Senator’s Daughter Found – Mrs. Hallowell Irwin, daughter of the late Senator Thomas B. Harper, who mysteriously disappeared from her home in Jenkintown, several weeks ago, was found in a hotel in New York and brought back to home at Jenkintown on Saturday. Although no reason is ascribed for Mrs. Irwin’s absence, which kept her relatives worried for some time, it is believed that she became despondent immediately after her father’s death and wandered away.

Two sentences, but a whole world of mystery.

Also, unrelated but in the same article:

Boy Dies of Lockjaw – Valek Dranaka, aged 17 years, of Bridgeport, died on Saturday in the Norristown Hospital of lockjaw, which developed from blood poisoning, following a wound on the leg near the ankle, the result of having been struck with the iron point of a bobbin while at work in Loes’ mill, Bridgeport.

Just a reminder that life was harder, death more frequent. This young boy, who should have been in high school, but was working in a mill, killed because his nicked ankle became infected. Think about that the next time you hear someone cranking on about modern medicine.

Don’t be fooled by the enormous golden retriever, Abby, here. She’s not just a sleepy older pooch on the, erm, husky side.

She’s like a trapdoor spider, waiting for two year-olds to lick. I believe her tongue was big enough to get all the spaghetti sauce off Ben’s face in one go. You see, there’s a reason we do this after dinner.

This pup, on the other paw, truly was sedentary.

Lastly, Cocoa was a sweet older beagle that we’ve seen a few times, but never has been captured, until now. I like this pic.

An Iggles fan, even in the off season.

All pictures courtesy of Julia, click ‘em to embiggen.

Bo, who we caught along with yesterday’s Sonny, is either trying out to be the next Nipper, or wants to know when Julia is going to take the #&*! picture already.

But, you see, its the ambiguity behind her portrayal that sets her apart from other dogs.

Or, she’s just a dog.

I say this — and here’s the relevance to the puppy hunt — the evening “nice walk,” a tradition begun when Julia was about two, used to be a chance for Dad and daughter to hang out a bit after dinner and before bath. Taking puppy pictures sprung from that. Of course, now Benny is of “nice walk” age, and it has really affected how we go about our hunts for the puppies of Jenkintown.

Whereas before, we could just meander at Julia’s pace, things have to be a little more destination-oriented, as Benny and Julia both have different opinions on what constitutes the best course of meandering. These conflicts of opinion often turn into squabbles, which turn into tears in short order. The camera has been a cause for concern.

I mean, look at that kid, he really wants that camera.

Again, having a destination in mind helps. Last night, we made an excursion the playground by way of CVS, which is on the other side of the borough. We needed mouse traps. We caught one mouse in a glue trap, which I hate. I’m no softie, but there’s something particularly cruel about glue traps, no matter how easily they fit below the oven. We have a catch-and-release trap (which I’m going to give one more chance to tonight) but I felt we needed the ol’ tried-and-true on standby just in case.

But I digress, we’re here for the puppies. This one is Sonny. (Click the picture to make it slightly bigger.)

Sonny is a Bichon/Shih tzu mix, which is nearly impossible to say without sounding drunk. Try it. You’ll slur like Foster Brooks.

I think Sonny lives on the corner up from our house, maybe. It was tough getting details while wrangling Benny and giving Julia camera advice.

All pictures courtesy of Julia.

Next time: Bo, perhaps friend of Sonny. I don’t know. It was a confused meeting.

We were headed out the door, lollypops dangling from our lips, as Jake and his family passed. I felt bad not offering them a treat, so I told them to wait, ran back inside Stinkbug Manor, through the kitchen and out the side door in case Benny (who gets into the picture, as you can see) decided to bolt down the shared drive for the neighbors pond.

They fished their wish from the bag of Dum Dums — one chose butterscotch, on purpose! — and posed Jake for the shot.

(No, this isn’t some sort of extreme facepainting, I pawed out the girl’s face, just in case her mother isn’t as reckless as I am in plastering my kids’ gobs all over the Internet.)

Jake (seated on the driveway in the picture to the right) is some sort of pit bull mix thingamabob. I don’t know for sure if I bothered to ask. I was just grateful to get the shot…and to dispose of some of these godforesaken butterscotch Dum Dums.

