Charlie’s Corner

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie admits to a doggie weakness and decides on his Halloween costume.  A lot of people have been talking about how this past pandemic year has elicited time for greater introspection which in turn has yielded inner growth, and in some cases, monumental shifts or major life changes. Not to be left behind, I would also like to report such findings.  In my personal case, it has resulted in greater self-honesty. Specifically, I have finally come to grips with the fact that I have fears.  This may come as a surprise to those of your who think that I am particularly stalwart, as I boldly share the inner workings of my doggie mind and put myself out there so transparently every month in my column. But yes, full disclosure. One of my canine foibles is that I try to hide my fears. And in particular, I have a phobia of… spiders.  I have never mentioned this before to anyone, so this is a vulnerable moment for me. But alas, spiders make my fluffy coat stand on end. It’s especially nerve wracking for me because I walk in the grass where they often live, and I don’t wear shoes, so I might accidentally step on one. Or one might crawl on me without my noticing (ewwww).  I’m also waaaay closer to the ground than you humans, so at times I’ve found myself face to face with their beady eight eyes (shudder), and all of their fangs (yikes)!  I know that some humans share my fears, so it’s nice to know I’m not alone. However, I’m having a hard time accepting that this is a phobia of mine. Personally, I feel that as a pooch, I should be cooler with other animalian or insect brethren, because you know, for the most part, we canines don’t share traits with other humans that could make you all more squeamish of spiders and us less so— things like cultural conditioning around cleanliness (rolling in the mud anyone?); the sense of keeping the great outdoors outside of your living space; talking (I said for the most part, remember?).  But I am never one to let something detain me from my doggie happiness or passion for building community for very long— whether it’s a personal foible, some needed research, or extricating myself from an unsavory love match. So I decided to empower myself to combat this great fear and asked the Wizard of Oz what to do. Just kidding; I did something even better— I Googled it.   In my searching, I discovered a psychological technique called cognitive behavioral therapy which can help neutralize the intense fear and anxiety that people feel in certain situations. The technique aims to change behavioral responses to stimuli and improve emotional regulation.  I could definitely use some emotional regulation when facing an 8-eyed hairy, mini-monster, so sign me up. But how specifically to achieve that zen-like state? A little more investigating and I discovered something called exposure therapy. With this, you expose someone to whatever it is that they fear, but in small doses and safe environments, consistently, until they build a tolerance.  Since my doggie brain usually keeps me firmly locked in the now moment, I’m not sure how well this will work. But hopefully something like potty training, because that I definitely can do, thank you very much.  After some pondering, I decided on a course of action to behave more like a normal doggie, undaunted by spiders. Life is on my side my friends. As it’s Halloween this month— the season when we all tend to get a little more up close and personal with things spooky and macabre— I’ll be sure to have consistent exposure to those fuzzy arachnoids.  Plus, what better way to face my fears from a place of safety than to impersonate one for my costume? It’s such an easy get-up too. I’m already furry— I just have to dye myself black and add double the amount of legs I already have; and four times the number of eyes. Perhaps adopting the traits of my great nemesis will help me have greater compassion and appreciation for them. Who knows, we may even become friends! What do you think?  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie turns his pen to other matters besides his column, as he works on strengthening his burgeoning doggie-pen-pal friendship with Ludovico. For those of your who skipped the introduction to my column this month (I won’t judge you I promise, I sometimes skip intros too), this month I’ve been plotting the contents of my return epistle to my new pen-pal friend, Ludovico. (If you’re out to sea about who Ludovico is, you can catch up on the fun here.)  As I took my daily walk today, I contemplated all the news I could share with Ludovico, as well as the questions I wanted to ask. And by the end of my perambulatory exercises, I had drafted this. You’ll have to give me your feedback, but I think it’s a decent start.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ciao Ludovico, (I learned that that’s the informal way Italians say hello and goodbye so I’m excited to use it.)  I’m so excited that you and your people found my bottle, and even more excited that upon seeing how grimy it was you decided to touch it. You really are fearless! I think it sounds like so much fun that you have a boat. I live by the ocean too, but neither me nor my people have one. I’m not sure if I’d be afraid of boating or not, but I appreciate your offer to calm my nerves, as in general I can be rather anxious. I’ve been told by my vet that I shake because I’m a small dog, but I think the anxiety is compounded by my over-achieving personality and attempt to recall all the rules of grammar when writing my column (which I write on a monthly basis).  For example, I simply cannot remember if the above sentence should read, “me nor my people” or “I nor my people.” But yes, my column! I have my very own in the Coastal Insider, our area’s most engaging, informative and fun publication, and I’m darn proud of it. I remind people and pets how to play well together. I also go on adventures and misadventures and share my reflections on life, the universe and Myrtle Beach.  People are delighted to be privy to the fascinating inner-workings of my doggie-mind. I also adore people in general, maybe because they adore me. Either way, it’s a complete circle of love in which people love to pet me and shower me with compliments like, “Aren’t you adorable!” and I just soak it up like a happy little doggie sponge and shine my light and happiness back on them. It’s a win-win.  I’d love to hear more about Positano. What is it like? Do you have any tasty Italian recipes you can share with me? What do you do with all the fish you and your people catch? What sorts of secrets do you have— are they yours, or are you the repository of others’ secrets? What do you do for fun?  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So now all I have to do is roll it up and send it back in the bottle overseas. Hopefully Ludovico is still fishing with his folks and it will find its way back to him.  Perhaps we should consider a more modern method of communication.  I think that’s a good plan. I’ll include my address so he can mail me a letter back.  After all, this is the contemporary age, an era when dogs can have their own columns and you can buy things like kumquats at the grocery store.  Until next time, 

Read all about Charlie’s adventures!
by Melissa LaScaleia

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month Charlie gets used to life as an elephant dog, and goes on a quest with Juliano to find a solution to his physiognomy. Continued from last month. Click here to read.  I’m unclear if my new physique as an elephant dog is permanent unless Juliano can figure out how to undo what he did. But given his track record, I feel safer staying as I am rather than risking any further alterations to my manly doggie form.  I feel psychologically uneasy however, by a sudden desire to eat leaves rather than salmon. Juliano is crestfallen, and I’m motivated to move. We need to find someone to help me change shape, and get rid of the baby chicks before I accidentally step on one.  There seem to be a lot of creatures in Snowglobe world with unusual talents— and I think our best plan is to head for the palace and see if Spring has any ideas. Juliano agrees, though neither one of us knows where it is. We head off on a hike for several hours (accompanied by the chicks), my desire for bamboo shoots escalating by the minute. Now it seems we’ve entered a different part of the forest. Everything seems more gentle and there’s a homey kind of warmth to it. There are azalea bushes growing, even though they are covered in snow. The trees here are craggy, with little hidey-holes tucked amongst there roots. I slow down, feeling confident we’re about to meet someone. And we do. A pretty little nose twitches investigatively from the confines of one of the boroughs, followed by a spectacular set of velvet-looking ears and a plump torso. A petite bunny emerges fully and stops and stares at us and our retinue. She cocks her head to one side inquiringly, and then falls to the ground, laughing so hard she’s crying. I must look waaay worse than I thought. “What are you!?” she manages at last. “I am an elephant dog,” I reply, surprised by how calmly I am able to utter the words. “And this, is Juliano, the leprechaun.” This sets her off again, and I’m unclear if it’s leftover mirth from my appearance, Juliano’s name, the chicks, or all of it.  “How did this happen?” she asks.  Juliano again becomes crestfallen and even I feel put out.  Seeing our faces, she interjects: “Let me guess. Two boys got together and decided to play with magic and this was the result?” Unable to deny the truth of her words, we look sheepishly at the ground and she again bursts into fits of laughter.  “Well, you’re in luck today, for real,” she emphasizes. “Because I think I can help you out of your jam.” We both perk up at those words.  “Really? How?” I ask. “I am the Easter Bunny,” she declares airily. “And everyone knows that I’m magic. I can put you back to rights. But it will cost you.” “Alright,” I say swallowing hard, and preparing myself mentally for what she might demand.  Will she want all my dog treats? Or worse, to dress me up too?! But I ultimately decide that life as me with some restrictions is better than eating trees forever as a hybrid mammal.  “Please put me back.” “Close your eyes,” she instructs me. As I do, I feel my nose beginning to shrink, and suddenly I feel familiar again. “Yippee!,” I exclaim, “I’m me again!” Juliano is as overjoyed and relieved as I am. “How can we ever repay you?” he asks. “I can grant you three wishes…” “Good grief no!” she says laughingly. “I’d like that tutu. And the baby chicks. I need some help laying all the eggs I have to deliver for Easter. And pink is my favorite color. Plus the ruffles suit me.” “Absolutely!” We both exclaim at once.  All’s well that ends well, I guess, and everything can be appreciated by someone out there. Until next time, To be continued. Click here to read…

