related to Emma. She is CH Jazzland's Embraceable You. Emma's claim to fame is that she went R.W.B. at the National. 1 I'll send you her pedigree. She is the product of an outcross. Sire is AM/CAN CH Braemal's Alyeska Tuaq, and dam is Jazzland's Fly Me to the Moon. 2 I want to go back into the dogs on the mother's side of the pedigree, and those are the dogs that are in Rowdy's pedigree. Any chance you could send a video of him?
I want a standard size stud, no bigger than 26", good coat, good bone, dark, obliquely set eyes, little ears, a PERFECT tail set, and EFFORTLESS movement. Emma and Howie (her brother, CH Jazzland's How High the Moon) regularly run through the woods on our property. They cruise at top speed over fallen trees, rocks, and shrubs, and their top-lines barely move. They look like they are flat out on a ROAD. They absolutely float. I love to watch them.
Cindy
Jazzland Alaskan Malamutes
WAMAL—WA Alaskan Malamute Adoption League—
President
AMAL—Alaskan Malamute Assistance League—WA
Chapter 11
Rowdy and I next accompanied Ceci to the park about two weeks later. It was early on a Thursday morning. Very early. Too early. So far, Dr. Foote had provided no cure for my predawn insomnia, and since dogs don’t suffer from the symptom, I had no idea how to rid myself of it. The only remotely applicable home remedy I could think of was the ridiculous notion that babies who sleep all day and stay awake all night can be made to reverse the cycle by being held by their heels and whirled around in the air. Absurd! But spun around by my heels was more or less the way I felt when Ceci and I were in the middle of the field with her dog group and she finally had the opportunity to introduce me to the much-talked-about eligible gentleman, Douglas.
I’ll begin my own introduction of Douglas by saying that his dog, Ulysses, was a large, silly-looking mix of what were probably a dozen breeds, most of them scent hounds, including bloodhound, basset, and black-and-tan. Ulysses was long and tall, with floppy ears and an improbable coat consisting of blotches, tufts, and bristles. His predominant color was grayish brown, but a brown splotched with large white splashes and dotted, spotted, and ticked with shades of black. He looked like a long-haired dog who’d been shaved to the skin some months earlier and had then had the misfortune to stand next to someone who spilled a gallon jug of bleach on him. Ulysses’ soulful basset eyes were his best feature. His nose never wandered far from the ground.
Ulysses’ owner, or in park parlance, his daddy, was a pleasant-looking fortyish man, about five ten, with blue eyes and a fading tan. Sound familiar? If not, it will. When I’d seen him before, he’d worn a suit. Now, he’d apparently been running. He had on gray sweatpants, a gray sweatshirt, and expensive running shoes, white with turquoise flame-shaped decorations, probably intended to connote speed. I studied his shoes for a few seconds. It was easier than meeting his gaze. When I raised my eyes, we exchanged knowing smiles. Douglas and I had something in common. We were both in therapy with Dr. Foote.
“I’m so glad that you two have finally had a chance to meet,” Ceci gushed. “I knew that Holly would just love—”
I held my breath.
“—Ulysses,” she finished, to my great relief.
“Ulysses is wonderful,” I said to Douglas. “He’s”—I sought the right word—“unique.”
Douglas’s eyes twinkled. “He’s that. Your dog is beautiful.”
Rowdy was again enjoying the privilege of accompanying me. I hate to play favorites. Most of the time, I take both dogs everywhere. But if Zsa Zsa tackled Kimi? There wasn’t going to be an if, not with Kimi at home. “Thank you,” I said. “He’s a good boy.” Standing at my side, his eyes fixed on me, Rowdy wagged his perfect tail.
Douglas was beginning to reply, but a horrendous noise drowned him out. If every horrendous noise I’d
I want a standard size stud, no bigger than 26", good coat, good bone, dark, obliquely set eyes, little ears, a PERFECT tail set, and EFFORTLESS movement. Emma and Howie (her brother, CH Jazzland's How High the Moon) regularly run through the woods on our property. They cruise at top speed over fallen trees, rocks, and shrubs, and their top-lines barely move. They look like they are flat out on a ROAD. They absolutely float. I love to watch them.
Cindy
Jazzland Alaskan Malamutes
WAMAL—WA Alaskan Malamute Adoption League—
President
AMAL—Alaskan Malamute Assistance League—WA
Chapter 11
Rowdy and I next accompanied Ceci to the park about two weeks later. It was early on a Thursday morning. Very early. Too early. So far, Dr. Foote had provided no cure for my predawn insomnia, and since dogs don’t suffer from the symptom, I had no idea how to rid myself of it. The only remotely applicable home remedy I could think of was the ridiculous notion that babies who sleep all day and stay awake all night can be made to reverse the cycle by being held by their heels and whirled around in the air. Absurd! But spun around by my heels was more or less the way I felt when Ceci and I were in the middle of the field with her dog group and she finally had the opportunity to introduce me to the much-talked-about eligible gentleman, Douglas.
I’ll begin my own introduction of Douglas by saying that his dog, Ulysses, was a large, silly-looking mix of what were probably a dozen breeds, most of them scent hounds, including bloodhound, basset, and black-and-tan. Ulysses was long and tall, with floppy ears and an improbable coat consisting of blotches, tufts, and bristles. His predominant color was grayish brown, but a brown splotched with large white splashes and dotted, spotted, and ticked with shades of black. He looked like a long-haired dog who’d been shaved to the skin some months earlier and had then had the misfortune to stand next to someone who spilled a gallon jug of bleach on him. Ulysses’ soulful basset eyes were his best feature. His nose never wandered far from the ground.
Ulysses’ owner, or in park parlance, his daddy, was a pleasant-looking fortyish man, about five ten, with blue eyes and a fading tan. Sound familiar? If not, it will. When I’d seen him before, he’d worn a suit. Now, he’d apparently been running. He had on gray sweatpants, a gray sweatshirt, and expensive running shoes, white with turquoise flame-shaped decorations, probably intended to connote speed. I studied his shoes for a few seconds. It was easier than meeting his gaze. When I raised my eyes, we exchanged knowing smiles. Douglas and I had something in common. We were both in therapy with Dr. Foote.
“I’m so glad that you two have finally had a chance to meet,” Ceci gushed. “I knew that Holly would just love—”
I held my breath.
“—Ulysses,” she finished, to my great relief.
“Ulysses is wonderful,” I said to Douglas. “He’s”—I sought the right word—“unique.”
Douglas’s eyes twinkled. “He’s that. Your dog is beautiful.”
Rowdy was again enjoying the privilege of accompanying me. I hate to play favorites. Most of the time, I take both dogs everywhere. But if Zsa Zsa tackled Kimi? There wasn’t going to be an if, not with Kimi at home. “Thank you,” I said. “He’s a good boy.” Standing at my side, his eyes fixed on me, Rowdy wagged his perfect tail.
Douglas was beginning to reply, but a horrendous noise drowned him out. If every horrendous noise I’d
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