Seriously, man, every the kids reach into the big bag of Dum Dums (Dum Dums: a sack of stupidity!) that the missus bought for no defensible reason, they pull out some flavor like Butterscotch or Banana Rumpus or, worse, a mystery flavor, which is usually Butterscotch. Now, I don’t mind the occasional butterscotch hard candy, as I’m old, but few kids enjoy candy that actively rejects the concept of “sweet.” Still, I let the kids pick their own. I’m their father, so they should get used to disappointment. Here’s a freebie for Spangler Candy, a new tagline: “There’s a heaping dose of reality in every handful!”

Then again, I enjoy the stick. I don’t know about you, but lollypops with plastic sticks just aren’t the same. You get Dum Dums for the candy, but you stay for the lingering oral fixation and the fine gnawing sensation you can only get from tightly-wrapped paper.

Photo courtesy of Julia Rose Lester.

Look, the more tag, as if enough hasn’t been said already!

And lollipop, as Spangler says, or lollypop? I prefer using the Y, as I always felt bad for the Sometimes vowel. One day A, E, I, O and U will get wise.

Why did we wait so long into spring to start it up again? Julia’s first camera, a pink “Insignia” brand 5 megapixel thingy, broke. I’m fairly certain her mother dropped it.

However, Julia’s Grammy, supplier of the original camera, underwrote the purchase of a new camera (I picked it up on Woot!), a sleek, turquoise(ish) 10 megapixel number from Kodak. Our five year-old has a nicer camera than the family. It has more settings than I know what to do with, but it takes pictures quickly, which is a good thing when folks your mission is to interrupt people during their evening’s perambulations.

We spent Monday night scouring the Jenkintownside looking for dogs to little luck until we found Roxie (below, click to embiggen) and her family marching up Walnut Street. (We should just wait until they pass our house, that’s usually when we see them, but what’s the fun in that?) Benny was with us, which adds a bit of a wrinkle to the process, since I have to help Julia get the camera set while keeping Ben out of traffic or away from the dog.

I have no real notes on Roxie other than she’s a mutt and that she has a black tongue. But she’s our inaugural dog, snapped with the new camera, so we can’t complain. It took a few tries, but eventually Julia remembered to hold the button until the click and to keep her finger and camerastrap away from the lens. Nice job, sweetie.

We had better luck Wednesday, when we found two dogs right outside our house.

More to come.

All pictures courtesy of Julia R. Lester.

The same walk to the town square as the last two entries yielded Kimba, named after Kimba the White Lion. Also known as the the cartoon Disney ripped off to create the Lion King, which happens to be one of Julia’s favorite Disney movies, of course. This site is somewhat exhaustive in its comparisons.

Kimba was a big girl and, after Julia (and Benny) got up the courage to pet her, we had a nice long discussion about copyright infringement and the difference between an homage and a rip-off.

No matter how many times it was explained, it went over my head entirely.

Anyway, here’s Kimba the Golden Retriever:

Please note that Kimba is not actually on fire or somehow effervescent, except in terms of charm and puppylike sweetness. That is: nice dog, but not outgassing…at the moment, at least. Apparently, Julia had been fiddling with settings, as is her right as an artist.

(Yes, a town exactly one square mile in area has two fire companies because, as it turns out, Catholic houses burn too)

We took a few pictures, but I really don’t have the time to post them all at once, so here is a new friend (with a cameo by Julia’s thumb) that we met at the town square. His name is Rocket

Rocket was named rocket because he, as a puppy, ate a rocket. A toy rocket, mind you, not an Estes model or anything.

That’s a charming naming convention that, if applied universally, would have disastrous consequences. Puppies named Coffee Grounds, Used Condom and Own Shit would flood the borough.

Thankfully, our citizens have some sense of restraint and don’t use those names in public.

Why this very evening I went for a walk with Benny — just a block or so — and saw two entirely new pups. I didn’t tell Julia for fear of launching her into a snit, as she was already in a fragile, post-rainy day state of mind. We did manage to bring back the acorns freshly shook from a tree up the street by the earlier thunder boomer. Julia places them strategically around the yard for squirrels.

Squirrel!