As we all know, Charlie has been having a RUFF time since he got himself trapped in the snowglobe, and it isn’t getting any easier this month after meeting up with a leprechaun.

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month finds Charlie still savoring the magical pleasures of his Snowglobe world, when he encounters a potential Valentine’s Day suitor.   Continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1.  “Yes! Pleaaaaase,” I reply. “We have every flavor you could possible want,” Spring gushes. “Pumpkinvanillachickenroastedpotatobrussellsproutbeethamburgerlimabeancheddarcheeserosemarytunafisholivecoffeespinach.” “Wow!” I say. “That sounds a little gross. Spinach?” “Ice cream is the only thing we eat here, so it comes in every flavor of food that there is,” she says. “And antioxidants are important.” After much deliberation I settle on chicken and parsnips ice cream with lemon soufflé flavored ice cream for dessert. It’s actually delicious, and tastes smoother than I thought it was possible for chicken to taste. Spring takes me deeper inside her palace where the winter festival celebrations are in full swing. People are sledding down hallways and stairs and ice skating around rooms. I join in the party to crawl through mini igloo tunnels, and build snow forts and lay siege to our opponents by pouring hot cocoa over their ramparts. It’s so much fun I don’t even notice the passage of time. Until…someone has their eye on me. Valentine’s Day must be approaching, or I’m even more dashing than I thought. It is Petunia, the 900 lb polar bear. And she has decided that I am to be her paramour. I’m snacking on a salmon and steak tartare ice cream with a side of creme brûlée ice cream, when we meet. “Oh!” she exclaims, stopping dead in her tracks, “Mais Oui! But zee are zee cutest little thing I have ever seen! You are mine.” And so saying, she scoops me up in her considerable paws, and presses me to her bosom. In addition to whatever other objections I might harbor from such a match (is she merely excited to eat me!?) in her ardor, she has squashed my ice cream by sitting on it, after I unceremoniously flung it in sheer terror at her approach.  Petunia does not seem to notice my chagrin at the loss of my salmon special, probably because she is suffocating me in her embrace, muffling my yips of protest. “Never have I zeen such a coat of fur! Zee rival only moi meme for whiteness and sleekness,” she cries.   I have to hand it to her, she does have a point; I am very attractive. But before I can say anything, Petunia has bounded away with me back to her home in the forest, chattering away…in French…? Polar bears speak French? How did this escape me? I spend the duration of the journey attempting to extract large tufts of fur from my mouth, and finally give up. When we arrive at her home, she draws a bath and unceremoniously tumbles me in. I feel a bit affronted. I pride myself on my excellent hygiene. Also all this is rather personal for a first meeting; bath time is a private matter, and we haven’t even discussed our common likes yet. Then she pulls out a scrub brush and gets to work on me. I sigh in resignation, and hiccup a bath bubble. This is no ice cream experience for sure, but at least it’s warm. But it’s after bath time that my silent horror takes hold. Petunia, I realize, does not have romantic intentions with me. It’s much worse than even that.  She thinks I’m her new doll! She blow-dries my fur and begins to fluff and brush and braid it, adding bows, clips and ribbons, applying bright red blush to the fur around my cheeks. All the while chattering away, and giving me a fierce growl every time I attempt to protest. By the time she adorns me in a vibrant pink tutu and pearls, I’ve had it. We are definitely not compatible.  To be continued… Until next time, Click here to read Part 3. 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month Charlie gets up close and personal with one of his Christmas presents and enters a world of his dreams. Well, I survived another holiday season because I didn’t eat a poinsettia so that’s a plus. And I got this nifty snow globe as a gift this year. When I stare at it, it’s as if it transports me into the intricate world inside the glass.  My globe has a castle that looks like it’s made of ice. If you get very close, you can see tiny people too, and a polar bear walking around the periphery. There are tall pines covered in snow— actually everything is— and the visual is quite striking.  This is a gift with lasting value, let me tell you. With all of us spending more time at home these days, I while away the hours gently shaking my globe, watching the snow fall and musing about the world inside and speculating about whether everyone eats ice cream for dinner regularly or if they’re too busy worrying about frostbite prevention. I just got back from a walk in the park and it’s time for a nap. I like to take my snow globe to bed with me. I give it a shake and watch as the snow gently swirls around, lulling me as I drift … off… to sleep… Whoa! I awake with a start. It feels like I’ve just been shot out of a cannon. I look down and gadzooks! Everything around me is as white as me and I’m swirling in the white and it’s swirling, and what on earth, am I floating? Through the air?! The answer, is yes. I am floating. But for some reason I don’t feel frightened, or like I weigh as much as I know I do (plus I’m sure I put on a few pounds over the holidays what with the roast turkey and all the cookies I snuck).  Suddenly something else comes into focus. It’s tall and thin and majestic, and it looks like the ice palace from my snow globe. And it is! There are all the people gathered on the balcony, waving at me, and the polar bear is on the outskirts of the forest.  Wow! I’m actually inside my snowglobe. This is great; take me to the ice cream. The snow around me seems to be lessening, and I’m gently drifting now onto the balcony amidst the clamoring people. I just love fans.  Suddenly a very beautiful woman with grey skin and grey hair and a long grey dress comes forward and plucks me from the sky where I’m gracefully wafting. I know there’s magic afoot because I’m definitely not graceful. “Charlie! Welcome!” she says, and her voice sounds like the tinkling of little bells, or icicles falling.  The people around her cheer, and for a moment I hope earnestly that I haven’t manifested myself into the wrong fairytale and that these people aren’t all excited about eating me. “I am Spring, Queen of the World-Inside-the-Snowglobe. We summoned you here to join us for our annual winter festival, and to thank you. Every time you shake our world and snow falls around us, you nourish us. Just as you cannot live without the sun in your world, in our world, we cannot live without snow falling around us. If you didn’t shake it up, we would become unhealthy and die away. You give us life Charlie. So we wanted to thank you and ask you to please never stop shaking our snow-globe world.” “I promise always to shake your world,” I say solemnly, mentally putting it on my to-do list along with watering my plants. It’s an awesome feeling to be responsible for something that is dependent on you entirely. “Thank you Charlie!” she cries. “Now we want to show you our world. Would you like some ice cream?” I just know that I’ve died and gone to heaven.  Until next time, Continued next month. Click here to read Part 2. 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions.

