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Licensed!July 03, 2008 Yesterday West Tisbury dog license #505 was issued to Traveller, gray/white Malamute, age 4 months. Puppies aren't required to be licensed till they're six months old, so Trav is a bit early. He turns six months at the end of August, and by the end of August my brain is usually fried, so I figured earlier was better. You won't see him behind the wheel of a car anytime soon, however. Correct that: You may see him behind the wheel of a gray Mazda pickup, but the pickup will not be moving. If you do see him behind the wheel of a gray Mazda pickup, the pickup is moving, and I am not immediately behind it, call my immediately. This has been the week that Travvy became official. On Monday he had his last puppy shot (for parvo) and had his last less-than-full-size doses of Heartgard (heartworm preventative) and Frontline (flea and tick deterrent). He weighed in at 38.2 pounds. By the end of July we figure he'll be over 44, which is to say big enough for "large dog" Frontline, and probably over 51, which is big enough for "large dog" Heartgard. What Travvy didn't get was fixed. June 30 was going to be his neutering day, but I cancelled in the middle of the month. So his license paperwork identifies him as a MALE DOG / FEMALE DOG, not a SPAYED FEMALE / NEUTERED MALE DOG, and it cost $10, not $6. Trav's registration certificate also arrived this week from the American Kennel Club (AKC). He is officially Masasyu's Fellow Traveller, #WS25848203. Allie's registration certificate is considerably more impressive -- it includes four generations of her pedigree, for one thing, but the AKC wants you to pay extra for that -- but Travvy's has Dad's official name and Mom's on it: Masasyu's Here Comes Trouble and Masasyu's Bound and Determined, respectively, better known as Trouble and Mayhem, also respectively. (I have yet to type "Mayhem" without having it come out "Mayhew" first. One of the perils of living on Martha's Vineyard, where the Mayhews are among the very oldest of European-rooted families here.) I've never had a purebred dog before. So far having a dog with papers doesn't seem much different from having a dog without papers. At one of our visits this spring to Michelle, our vet, a cat owner admired puppy Traveller and asked, "Does he have a breed?" Michelle shook her head, stifling a laugh, and said, "No, no -- you have to ask 'What breed is he?'" With Trav "What breed is he?" has a one-word answer. With Rhodry I had to tell a whole story. I liked telling the story, and I liked it that my beautiful Rhodry had no recognized pedigree whatsoever. People rarely guessed what Rhodry was. Those who did usually identified him by family, not by breed or mixes thereof: "Is that one of the Red Pony puppies?" Which, come to think of it, is like being a Mayhew or a Manter or a Moreis on Martha's Vineyard: it helps people figure out where you're located in time and space. Travvy's kin may be concentrated in upstate New York, but he is most definitely here. He now sits, lies down, comes, and offers his paw for shaking (either paw; you choose). In the last couple of days he's gained proficiency in catching cookies. This should stop his Lab friends from laughing at him. "Where's Travvy?" still brings him running most of the time, but lately at the barn he's been going off with Tilly and several times I've had to go look for him. Other than one (paid) phone bill and an Amstel Light box, he hasn't destroyed anything. The Amstel Light box was his anyway, and no, I don't drink Amstel Light. Don't go starting any rumors.
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