MY LOVELY PIRATE

She moved with Grace, flowing through the landscape of
vines and trees, valleys and curves, carrying her shimmering black banner

My darling, the Pirate

What day is it? Oh, yes – Tuesday. Class Day. Did I forget? Are we going? Steam is rolling off her tongue and light is beaming from her eyes.

Recently I got a paperback copy of “Enemy of All Mankind” (yes, the book about a global manhunt for a pirate). It had been on my mental reading list for a while. But before I could turn a page, it became, ironically, pirate booty. Who needs the back cover or the end of the last chapter anyway? It’s a bit dog-eared but largely still readable.

I love this pirate in her elegant black coat that moves with her fluently and shimmers in the sun. I love her deep-set brown eyes that reflect wisdom, humor, kindness and energy. She turns each walk into an adventure, each trip into an engagement activity, each interaction into a bonding moment. I begin to wonder whether I am more student than teacher, again.

There is more life to be lived than we know about as humans, and it can be difficult to dissuade us from our thoughts, to recognize opportunities for us to open up to new perspectives, or even to the plants and creatures in our own backyards. This is a job for a Pirate! She misses little, from creatures or items smaller than the tip of her toenail to birds that fly above and larger creatures that roam the fields. She would love to fly and seems to think it must be possible for Newf pirates also. I explain that not all creatures can fly. Cats can’t fly. Cows can’t fly. Then I had a dream that she bolted away and ran into an airfield, into a plane and somehow started the engine. She was flying. But I began worrying: how would she get back down? Landing wouldn’t be as easy. I wondered whether we could send a drone up to extract her.

By listening to her, I see an eagle circling above, or a tiny bug scurrying in front of her, or the screw that fell from computer housing, lost long ago. I see the opportunity for joy that emerges when the door is opened, when each new morning arrives.

Boldly go . . . And listen.

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THE LEGACY OF GROWING UP

Growing up is hard to do . . .

(We need puppy words for the Neil Sedaka song.)

Sometimes it is as if a complete reset occurs overnight, like a change has been downloaded or a backup retrieved from her system. Development occurs in increments, and the net of change is the metamorphosis to adult. This has been true for all puppies, and I would grieve the loss should puppyhood transpire too quickly. No worries! Grace has that covered. Everything we do together is an adventure.

During a recent hotel stay, I left the wifi camera pointed toward the door, as usual, to observe whether people came into the room with the Privacy tag on the door. And sure enough, someone did, who looked at the camera and had an uh-oh reaction. This rarely happens. I’ve also been in a room when people came in, “to clean”; one even said that her manager told her to clean the room. I think she spoke French rather than Spanish, but I can barely make out parts of Spanish, let alone French. Typically I expect that it is an innocent mistake, but occasionally I have doubts. When a Newf is left in the room, I want to know that no one has been present when I’m not there.

Grace was caught on camera checking herself out in the mirror. Josh did something like this in 2003 at Westminster (the year before he was BIS), watching himself on the giant screen. We are all curious about ourselves. At hotels, there are sometimes full-length mirrors, and that reflection catches her attention. We don’t have those in her area at home. Usually, when she looks at the mirror at a hotel room, she is making eye contact with me through the mirror.

The house has a lot of glass, with reflection that is almost clear under certain light conditions, when the glass isn’t covered in noseprints. There are three double doors in the kitchen area, along with one in the bedroom, and there are two windows at visibility level when she is on the bed. When she sees those reflections, they sometimes cause her concern. Perhaps those are more apparition-like. Sometimes she barks at a reflection of a television in the window, or what I expect are cats or raccoons outside the patio door, or at the multiplicity of reflective images in one of the kitchen doors next to the glass dining room doors, smiliar to a hall of mirrors in a haunted house. A few nights ago, she barked at that weird black apparition in one of the doors. I explained that she was barking at herself, that the reflection in the door wasn’t clear like the mirror in the hotel room. As often occurs, her concerns were allayed, whether she understood words or tone and cadence, or whether she has begun to accept my input.

She has keen visual detection, and she will still spot tiny things and explore those with her mouth, and sometimes ingest those when they taste good. I found a malted milk ball on the hotel floor that she had missed for a couple of days. Hotel carpet is designed to decrease visual inspection, which must be why those weird clothing patterns trip AI cameras. But tiny things are everywhere: on a floor, in the yard, on the sidewalks. There is a risk to raising a curious puppy, but it is also a joy.

Another of her fascinations, one that intrigues many Newfs, is paper products. Over the years, a lot of paper towels and toilet paper have been entertainment for a Newf. Grace particularly likes paper. She usually asks now before she lifts a paper towel, and I almost always have one nearby, as a napkin, a coaster or just in case. Sometimes I hold it for her to rip. (complicit) She is three months short of two years, but asking (most of the time) is one of those growing up things. All that I know that I did to modify this was tell her, “That is my paper towel. I need that.” Or, “Oh no! I needed that paper towel.” I use a serious but not exaggerated tone. As they mature, they learn to engage and respond, to your tone if not the words. But I expect she has a good human vocabulary by now.