This month, Charlie dons his chef hat, and gets ready to create some Thanksgiving traditions of his own.

This month, Charlie gets in the Halloween spirit with ghosts and goblins and enjoying all that the fall season has to offer.

Take a peek at what Charlie is up to in this September Edition! Have HAPPAW-day!

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month, Charlie takes up a new hobby and sets his sights on the stars.   Every August or thereabouts I get fanciful and tend to wax poetical about that phrase, the dog days of summer (the nomenclature of which I still can’t decide if I find offensive or flattering). According to some accounts, these days were so dubbed because traditionally they were so hot that dogs went mad.  Now if that’s really the case, I should find it neither offensive nor flattering but alarming, especially since I’m little and overheat easily.  But, nonetheless, I do feel a certain affinity with these days, and I think it’s because the star Sirius, the dog star, rises and sets with the sun during this time.  This peaked my curiosity about other celestial bodies, and I decided to take up learning about the stars as a hobby. It seemed like a good idea because I am spending more time at home these days, (since people are going out less, and that means I am too). One of the great things about having your own column, besides having lots of fans and admirers that is, is having the ability to write about anything I want. So this month folks— it’s all about looking at the night sky.  Something about gazing up at the darkened sky at night from my balcony just as my canine ancestors did for centuries before me, as well as my humans’ ancestors, gives me goosebumps.  It’s the same sky. For millennium. Except everything on earth looks completely different. It just seems mind boggling to me.  Well, technically it’s not quite the same in the sky, because all those planets and stars and asteroids and galaxies are rotating and moving and shifting. But still, when you look through a telescope today, even though everything is in constant motion, you’re seeing a very similar thing that someone would have seen back in the days of the Ancient Greeks or Persians. I wonder if Alexander the Great ever used a telescope, or if he left it up to his royal astrologers?  If you’re just starting out, like me, it can be fun to look at the moon every night to trace its journey from new moon (mostly dark) to full (bright and shiny). For me, and I assume many, it’s the easiest thing to identify in the sky, and you don’t need a telescope. Ever since I started doing this, I became fascinated to see just how much it changes on a day-by-day basis. This August, I’ve heard that you can spot the planets Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, without a telescope. I can’t wait to try to find them.  You can also spot the planets in the early morning hours if staying up late isn’t your thing. There is something about peering through the end of a telescope though, that makes me feel like I’m getting smarter. It opens up an entirely new world visually.  These planets are there all the time, with rings and colors, even during the daylight hours, but we can’t see them. It fills me with awe and a great appreciation for how beautiful life on earth and from earth is. And some nights, I just enjoy curling up on a blanket and star gazing with the naked eye.  My favorite part is when I spot a falling star, and I witness it shoot across the sky. That’s when I make a wish.  I usually wish for bacon-flavored dog biscuits, but it alternates with my wish for world peace depending on how many dog biscuits I’ve had that day. I can’t wait to share with you all I’ve discovered in the sky next month. And you can share with me too! Come find me on Facebook and let me know what your favorite star gazing experience is. Until next time,  

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month, Charlie gets feisty, and fights for his rights to be the top table-snitching, snack-picking pooch at the party. “Summer is officially in high swing. I just love the change of the seasons, but the reason why I love July is right up there with why I love other holidays. Two words for you (and no they aren’t belly rubs). They are table scraps. Yes, the advent of high summer season is the advent of grilling season, and all that glorious meat on the bones, that one way or another, will find its way into my belly.  Usually I just look cute, and people give it to me (I’m hoping I age well or otherwise I’m done for), but there’s something about locating and snatching it when no one is looking that just completes me in a way I can’t explain. It makes me quite giddy just writing about it. So now here we are with our small little gathering for this year’s Independence Day celebrations. And boy am I excited. Burgers and chicken, and maybe even a suckling pig? I don’t think anyone eats that but in my fantasies there is one. There’s also watermelon, and little cupcakes, none of which thrill me that much, but they do others, which means more meat and bones for me. Yum. While I’m lolling about waiting for the festivities to commence (read: someone to drop something, or the first full and abandoned plate), I’m lying out on my back patio near the potted plants soaking up some sun and feeling the anticipation build. When suddenly, ah, ah, ACHOO! Something just crawled across my nose. Boy did that tickle. Good thing I sneezed it away.  As I look around to check on the food status, I hear a voice: “Herbert! Oh Herbert, are you okay?” Huh? Who’s Herbert? I hope he’s not in charge of the grill if there’s potential he’s not ok. I look around the other direction, and I see… two ants. One sort of curled in a ball. As I put my nose closer to investigate, there’s an indignant: “You brute! Get away! Oh I knew this was a terrible idea!” “What?!” I exclaim. “Are you speaking to me? I’m generally known as a charming ladies-man and lover of belly rubs with a refined palette, but certainly not a brute.” “Your violent wind expulsion from your nose nearly killed Herbert when we were on our way to the picnic,” the little ant cried in misery. At this point, Herbert seemed to recover, because he uncurled himself with a, “I’m fine Flo, just settle down now. Maybe the nice dog can give us some tips.” “Well, I’m sorry for the accident,” I reply graciously, but you walked across my nose, and I had an automatic reaction. What sort of tips would you like?” “Well, we’re looking for an in to the party so we can get all of our extremities on some digs,” Herbert explains. “Uh…. No. Nope. Sorry, no can do,” I reply flatly. “I’m the top-dog here, and the only scrap-snitching, plate-licking life form on four legs at this party. There’s definitely no room to share.” At this, Herbert and Flo look crestfallen as much as two ants, one partially still crumpled, can. Moments pass. Then seconds. Then minutes. Then, I feel like a brute. It conflicts with my self-image. I can’t take it. “Oh all right,” I say. “I guess there’s plenty to go around.” Suddenly, that excitement feels so much more satisfying now that I’m sharing, as I look down at my two new little friends. There’s a plate nearby fresh off the grill, and I invite Herbert and Flo (and their 55 cousins?! What? How did this… Oh well.) over to the table for some plate-licking food-snitching. It’s a party indeed.” Until next time,

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month, Charlie goes on a field trip, and takes us all along for the ride in an of-the-moment account. Yaaaawwwwnnnnn. What a lovely morning. I feel so peaceful and self-indulgent today (more so than usual even), that I think I’ll call into the office and take a personal day and just loll about in bed and sniff the new flowering potted plants that are a recent installation on my balcony.  Oh hello, what’s this? My mommy Joanne, is coming over to say hello… with a… grooming brush? I thought it was time for some snuggles and maybe a long belly rub. The perfect addition to my already perfect plan for my day. But what’s with the brush? I always get groomed at night, never the morning. Unless. Oh no. This could only mean one thing.  NOOOOOO. No. No. NO. No. No vet visit. Not today. I’m not psychologically and mentally prepared for this. I need more time. I just need it to be any other day except today. Perhaps tomorrow, when I’m actually going to work. At least can it be raining? My mommy seems to sense my resistance, and has a little smile on her face. Is she laughing at my distress? Humph. I am seriously. Put. Out. Well, I knew it. After a quick breakfast we’re heading to the car for a ride. Ordinarily I’d be excited about this, but not today. You know, there should be some type of law against interrupting a dog’s personal day with a vet visit. Talk about the short end of the stick. Ugh. Guess my life can’t be perfect. I’ll just sit here and put on my most woefully doggie expression I can muster. The one that melts hearts and wins me fans for life. It’s not working. She’s just smiling contentedly and patting my head. Yeah, sure, easy for you to be relaxed and content. It’s not you that’s about to be poked and prodded in the most undignified way.  But wait… This isn’t the way to the vet. We’re going in a different direction. But where? Is this some glorious surprise, or am I perhaps, *gasp* being given up for adoption to another family?! NOOOOOOO. I’ll take the vet visit. Take me to the vet! I’m ready! I’ll be a good dog, promise. I’ll never chew Jim’s slippers again. I’ll be a much better writer. Anything but abandonment!  Oh hello. This is not the pound. This is… a law office. And apparently we’re going inside.  Maybe I was overreacting, because it appears my mommy is just taking me on an errand. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time my neurotic disposition has gotten the upper hand of me. Wow, this is a nice lobby. I like it. And hello, what’s this? A new fan club? I guess so!  These people are very happy to see me. The last time I got this much attention, I drank out of the punch bowl at a housewarming party.  This must be my mommy’s office; she’s sitting down at this desk over here.  I get it now, I’m joining her at work today. Well, after my previous suppositions— the vet or the pound— I’ll take anything, and certainly this field trip for the day.  Even though this office isn’t nearly as exciting as the Insider (but frankly what is?) I’ll take it.  Time for a long nap by my mommy’s feet and some belly rubs from passersby. Until next time,

