31 August 2008

Bubble Farts

Boss Lady decided to come home for her lunch today. She felt bad that I was to be abandoned here at home all alone all day. Normally there’s somebody around for at least a little while. Somebody to take me out for my mid-afternoon piddle. Somebody to keep me company. Somebody at whom I can throw Mr. Green or Bagel. Today there was nobody. Nobody at all. This left the Boss Lady worried for me.

So, round about 2:30, Boss Lady rolled in. (Because that’s the kind of Boss Lady she is. See? That’s a positive characteristic. I just pointed out a positive characteristic.) Now, keep in mind that when she left this morning, she very carefully made sure there was nothing in the sink or on the counter that I might want to steal. She put the cat food can in the recycle bin. She put the other dishes in the dishwasher. She put the bread back in the drawer and the peanut butter back in the cupboard (major bummer there). So, when she stepped in the house at 2:30, she did not expect to find any sort of dog created messes. And of course, the first thing she saw, sitting on the floor directly in front of the door, was a mostly empty bottle of dish soap. Fortunately, upon further examination, the bottle was mostly empty to begin with. It doesn’t appear that I actually ate any of the dish soap. I didn’t even manage to spill it all over the floor. That didn’t matter, though. Boss Lady looked at me and said, “That’s it! Your new nickname is Bubble Farts.”

“That’s Mr. Bubble Farts to you.” I remonstrated her.

So, Mr. Bubble Farts it is despite the fact that I do not, in fact, fart bubbles after I have consumed soap. Nor do I even fart pretty smelling gas. Indeed, I may fart particularly stinky gas after eating soap. At least, I’ve been eating rather a lot of soap lately, and farting rather a lot of very stinky farts.

As an aside, Boss Lady came home with more than a new nickname for me, she also brought a funny story. I may not have mentioned that Rutland has recently been blessed with a brand new (and from what I hear the first one in Vermont in ages and ages) Taco Hell. It’s right next to where she works. Boss Lady finds this unimpressive, but many in the area are thrilled if we are to judge by the always long line at the drive through. Apparently, though, Taco Hell is beloved by more than just people; dogs enjoy it, too. At least, one dog does. Boss Lady knows this because as she was driving out of Michael’s to come home for lunch, she saw a car at the drive through ordering speaker thingy and a dog was hanging out the back window as if he was speaking directly into the speaker. It’s too bad Boss Lady didn’t have her camera, because it was quite the picture.

30 August 2008

True To Her Word

You'll recall that I recently mentioned Boss Lady's interest in helping me regain some weight. Just in case anyone harbors lingering doubts as to Boss Lady's good intentions and actual actions, I thought I would give you cold, hard evidence. She recently offered to let me eat straight out of the dog food bag.

I didn't have to be asked twice; I dove right in.

It's a good thing I have a hard head.

Because it's awful hard to see with your head in a bag.

No worries, though, I managed to capture every last crumb out of that bag. It was definitely worth the couple bumps on my head. Now, if I can just convince her to hand over the peanut butter jar, the world will be a happy place.

27 August 2008

The Up Side

It has been brought to my attention that I have been giving Boss Lady something of a short shrift lately. I have been dwelling overly much on her imperfections. And, while she may not be perfect (let me assure you of this), there are some positives to being forced to exist as her companion.

For one thing, my food ration has been consistently increased of late. She takes serious this weight business, at least when it comes to me. I won’t speak to her weight issues, I’m told it isn’t polite to mention a lady’s weight. Now, if someone could just explain to me how Boss Lady qualifies as a lady, we’ll all be happy. Regarding my weight issue, I need more. Weight that is. I’m too thin. Skin and bones, as it were. Ribby by some accounts. It’s all this exercise. Trims the fat right off. You hear that Boss Lady? I’m always ready to eat more food, though, so I most enjoy larger suppers. Rumor has it, I might even be getting spoonfuls of peanut butter more often. See? This is a positive. I’m dwelling on a positive here. Please, do take note.

