Corgi-Speak, Upright Do

And now for the interpretative part of the show:

If you find yourself among a group of excited corgi owners, it's handy to be able to translate what the hell they are saying. So here's Finnegan's short list of some common terms used in Corgi-Speak.

Corgum: A pack of corgis. If you find yourself amid a corgum, be certain you do not have a peanut butter cookie anywhere upon your person. They will take you down and lick you. At which point you will require a rain poncho.

Corgi-Nation: A wild, wonderful pack of corgi owners devoted to all aspects of this breed.

Derp: The Derp is the googly facial expression corgis get when they are completely relaxed and happy. It includes the sideways lolling tongue, shiny, crazy, I-don't need-caffeine googly eyes, and a wide smile. It has been spotted on an upside down corgi from time to time. Snap a photo. This is also referred to as "derping" and "derpy".

Drummies: From the side, a corgi's hind legs resemble turkey drumsticks, hence "Drummies". (Because corgi owners must amuse-ify a word before they will commit it to corgi-speak.)

Fluffy: This is one hirsute corgi. A corgi so fluffy that an entire fall lineup of sweaters could be knitted from a single shedding. Plus, it's very pretty. Corgi owners love to see a stumpy fluffy sashaying down the avenue like she owns it.

Floofeh Pants: A corgi with an especially fluffy butt. The rest of him may not qualify as "Fluffy" so his cute butt gets its own designation. Also referred to as "Fluffeh", because it's just more fun to say it this way.

Frap: Frequent Random Acts of Play. When used as a verb one says "Finnegan is frapping in circles around the kitchen." If your corgi is frapping, you must either join in regardless of the stares of concerned citizens, or you must run for the hills. There are no other options.

Mind-Meld: The corgi mind-meld is a stare so persistent, so insistent, so laser-beam focused that it puts german shepherds to shame. Really. You will do what the corgi wants. No questions asked. (There is some wild speculation that George Lucas might have used the corgi mind-meld as the inspiration for the Jedi Mind Trick. But we haven't been able to confirm this. It would be cool, though.)

Momo: Corgi owners in Japan have been heard referring to their corgi's plump little bottoms as "momo" because of their resemblance to peaches. Finnegan gives great momo. See photo below.

Nubbin: The widget of a tail on many corgis. See photo above. One difference between a Cardigan corgi and a Pembroke corgi is that Cardigans have a tail and Pembrokes often do not because it was docked or they were born without one. More corgi owners are now opting to leave the tails intact, which we think is a wonderful idea. Confused? Think of it in clothing terms: a Cardigan has a sleeve (tail) and a Pembroke is sleeveless (nubbin tail).

Upright: A human. Corgis keep uprights as pets. Uprights are taught useful tricks such as giving the corgi treats, chesties (chest scratches to make their hind leg thump super fast), and belly rubs. Uprights are responsible for making certain that corgis get the choicest spot on the bed and that they are tucked in each night. Uprights are required to engage in random games of Monster, where they must chase the corgi throughout their home for no apparent reason. Corgis also like to practice their mad herding skills upon their Uprights. Nothing is more fun than pushing an Upright into a wall when she is carrying a hot cup of coffee. Uprights are required to drive the corgi places so he can get his window sniffs. They must walk the corgi in beautiful meadows so he can hunt for organic snacks like kitty poo and allow him to roll in dead, smelly things. And Uprights are under strict orders to never, ever allow the vet to use a thermometer.

Finnegan and his Upright hope you have enjoyed this brief lesson in Corgi-Speak. Go forth and frap freely! And someone call George Lucas and ask him about that whole Jedi Mind Trick thingy, would ya? Finnegan thinks it would up his cool quotient. Well, he also has a thing for Wookies, but we won't get into that here.

Time and The Chew Bone

For three days running she watched Finnegan covet a new chew bone. Trotting around behind her, carrying it everywhere she went, he dropped it each time she sat down and snatched it back up each time she stood. She was always off to fetch another file folder or pad of paper or pen or her mind.
"Why don't you just gnaw at it?" she finally asked.
"I'm waiting."
"Waiting?"
"For you."
She hunkered down in front of him.
"Sorry kiddo, I'm not following you. What do I have to do with you chewing a bone?"
"I like to wait until you settle in with a good book. Then I know you aren't going anywhere for awhile. So I can dig in and just hang out with you. You've got your book, I've got my bone, and we're just living in the moment."
"You wait days for me to be able to stop and pick up a book so that you can enjoy your treat?"
"I can wait. We corgis are always patient when it comes to getting what we want."
She leaned over and gave the side of his face a soft caress. Time, it would seem, had an entirely different meaning for him than it did for her. Finnegan's clock was expansive; he had room to breathe and ponder, to sit within the tick-tock, tick-tock of the moment, knowing that his patience would bring him something meaningful.
She pondered time as a physical entity clothed in moving air, sunrise to sunset, past-present-future, tick-tock! And there it was, the realization that the seconds filling up her life shouldn't be overlooked as if they were only important in terms of minutes or hours. No. Each second was a breath, a blink, a smile. Each second actually comprised whole parts of her being, as it did his.
Patience had never failed to bring great gifts into her life before, so why had she forgotten that of late? The big brown eyes were pinned to her, expectant, shining, happy. And patient, always patient. He looked at her like she was his biggest gift. And then she understood. She was.
"My little Buddha Boy." She whispered.
"Oh! Siddhartha loved corgis! Did I ever tell you about the time...hey, hey where are you going?"
"To get a book."

