Category: Life

Posted in Life, toys

They once were lost, but now are found

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Did you look in the back bedroom closet? What about up in the attic?”

“I looked everywhere I can think of. Are you sure we didn’t give them away?”

We were cleaning and sorting the grandkids’ toys on the back porch. Somehow, a little bit of everything ends up everywhere. A plastic hotdog is in with the dinosaurs. A plastic dinosaur is in the Candyland box. Pokemon characters are tucked into every nook and cranny. Parts of the play ice cream cones are out and around.

When we got it all arranged – Legos, puzzles, games, dinosaurs, play food, Pokemon and Minecraft figures, cars, dolls, hundreds of Minnie’s Bow-tique pieces, and Magnatiles, I wondered, “Where are the Tinkertoys?”

We had purchased a used box of Tinkertoys on eBay a few years ago. While our childhood Tinkertoys were wooden, the contemporary edition is plastic. They are made of the kind of plastic that dogs love to chew on, so we try to keep them in the box and out of reach.

Tinkertoys are as much fun as ever. We’ve built long fishing poles, robots, swords and light sabres, telescopes, windmills, monsters, cars, shark cages, and rocket ships. The possibilities are endless. We don’t play with them every time the grandkids are with us, but often enough that we wouldn’t get rid of them.

I looked everywhere. Under beds. In closets. I went through all the bins in the attic twice. In drawers. In the back of the toy cabinet.

Nothing. They had somehow disappeared.

What did we do? We bought more. We found another set on eBay and in a few days we were back in business. All was right in our toy world again.

Before we left for a birthday party yesterday, I loaded a bunch of tables and folding chairs into the back of our car. As I grabbed the last two folding chairs from the back of the back bedroom closet, something caught my eye. I went back and saw them. “There they are!” The Tinkertoys. Right where we had left them at some time in the past.

For a guy who is good at finding lost things, this was a rush. And best of all, we have even more Tinkertoys than ever! (Guess who else likes to play with Tinkertoys?)

Posted in dogs, Life

The nose knows: what’s up on the counter

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It didn’t take long before we forgot. Over the course of one summer we forgot a cardinal kitchen rule: don’t leave food near the edge of the counter.

It a dog thing. Years of Labrador retrievers hammered that statute home. The most retold story was from the Gabriel archives when we lived in Baltimore, almost forty years ago. My wife decided to make homemade noodles from an old family recipe. She mixed them up, rolled them out, sliced them up, and laid them out on towels to dry. We had to go out that night and upon our return, the noodles were missing. They were gone. Every single one of them. Yes, Gabe helped himself and like a lot of delicious foods, once you start, you just can’t stop.

Lesson learned. From that point on we pushed any kind of food to the back of the kitchen counter or placed it on a higher shelf, out of reach. Our most recent large dog, Samson, wasn’t really a counter surfer, but we still didn’t leave anything in reach.

With a smaller dog at home now – my readers will know him as Winston the West Highlands White Terrier – it’s not an issue. At less that one foot high, he’s no threat to food on the counter. However, one of his best friends, my daughter’s one-year-old Golden Retriever Rex is.

I had several pans of meatballs ready to go into the oven. I walked over to the refrigerator to grab something, and by the time I turned back, Rex had eaten one row of uncooked meatballs. If I had not caught him, it would have been a pizza delivery night.

Then, just the other night, my wife baked a loaf of cranberry bread. After it had cooled on the counter she sliced it in two to freeze half and eat the other. Winston and Rex were outside chasing each other around the yard and the family sat around the fire pit getting ready to roast marshmallows for s’mores. My two grandsons ran in and out of the house as they usually do, one time letting the dogs inside. When my wife went inside to get a drink, she discovered half of a half a loaf was missing. Teeth marks betrayed the culprit, Rex. With that goofy dog smile on his face, I’m sure he thought, “If you didn’t want me to try it, you shouldn’t have left it on the counter.”

Yes, we should have known better. In fact, there’s no guarantee a short dog won’t find his way up on the table. Winston has gotten up on the dining room table when a bench wasn’t pushed in all the way. Sharp eyes caught him before he got any food.

And then there is the legend of Sable our basset hound from a decade or so ago. With a vertical leap of about 2 inches, we never thought she would be a threat to a kitchen counter. However, we did pull into the driveway one day, and saw her up on the kitchen table looking out the window. Somehow she got up on a chair and from there up onto the table. No food was consumed and from that perch, she was able to effectively watch the house while we were gone.