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month, Charlie celebrates all the delights that the May season has to offer and gets in some additional relaxation time inspired by social distancing. “Since we’re all social distancing these days, I’m taking some time to self-pamper a bit more. For me that means extra long naps in the sun; practicing some of my favorite stretches, like downward-facing dog (how could it not be my favorite? My species practically invented it), and the lion’s breath.  Megan also gave me a mud bath (makes my fur extra shiny), and together we tried the old cucumber on the eyes trick— but I got confused and ate mine. Hey, what do you want? I may be literary but I still have my instincts. I now know that cucumbers aren’t really my cuisine d’choice but it’s all part of the journey my friends. Now when I’ve had enough of relaxation, that’s when I settle down with my dog bowl of water and engage in my next favorite thing to do after eating, sleeping, and being loved on— research. May has always felt like a soothing, reassuring kind of month to me. As if it’s saying, ‘don’t worry, all will be well. Summer is on its way just behind me.’ If May had a personality, it would be light, refreshing, upbeat, dancing, and celebratory. So recently, I felt inspired to look a little more deeply at the customs and traditions that people have employed across the ages to usher in this month. Over 2000 years ago and possibly longer than that, the Romans celebrated the advent of May as the start of summer, with a festival called Floralia. This festival celebrated the Roman goddess of flowers, Flora.  As one of the most ancient goddesses, she was also one of the most important, as she was responsible for everything that grew and flourished, and therefore, fed and nourished the people. The festival was marked by dancing, the gathering of flowers, and general merriment, as well as more licentious-themed theatrical performances to further commemorate the importance of fecundity. In time, the festival became an official Roman holiday, with customs and practices that varied but were still centered on the importance of flowers. People would scatter seeds and wore fresh wreaths of flowers in their hair.  The Celts had their spring celebration in the form of Beltane— a word which roughly means “return of the sun.” The long, cold winter months were also dark that far north of the equator. The sun-starved people believed that during the winter months the sun was held prisoner, and only released in the spring and summer to rule the sky. The people would celebrate the sun’s return with fire ceremonies, feasting, and rituals to safeguard the land, people, cattle and crops. It was one of the most significant rituals for the Celts. Over time, these rituals died out to be replaced with the European custom of Maypole dancing on the first of May. Origins of how this practice began are a bit murky, but it easily could have been a natural extension of people gathering, dancing and celebrating.  By the 1300s, it was a popularly entrenched practice amongst the people of the British Isles and continues in some parts of the world to this day. Participants gather around a large pole holding brightly colored ribbons, and dance around it in a circle until the ribbons are wound, and then dance the other direction to unwind them; the action a symbol of the lengthening days.  I just love learning about the ways that ancient people celebrated the seasons. How about you?  What are you doing this May to celebrate the longer days and the blossoming beauty all around us?” Until next time,

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together. This month, Charlie gets ready to frolic, as he revels in the out-of-doors and some quaint springtime traditions. “Springtime is officially here, which in Myrtle Beach just means that it’s nice and balmy kind of like it was last month and kind of like it will be next month too. But why not celebrate our atmospheric good fortune with a tradition that most other people probably enjoy this time of year because they can finally go out of doors and not encounter an arctic blast?  I say let’s stand with our less climactically fortunate brethren and get down and doggie with a good old-fashioned egg hunt. I’m still not sure if I eat eggs, (they just seem a little squirmy to me) and I definitely can’t eat chocolate ones, but that won’t stop me from having a good time hunting around in the grass and bushes and trees with all my friends searching for them. (One plus right now to being a dog is that I don’t have to practice social distancing.) So why do we associate springtime with eggs and egg hunts anyhow? Well, eggs have always acted as important symbols for spring and the ensuing rebirth that occurs amongst foliage and animals— the flowers bloom, grass becomes green, bears and other animals emerge from hibernation, and new life is born. An egg, as a vessel of possibility, serves as a potent reminder of these miraculous feats of nature. During the Middle Ages, people were forbidden to eat eggs during Lent, the Christian holiday leading up to Easter. That religious holiday marked the day that egg-eating could resume, and consequently eggs featured prominently on the menu. It was also an important form of protein for the poorer classes, who couldn’t afford meat (which was most of the population). But it is said that the tradition of the egg hunt dates back to 16th century Germany and Martin Luther. Apparently, the fiery Protestant reformer organized egg hunts for his congregation as some sort of teaching device— kind of like a mnemonic, but with a lot more activity.  Men would hide eggs, and women would go find them— the tableau a re-enactment and reference to Jesus’ death and the discovery of his rebirth by women. I’m not sure if the history of Jesus stuck in people’s minds with greater ease for all the running around and gathering of eggs, but it’s certainly an interesting idea. It’s also one that became more popularized by Queen Victoria of England. The queen’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, was German born, and thus familiar with the old tradition. She first organized an egg hunt at the palace when Victoria was a little girl. The eggs were boiled to cook them and make them less easy to break, and boiled in onion skins to color them a rich golden-brown hue. Yuck! Now I definitely know that I don’t eat eggs. Thank goodness at least that today we have more available color options. Not that those hot pink and aqua blue colors look any more appetizing to me. I think I’ll stick with dog treats. But getting back to the story, egg coloring, and egg hunting trickled down to the masses, and gained in such popularity that fake eggs started being made for hunting, as well as confections in the shape of an egg. Today, egg coloring and hunting is still all the rage. I can’t wait for mine, just for the sport of it. But if you really want to see me excited, then you can send me on a dog-biscuit hunt. Now those I know I’ll eat!” Until next time,   