For another thing, when she isn’t dragging me along behind her bike, Boss Lady takes me for great hikes. Almost every day off, weather permitting, (Which is why I continue to lobby for a career change that involves more time for hikes and less time for me home alone.) I enjoy a nice long hike. We have nice hiking trails round here you know. I’ve mentioned Shrewsbury and Pittsford, both of which are nice but are a bit of a drive. They are less than ideal for those hikes when you want to get the most trail time for the least travel time. It’s no good if you only have 2 hours to work with and waste 1 hour just getting there and back. For those good trail to travel ratios, we have Pine Hill Park. Pine Hill Park is a fabulous little park smack dab in the middle of the city of Rutland. Hard to believe, but there it is. If you don’t mind dodging bikes, there are plenty of trails to hike. New ones appear regularly (almost every summer), they are mostly well marked (when stupid people aren’t stealing the signs), and they are easily adapted for long or short hikes. Today we hiked for 2 hours, other times we’ve been known to make a 45 minute loop and be done. The icing on the cake, though, is the pond. There’s a pond for a dog’s swimming enjoyment. There’s even a trail that goes part way around the pond. All in all, it’s not a bad set up.

No matter where we’re hiking, though, Boss Lady drags along that blasted camera of hers and manages to snap at least a few embarrassing pictures of me. Today was no exception.

Here I am impersonating a bear.

Did I mention the view from Pine Hill Park? Not bad at all.

While investigating one of the new trails, we encountered this nifty uprooted tree.

Of course I had to investigate it. Of course she had to take a picture.

The Great Hero (me) does battle with A Stick.

25 August 2008

Now This Is What I'm Talking About

What ever happened to the good ol’ evening walk? Huh? That’s what I want to know. We did just fine with a nice evening walk after supper. I never complained about it. So, why is it the evening walk was supplanted by the evening Bike ride? Really, I’d like to know.

If, however, I’m to be forced to endure (even enjoy) Bike rides, then more of them should be like this evening’s. It started out quite normal. Walk down the hill, at the bottom of the hill Boss Lady mounts up and we head out. I lag and crowd and generally try to dissuade her from the evening’s adventure. I fail to dissuade her and we head out Marble Street towards the Boardwalk. Except this evening, we paused near the Rugby Field entrance.

I like the Rugby Field; it’s lots of fun. Obviously, it is big and open. There are also other short random trails going off the Rugby Field. These trails are very wide, and mowed, but don’t lead anywhere. We can follow all of them in less than an hour. If I’m feeling particularly obedient, and Boss Lady is feeling particularly confident, she sometimes lets me drag the leash so I’m sort of able to run around and play. We play fetch. I sniff animal trails. We investigate deer paths. Boss Lady always promises that One Of These Days we will devote some unspecified length of time to fully investigating these deer trails. We never have yet.

So, back to this evening. The Boss Lady was taking stock of my complete disinterest in the evening’s adventure and was trying to devise a way to excite me. Which is when she lit upon the idea of biking out through the Rugby Field. It’s flat enough for the bike. And while it is just a field, it’s not too rough. Much to my delight, Boss Lady steered the bike towards the Rugby Field, navigated the big marble blocks blocking the entrance (it’s sort of kind of private, but not really) and off we went.

It went ok at first. Then Boss Lady realized that she really needed to shift to an easier gear. She did so and continued peddling. I was romping and trotting and generally very much enjoying myself. Except I was moving a little too fast for Boss Lady. She couldn’t keep up. She shifted to an even easier gear and peddled and peddled and peddled. She still couldn’t keep up. By this point, we had reached an open area with a small stream and the rail road tracks not too far away. Boss Lady’s legs were burning. She decided we had to turn around. I was forced to slow down to maintain the same speed as Boss Lady on the bike. It felt rather peculiar; our roles were reversed. Normally Boss Lady is ahead of me constantly encouraging me to keep up or go faster. She is sometimes forced to slow down just a little so as not to drag me along. Suddenly she was the one going slow and I was encouraging her to hurry up.

When we got back to the road, we continued toward the boardwalk. We had to turn around early because the sun was setting. On our way back, we encountered a fellow with two dogs. He was just pulling up to the Rugby Field to let his dogs run around. He had a Great Dane and a Pug. The Great Dane and Pug were well behaved and allowed off leash. The Great Dane came over to say hi. I got excited. We kind of sniffed, grumbled, bounced around and she trotted off. Boss Lady and this fellow exchanged pleasantries and then parted ways. I’m thinking Bike Rides that involve the Rugby Field should be our new evening adventures.

24 August 2008

Gas Powered

As I mentioned in my last post, Boss Lady and I have been biking frequently. As I also, mentioned these biking adventures seem to be doing a good job of taking the edge off my energy supply. They are not, however, exhausting me. Not by any means. These adventures hardly even tire me out, truth be told. We’ve been known to bike for an hour, only to come home and head out for a half hour walk, and even after that I’m not tired. Frequently my first action once released from the leash is too viciously attack Ted, which is something I normally do only when I’m particularly hyper and have no other energy outlet.