We’ve learned to be safe rather than sorry. Keep all food out of reach.

Posted in Life

Forget it. We’re not going to sell.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

All we wanted to do was sell a piece of used exercise equipment, a spin bike. We had gotten good use out of it, but it was still in good shape. It was too big and heavy to ship, so we would decided to sell it locally. It would be a great bargain for someone.

As soon as we put it out on social media, the creepers came out. First, someone wanted to know if we would accept payment via Venmo. Absolutely not. That request reeks of scam. Cash only, at a safe site like the sheriff’s department. No, you can’t come to our house. Our no to Vemno was met with, “How about Cashapp?”

Forget it. We’ll just keep it. After a few weeks, we decided to try eBay and specify local pick up only. A third party would give the transaction a layer of security, right?

A guy from Kentucky inquires, “Can you ship it to me?” So, what part of “local pickup only” did you not understand? The thing weighs over a hundred pounds. We just didn’t want to mess with a shipping company. Forget it.

A guy from North Carolina makes a lowball offer and says, “We’ll be in town on this date to pick it up.” We counter and he comes up a little bit, but not enough to make us comfortable. The he explains that he and his wife aren’t that well and are working around various doctor’s appointments. He doesn’t sound like someone who would be doing much spin biking. Forget this. Our last message to him was, “We’ve taken it off the market.”

I’ve had decent success selling stuff on eBay. But all my sales were books and toys I could easily ship once the money was in my bank account. But the ordeal of an in-person transaction was too much for us.

Posted in dogs, Life

Walking around: miles of kids, dogs, and friends

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My early morning and late afternoon walks with Winston (our West Highland White Terrier) take us around all the eleven streets of our neighborhood.

We know all the kids at the bus stops. The younger ones always want to pet the dog. Winston’s tail begins wagging four times a second when we’re still fifty yards away, so happy to see his friends. Keep in mind, he thinks everyone is his best friend. He enthusiastically wriggles, hops, spins, rolls over, and thoroughly enjoys their attention.

We know most of the dogs in the neighborhood, too. There’s Bailey the Shih Zhu, Blue the Golden Retriever, Ramona the Rat Terrier, Sadie the some-kind-of-terrier, Sophie the black miniature Poodle, Winston the Maltese (a miniature version of Winston), Gunnar the Brittney Spaniel, Franco the Rottwiler, Natchez, a mixed breed, Teddy a nervous little terrier, and an assortment of Labs, Shepherds, Terriers, and Chihuahuas. As I write this, I realize there are a lot of dogs around here. Sometimes they are out with their owners, sometimes they bark at us from a window. I always ask Winston, “What are they saying?” He refuse to tell me. Must be some kind of honor code among canines.

We watch all the new houses being built and get to meet a lot of the new neighbors moving in. They are, of course, all best friends.

We know where all the bunnies are going to be, too. They are so funny. The bunnies think that if they sit real still by the edge of the road, no one will notice them. Winston sees them long before I do. His excitement builds as he thinks, “I think I can catch him today!” Of course, he never does. The bunny is much faster and scoots off into the woods, leaving nothing but a scent behind. Winston doesn’t dwell on it. I am sure he thinks, “I’ll get him next time!”

Early this morning, an SUV began to back out of a driveway when Winston and I were about ten yards away. I don’t take any chances. I stopped and Winston immediately sat, just like he supposed to do. Once the man had backed out I said, “Heel,” and we were on our way. He rolled down his window and said, “Thank you!” I though that was really nice. Most people don’t even notice us and roar away. That little moment made my day.

Posted in dogs, Life

Who’s ready to rumble?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“In this corner, at one year of age, hailing from Palm Coast, ladies and gentlemen put your hand together for Win-stonnnnn!”

“And in the other corner, a three-year old veteran from Ormond Beach, let’s hear it for Bro-deeee!”

Last year, my in-laws brought their West Highland White Terrier, Brodie, to our house to meet our Westie, Winston. The tale of the tape: they were pretty much the same size. We figured they would love each other. Brodie had played with plenty of other Westies at daycare. Winston believed every one, man or beast, was his best friend. We knew they would chase each other around and wear each other out and everyone would be happy.

That’s not exactly how the encounter went. Winston was on his home court and still very much a puppy. Brodie was having a “Who’s the annoying kid?” kind of day. They snarled and snapped and yapped and didn’t get along at all. We didn’t expect that. “Alright, break it up!”