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well with others. This month, Charlie reinstates his research cap with a leaning towards his mystical side, as he explores the origins of the four-leaf clover. “It’s that time of the year in Myrtle Beach to celebrate everything green. Well, it’s always pretty green here, but spring is decidedly in full sway now, and what makes it that much greener is the celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, and all the people who will be sporting that color as a result of the ensuing parties they’ll attend. Maybe this year I’ll go all out and ask Megan to dye my fur green. After all, it can’t be that harmful since I’m already white to begin with— I can skip the requisite bleaching treatment. I’ll have to ponder that a bit, and will certainly share pictures if I do. But in the meantime, an interesting and note-worthy correlation between St. Patrick’s Day, the color green, and our blossoming landscape, is four-leaf clovers. To get into the St. Paddy’s Day-spirit-of-things, I went hunting around for one in the park across the street. There was so much clover to be found, but they all had three leaves, not four. That got me thinking more about four-leaf clovers in general, and how and why they’re associated with Irish culture and this holiday in particular. And I think you all know where my wonderings take me.    Get excited— it’s research time. To begin, let’s clarify something generally confusing (at least it always was for me, so I’ll assume perhaps it is for you as well) — the difference between a shamrock and a four-leaf clover. A shamrock is just another name for the ubiquitous three-leaf clover found all over Ireland and the United States; a four-leaf clover is a genetic abnormality of the three-leaf clover, and the one that’s associated with luck, and hence, St. Patrick’s Day. Although a little further research reveals that both figure prominently in St. Patricks’ Day legends and celebrations. The legend of the shamrock is shrouded in mystery (which I love)! The plant has always been instrumental to Celtic culture and rituals across the centuries, as the number three was considered spiritually significant and a powerful one. It is said that the Druids placed great import on the shamrock as well. But because the Druids were so secretive and so mystical, the number could have represented a variety of positive spiritual concepts including the sun, moon, and stars; or the earth, sky, and underground, deep within the earth.  At any rate, legend has it that not only was the shamrock already important to the Celts by the time St. Patrick arrived teaching about Christianity, but it was also a visual symbol by which they could more easily understand the esoteric concept of the Christian Trinity of Father, son, and Holy Spirit in one form. As far as four-leaf clovers go, it’s estimated that for every four-leaf clover there are 10,000 three-leaf clovers. And this little product of nature is packed with some fascinating tales.  According to one legend, Eve, when she was expelled from the Garden of Eden, carried a four-leaf clover with her for luck.  Since she was no longer residing in paradise, she thought she’d need it.  And going back to Celtic beliefs, the four-leaf clover was used to ward off evil, as it was said to magically repel bad luck.  During the Middle Ages, children believed if you carried a four-leaf clover, you would be able to see fairies, and when they found the four-petaled clover, they would search for the fairies in the fields.  It’s safe to assume that since the shamrock with its common three leaves was held in such high regard and esteem spiritually, that having one additional petal would instill that much more luck in the bearer, and became a symbol that was rolled into and accepted as part of St. Patrick’s Day culture.  So which one will you use to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day this year? As for me, I know which one I’ll choose. I love encounters with fairies!”  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well with others.  This February, Charlie delves into the history of Valentine’s Day.  “Ah me, I’m such a die-hard romantic. I get even more blissed out than usual when Valentine’s Day rolls on by and pauses to stay for 24 sweet hours in our calendar of days.  Everything is pink and red and white (just like me!) and sparkly (just like my personality), and so really, what’s not to like?  Even if you don’t have a sweetheart of the romantic persuasion in your life, it’s just a love-filled, heart-centered kind of day. And gosh, that’s the regular M.O. of hippies all the time, so I think one day out of the year for us all collectively to celebrate peace, love, happiness, and sparkly things is a good idea.  And because, in addition to being pink, red, and white (it’s my nose and tongue respectively that are the former two colors by the way, just in case you were wondering), I’m also endlessly inquisitive and just looooooooove research. And I want to find out the origins of this day and how its connection with romance came to be.  …  What a very interesting and colorful lineage. Many historians trace the origins of Valentine’s Day to an ancient pagan festival called Lupercalia, which fell sometime between February 13-15. Although how it initially got started is shrouded in the mists of time, the festival has been traced as far back as the 6th century B.C. and was undoubtedly of Roman origins, as it derives its name from the Latin word for wolf, lupus.  Some have posited that the name of the festival is in deference to and celebration of the legend of Rome’s founding— that a wolf nursed two abandoned baby brothers, Romulus and Remus, who grew to adulthood under her care and went on to birth the great city.  Lupercalia was predominantly a fertility festival, and like most of those, it involved animal sacrifice (yikes!).  Even though I’m a sensitive pooch, and sad and offended by this, I can still understand the culture of the times from a scholarly perspective and let my affront go. Let’s move on.  People ran wild through the streets, as women were offered benedictions which supposedly made them fertile. It is also said that men selected the names of women from a random lottery, and coupled up with them for the duration of the festival. Well, that’s one very interesting way to do it I suppose. Apparently, many couples fell in love and ended up getting married. Fast forward centuries. There was a man named Valentine, who was a Christian in Rome when it wasn’t popular to be one, and the Emperor wasn’t too pleased about it. He threw Valentine in prison until he changed his mind, but Valentine didn’t. So the emperor ordered him executed. As the story goes, he wrote a farewell letter of thanks to the kind daughter of his jailer, signing it, “Your Valentine.”  Time passed, things changed, and by the 5th century it was popular to be Christian and decidedly déclassé to be pagan. So much so, that pagan festivals were being almost universally replaced with Christian religious holy days. Almost anyone who had been martyred was canonized a saint, and they all had days to honor them.  Valentine was one such saint. Pope Gelasius I instated February 14 as “Saint Valentine’s Day” effectively blotting out Lupercalia.  Today, there aren’t any Christian saint’s days which are universally celebrated except the day for Valentine. But this is where my research hat no longer serves me and I must wander into the realm of speculation.  How specifically did this day come to be associated with heart shaped butter cookies and romance? Boxes of chocolates and that special someone? Nobody seems to know, but I sure am glad for this particular evolution. All that running around at Lupercalia would have tired me out. I’d much prefer some sweets and snuggles.”  Until next time,