This evening after our biking adventure (which was boring as all get out) I was begging to play kick as soon as I had a drink and a quick rest to catch my breath. I gathered all four Mr. Greens (and how I managed to acquire four Boss Lady doesn’t know. I’m only supposed to have two, convinced Boss Lady to let me have three only because one was broken, and where the fourth came from I’m not telling) and proceeded to roll it around, poke her foot with it, and toss it at her (boy does she regret teaching me that trick.) After the bazillionth time I threw Mr. Green at her, Boss Lady wondered aloud where all my energy comes from. Boss Lady’s Father replied that I am gas powered. He has no idea how correct he is.

Lately, I have been very stinky. Not rolled in something dead stinky, but fart stinky. Imagine the stinkiest poo you’ve ever smelled, and that’s the kind of gas I’ve been releasing regularly. Boss Lady swears I have something dead in my stomach. She hasn’t changed my diet (though I regularly supplement it with things like soap or two of what might be the last four home grown fresh out of the garden cucumbers.) Boss Lady is baffled as to why I am suddenly so stinky, but I am on the verge of being banned from any room occupied by humans. That’s how stinky I am. Honestly, I don’t know what they’re complaining about, I haven’t noticed a thing.

Now, can we get started with this game of kick, already?

A Boring Update

The Boss Lady forced me to endure yet another bike ride. We’ve been going out several days a week for the past couple weeks. Boss Lady thinks we are doing better because we are now able to bike to the boardwalk regularly. A few days ago I had lots of energy and the temperature was quite cool, so we actually biked well beyond the boardwalk. I still do not enjoy biking. However, as Boss Lady’s Mother reports that I am calmer and more well behaved, Boss Lady deems our biking a great success. She doesn’t have to expend nearly as much energy and I get much more exercise.

Due to this great success, I get the impression that we will be continuing and expanding our biking adventures. I am sure of this because Boss Lady is beginning to discuss the many improvements her bike needs. First, it needs a non-rusted bike chain. The current chain is all rust. This is perhaps due to the fact that it sat in the damp cellar for many years since it was last regularly used (when Boss Lady was in high school.) Second, it needs working brakes. Currently, only the front brake works. The rear break is totally ineffective. (Perhaps this should really be the first improvement.) Fortunately, this hasn’t been a problem yet because we only bike on flat roads and we don’t go very fast. Less related to safe bike functioning, but still very related to safety, the bike needs an actual light on the front and a blinking light on the back. For better visibility now that it gets dark earlier and earlier. Boss Lady also thinks one of those nice handle bar mounted mirrors would be handy. Each time she looks over her shoulder to check for traffic behind us, she drifts to the left. We both agree that a couple water bottles mounted to the bike frame would be nice. I say a couple because I’d rather not have to share a bottle with her. You know, human germs and all. For her comfort, Boss Lady is considering the possibility of a new bike seat. The current one works, certainly, but is less than 100% comfortable for anything longer than 45 minutes, and our current rides have been lasting about 60 minutes. Lastly, the bike needs a name. Boss Lady is very big on naming things, though she is never good at thinking of names. Our current trouble with naming the bike is that Boss Lady cannot decide if the bike is a boy or a girl. I’ve sniffed it quite a few times, and I’m pretty sure it’s a girl.

The one last piece of bike related gear we might need is a car mounted bike rack. Boss Lady has realized that I rather enjoy a bike ride the first and even the second time we follow a particular road. However, after that, I find it very boring and refuse to go very fast. She is now considering traveling short distances to find new places for us to bike. In order to bring the bike with us, she needs a bike rack on the car. As spacious as Jasmine is, there just isn’t room for all three of us at the same time.

Oh, and the Boss Lady belatedly realizes she might be forced to acquire a helmet. She is not particularly excited about this, but she is trying to convince herself it is best for her safety.

21 August 2008

Power of the Paw

This is the power that all of us collectively wield when we think good thoughts for another fur-riend. So, lets all think good and calming thoughts for Luce, who will be undergoing knee surgery tomorrow (hopefully). We wish Luce and safe surgery and recovery.

As It Should Be

A few evenings ago, Boss Lady and I headed out for a walk with Boss Lady’s Mother and Boss Lady’s Father. As we walked up the driveway, the neighbors up the hill started setting off little firecrackers. They were bright and sparkly and pretty. And, more importantly, in honor of me. I very much appreciated the recognition.