In Which We Celebrate National Dog Day (sort of).

"It's National Dog Day, Finnegan."
"It should be National Corgi Day."
"Not much for diversity, are you?"
"Other dogs are ok. But we're special. Corgis are descended from wolves!"
"Um. I think all dogs are descendants of wolves."
He gave her The Look of Offense and retreated to the far side of the room where he curled up on his special blanket.
"Mean human. Penelope knows we're special. Ask her!" he grumbled.
She grinned. Oh, the ego of the corgi. She chuckled and let him sulk, knowing that the very second she rustled the bag of peanut butter cookies all would be forgiven. In the meantime, a poem:

General wolf rules for life by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D. from "Women Who Run With the Wolves".

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Which Finnegan Begins Dating

Finnegan met an older woman. A blonde with a cute wiggle and a fluffy butt. Penelope, the fairest corgi of them all. Oh dear. Young corgi love. There was a great deal of mutual waggling and sniffing and play bows and then the embarrassing moment when his human had to pull him off the little darling.
"You mustn't do that. You just met!"
"We're dogs. Courtship takes three minutes. After that we're pretty comfortable."
"Well, I'm not!"
"Aw, come on. Look at her! She's adorable!"
"Yes. Adorable. But you need to treat her like a lady."
"Dogs are different, just so you understand."
"I do understand. But is it too much to ask that you display some manners? I'd like to remain on speaking terms with her human. Being polite is important."
He cocked his head and regarded her with serious eyes. Her request wasn't outrageous. Silly, yes, but not outrageous. These human creatures had some odd rules, dancing anxiously around topics that corgis just simply met head on. Interesting.
"Ok. I shall treat the fair Penelope as my muse. Hey, do we have any volumes of Shakespeare lying around? He was a kid with a flair for pretty words. I could use some good quotes."
She blinked. And then she held her breath. How the heck did he know about Shakespeare?
"You don't want to know," he laughingly woofed over his shoulder, reading her mind again. "You don't want to know!"
Finnegan loped away from her, back to where Penelope was sniffing rabbit droppings among a patch of wild yellow daisies. Clearly, Shakespeare was another topic for another day. She went back and sat down at the picnic table. She made friendly conversation with Penelope's father while observing her boy romping about in the sun with his new girlfriend. And in that moment she had an inkling of how every mom feels the moment her son experiences that first serious crush. Oh. My. God. It was going to be a long summer.

Own Your Joy.

Molly left on a Tuesday morning, sitting on the front seat of a big yellow Ryder moving van. It felt as if the sunshine was momentarily sucked out of the day. Finnegan noticed the dejected tilt of his human's head. Trotting over he pushed his muzzle between her shins, pressing hard against her with his shoulders.
"Human Woman," he whispered. "Tell me what you learned."
"Oh, Finnie," she sighed, reaching an index finger down to his right ear, curling it around the velvety edge the way he liked. "So very much. She wasn't even my dog! But she charged into my heart and knocked me over with her joy."
"And?" He pushed a little harder, wanting her to speak the lesson out loud.
"She taught me to own my joy."
"Yes? Do you get it now?"
He backed up, giving her his full attention. He knew her love for Molly, the little gold and white corgi she had been walking for a friend, had never detracted from her love for him. Molly simply arrived to hammer home the lesson he had been trying to teach his human all year long. Her hands shook as she petted him. Her eyes filled with the shine of tears but something more, the shine of certainty. She nodded and scritched at his white ruff. He wiggled into her fingers, loving the feel of it. They both chuckled. Then she told him what he wanted to hear.
"Molly showed me her best. Every. Single. Second. She lived her joy because she owned it. When I was with her, it was the most incredible, kinetic energy between us. She truly lived in the moment. And being in the moment with Molly felt like sunshine. It dawned on me that I had that same sunshine in me. But I cover it up. To protect it from unhappy people in my life. And that was my 'Get'. The moment I understood it's time to own my joy out loud. Time to start walking away from snipers, the way Molly turns her back on unfriendly dogs and just keeps going. So each day I ask myself, 'What would Molly do?' and I know the answer at once!"
"Own your joy!" Finnegan woofed.
She nodded and her smile lit up his world. "Exactly. Be a Molly. Fluff your tail."
"Well...um," he glanced over his shoulder at his nub. "If you have one."
"Each of us has a tail, Finnie, it just takes some of us a little longer to wag it."
He sat and smiled up at her. Finally, she understood what corgis already know. You are you. Get out there and get going. Walk forward. Hold your head up and fluff your tail or your nub or your ass. If someone takes a swipe at you, just keep walking. Because there's a Molly right around the next corner, wanting to meet you, greet you, play with you, and share your sunshine.