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie hops on the self-improvement wagon and turns over a new leaf to welcome the New Year. “Happy New Year to all of my fans and followers, as well as everyone else who isn’t a fan or follower of mine… you should be. Why aren’t you? I live for sharing my talents with the world.  Anyhow, 2020 is here! And not only are we celebrating a new year, but also a new decade. Wow, that feels so awe-inspiring to me. A new decade. Especially because I was just a wee-bitty puppy when last decade rolled around, so I don’t remember much about it. So this really feels like a milestone in my life.  Because it’s such a special New Year, it feels only appropriate that I make some New Year’s resolutions that equal the monumentality and grandness one feels from having entered a new decade.  I hereby commit to clean out my sock drawer.  Honestly, you should see it. It’s a veritable mess. No matter that I don’t wear socks, it’s just filled with stuff. And I’ve been putting off doing it for far too long.  New decade calls for an organized house. Plus, ever since one of my fans made me a holiday stocking which I wear constantly, more of my friends thought I’d appreciate a few more of them. So now I have a whole pile of them and I just stuff them in that drawer when they’re not in use, adding to the clutter.  But perhaps I should come up with something larger, more serious— something majestic.  I will make a list of things I can implement in my life to be the best version of myself.  Here goes:  Charlie’s New Year/New Decade Resolutions 1. Make more people smile by adopting my cutest faces ever when I’m in public.  2. Help humans combat stress by allowing them to pet me (that’s what I call a win-win).  3. Donate my chew toys and balls I’m no longer using to area shelters and those doggies who are less fortunate than me.  4. Foster more honest exchanges between myself and my people by sitting and lying down when I’m told without expecting a treat in exchange.  5. Reach out to those who are having a rough day with a loving doggie lick.  Just from making that list, I have a warm, snuggly feeling inside that I usually only get from curling up in my body sock, or on my human’s lap.  There is something to be said for self-reflection coupled with goal-setting. It’s empowering to hold oneself accountable— I feel more in control of my life, and have a stronger conviction that I can make a positive difference— just from making that list.  But I know from my doggie experience that setting intentions and keeping them are two different things. That’s why community support is so important, because the love you have for your community and vice versa will inspire you to be the best version of you when the going gets tough, (and I know that not whining for a treat, but receiving with gratitude what comes my way will be a tough one for me, perhaps even harder than organizing all those socks).  So let’s support one another. What are your New Year’s resolutions? I can’t wait to support you in being the best version of yourself too.  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This December, Charlie makes some holiday magic and receives a gift by the mantel. Oh boy the holidays are here again! I just love this beautiful season of peace, harmony, and guaranteed turkey. And this year I’m especially excited because one of my fans knit me a stocking to hang from the mantelpiece. Not only can I wear it like a body sock (it’s now my new favorite snuggling equipage), but it’s also like hanging a fabulously chic sign in your home that reads, “DEPOSIT CHARLIE’S PRESENTS HERE.”  Moreover, all the colors in the design are just delightful− the pink and blue, and red, and green, and yellow. It’s bound to bring a smile to anyone’s face who sees it hanging there.  And because I’m nerdy like that, I just had to know— who came up with the tradition of hanging stockings over the mantelpiece and why?  I don’t know, but not only am I going to find out, I am willing to bet it’s a good story. I’m going to hunker down in my sock, put on my research cap, and find some stories.  Here it is… sure enough. A legend. And one that captures the Christmas spirit of hope, love, and the importance of neighborly connections.  Once upon a time, there lived a father who had three beautiful daughters. Christmas was approaching, and he was reflecting on families and togetherness, but despaired that any of his daughters would ever know such bliss. He was so poor he couldn’t afford a dowry for his daughters, and thought because of this, no one would want to marry them. They would be sad and lonely their entire lives, he feared.  … Hmmmm. That seems like a pretty shoddy reason to discard someone as a potential mate to me. I tend to go for ladies with great personalities and bushy tails. But I think priorities were a lot different back then. So, back to the worrying farmer. Apparently, all the town knew about the family’s situation, and knew also that the man would never accept financial help. So everyone pondered and fretted and stayed up late talking about what to do. Until, one night, jolly old St. Nicholas wandered through the town and overhead the well-intentioned conversations, and set about to fix it.  Relying on the fact that he’s magic, and presents from him don’t count as a hand-out, he snuck down the chimney of the girls’ house late on Christmas Eve, as he is wont to do.  He looked around, and they were so poor, they had no tree for him to leave the present under. But, being tidy folk, they had just done their laundry, and hung some stockings up over the fireplace so they would dry.  Thinking that would be a fun surprise for them when they went to put their hosiery on in the morning, St. Nicholas slipped some gold nuggets into each stocking, then put his finger next to his nose, and whisked back up the chimney, to spread more largess throughout the world.  The trick worked like a charm. The farmer was overjoyed at the magic money, the daughters had dowries and knew conjugal bliss, and their friends rejoiced. It was a win-win for everyone.  To commemorate the spirit of giving and receiving, of having hopes and having those fulfilled by little angels who light up our lives, the tradition of hanging your stocking by the mantel took off and blossomed. And we’re still loving and living it today. I know I am! Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie finds a magic leaf and creates life-long memories.  November is here which means the days are shorter, and sometimes have a slight nip; the nights certainly do. Fall has found us, and summer, with its energy of exuberance, fun, and frivolity has departed to be replaced with the more somber tone that confirms: in nature, all things stay in balance.  Hey, I guess it’s a Newtonian Law of some sort— what goes up, must come down. And summer is certainly a season of up.  But I’ve always found that a little bit of sobriety carries with it a gentle peace and introspection which leads me gracefully to gratitude.  I love that cyclically the feelings engendered during this time match up with what we celebrate during the month of November— gratitude for our military veterans with Veterans Day on November 11, and gratitude in general, on Thanksgiving, November 28.  The other day, I was frolicking outside, reflecting on this time of year and everything that I’m grateful for. Even though we don’t really have a fall foliage down here, the leaves on many trees still fall. Suddenly, an especially large, oblong-shaped yellow leaf dislodged itself from a branch and came swirling down. For some reason the sight filled me with glee, and I went yipping around in a circle, leaping up to catch it as the leaf mimicked my circles above me in its downward descent.  Then a small gust of wind scooped it up and carried it some distance off. And having struck a fancy in my doggie-heart, away I went dashing after it. It slowly came to a rest in a pond, where I sat pondering for a moment, when a small turtle emerged from the water, raising the leaf up on its back as it did so.  “Well, hello there!” the turtle cried out to me. “Look at this beautiful leaf that has fallen on my back. It’s positively delightful.”  “I know,” I replied. “I was chasing it and it brought me to you. I was thinking of everything that I’m grateful for when I first noticed it, and felt so full of happiness, it lifted my spirits so much, that I decided to follow it.”  “Well, now, that’s a trick,” the turtle replied. “Suppose I just keep on with the tradition you started, and reflect on what I’m grateful for. That would be my nice wet pond here, and all the insects that I have to eat. Seems the insects are always abundant. That, and all my other turtle friends in this pond. We all pretty much go along at the same pace, no one’s every in a hurry, and so we have a pretty harmonious environment here.”  “Say!” he exclaimed suddenly. “I think this leaf is magic, because I feel full of happiness now too. I’m going to give it back to you, so you can give it to another and then maybe they’ll feel grateful and happy too.”  And so saying, the little turtle slowly lumbered out of the water, offering up the pretty yellow leaf on its back for me to take. Reverently, I took it in my mouth because I knew that it was magic.  It had the power to remind me of an important lesson— when we feel gratitude, we also feel love, and then we feel more positive about life and everything in our lives.  Counting your blessings isn’t an archaic dull dictum, it’s a wellspring for joy. Off I went, merrily on the lookout for a creature who was in need of a little remembrance of all the blessings that exist around each of us, everyday. May you remember yours too.  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie explores the origins of Halloween, and brings us a history lesson steeped in ritual and tradition.  The month of October never really feels quite as much like fall as perhaps some other parts of the United States, as we enjoy such continued warm, beautiful and sunny weather. But the last day of the month, Halloween, finds us here in Myrtle Beach just as it does everyone else across the country even if bright red and orange leaves don’t.  I wonder what I should dress up as this year? Maybe I’ll keep it simple and let my coat grow long and go as a miniature wooly mammoth. I also took a fancy to an octopus outfit I stumbled across the other day that I could always use as a backup in case my fur doesn’t get as long as is needed. My people might not like the former idea though, because I’ll probably shed more.  Halloween is such an interesting holiday. Everyone dresses up, there are parties, and children go door-to-door to get candy and treats.  Who came up with this great idea? Even though I (and all dogs) can’t eat chocolate, I can still appreciate how much fun this is for people, as I’m nurtured enough to be able to celebrate that of which I can’t personally indulge.  Yet the holiday is barely recognized in Europe, which is a bit odd considering its origins lie in the pagan festival of Samhain, a Celtic festival. I think it’s time I put Charlie’s research cap on and learn a bit more about Halloween and its origins. Hey, maybe I can modify my hat a bit and go as a wizard? So— Samhain and halloween. For the Celts, Samhain was one of the most important of the four quarterly fire festivals that they held annually. So important was it, that if you didn’t go, people believed the gods would come after you and kill you.  Yikes! That’s a far cry from how we just leave party-poopers to themselves nowadays. I don’t think dressing up was obligatory though.  Anyhow, Samhain was also a harvest festival. While people would gather the harvest, they would allow their hearth fires to naturally burn out in their homes. Then, they would all gather around a great community fire which was ignited by the Druid priests who would spin a giant wheel until enough friction was created that sparks would light. The wheel was a symbol for the sun, and people would take fire from the newly created one with which to reignite their hearths upon returning home.  Texts claim the festival lasted anywhere from two to six days, with varying other customs including excessive drinking, eating, and merrymaking.  Celts believed that during Samhain, the veil between the worlds of what was real and seen, and what was intangible and spirit-related was thin— so thin, that a cross-over was possible.  To protect themselves from being kidnapped by any boogies or goblins or things that go bump in the night, people would dress up as animals and scary looking monsters to deter any potential ghostie from thinking it was a human that could be taken hostage. Apparently, the boogies weren’t interested in kidnapping animals. Whew! I would have been safe.  Well, okay then. Dressing up wasn’t obligatory, but highly recommended. Doesn’t sound like much of a party to me though, hiding out in your house waiting for something to come steal you.  Good thing they decided to incorporate all that debaucherous eating and drinking. Otherwise you might be pretty anxious till Samhain was over.  It wasn’t until the 8th century that Pope Gregory III reinvented the time around Halloween as a time to honor all saints, and the evening which eventually became Halloween was changed to All Hallows Eve. Over time, the celebration lost most of its dourness, and evolved into a more festive gathering of eating sweet treats and joviality.  Now that’s more like it! Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie celebrates life on the beach, and envisions all he loves about times by the seashore.  Oh boy, September is finally here. That makes me excited for several reasons. First, it means I won’t be so cold. Yes, you read that right— cold.  When it’s hot outside, the air conditioning at the Insider office reaches arctic temperatures. Now that we are having cooler days, it shouldn’t be turned on so high.  But the main reason that I’m glad is because now I’m allowed on the beach. The canine population of Myrtle Beach must look forward to the Labor Day Weekend celebrations more so than humans, because right after that holiday, we’re all allowed to frolic and swim on the public beaches to our heart’s content once more.  Just watch out for those jellyfish. They migrate to our shores this time of year, and will let you know that you’re in their way with a little sting.  As I lay in my doggie bed daydreaming about my return to the beach, I contemplate what I’ll do first when I arrive. So many choices.  I know that I want to share this experience with all of my canine friends, so that part is easy. As soon as we get out of the car, we’ll break loose and run as fast as we can in wild circles, barking, before changing the formation to chase seagulls, barking louder.  I just know that one day I will catch one.  Next, we’ll dig a hole. I can’t wait to feel the soft sand between my toes flying behind me as I dig further down, down, down, until I hit water. Then I’ll splash around in the sand mud puddle until it gets all over my fur. Then it’s time to make sand castles. I’ll make mine in the shape of a dog bone, and decorate it with shells. Or maybe I should imprint it with paw prints instead.  Maybe I’ll build the biggest and the best castle that I can. I’ll make an actual dog house-castle that I can hide inside of. And create a moat around it so that as the waves come, they will fill it up and it will look very pretty, like a house on the water.  Or I’ll dig a very deep moat, so it will be like digging many holes, and I’ll bet be just as fun.  But eventually, no matter how deep the moat, the waves will come and wash away what I built, making space for new things and experiences to come.  It’s more about the joy of the journey than about holding on anyhow. Either way, what I value the most is being present in nature, sharing experiences with my friends, and trying new things.  By the end of the day, I’ll have tub time to wash all the sand out of my fur. Then I’ll snuggle up in my dog bed, lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves echoing in my ears, and the faint aroma of the unassuming mollusk I found and engaged in prolonged battle with, trying to get it to crawl out of its shell so I could investigate more closely.  This all sounds like a great September plan. What’s yours?  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of the Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie sifts through accounts from ancient ages, as he explores the etymology of the Dog Days of Summer.  Ah, lolling about on my doggie bed, or out in the sun or shade of my balcony as the spirit moves me— it’s officially the dog days of summer— one of my most favorite times of the year in addition to my birthday, because I don’t need an excuse for being incredibly lazy.  I just love that phrase, dog days, and really have to wonder what it means? Honored by the knowledge that there are multiple days named after my species, I think I should do a service to all, by discovering the illustrious (or since it’s so dang hot, perhaps less flattering) characteristics we posses that have inspired this nomenclature.  Sometimes, I’ve been accused of having been a cat in a past life for how curious I am about things, but there you have it. I’m very much a pooch this time around, and very much curious. I don’t subscribe to stereotyping anyway.  So. Dog days. Some people think that the dog days refer to the time of the year when it’s so hot that even dogs lie around, panting. But that doesn’t make much sense to me, because most dogs do lie around and pant in general. At least I do. Nap time is very important for my emotional stability.  No, the dog days were so designated by the ancient Greeks, who noticed that the dog star, Sirius, would rise in the heavens just before sunrise in late July. Homer’s The Iliad made references to it.  This would correspond with some of the hottest days in the calendar. And so, people, thinking more about how they felt in the moment rather than stars in the sky, began to associate the dog days of summer with extreme heat, rather than anything astrological.  Apparently, the dog days didn’t have positive associations back then. Probably the hottest time of the year wouldn’t be everybody’s favorite in the centuries before air conditioning, but lo! Oh no! It’s not only that. Additionally, the dog days of summer were associated with a time of calamity, when illness and catastrophe were common.  I wonder if the heat made people so grumpy that fights would just erupt uncontrollably— national distress ensuing in the wake of there being not enough shade under the trees for everyone to fit— or if it was just an unfortunate coincidence.  Gadzooks! I wasn’t necessarily overly optimistic, but I’m a bit deflated now about this time of year.  What’s interesting to note, however, is that as the earth shifts minutely, the stars don’t appear visible to us in the same locations at the same times of the year, over the centuries. Every fifty years or so, the sky shifts by one degree, so what was visible in one location at one point, 50 years later, won’t be in the same place. That’s really neat! Since The Illiad was written around the 8th century B.C., that means that today we are looking at a very different sky. I’m not going to do the math and tell you how different. After all, it’s the dog days of summer. A time when dogs just loll about and sleep.  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of the Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, our patriotic pooch gets ready to celebrate Independence Day.   Oh boy summer is here! In addition to watermelons, peaches, picnics, and barbecues (my enthusiasm usually lies pretty close to my tummy), this season also brings us the Fourth of July which involves all of the aforementioned things and then some.  People flock to Myrtle Beach to celebrate our nation’s birthday, and for good reason: we’re the most patriotic state of them all, and Myrtle Beach is synonymous with fun and good times. So what better place to attend a birthday party than here, right by the ocean?  Murrells Inlet celebrates in grand style on the water with the Murrells Inlet Boat Parade. Be sure to read about it on our front page. It’s a lively good time, with restaurants serving, flags waving, and music playing. People bedeck their boats, docks, and houses in our nation’s colors of red, white, and blue, and crowd along the Marsh Walk to watch the boats parade along.  I am a very patriotic doggie, and myself always don some red, white, or blue for Independence Day. Which got me thinking: how did those colors come to be on our flag? And what’s the meaning behind our flag?     After finding my research cap (it’s blue by the way), I discovered that those colors were chosen because our nation’s fathers believed our country embodied the values of what those colors symbolize—red for hardiness and valor; white for purity and innocence; and blue for vigilance, perseverance, and justice.  More than two hundred years ago, on June 14, 1777 to be precise, our fledgling government passed what was called the Flag Act— an official decree to establish an official flag for our new country.  It was comprised of alternating red and white stripes to represent the thirteen original colonies that then became thirteen states. A blue rectangle in the upper left corner was called the canton, and referred to specifically as the union. White stars adorned the canton, also representing the number of states that made up our new country.  Over time, the flag went through many evolutions. The current iteration has fifty white stars in the canton, representing all fifty states of the United States of America. It was adopted by President Eisenhower on August 21, 1959, and is the longest-used version of the flag to date.  Myth, folklore, and theory surrounds the creation of our flag. Some sources credit the original 1777 composition to a naval flag designer named Francis Hopkinson of New Jersey (who also signed the Declaration of Independence). He certainly believed that he had created it, as evidenced by the repeated bills that he sent to Congress asking to be paid with a “quarter cask of public wine,” among other things, for his services.  However, a letter to President George Washington in 1779 reveals that at that time there was still no design established for our country to use during war. The myth that Betsy Ross sewed the first American flag was a story that has been widely disseminated through the ages despite there being no evidence whatsoever that it was true.  The story goes that George Washington handed the seamstress a pencil sketch of a flag design he had invented, and asked her to sew it.  Mary Pickersgill also staked a claim in the creation and sewing process, assisted by a thirteen-year-old African American girl named Grace Wisher. There is also a theory that the Washington family’s coat of arms was the inspiration for the stars and stripes.  Whatever may be the story, our flag, also called Stars and Stripes, Old Glory, and the Star-Spangled Banner, is a reminder of the courage, collective effort, and dedication of all of our nation’s fathers to stand for the value of freedom for all citizens.  Now that’s something to remember, honor, and celebrate this Fourth of July!  Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of the Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie further explores the world of plants as he delves into the rich tapestry of greenery around him.  You know, even though I’m a doggie and by nature love the great outdoors, we all know I have more of that city-bred glamor in me rather than the qualities of a carefree forest-dweller.  But my foray into the world of plants has put me in touch with my feminine side, and birthed in me a new appreciation for their wonderful world.  I think it’s been building on me slowly, but after last month’s expose on the virtues of the dandelion, I started looking around outside for other forsaken and under-appreciated plants. This month, I want to share with you about the violet— that lovely delicate purple flower that resembles the pansy in miniature form. It’s called Viola sororia in Latin. Not only does writing or saying that make me feel extra smart, it’s also extra practical, because no matter where you are in the world, even if you don’t speak the same language, people who know about plants will know the plant’s Latin names. Even though it’s a dead language, it’s still a universal one. Handy.  All the more so because the violet, just like the dandelion, is edible. So the next time you find yourself in China, and you’re just hankering for a plate of violets but your travel dictionary is coming up dry, try requesting them in Latin instead.  The violet and the dandelion are in the same boat in terms of being regarded by most Americans (with the exception of children, herbalists, and yours truly) with under-appreciation, although the shy little violet tends to draw less notice.  Perhaps the lack of regard is because, like the dandelion, they are common, and grow prolifically and wherever they please with little regard for landscaping plans.  But I still feel like that misses the mark, because it’s not often that I hear people complain about all the trees that have popped up all over the place, and despite their commonality, people love them so much they give them hugs.  At any rate, we’ll just have to put that in the bin of life’s great mysteries, and return to the virtues of the violet. You can enjoy the flavor of violets by turning them into candy. After you pick the flowers, gently coat the petals with beaten egg white applied with a small paintbrush. Then sprinkle them with superfine sugar, and leave them to dry overnight. Adorn the tops of frosted cupcakes for a delicious and beautiful natural delight. You can also freeze them into ice cubes, and sprinkle them over salads or fruit bowls, mix them into pancake batter, or bake them into cakes.  The properties of violets are cooling and moistening, and they have been used in herbal medicine for years as a blood cleanser and to support healthy lymph flow. Violets can be infused in oil to make a beautiful body lotion, or a healing salve. It’s said to calm and sooth insect bites, eczema, abrasions, and hemorrhoids. And isn’t this neat— violets grow subterranean flowers too! So end to end, the plant is all flower.     Here are some myths and additional folklore associated with the violet. One day, the Roman goddess Venus asked her son, Cupid, who he found more beautiful— her or a group of young girls. When Cupid chose the girls, his mother flew into a rage and beat the girls black and blue. Then they turned into violets.  Because of their association with the goddess of love, for centuries people used them in love potions (when those were all the rage). Violets were also seen to represent the qualities of modesty and chastity in other myths. They were also said to cure heart disease because their shape resembled that of a heart.  That’s all from me and the sweet gentle violet for this month.   Until next time, 

Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of the Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of us how to play well together.  This month, Charlie celebrates all that’s blooming in Myrtle Beach with further exploration of the magical world of plants. You know, my journey searching for luck with which to bless my endeavors of winning the heart of my sweetheart (still Winnie), has really sparked a deep fascination for plants and their myths, hidden meanings, and relationship to the rest of the living world.  And to think I never would have discovered this passion had I not been harboring some latent insecurity about my inamorata’s affections for me. It just goes to show that you can always use personal character flaws to your advantage in life. So the next time you’re feeling a bit down on yourself, remember that the glass is half full, not the other way ‘round.  At any rate, I’m so inspired by a plant (clover) that is so bursting with love (as I see it. I mean come on, it’s beloved by so many life-forms, plus it feeds other plants too) that it sometimes grows an extra leaf (a genetic abnormality, but hey, to each his own in the personal perspective department).  It got me thinking that if this one plant has such a multifaceted relationship with the rest of the world, then surely other plants must too. So this month, I’m examining in more detail the magic and mystery of the dandelion! One of the United State’s most misunderstood, and under-appreciated plants.  Dandelions and bunnies have a lot in common— for starters they appear to reproduce with reckless abandon, filling the hearts of those around them with dismay by the sheer volume of their multitudes; they both are soft and fuzzy; and they show their face more commonly in the spring. Unlike the beloved four leaf clover— elusive, mysterious, hidden, and shy— the joyful and unapologetically fecund dandelion is there, whether you like it or not— dotting the landscape with a riot of shocking yellow, that is, until it’s decimated by an application of weed killer.  But it was not always so. For centuries, the dandelion has been dear to the hearts of children and adults, the bright, happy yellow color a reassuring sign that spring was here and the dark winter was over. People would blow on the soft, white, fluffy ball once the flower faded to seed, scattering them, and a wish uttered on their lips as well, to the wind, to land and take root.  Aesthetic appreciation aside, dandelions have always been an important food source for people. The leaves carry the medicinal properties of the bitter taste. The French enjoy young leaves in salads, and in more recent years, health conscious folk juice them for their bitter, cleansing properties.  According to Chinese medicine, spring is the season to cleanse, rejuvenate, and nourish the liver, giving that organ some love after the slothful food and exercise patterns of winter have been discarded.  It’s no coincidence that the bitter taste is precisely what supports the liver, and that dandelions grow in profusion at precisely the season when humans need that support most. And boy oh boy is it important! The liver stores the emotion of anger, so a sluggish unhappy one will fuel whatever anger you have and make it worse.  Dandelion root is often taken in the form of a tea, and helps with skin conditions like eczema and acne, arthritis, digestive issues, inflammation and boils. Whoah. I’m not sure what a boil is, but I sure am glad that there’s something out there that helps them. And to top it all off, the flower can be used to make your own wine.  Now that’s a lot of uses for one plant. But this piece of lore is my favorite— it is said that the dandelion represents the three celestial bodies— the yellow flower the sun; the fluffy ball of seed, the ethereal moon; and the dispersed seeds that soar with the wind, the stars. So consider all its many uses the next time you look disdainfully at the helpful dandelion.  And then, a quote I stumbled upon— ‘The difference between a plant and weed is a judgement.’ Words that could be applied to many things in life, no? Until next time,