Panda poses with poise

With the full moon, it was tough to point out Orion’s belt and Betelgeuse (“hey honey, its going to blow up some day”"No“”Yes”"Really?”"Uh-huh”"Cool“), but we managed. The laser also gave off a cool green disco effect on her shoes.

On a whim, I carried with me Julia’s digital camera, which was left on the hutch for some infraction and forgotten about months ago.

Then we decided to do something we haven’t done in nearly two years, when nightly walks were far more common, continue cataloging the puppies of Jenkintown. We meandered up to the town square, looked through the toy shop windows and talked about how the new owner of the bakery next door is much nicer (the old one wouldn’t let her use the bathroom once). I forgot how much I missed this stuff. We got out of the habit when Benny became of walking age. He’s less of a stroller than Julia.

When we found our only victim of the night, Julia and I both felt out of practice. She got nervous in asking the owner for permission, and then forgot how to use the flash setting. For my part, I forgot where the review button was as well as my notebook for recording the deets on the dog, Panda. In any case, I felt bad about holding the dog’s owner in the cold to indulge my kid, so I wasn’t going to quiz him.

Merry and bright

Panda, like most dogs around here, it seems, is a mixed breed adopted from a rescue. She had a beagle meets bull terrier vibe and was very sweet. Julia, of course, reminded me that we need a dog. I, of course, reminded her that we can’t rely on her to pick up her toys, how would she manage with a puppy? She just would, is all.

On the way back we stopped off to take some shots of the neighborhood lights. They came out blurry, but Julia liked the effect.

One of those solar-powered LED ornaments. Maybe a hummingbird, which would explain the blur.

She’s thinking of taking pictures of all the stuff in people’s yards. Pink flamingos and decorations and the like.

We’ll call it the Gnomenclature of Jenkintown, I thought, but I didn’t dare tell her. We had done enough for the evening, and I didn’t like the idea of poorly explaining one more thing that night.

His name is Max.

Max Arrow, Private Eye.

There are a thousand stories in the Naked Borough, and this is his.

Really. That’s his name, Max Arrow, Private Eye. He’s a regular on our block and, if I remember correctly, a rescue pup, although obviously greying a bit now. In keeping with the P.I. spirit, there are four things we can deduce about his owner…if you’d care to click the picture to enlarge:

• He works at Trader Joe’s.
• He’s married.
• He can’t hold a paring knife properly.
• He was kind enough to wait for Julia to snap the picture.

Nice fellow.

We were marching up to the town square in the hopes that ice cream could be found there. Fortunately, the new place, 709 West Avenue Cafe was open an hour past its posted closing time. There Ben and Julia each ate a bowl of ice cream larger than their heads. I had the coffee.

The Cafe, not to be confused with the West Avenue Grill across the street, opened a few months back and seems to be getting decent word-of-mouth. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, the Cafe is in the same spot where the Grill started out almost a decade ago. Between the Cafe and Old Man Al’s Questionable Burgers, there’s something of an uptick in local eateries, which is great since Jenkintown Java’s preserved corpse is still sitting there off the square, waiting for a new tenant to step in and get the pots boiling again.

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.

They want to lick your face more than anything in the world. Your face is like candy to them.

Still, Maggie managed to hold still for a good 30 seconds, which I believe broke they all-time yellow lab “sit” record once held by Prince Bob of Des Moines, Iowa who, upon later examination may have been part basset or was, quite possibly, dead.

Nice shot Julia.

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.

From right to left: Bella (sans head), Greta and Karch (judging your soul).

“You know, Karch, like the volleyball player,” the owner said. Um, sure. Let’s go with that.