What I've learned about being human from dogs

I’ve learned many lessons in life from dogs; how to be a protector, a nurturer, a friend.  

The day I found Elsa was the day my lessons began. I was 8 years old, and my parents took me to the Summit Festival. As I wandered, I went to where people were gathered under an RV awning. There I saw a wire play pen with nine little furballs in it.

All of the puppies except for one were pressed against the wire, reaching as far as their little legs would stretch, trying to make their way into someone’s arms. In the back corner was Elsa. Her black body curled in a ball with a thin, white marking on her face that inspired her middle name, Arrow.

Her gaze was locked onto me. Her eyes demanded my attention. I made my way to her, and as I got close she got up from where she was tucked away and walked to me. Once she was in my arms I knew I wasn’t putting her down. She had chosen me.

Elsa was docile and attentive and full of love to give. There was not a mean streak in her soul. She was my companion and my adventure buddy. She pulled me in my plastic sled in the snow, she stood with me at the bus stop, she licked my tears away. She was my first best friend.

Although she was the ideal dog in the house or on the leash, she was a born runner. When a door was left open it was as if a switch flipped and she was driven to bolt through it.

It became apparent that she wasn’t running “away” from us. She was rather running around us, seeking freedom and opportunity like so many humans do. She always stayed within eyesight of the house, coming home when she was ready, sometimes days later.

Through her running I learned that sometimes we are compelled to follow our instincts. She tested my dedication to her time and time again. Even though I wanted to be mad at her, I accepted her with open arms every time she came home.

Elsa taught me that friends are always your friends no matter where they go or how long you have been apart. She taught me that if you love someone you forgive their flaws. She taught me that no one is perfect, even if they appear to be. She taught me patience and understanding.

It was because of Elsa that I found Sirrus. A neighbor admired our bond and told me of a friend who had puppies that needed a special home. The puppies weren’t like other puppies, she said.

Sirrus’ dad was purebred gray wolf, standing almost 5 feet tall with long legs, a slender body, and a mane like a lion. Her mom was half Mexican red wolf and half Rothweiler. Because of who she was born to, Sirrus would be outcasted from most family homes and was an unwelcomed resident of the Bay Area county in which I lived.

She was the only one of the litter that was stuck like glue to our ankles when we met her. It was clear, once again, I was chosen by my four-legged friend. We were to be her pack, and our duty to protect her had begun.

Because her coloring could pass as a German Shepherd mix, that was our cover story when people asked. When we brought her to the vet for the first time they saw her long, curved canines. We may have been able to hide what she was from others, but the vet knew her secret. We were lucky they didn’t confiscate and euthanize her as the county rule said they should.

Sirrus grew to the spitting image of a red wolf, petite and only 40 pounds. She was the most loyal, responsive, and intelligent “dog” I’ve ever known. The level in which she communicated with us was beyond anything I’ve experienced before. She was adored by everyone who knew her.

We spent her lifetime protecting her from people that associated “her kind” with characteristics she did not have. She was not vengeful or intimidating. She was kind and gentle. Never did she display aggression to us, Elsa, or any other dog.

Sirrus taught me that we are not always what people expect us to be. That we can learn to see past labels. She taught me how to stand up for those that need an advocate. She taught me that everyone should have a chance to be loved. She taught me compassion and acceptance.

I’ve been fortunate to learn how to be a better member of society because of my dogs. I believe their pure, unwavering devotion can teach us all valuable lessons about being the best version of ourselves.

Saddle up, it's rodeo time!

The tradition began 64 years ago when the first frolic was organized in 1953. As the event grew, in 1983 the rodeo was added, creating what is now the regionally renowned Philomath Frolic and Rodeo.

With over 5,000 tickets sold each year, not including attendees under the age of 6, the event now attracts more people than the town's population, and is its largest annual event.

In the past year, there has been uncertainty about the future of the Frolic and Rodeo because of possible land use restrictions, leaving many community members wondering about its longevity. But the tradition will continue now that Paul and Lola Skirvin have donated the 15-acre property used for the grounds to the city.