Some puppy behaviors are not as easily discouraged and require more effort to study and resolve.

On Tuesday night, I watched her step into the bathroom and inspect. As with Banker, she is another Self-Apointed Chief Inspectigator of All Things. It’s a job title that comes with the Newf. Some take their role more seriously than others. Grace took an interest in the toilet paper on its holder, sniffing it, stopping herself, sniffing it, stopping herself, then the expression of pure glee emerged and stopping became an option no longer. This was my first time to catch one in the act, from the beginning. It was so charming to watch her learning that I didn’t step in until she began trying to get a full roll into her mouth. I asked, “Grace, what are you doing?” But by then it was too late. She was enthralled. (incensed if you prefer Ray Stephens descriptor) Adding to the entertainment, it moved around on the bar and unraveled! I intervened and said, “I need that.” She wasn’t happy but conceded. This is my pirate. Not too long ago this would have probably been a bigger battle. Now I will have to keep the door closed. She won’t forget a source of fun.

Another thing that she has in common with Banker and not others is that she still uses her crate. It is like her bedroom, her personal space. She indicated to me one time that she didn’t like it when I laid my jacket across the top. (Don’t be rude.) Our bedroom was planned with enough space for Newfs, but a puppy must begin in a crate. Then the crate can go back to its rack. Usually. Grace was able to stay outside of her crate fairly quickly. So the crate door has been open for over a year. She goes into it to lounge, to change a sleeping spot, or when she is upset with us. (Playing is more fun than watching something on television; can’t be argued.) Banker viewed his crate similarly. It was a place to take a nap with less disturbance from others. He had to give it up when the new guy came along. Although there were times when two crates were set up in the house at once, one takes up enough space. But as long as it is her comfort area and she is using it, it will stay in the bedroom. And she did another thing that was unique for Banker: she did her own time out. She got into something during the night, progressively, a step at a time, crossing her own limit with each step. This woke me at about 1:30 a.m., and as usual for being awakened, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Otherwise I wouldn’t have witnessed the act or the regret. I got up, scolded and picked up the pieces. She sighed, went to her crate and laid down heavily, then she stayed in her crate for a while. A few months ago, this would have been in protest at having her fun interrupted. This time, I had a clear impression that she was unhappy with herself, losing the battle for self-control. It is the first time I’ve seen her do this. Yay! for learning, but I still hope that puppyhood doesn’t fade quickly, or the curiosity and optimism that goes with it.

There is a balance for puppies as for people, learning how to take risks and being driven by optimism. Avoiding risk entirely isn’t good for either.

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PRALINE CHEESECAKE

This year, over the eating holidays, I fared well. I’ve been more vested in reducing intake than finding new and enticing recipes. However, we received fresh pecans as gifts from two family members. Fresh pecans are a family memory for us. Pecan trees were common in people’s yards, and there were pecan orchards in our area, grown by, at that time, the many small farmers spread across communities. Fresh pecans and desserts with pecans, like cakes and pecan pies, were popular. My sister-in-law makes the best pecan pies, by the way. I couldn’t join for Thanksgiving, and enjoy some of her pecan pie, so I began thinking about baking with pecans. We have a set of ramiken dishes, and I had been wanting to use those for individualized desserts, and the following idea struck:

Shortbread cookies for a crust, cheesecake, and a pecan pie topping

Crust: We had been getting butter cookies imported from France through Costco that I wanted to crush and use for a crust, but those were discontinued. Greg decided to try some recipes for shortbread cookies. The first one was a bit salty, which probably helped when I used it for the crust. He used the outer part of a donut cutter, inherited from my mom, to cut the cookies, and it turned out to be the perfect fit for a bottom crust in the ramekin dish. About any shortbread recipe will do.

He also looked up the history of why “shortbread” was used instead of “cookie”. Apparently, when cookies were taxed by England, the Scottish people began making “shortbread”, which as a “bread”, avoided the tax. Sounds like Scottish history to me, and I’m happy to count this among my genetics.

Cheesecake: I looked at several recipes and settled on an adaptation of this one:
https://bakerbynature.com/extra-rich-and-creamy-cheesecake/

I chose this one as a starting point because I wanted a lighter cheesecake, like the ones at Badolina’s in Houston. The heavier, more traditional recipes include sour cream, and I wanted a creamier flavor and texture. Also, for traditional recipes, use of a mixer is discouraged, to produce a denser cake.