Then the old man wandered out. Samson, the thirteen-year old shepherd-lab-whatever brown dog came out to see what all the commotion was. He wasn’t really interested in either of the other dogs, but the little guys settled down immediately. Samson commanded respect and was an instant calming presence in the pack of dogs in our backyard. This was his house, and both of the terriers knew it.

We don’t have Samson anymore, and Winston has grown up (a little). When he and Brodie had a rematch a month ago, they got along better. They ran around some, but decided they liked each other better from a distance. I’ll bet they do even better the next time they get together.

When I was a pastor, I noticed that people tended to behave a little better when I was around. Not always good, but better. They would clean up their language and keep the funny but questionable jokes to themselves. Many times I really wasn’t interested in other people’s squabbles, but I’m glad I could get people to calm down a little.

Posted in dogs, Life

Breaking in the new folks

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The moment I walked in the door, I knew these two would be a challenge. First of all, this was a big dog household. The dog who already lived there was big. The food and water bowls were big, the collars were big, the leashes were long, the dog bed was huge, the chew toys were enormous. And here I am weighing in at a mere twenty pounds. I had my work cut out for me.

Everything I owned fit in one sack. Rubber toys, chew bones, a couple of stuffed animals, a leash, a raincoat embroidered with my name, a bandana, a few miniature Westie figurines, and a couple of bowls. They found it all very entertaining. “Look how small everything is!”

First things first. They carried me out the back door into the yard. I have a yard! I ran and rolled and panted and peed. This was going to be great. But it would be a lot of work to keep my space lizard and squirrel free. Fortunately, I could walk the landscape wall to keep an eye on my domain.

I simply wanted to make the place feel like home, so I sprinkled a few corners and rugs in the house. For some reason that didn’t go over well. Come on, guys, it’s not that much. I got the folks to pay attention to my subtle woof when I needed to go outside.

Checking out the inside of the house was as awesome as the outside. I couldn’t believe how many toys were scattered around. I sank my teeth into a plastic apple, purple Lego brick, miniature Pokemon character, a colored pencil, a sock, and a Hot Wheels car. None of that was well-received either. I got the folks to organize and store up the grandkids toys they didn’t me to chew in plastic totes.

My first few weeks here were amazing. I had so much energy. I just loved zooming around, jumping up on things, barking at dogs walking by on the street, and scattering my toys around the house. I got the folks to take me for nice long walks around the block every morning and evening to meet the neighbors, the neighbors’s dogs, and check out the neighbors’ mailbox posts. It’s my job to keep them active. After all, they aren’t getting any younger.

Okay, so just because I’m a white (West Highland Terrier) dog doesn’t mean that’s my favorite color. I like to dig till my snout and feet are brown. I like to sniff around until my face is covered with green hitchhikers. The folks finally figured out that I needed to be combed and brushed every day.

Let me tell you, the food here is great. Kibble? My favorite. They even mix it with some canned food and a little bone broth. Biscuits? There are plenty. Rawhide sticks? As many as I want. Cheese? I always get a bite of the folks’ cheese sticks. I told the folks not to worry. I work off all those calories on my twice daily walks.

Every once in a while, big dogs come over to play. And I mean big. And brown. Kennedy and Rex tower over me. I love to chase them around the yard. The folks don’t worry about me. They know I can handle myself and run with the big boys.

But one day, Brodie came over. He’s a Westie, too. It was like looking in a mirror. Everyone has a Doppelgänger, right? We’ve got a few things to work out, but we’re learning to be good friends. Bailey lives across the street. She’s a little bigger than me, and cute, but she always stays in her own yard. The folks know I can handle myself around the little guys, too.

Speaking of little guys, all these kids come over to the house from time to time. They are so much fun. They scream when I jump on them or chase them or take their toys. They always let food drop to the floor so I can have some. They taught me how to climb up into the play fort and go down the slide. The folks got a gate to keep us apart so they don’t bug me too much. Works for me.

A couple of months after I moved in, the old brown dog who lived here had to leave. I hardly got to know him. But the folks really loved him. They seemed so sad, so I was glad I could cheer them up with cuddles, kisses, and barking.

So I’ve lived about half my life here, and the folks are doing well. They know my favorite spot to hang out is in their lap or on one of the love seats. They let me nap with them in the afternoon. They get all my toys out from underneath the furniture. They often leave the back door open so I can come and go as I please. And I get to play with any lizards or snakes who happen to wander into the back porch.