Now that the future is certain, the event's board of executives needs volunteers to help during the weekends leading up to and during the event. This year’s Frolic and Rodeo will be held July 6 - 9.

With the transfer of land ownership, there is now means to start putting money into improvements. Chris Workman, city manager and president of the event's executive board, is currently mapping out a five-year facilities plan for prioritizing upgrades.

“The lights, the grandstands—those are the big ticket items,” he said. “You don’t replace those things if you don’t know if you’re going to be here. Now we can do those things.”

To attract visitors from all walks of life, organizers have continued their focus on adding special events to the festivities. This year's new event added to the schedule is a freestyle bull riding contest.

“It’s basically like Spanish spear fighting without the spears,” said Workman.

The bulls used in the competition are Mexican bulls, smaller and more aggressive than other breeds. The competition includes distracting with colorful cloth, dodging the charging bull, and jumping over the bull. Points will be given for performance, style, and for not getting run over by the bull.

Thirty bull riders will travel to Philomath from Texas, Colorado, Washington, and greater Oregon. With a grand prize of around $4,000, stiff competition is expected as well as a showcase of talent, all from the Northwest Professional Rodeo Association.

“This is a new rodeo event nationwide and we’re right on the fringe in Oregon,” said Workman. “This will be the largest bull riding event in Oregon ever, and there will be three national champions of Oregon here.”

With organizers working towards a goal of keeping the Frolic and Rodeo true to its tradition, they also aim to keep it fresh and fun.

“Everything we do is looking at the fan experience and trying to improve it,” said Workman.

With that in mind, organizers have decided to move vendors behind the grandstands, reducing walk and wait time. Beer will also be allowed in the stands, eliminating the need to gather in the beer garden away from friends or family.

To help manage lines in the entrance area, tickets sales will now be available online. Tickets can be printed at home or scanned from one’s phone at the entrance. Buying tickets online includes a reduction in price and free parking.

Care has also been put into scheduling events to ensure they are not overlapping each other, another complaint organizers have heard and addressed.

A fan favorite—the fish rodeo—will be back. Two-hundred tickets will be available to catch 12-inch trout by hand. Organizers want volunteers to design merchandise for the event.

“We could have shirts that say ‘no hook, no pull, no problem,'” Workman said.

The amount of time spent is up to each volunteer. Pulling weeds, trimming trees, mowing fields, or preparing facilities are all on the list of things to do.

“There’s always chores to be done,” said Darrell Hinchberger, vice president of management on the executive board. “I don’t think we’ve ever said no to anyone; everyone is welcome.”

For more information or to volunteer, contact Chris Workman at pfr.president@gmail.com.

Exclusive: Can Font, Spanish cuisine in the Pacific Northwest

Willamette Life Media had the chance to celebrate the highly anticipated arrival of Portland’s newest restaurant, Can Font. On May 31, with an exclusive tasting of Chef Joseph Vidal’s specialty menu, we were among invited guests experiencing the restaurant before its June 3 opening.

The self-described “traditional Spanish cuisine with avant-garde Mediterranean flair” is the sister location of Spain’s famed restaurant of the same name. Located just outside of Barcelona, Can Font is included on the 2016 and 2017 Michelin restaurant guide’s Bib Gourmand, a list focused on high-value restaurants. Portland’s sister location will mimic many of the same dishes.

Located in the Pearl District’s Cosmopolitan Building, its floor to ceiling windows, accent mirrors, and white table cloths create a refined space of openness and class. A thoughtful design of woven woodwork on the ceilings lined with oversized light bulbs similar to strung lights on a trellis, holds the appeal of an intimate indoor patio.

Owned by acclaimed Executive Chef Joseph Vidal, he has partnered with Portland-based restaurateur Vladimir Zaharchook to bring the Catalonian dining experience to the Pacific Northwest.

Before the night’s five course meal was served, Zaharchook stood before guests as they sipped on Cava, Spain’s sparkling wine.

“I always was a dreamer and I always try to convert my dreams into reality,” he said. “When I see people eating and drinking I always enjoy myself. I’m proud to say one of the best cities in the United States, one of the coolest in the United States, has our presence now.”