To fill four ramiken dishes, I used this ratio of ingredients:

One pkg cream cheese, 8 oz., softened (not cooked) in the microwave
3/8 cup sugar (yes, you will have to estimate)
1 large egg
2.5 tablespoons of heavy cream
1 tsp. vanilla

Whip the cream cheese first, then add the cream and egg. As soon as the mixture is not quite homogenized, add the flavor and sugar. I used a handheld mixer. (Don’t overmix.) This produced some lightness without being fluffy. Tip: melt the cream cheese in a 4-cup Pyrex measuring cup and you can blend the rest of the ingredients into the same dish afterward.

I put the cookies in each ramekin, then filled to near the top. I baked at 350 for 45 mins. on a cookie sheet, with a larger baking pan below containing about half an inch of water. These rise like a souffle, but settle if disturbed before they are fully baked. I checked the dishes at about 40 mins. and wibbled to see whether the mixture had set, then baked for about 5 mins. longer. In some environments, the baking time may need to be decreased. The texture should not be stiff from overbaking. I cooled, then stored these in the refrigerator for a few hours, covered.

While the cakes were baking, I made the praline sauce. The pecan pie recipes didn’t look quite right as a topping, so I started with this praline sauce recipe:
https://southernshelle.com/bourbon-pecan-topping/

and modified as follows:

2 tblsp. unsalted butter
3 tblsp. dark brown sugar
1/2 tsp. light corn syrup
2 tblsp. heavy cream
1 tsp. Cook’s English toffee flavoring
Sprinkling of salt
1/2 cup pecans

Stir all but the pecans in a small saucepan on the low side of medium heat, then add the pecans. Heat while stirring at a temperature that won’t scorch the sugars. Watch for the sauce to have a heavy, very slow drip from the edge of a spoon, but don’t crystalize to the point of forming a thread. I used a small Correlle dish on a glass cooktop. The glazed dish could also be used for storage, avoiding metals which can cause flavor change, and it could be easily reheated on the cooktop in the same dish for a warm topping on a cool cheesecake. I covered the top of two cakes liberally, then put the rest in the refrigerator for later.

These were so delicious that it was hard to wait! And with about 8″ of snow on the ground, , while Grace O bounds and races then sits and gazes at scenery, it is a good time to meddle in the kitchen again.

For additional snowed-in ideas, try the “In the kitchen” category link:
https://thebigfootclub.com/category/homeaccomodations/in-the-kitchen/

*For the most delectable result, pecans should be purchased at harvest and kept frozen or used while fresh. Some pecan varieties oxidize more rapidly than others. Elliott is a good variety for this use.

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Happy Christmas 2025!

It is a brilliant, cold morning on the outskirts of southwest Missouri, with a north breeze and a total of 9 degrees. “9” is the favorite Newfoundland number here, and Grace fully embraced that. When I took her out to relieve herself, which of course was not a quick trip, on the way back she began studying a bird. Grace, as Holly was, is fascinated with creatures that can fly. She continued her sky-gazing with reservation about going back inside, while I was a lot more interested in going back inside. I finally looked up, and the bird circling directly over our house was a Bald Eagle!

We have a few of those, and apparently there is a nest in the vicinity. It is unfortunate for the smaller birds who are cold-stressed and not moving as quickly. I had gone out to feed them, since one by the patio was clearly impaired, and I may have unintentionally set up a Bald Eagle feeding station. That happens for cats too.

When we came inside, Grace could no longer contain her energy. She had been pleasant and somewhat quiet before going outside, but temperature drops, as we all know, have a trigger effect on a Newf. She bolted upstairs, crashing through the closed sliding doors into the entry area. [Note to self: need something more reliable than the lock on those doors.] She bounded onto a bed and stated with ample clarity that it was time to get out and do something FUN! (her version of fun) It is a good thing that the vacuum battery died last night before I finished in the entry, with leaves being brought inside on her coat. Her free-access yard is blocked off until the new grass grows, but she can exercise in the south yard by going on-leash through the entry. Her blasting power was tripled! I played Stick with her (keep-away), and as usual, I cheat. I pick up a different stick, so she wants that one instead. Then I switch again. Racing past me with rocket power, the brilliance of the sun was reflected in motion off her shiny black coat. This was beautiful to watch. It would have been lovely to have taken pictures, but my attention was fully on Grace. She began getting closer as she passed, and the stick was long. I hesitated a couple of times, but she cleared me with ease. She has learned to balance long sticks in the center of her mouth, and tilt them sideways along her body. Maybe she would be a candidate for FastCAT. I hesitate to train Newfs for high-speed racing, but when she plays in the yard, that is the first thing she wants to do.

Her stamina was inversely proportional to the temperature. After a while, I went back inside. Grace stayed out and went on patrol as I watched. She spotted Greg outside feeding the young bull and raced to where she could get a batter vantage point, then back after he moved. After a while, I convinced her to come in by asking whether she was getting hungry. She was the only house member still outside, so it was an easier sell.

. . . I wonder what she will think about flying reindeer.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane?

Inside, the sun through a crystal gave Grace’s coat a little more artistic presentation:

Sunlight through window with prism
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