did you know that atlas is my vice president and creative director?

well, he is, and he decided it was time he created his very own offering.

if you are a fan of his silliness and wisdom, you will want to read his letter to you.

For one thing, it hasn’t happened yet.

For another, it doesn’t involve travel.

But it is the story of a fearful adventure.

One of the many ideas that takes up space in my head is a photo series. The working title is “Dear Atlas, I’m sorry I loved William Wegman”. My vision involves a series of photos of people and weimaraners in which the people are beautifully and creatively costumed and the weimaraners are beautifully and simply themselves.

If you’ve been around for a while, you probably know that the idea was inspired by my love for William Wegman’s photos as well as by my dear Atlas and his extreme distaste for anything resembling a costume, like hats or antlers or twinkly lights.

My vision is clear. I know just the right photographer to bring the idea to life. My sense is that the idea itself is fun and creative and clever and has a great deal of potential.

And yet I have not done anything with the idea at all.

I tell myself that I’m not doing anything with it because the time isn’t right, because I have more important things to work on, because I’m not inspired.

In truth, it has nothing to do with any of that.

The real reason I am not working on the idea is fear: I am afraid to be the person I would have to become in order to execute it.

I like ideas that involve just me. This idea does not. I would want to find other people with weimaraners to participate. I would need to crowd-source the money. I would want to ask William Wegman for ideas.

I like ideas that are small and manageable. This idea is not. It involves other people and clever stubborn energetic weimaraners. I don’t know what the end result of my vision should be (a book? prints?) which is something I would need to know in order to decide on funding reward options.

I like being the one behind the camera, not the one in front of it, and I am not particularly fond of costumes.

In order to execute my idea, I would need to grow, to become bigger and better. I would need to become more visible. These are not bad things. But just because something is good for you doesn’t mean it’s not scary.

I am sharing this story of my as-yet-not-taken fearful adventure in order to hold myself accountable.

The idea is in honor of my beloved weimaraner Atlas. He is not getting any younger. I want to take action on it now, even if my actions are small and even if the idea grows and changes along the way.

I also know what can be gained by acting on things that both inspire and scare me. I left a great job to be an artist even though I was absolutely terrified; I still feel a little bit of fear every single day but my world is so much richer because of it. I hiked the Inca trail to Machu Picchu instead of taking the train even though I was absolutely terrified I was going to die of altitude sickness; when I reached Dead Woman’s Pass on the second day, I felt exhilarated, and I knew that I would doubt myself and my capabilities a little less in the future because of it.

Even though I am still afraid, I am ready for this idea to change my world too.

This post is part of the My Fearful Adventure series, which is celebrating the launch of Torre DeRoche’s debut book Love with a Chance of Drowning, a true adventure story about one girl’s leap into the deep end of her fears.

“Wow, what a book. Exciting. Dramatic. Honest. Torre DeRoche is an author to follow.” Australian Associated Press

“… a story about conquering the fears that keep you from living your dreams.” Nomadicmatt.com

“In her debut, DeRoche has penned such a beautiful, thrilling story you’ll have to remind yourself it’s not fiction.” Courier Mail

Find out more…

have i ever told you that i read to atlas and tell him stories?

i do.

he loves it. he watches me for a while and then he sighs happily and closes his eyes while his entire body relaxes.

i don’t know why i’ve never talked about this before. i have long thought that reading to dogs is a lovely practice.

it seems like such a simple and easy way for dogs and people to quietly connect.

dogs like attention and affection. talking to them in a normal tone of voice is a way of giving them your attention while keeping them calm. the trouble is that it can be hard to talk to your dog for long; they don’t talk back and one-sided conversations aren’t much fun. reading to them is a great way around this.

you know how i got started? an animal communicator was talking to atlas and he told her that he liked it when i read stories to him at night. except i wasn’t reading to him at all. i read exceptionally fast so i had been reading a book aloud (beowulf, i think) as a way to slow myself down.

after that, i started reading out loud deliberately, just so he could enjoy it. not all the time, but often. (oh my. i just remembered when i tried to read him the craggy hole in my heart and the cat who fixed it. i thought it would be perfect. only i cried so hard through the whole book that i could barely get the words out.)

i also tell atlas stories, usually in the evening, when he’s quietly napping on the bed or in his crate. i sit next to him on the bed or lie in front of the crate and tell him a story. often, they are true stories. favorites include the story of how he came to live with me or the story of how he chased a rabbit and then i sprained my ankle or stories that involve squirrels and kitties.

so yes, reading to dogs. i am a fan. if you have a dog, do try it and report back!

if you don’t know what to read to your dog or you want something special, check out the story club.