The evening’s meal included sliced potatoes with sheep’s milk cheese and langostino; canelones stuffed with black truffles, chicken, beef, pork, and foie gras; squid ink paella; duck confit and seared duck magret; and Catalan custard with an almond biscotti.

Textures were smooth and rich and exquisite. Everything was cooked to perfection, and sudden bursts of flavor came from creamy, savory sauces that delicately adorned the dishes such as aioli, piquillo pepper sauce, orange infused demi-glace, and pear puree.

The space includes a tapas bar, open view of the kitchen, and a dining floor for about 60. Turquoise accent walls channel a classic Mediterranean feel, and a mural wall captures the essence of Spain. With their shared passion for innovation and a rich culinary experience, the duo have created a unique, must-have dining experience.

Can Font will be open for lunch and dinner and available for catering. With plans to change the menu several times a month, the selections of fresh seafood, locally-sourced produce, and a rotation of rice, pasta, and paella dishes will certainly wow guests for many years to come.

Cammo, machetes and pyros: Camping to remember

With the recent three-day Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start of camping season has begun. I embrace the chance to sit under the stars, soak up the beauty of the night sky, and experience the sights and sounds that surround me.

Camping can be quite entertaining, but that entertainment doesn’t always come from around the campfire. It sometimes comes from people-watching opportunities. With no walls of a home separating us from one another, people often still act as if no one can see them despite being in plain site. Their antics can be comical or a little crazy at times, but either way, they make for good stories.

I had one such experience at Moonshine Park last summer.

It was a hot weekend, one of the hottest we had. Temperatures were over 100 degrees, even though we had expected to escape the valley to cooler weather. Spending much time laying under the canopy of a tree trying to beat the heat, a series of odd events made for a good show.

The first was the arrival of a man with one arm in a sling and his very pregnant companion. She seemed about to burst and he looked to have seen better days. After watching him struggle to put up their tent, he began to pump up their air mattress. He had a handheld pump, and with only one arm, it was difficult for him to maneuver and hold it steady. She was of little help.

With each pump it hardly seemed the man was making progress. After we had enough of watching his battle, we offered our leaf blower which doubles as an air pump and souped-up fire blower. He was grateful, and his mattress was ready in minutes. However, the mattress apparently had a hole, and each morning he would come to our site and ask to use the blower again. We had opened our non-existent door to our neighbors.

Then there was a group of boys, maybe around 10 years old. They kept appearing at vacant sites to start fires in the pits. They would gather whatever they could find on the ground to build them, have their fun, and walk away. But they would leave the fires burning, which as you can imagine in 100 degree heat is not the best idea, so a few times we went over to stifle the fires. We wondered where their parents were.

Periodically there was a shirtless man with a machete. He was not the camp host we had encountered when buying firewood. He appeared to just be a camper. We watched him several times whacking at blackberries and brush along the banks that lined the campsites. He made sounds which added drama to the activity, and his efforts piqued our curiosity. We didn’t expect to see a man channeling Danny Trejo in Moonshine Park.

Through all the commotion of firestarters and bushwackers, there was a relentless barking dog. Every few minutes, the dog, who was tied to a table across the campground, would bark insistently. All the while, the owners sat, talking around their fire as if they couldn’t hear it, or didn’t care to. I wondered why someone would allow such behavior in a place with no walls.

Among all the chaos there was a wedding in an open field below the sites. We watched as the young couple said “I do.” The groom was wearing cammo.

Come morning, as campers would pack and head back to where they came from, we would watch as a mad dash to collect left-behind firewood began. If a neighboring camper wasn’t quick enough, like clockwork, the camp host would appear in his golf cart and swoop up the wood to resell to the next camper. Both smart and sneaky, I thought.

The park may have had an interesting cast of characters the weekend we were there, but it won’t stop us from going back. I imagine in the next couple months we will find ourselves at the river’s edge; sitting on smooth, warm rocks in the middle of the current, lounging on float tubes, hiding in the shade of a tree, and staring at the night sky. Camping, after all, is made for exactly that. And even though you never know what company you will find yourself surrounded by, that, to me, is the fun in the gamble of camping.