Guest Blogger: Flyin' Over the Pole

My email this afternoon updating family re the flight path of Charlie's flight to Hong Kong from the northeast United States declares unabashedly: "The plane is now entering Canada near the VT/NH border as it wends its way over the North Pole. He’s off!”

With respect and giggles from the Doodle Brothers Momma (AKA Charlie's musically talented auntie and fellow Harvard alum) comes this modern today rendition of a 1960s tune by Arlo. Apologies Mr. Guthrie ... but this land is your land, this land is my land ... and so is this song!

Coming in from BOSTON
From over the pole
Flying in a big airliner
Wi-Fi playing everywhere around the plane
Could we ever feel much finer?

CHORUS:

Coming into Asia’s Jardines
Bringing in a can of sardines
Don't touch my chips or my beans
Mister Customs Man

There's a guy with a ticket to Hong Kong Bay
No, he couldn't look much stranger
Biking through the hall with his red rickshaw
Smiling, said he was a Mao Ranger

CHORUS

What a trip. I’m right there with him, along with “Major John to flight control . . . “I want it!!!!! I want it!!!!! I want it!!!!! I want it!!!!!”

Cheers ... and not even a little whiff of the poppies, Dorothy!

Guest Post by Bailey: The Doodle Brothers

Earlier this week I was the guest of the faboo Doodle Brothers.

You know them. Mes cousines. Part Labrador (like me). Part poodle (oh la la). They don't shed. I do. Profusely. They don't smell. I do. Like a wet dog sometimes. Other times not so bad 'cause my Momma keeps me brushed and clean. Did I tell you I love my Momma? I do.

The salt and pepper of Labradoodles. The Oreo cookie my Momma likes to dunk at the island in Grandbobbie's kitchen.

My most favorite cousins ... except the other Bailey in Santa Cruz whom I know I'd adore if we ever met. But hey, my Momma has not sent me by aeroplane anywhere. And, for the record, I'd be so scared anyway. The car caravan from backwoods Georgia was enough to kill me. But that is another story.

Momma and Charlie took me for a RIDE. The best kind. It was all the way to the Boston suburbs. I knew something was up when she took off my pink buzz collar. She only does that when I go to Uncle Tom's Cabin, my kennel in Lyman, OR to see my favorite cousins, Fillmore and Truman. Having my boy, Charlie, there pushed the points up to nearly 100. Perfection!

You might think they are named for American presidents, but noooooooooo way. Fillmore is the rock palace in San Francisco where my Uncle Kenny's most favorite grateful dead played and played and played for days at a time in the 1960s. Truman is a Jim Carrey film. Not too sure about that one. Both names are hard to remember. But, hey, I don't need to. All I have to do is bow down and yip and it's play play play until this ol' lady tires out.

It was the bestest time. Running and drooling like it is 2004 when I was a pup. Auntie Robin had to put me and the baby, Tru, in the same crate so we'd settle down. This ol' lady still has some fire in her belly. Even though my titties hand to my knees from having too many litters too fast. That scoundrel Shadow was always making me do the nasty. But that was then.

This is now. I love the Doodle Brothers. They love me. Next time they are coming to visit in Maine. If my Momma invites them. I'll start working on her now. A girl has to dream her dreams.

Woof!