(poor atlas. he looked at me so sweetly but instead of getting a story, he got a camera in his face.)

remember when i told you that there were all those cute agreeable good-natured dogs posing happily for their people in the tulip fields and mine wasn’t one of them?

in the first two photos, atlas was attempting to rush me. in the last three, i tried to make him stop and stand still, just for a second, so he looked everywhere but at me while trying to sneak by me anyway.

can you see the spray of drool in the last photo? that’s how quickly he moved his head past me. he really is a creature of movement. i wonder if this is a weim thing.

by the way, all of this took place in less than three minutes. i need the arm strength of an amazon and the speed of a jungle cat to live with this dog. i have the first. clearly i’m still working on the second.

i was actually going to title this post the evolution of  a nickname until i saw these photos.

why? yesterday, atlas acquired a new nickname: waffles.

wondering how on earth he got that one? easy. it went from woof-y to wuffy to wuffles to ruffles (have ridges) back to wuffles to waffles.

all those cute agreeable good-natured dogs posing happily for their people in the tulip fields – and this is what i get. (if you can’t tell, this is the tail end of a yawn.)

to be fair, i am only realizing now that he must have been staring into the sun. no wonder i had such a hard time getting him to look at me.

i love him anyway. and in our next life, when i am the dog and he is the photographer, i will try to make up for it and pose agreeably for him, at least once or twice.

if you were a fly on the wall, you would hear silly (one-sided) conversations with atlas that sound like this:

“i love you so much, atlas. you are the cutest puppy ever. i don’t know what i would do without you. well, that’s not entirely true. i would do the same things i do with you, only without you.”

or this:

“atlas, sweetie, i love you more than all the gold in china. is there even gold in china? i should look that up. there’s probably tea. i love you more than all the tea in china. except i don’t love tea.”

or this, sung to the tune of the brady bunch theme song:

“you are my puppy, my little puppy. you are the cutest little puppy in the world. you are oh so sweet. how i love you. even though you aren’t a girl.” (the last line changes. another popular choice is “even though you have a tail”.)

on atlas’s birthday, i found a spot on the trail where he could run free for a moment. i had been trying to take a birthday picture but he was very uncooperative; either he wouldn’t look at me, or he made faces at me with his ears. he really doesn’t like having to stand still. i guess i can’t blame him. anyway, i finally gave up and captured him in motion instead.

it makes me extra-happy to see him racing up and down the trails. not that i didn’t enjoy it before, but now it’s doubly enjoyable because it means his foot is hale and hearty.

dear atlas,

today, you are ten years old. can you believe it?

i don’t know how we’ll celebrate, but i’m guessing we’ll do what we always do, which means i’ll take you for a hike and then to the kitty store for a treat. (just between us, i suspect that if you try to sneak a second pig ear from the bin today, i won’t make you put it back.)

did you know that when i took this picture, you were two years old? if it weren’t for the silver hairs on your chin and your general disapproval of bouncy puppies, i’d think you hadn’t aged a day.

i loved you then and i love you now.

i love you when you escape out the front door and ignore me when i call you. i love you when you eat something gross and then smile open-mouthed at me so i can smell it. i love you when you kick me in your sleep. i love you when you have an accident in the house and i have to clean it up. i love you when you pull on your leash. i love you when you forget our “no barking in elizabeth’s ear in the car” policy and bark in my ear in the car. i love you when you are wet and muddy. i love you when you wake me up three times in the night to go to the bathroom and i am bleary-eyed and cross and incoherent.

i love you when you see that i’m crying and come and sit in front of me with wide eyes. i love you when you let out a contented sigh and close your eyes because i sat down on the bed next to you in the evening with a book. i love you when you race down the stairs because i asked you if you want to go on a hike or go on an adventure. i love you when you rest your head on the armrest in the car and stare at me while i’m driving. i love you when you bound back and forth on the trails and then stop in front of me with a giant smile. i love you when you steal and eat the empty toilet-paper roll.

you are the best four-legged buddy in the world. you are silly and saucy and serious and stubborn and smart and you can run circles around me even with a splint on your leg.

when i first saw you, my heart cracked open, and i have never been the same. you have taught me so much about life and love and i am a better and bigger person because of you.

happy birthday, my dear puppy. i love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the fish in the sea. i hope you know that, today and always.

a week or so before atlas turns 10, shall we see what he looked like as a puppy, nine short-long years ago?

look at that – he looked exactly the same. he even had the same expression when i tried to play william wegman with him.

i forgot to show you a picture of atlas and his thanksgiving dinner!

if atlas were writing this post, he would say, “look at my empty bowl. there was a giant turkey and an entire table full of food and they didn’t give me any of it. poor me. i was so hungry.”

ha.

first of all, he eats at the speed of lightning. i don’t think he even chews his food. i had my camera ready before i gave him his bowl and i still couldn’t capture it. second of all, he ate about three dinners. amy fed him turkey while she was carving it. i gave him his bowl of food before we ate. while we ate, he wandered – happy and drooling – back and forth between amy and me, the two people he knew would feed him.

speaking of things atlas would say, here is another one of his opinions: “people don’t bring bread for the ducks. they bring bread for me!” you know, because the ducks are well-fed and he is not. if there are no ducks and people around, i let him eat it, mostly because i’m not convinced that bread is good for ducks.

want to know just how much atlas loves food? he doesn’t like water. he will only rarely go into the water after me, his favorite person. but once, he walked right into the pond to get a tiny piece of bread.

in order of love, it goes kitties, food, then me.