They still have a few things to work on. They wake me up too early in the morning. Come on, I need my sleep. They need more practice combing and brushing all the stuff out of my coat. Come on, that hurts! I’d like to go for a few more rides in the car. Let’s go! It’s one of my favorite things to do.

I’ll tell you, it is a full time job keeping an eye on these two. But hey, that’s my job.

Posted in dogs, Life

Breaking in the new guy

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“How would you feel about adopting another dog?”

For me, that question does not require much thought. I immediately answered, “Sure.”

Some friends of ours had just bought a new puppy, a West Highlands White Terrier named Winston. Unfortunately, their physical condition had gone downhill and couldn’t keep up with the demands of a new puppy. My wife heard he needed a new home, I said, “Sure,” and just like that we brought home a second dog.

Our resident dog, Samson, was a shepherd-lab-whatever mix. But at thirteen years of age, he was pretty mellow unless a delivery guy threatened our home. We have long been a big dog family with a few exceptions. Chica the Chihuahua lived here for a while, but she was mostly my son’s dog. Sable the Bassett hound howled around here for years, but she wasn’t a small dog. Especially her ears. The thing is, we never had a dog who needed to be groomed. This would definitely be a first for us.

Winston came with a pretty fancy crate made of wood and metal. He had chewed up a few corners. He also came with a little harness and stretchy leash, a ton of poop bags, a little raincoat embroidered with his name, a stuffed lamb, a stuffed bunny, a few rubber toys, and a collection of tiny Westie figurines.

A raincoat? Not in this family. Stretchy leash? Nope. We immediately got a prong collar to use with our trusty six-foot leather lead. Stuffed toys? We’ll see how long they last. Westie figurines? I listed them on eBay. (No sale so far. Interested?) The crate? Okay for now, but it’ll be in the back bedroom, along with the grandkids bunkbeds and crib.

I believe we’ve got a pretty friendly kid-safe house. A puppy-proof house is a whole different project. Winston loved the soft plastic of play food, little people, Lego bricks, Tinkertoys, and toy dinosaurs. I don’t think he ever ate any. He just left tiny teeth marks in all sorts of toys.

All of the grandkids love dogs. They just weren’t used to this dog. As soon as one of them squealed, Winston was ready to jump, nip, play, run, jump, and have a great time. We installed a baby gate to keep him separate from the squealers when they were here. I had to make a rule. “What’s the one thing you are not allowed to say when Winston comes over to you?” Answer: “AAAAhhhhhhh!”

Winston was mostly housebroken when we brought him home. Unless he wanted to make a point. If I took a sock or a toy or a pair of underwear or a towel or a piece of paper or a dead bug from him, he showed his displeasure by peeing on the bathroom rug. It’s like a little kid acting out to get attention. It got our attention, and it got Winston a little time in the cage.

A lot has changed in the last seven months. By putting all the kids’ toys out of reach and buying a nice selection of toys and chew sticks at the pet store, Winston slotted into good dog behavior. A little bit of prong collar leash training brought him to a nice heel and automatic sit. The grandkids have not only gotten used to him, but ask to play with him. He woofs at the back door if he needs to go out. He catches rays in the backyard every morning. He spends his early afternoons napping on the love seats or the bottom bunk bed. He gets along well with my daughter’s Florida brown dog Kennedy, my other daughter’s Golden Retriever Rex, my neighbor’s Shiz-tzu, Bailey, and is working things out with my in-law’s Westie, Brodie.

Yes, we had Winston neutered. When we came in for our pre-op visit, the front desk woman at the veterinarian’s office was from Scotland and said with her best Mrs. Doubtfire accent, “Helloooo! What a cute wee one. We’re country cousins! Let me have a look at ya.”

Westin is a white dog. But he’s rarely white. He loves to dig and usually comes inside with dirty feet and a ring of dirt around his mouth. He is usually covered with “hitchhikers,” small weed seeds we can only get out of his coat with a special comb. I always thought a dog that had to be groomed wouldn’t shed. Wrong. He doesn’t shed as much as Samson, but he does leave traces of white curly hair all over the house. Winston has a strange appetite for bugs, lizards, moths, sticks, leaves, and rocks. I’m always pulling something out of his mouth.

Oh, and Winston is also a runner. If he gets out an open door or escapes from his collar, he’s gone, he’s fast, and he’s elusive. But I’ve learned how to get him back. I simply call out, “Do you want to go for a ride?” He’ll run right over to the car and jump in the passenger seat. He loves to go for a drive, let the AC blow on his face, and watch all the other cars pass by.

