Karen and I and Lylah drove to West Union, Ohio on St. Patrick’s Day and bought an eight-week-old Newfoundland puppy from Herb Erwin, a fast-talking farmer/realtor/auctioneer who rules a huge roost , not to mention a whole gang of roosters. A surreal scene, indeed, when our yuppie Odyssey pulled up, zippered “crate” from Target in tow to transport the pup back 250 miles north.

Karen and I came across Herb’s farm following a barn sale sign in mid-January, when we spent a weekend at Murphin Ridge Inn, a fabulous b&b a few miles from Herb’s. We met the Newfoundland elders, the great landseer Madison (a landseer is a genetic rarity, a Newfoundland with a black head and black-and-white body) and Madison’s “wife,” all-black Katy.
Madison was our first view when we pulled into the driveway that sunny January day, and I liked him: funky, big, matted, very calm, very kind - and beautiful. So when we saw Katy, gigantic with imminent litter, we told Herb we’d like a puppy when she dropped. The one we got was the last, a girl, black with a white tuft on her chest and chin and a dash of white on a paw (or is it two)? We brought her back north with minimum fuss - yes, there was whining, but it was moderate - and when Lylah’s sister Katy saw her, she went nuts. So has everybody else who’s seen her, and we had a gang of visitors over this Easter weekend.

The Newfie girl’s name is Pearl Marie; settling on the moniker wasn’t easy, but it works and everybody agreed on it. Pearl, or Pearly, is very calm and friendly. She barks occasionally; she seems already kind of housetrained, as she goes outside to pee and poop and really, really likes to play in the snow. At eight weeks, she weighs 18 pounds. I suspect she’ll easily top 100, and she’s going to be hairy and drooly. But I already love her, and look forward to hanging out with her a lot.

The crate Karen bought in advance of the puppy is one to grow in for sure. It occupies a goodly portion of our family room, and Pearl already seems comfortable with it. I plan to take her for a walk today and see how she fares with that (Karen tells me it’s tricky). I also hope the cats settle down about Pearl; they seem not only scared but downright hostile, particularly Elliott, who’s done his best to avoid the dog. Her curiosity keeps the engagement going, however. Pearl Marie feels like a peaceable kingdom unto herself.

Karen and I are traveling to West Union, Ohio tomorrow, then driving back with a fresh cargo: a Newfoundland puppy, yet to be named. It’ll be a girl, one of seven born to Katy and Madison, a happy and productive Newfoundland couple at Herb Erwin’s sprawling, wacky farm.

Violetta, the Russian hottie who commandeers our biweekly house cleanings, told me yesterday Newfoundlands are sloppy and high-maintenance and big. I kind of sensed this and hope I can handle that. Our last dog, Ramona, certainly qualified on maintenance and sloppy (she was cute, too). But this Newfoundland will be a new dimension, not only in size but also in intelligence. Madison, the dog that got me to renege on my pledge last year to never own a dog again, seems really bright and affectionate and responsive, and Karen has vowed to train our imminent dog well and deeply and to be responsible for her. Names under consideration include Louise, Belle and Pearl. Any ideas? 

On another issue: the elections. My last blog was Obama time, which I still think it is. I also think it’s Democrat time, or liberal time, or shift time. It’s a year of wrenching changes, one in which the economy is a tilt-a-whirl, unpredictable and way shaky. Time for a new perspective, for a greener, more collaborative world. My parents raised me to be idealistic, and for them, Jewish immigrants escaping Hitler, America meant hope and opportunity. I wonder what they would think now. I hope the Democratic Party gets through this competition to be the best and the brightest – Obama and Hillary are both  formidable candidates and indisputably smart – so Obama can lead a ticket that not merely reflects today’s constituency but moves it to a higher plane. Is he perfect? No, no candidate is. But he seems to confront his imperfections with unusual grace and in so doing, speak to our better nature. Here’s hoping.