Um, where was I, oh yes, more puppies of Jenkintown. My point was that three things must come together toget some proper puppy shots: 1) puppies, 2) camera, 3) fresh batteries. Those three things don’t always coincide. However, here are some from the latest batch, including Grover, the hardest working dog in Jenkintown.

All photos by Julia Rose Lester

Grover

We ran into Grover, a neighborhood fixture, at Jenkintown Java, which has also become a neighborhood fixture since it opened last year. Let’s hope it lasts. Grover too, for that matter.

They sell a decent cup of coffee, some exceptional sandwiches and, best of all, Bassets Ice Cream. We stopped in a few weeks back and chanced upon Jim finishing up dinner with Grover, his seeing-eye dog by his feet. Aly and I used to run into Jim when I took the train to work.

More so than I, Aly has a habit of introducing herself to people she sees all the time. I’m not as good at it as she is, and, I’ll admit, I’ve never quite mastered how to approach blind acquaintances. Fortunately, I have Aly, so I can get away with “Hi Jim, its me Greg, Aly’s husband.”

I had to build Julia’s courage up a bit — she’s never really met a blind person before — but she eventually overcame her shyness, with a great deal of a prodding.

Grover was exceptionally patient. Not only posing for Julia, but putting up with wee Benny running around in circles and saying “Gah” really loudly. We don’t pet the working dog while he’s working Benny.

Laddie
Julia’s thumb and Laddie the Yorkshire Terrier’s owner couldn’t keep out of the picture no matter how hard they tried.

Given the name, I presume Laddie is male, but Yorkie’s are such effeminate dogs that I have trouble picturing them without little pink bows in their hair. (Don’t judge me!) Still, there must be male Yorkies if they keep breeding them. I’m fairly certain about how those things work.

Patches

Patches, on the other hand is a Staffordshire Terrier, and they too must deal with stereotyping. And it isn’t as if they earned it. People dress Yorkies up in ridiculous outfits, and they turn perfectly fine dogs like pit bulls and staffies into the thugs of the canine world. Julia approached Patches warily, as if he might have hidden a Glock in his collar.

Then again, look at him, Patches doesn’t quite trust you either.

He’s got better reason.

Chelsea
Chelsea here is a Wheaton Terrier. Wheaties are a hairy breed and this poor girl has just been trimmed (not shaved, mind you, the flash is a bit deceptive here). And, no, this isn’t the most flattering angle.

Chelsea
Speaking of Chelseas, this Chelsea was much friendlier than the picture and muzzle suggests. She is a mutt, part pit bull, part whatever would sleep with pit bull, and a rescue dog. Jenkintown has plenty of rescue dogs, I’ve noticed. Nice people.

Jenkintown also has a lot of Chelseas. Aside from these two dogs, I remember at least one other pooch and, at least, two kids. The naming convention splits down party lines, I’d imagine.

Lastly. Julia got this nice shot of our neighbor Gary’s flower.

However, I wised up just a bit and I’m now using Flickr. Let’s see how that goes…

(stuff happens)

…ok, it doesn’t go great…the Flickr gallery maker I use stopped functioning after I upgraded to WordPress 2.8. Grrr.

You can see better versions of all these pictures in my Flickr stream. I’ll get around to updating the my Flickr pages with the older photos. Eventually.

I can’t seem to get the gallery to work, but here they are individually.

Dexter is an adorable cocker spaniel, allegedly great with kids, but was shy around Julia. After petting him, Julia described him as soft, very, very soft.

To see the rest, you’ll have to hit the “continue reading” button, just over in the bottom right of this post.

Molly. And that’s actually her name, this time. Julia tends to name all animals Molly until she can think of something better. The latest was last night at Wonderland in Ocean City. Her horse was named Molly. (BTW, epic ring capture by yrs trly, I nabbed 14 on one ride. Gave back 13.)

Gus is not a cute name for a cute dog, sorry.

Intermission

This:

+ This:

= This:

/Intermission

Weegee…not sure about the spelling on that…and whether it is short for “Luigi” or “Ouija.” There was a kid at camp I nicknamed Weegee when I was 13 or so…

Sammy, a moist golden retriever.

And, lastly, Holly, a neighborhood favorite, captured here for the first time.