Winston is a cuddler. If I sit down to read a book or watch TV or talk to my wife, he jumps up and sits across my lap. His favorite place is to be with his people.

Winston is also a sleeper. When I got in the back bedroom to let him out of his crate in the morning, it takes him about fifteen minutes to get up and out to go for his morning walk. He wanders out, does a perfect down dog and up dog, and then rolls around a few times before he’s ready for the collar, leash, and walk. All my other dogs have woken me up. I’ve never had to drag my dog out of bed in the morning!

Winston is a faithful buddy, but he’s also everyone’s friend. He lets me comb out his hair, but then nips me afterwards to let me know he doesn’t like it. He loves to play in water, but hates to take a bath. He is, as one website described Westies, a big dog in a little dog’s body.

I think that’s why we get along so well.

Posted in Life

“Can I ask you about your blindness?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels

At the pre-bible study meal on Wednesday night, I sat across from Jason. I’ve sat with him, eaten, and talked with him before, but never asked about his blindness. He faithfully comes to the Wednesday night men’s bible study. After a while you don’t notice the dark glasses and folded up white wooden cane under his chair. He’s just part of the group.

But tonight I said, “Jason, it’s Bill.” I try to identify myself when I sit down with him. And then I asked, “Can I ask you about your blindness? Have you ever had any sight?”

He smiled and told me he had been born blind. “In fact, when I was born, they had to remove one of my eyes. I’ve never been able to see.” He added, “But I really got messed up when I lost my hearing.”

Jason continued, “When I was a teenager, I would put on my headphones and listen to heavy metal music way too loud. My mom could never get my attention. I guess I overdid it. Now I’m paying for it.”

He then told me about a time when a nurse wanted to check his vision. “She wanted me to read a line of letters on the wall. I had to explain to her that I couldn’t see anything. Boy, was she embarrassed!”

One week, Jason made a pot of chili for the Wednesday night meal. It was delicious. He explained, “My mom taught me how to cook.” She was a good teacher. He has won a few chili cook-offs.

I’ve gotten to know a few of the blind who attend this church. Emily sings with the worship team, equipped with braille songsheets on her music stand. Ricky, with just a little bit of peripheral vision, does a lot of long distance running. Billie had her golden retriever assistance dog in church with her. Yes, of course, I stopped by to say hi to both!

Engaging with the blind is a great reminder that this world is not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s also a reminder that God is doing everything needed to restore it. Jesus gave us a taste of that, giving sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and getting the lame back up on their feet.

Can you imagine what it will be like when the first thing you see in your life is Jesus?

Posted in Life, memories

My other career: leaving Bell Labs

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels

As I approached three years of working at Bell Labs, a colleague, Fred H. came to me and asked if I would come with him to Austin, TX, and be a part of a startup company. We had worked together on some projects and he wanted me to come and be his programmer.

I was flattered, the offer was more than I was making, and I was bored with R&D that had no deadlines, few priorities, and from my point of view, not many goals. I was encouraged to get my master’s degree electrical engineering so I could be promoted to the next level. But after I took a few classes at Rutgers, I knew my heart wasn’t in it.

At this new company, I would work with engineers who were making deep oil well pressure monitors. I would be programming in 8086 assembly language. The challenge of a new project and traveling to a new place to live appealed to me, and I accepted the job.

Looking back, this decision changed the whole trajectory of my life. Just two months after moving to Texas in January 1982, the company went out of business. The founders had found better places to invest their money. I worked another job at Houston Instruments for a few months, but most of my time in Texas was getting ready to go to seminary in Fort Wayne, IN that fall. Three and a half-years in the real world showed me that I enjoyed my work with the church more than any of my programming work. I was young and single with enough money to live, so I enjoyed my eight months in Austin.

I wasn’t journaling during this chapter of my life, other than to keep track of my running mileage. So these past four blog posts have all been from memory, which in some moments is vivid, and others foggy. My other career served me well in pastoral ministry, giving me insights into the working world of church members. However, once the congregation found out I had been a computer programmer, I got more questions about tech than about theology. My phone rang about everything from, “My printer won’t print” to “My screen is frozen” to “How do you change the font?”

And once a tech guy, always a tech guy. Even in retirement after thirty-six years of full time ministry, I still get questions about bluetooth, wifi, printers, fonts and formatting. The blessings of my first career still echo in my life today.