Playing to Be You.

It was grey and cold for a Saturday in May. The temperature had not yet hit 50 and she was bundled up in a sweatshirt, light jacket and her winter gloves. Finnegan loved the cooler air and was trotting briskly along, nose tilted up to catch all the best sniffs. As they wandered over to his favorite stand of juniper trees, two young women jogged past, huffing and red-cheeked. One of them laughed, "I am so fat! I can feel my hips bouncing!" The other woman gasped, "I am soooo jonesing for a cheeseburger! Can we go get lunch after this torture?" "Oh, hell yes! I think we are due a reward for all this agony!" Came the breathless reply.

They jogged out of hearing. 

Finnegan, finished up his business, kicked the grass behind him and muttered, "Why do you humans always do that?"
"Do what? Jog?"

"No. Tell yourselves, 'I'm fat' or 'I'm stupid' or....well, all of those negative messages."

"Well. I suppose because we think it's true."

Finn tugged hard on the leash, pulling her off the curb and back onto the road.

"Is it? Do you think you're a fat person?"

She took a deep breath. It suddenly struck her that she was about to say yes. She would gain a few pounds and feel horribly uncomfortable. Then lose them. But in hindsight, four pounds here and there were nothing compared to the extra pounds those women were struggling to lose. And yet, she didn't look at them and think they were 'fat'. They were just women. So why would she consider herself fat?

"Your rules are so strange," Finnegan woofed at her. "Human women always talk about how 'fat' they are, even when they look like they could actually use a good sandwich."

"You're right. It's ingrained in our society. We learn to buy into the message."
"Regardless of whether you really are fat?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Do you think you're stupid?"

"No. Other people do."

They both chuckled. But then he got quiet again, sniffing some long, tumbled grass and a dead blackberry bush.

"Dogs don't think like that."

"Ok. So how do dogs think?"

"We don't. We live. We eat. We sleep. We play. We have sex. And we never, ever, ever care about the size of our hips. Or yours. Because we're just happy to be alive. I mean, we looooove to eat, but we love all those other activities just as much. Dogs don't waste time doing icky stuff. If those women enjoyed jogging, they wouldn't be thinking about their hips or cheeseburgers. They would simply be feeling good."

"Are you a philosopher today?" She teased.

"No. I think they could have made a happier choice than..."

"Jogging?"

"Yes. I bet if they were line dancing they would be playing like puppies! It's Dog-Think. Do what makes you feel happy and you'll keep coming back for more. Play whenever you can."
"It's not that simple, Finnegan."

He stared up at her in a way that made her feel foolish. Uh oh. Here came the corgi smack-down.

"Everything is simple, Human Woman. Every choice you make is simple when you choose what makes you happy. Being You starts between your ears. C'mon, lets run after those women! I feel like making them smile!"

He darted forward, pulling her feet into motion, and pretty soon they were running zig zags downhill, his tongue lolling, his little legs eating up the earth. They were moving so fast she felt like she was flying along behind him, so she stuck her arms out and pretended to be an airplane, "Zoooooom!" She laughed out loud. He barked. The day suddenly got much, much brighter.

Weird But True.

They were enjoying their nightly jaunt. As they passed a row of porches, a door opened and a woman popped out. She reached her hands down to Finnegan and he wiggled happily over to her, submitting eagerly to her scratches and kisses and baby talk.
And then she stopped and the two of them locked gazes and she murmured, "Uh huh, hmmm, oh,". Then she gave his long back a final calming stroke, straightened and looked at Finn's Human.
"He has so very much to teach you about the world. But you don't know it yet. You will, though. You will."
"I try to listen."
"Try harder."
Finnegan looked up, grinning.
"Yes, Human Woman. Try harder," he teased.
"And he would like some more of those peanut butter cookies you make," the other woman continued. "What shape do you make them in?"
"Uh...round. I use a drinking glass. I don't have a cookie cutter."
The woman looked back down at Finnegan and once again, something unusual passed between them.
"Round is good," she announced. "Nice to see you again."
And she stepped back inside of her apartment. Gone. Just like that. 
Finnegan pulled on his leash.
"Home, Human Woman. Home to my round cookies!"
Weird, she thought, following behind, that was weird. And entirely true.