bridge

click on image to enlarge

Content and Criticism
Water Lilies and Carmella on Japanese Bridge is a painting by Impressionist painter Claude Monet. In1883, Monet moved to Giverny with his family. In the years that followed, Monet finally found commercial success. His fortune growing, Monet was able to hire seven gardeners and devote his time to painting. Monet was exceptionally fond of painting controlled nature. His gardens with its water lilies, pond, and bridge became favorite subjects that he depicted in varying light, and weather conditions.

As with his Haystacks series, Monet painted this Japanese bridge many times to capture different points of view and at different times of the day. Water Lilies and Carmella on Japanese Bridge is the only time he included his lovely brown dog Carmella -- even though the bridge was her favorite basking spot. She often lay there watching the fish nuzzling the lily pads below and she enjoyed barking at frogs.

Monet with Carmella and their gardens at Giverny 

Some scholars say Monet named his dog Carmella after his beloved first wife Camille. Certainly Carmella cheered Monet. The ever-faithful hound was always at his side while he painted - except when distracted by varmints. She can be seen in other works of Monet, including one in the haystack series.

More Art Hound (by artist)
Claude Monet'sWater Lilies and Japanese Bridge

Historical Dramatizations

Ballard Street by Jerry Van Amerongen

Cats are Dumb as a Box of Hair, Reason #343

Hotel for Dogs

My favorite blogger Daughter Number Three goes on quirky little road trips and makes you want to go too. She just got back from Dickeyville, Wisconsin, apparently a gold mine of odd stops.

As a follow-up, Daughter Number Three got thinking about her new hotel rating system. And that got me thinking about mine. For me, it comes down to one thing: will they have me?

It is sometimes hard to find places to stay that welcome dogs. Mostly, my family camps in a tent so it is not a problem. I love the tent! I get to sleep in the family pig pile on mounds of soft sleeping bags and warm feet.

But barreling across Nebraska, finding a hotel room is a lot more appealing than setting up the tent in the glow of the headlights. Sometimes it takes The Little Woman (Dave's iPhone) hours of searching to find hotels that welcome the canine companion and don't wrinkle my Susan's nose. But when they find one, I immediately go all Groucho and wonder: Do I really want to stay in a hotel room that would have me?

Dogs are gross. We are hairy and smelly and we pee on everything we can. This is fine in the wilderness where rains dilute and mingle the dogginess into a mellow montage. But even I feel uncomfortable in rooms where hundreds, maybe thousands, of angry chihuahuas have stayed before me.

Most hotel rooms have designated pet rooms. But does this mean they get extra cleaning?  I think not. But how can I complain? I am truly thankful that there are hotels for dogs. I would not want to be left home with the creepy cats.

The first thing my people do when they enter a hotel room is strip off the bed quilt. And really, this is best practice for any hotel room, dog-free or not. People are gross. They ooze. Trust me. My sniffer works better than any black light. You really don't want to sit on that quilt. Stick with the things that get laundered. 

For the record, I don't pee in hotel rooms. And my people bring my doggie bed along.  They cover the end of the bed for me with my blanket. They don't leave me unattended -- that isn't me barking hysterically next door. But, as with all things human and canine, manners come in all shapes and sizes. So more power to hotels that tolerate.

"I would not join any club that would have someone like me for a member." - Groucho Marx

Leaping Ability

Ballard Street by Jerry Van Amerongen