Then, as we were walking, Mother Nature contribute to the show with some great lightning strikes. They weren’t near us or anything; they were a couple miles away. But, they were very stunning. Our walk was punctuated with Oooh’s and Aaaaah’s and a few Wow-Look-at-that-one’s. Not too mention Boss Lady’s Mom’s Um-I-think-maybe-we-should-turn-around-and-go-home’s. Inevitably, we did turn around and go home.

Shortened walk that it was, I think more of my walks should be celebrated with such light shows.

17 August 2008

A Rose By Any Other Name

Another of the Boss Lady’s shortcomings is her inability to choose creative pet names. She didn’t even name me, the boyfriend guy did. As you might have guessed Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy needs a new name. Something better, something more appropriate, something with a little bit of character. Something aside from his species spoken with a funny accent. Boss Lady is thinking about naming him Fish in another language. Or maybe F3, for Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy. Kind of like R2D2. She doesn’t know what the F3 button on the computer is for, though. Me, I don’t care what the fish is named, just as long as I get my breakfast first. I am the dog after all, and dogs outrank fish.

Boss Lady is now accepting nominations for Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy’s new name. So far the nominations are: Fang (Boss Lady’s Mother) and Squid or Spot (Boss Lady’s Father.)


This morning Boss Lady did a little better; she dragged out of bed at 9:00am. (May I suggest that retiring earlier than 1:00am might facilitate the getting out of bed before 9:00am?) This time when I raced upstairs I caught her nearly fully dressed, a full step sooner than yesterday. I excitedly escorted her to the stairs in anticipation of Breakfast (this morning I was not in dire need of piddling.) When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I raced ahead to the kitchen so as to already be in my appropriate Breakfasting space when she arrived moments later. Except she didn’t arrive moments later. Nor even a few moments after that. I was forced to retrace my steps until I found her, still at the bottom of the stairs. She was feeding the goldfish. I asked her what the meaning of this delay was, and she said she needed to feed the fish (in her words “Feeshy, Feeshy, Feeshy”). Excuse me? Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy’s breakfast is more important than mine? The just adopted a few days ago, won’t ever do any tricks, doesn’t even like to be petted Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy is more important than the loyal, ever obedient dog? I’ve been demoted. I’m playing second fiddle. I’m less important than a fish. Oh, the embarrassment of it all.

16 August 2008

Because It's Against the Law

The Boss Lady, she isn’t so great at the whole Rise and Shine game. She’s more like drag and grumble. So there it was 9:30am and I hadn’t had breakfast and I needed to piddle. Half the day was gone and we hadn’t even discussed my adventure.

When I finally heard her feet hit the floor (and with feet that big, you always hear them hit the floor) I raced upstairs. I caught her in the bathroom and explained to her my plan for the day: Piddle, Breakfast, Adventure. She responded that it sounded fine. But, instead of coming downstairs, she went back to her room. I paced and circled until she finally emerged again.

This time I didn’t let her escape. As soon as we got near the door, I paced circles around her. You know how these humans are. They get distracted by everything: clothes, shoes, leashes. She started to put her foot in her shoe, but I stepped in it first. Which prompted her to give me a science lecture! There’s this scientific law (she can’t remember the name) stating only one object can occupy a space at a time. Thus, she can’t put her foot in her shoe while my foot is there.

I replied that the only thing her shoes is good for is a place for me to piddle unless she opens the door RIGHT. NOW. But, she says, I can’t go outside without shoes. Sure you can, I see you do it all the time. Yes, but the grass is wet now. (Do you hear that?The dog is expected to happily traipse around in wet grass, but she won’t.)

Finally, she opened the door let me out, and I headed for the (wet) grass. Except something smelled really interesting over near the driveway. Hmmmm....it goes around the porch and down near Boss Lady’s Father’s truck. I was deep in sniff mode when I heard, “Colyn! Go piddle already.” What? Piddle? No, I don’t really need to piddle. I need to sniff. “Colyn.” Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll piddle. Sheesh. Guess somebody rolled off the wrong side of the bed this morning.

12 August 2008

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programme For This Important Announcement

Because she does my typing, and she is, afterall, the Boss Lady, I am graciously allowing her to temporarily hijack my dog related blog with news of *wrinkles nose* cats. In case you are unaware, and you probably are because Boss Lady hasn’t really made it well known, the neighbor’s shed became temporary home to a stray mama cat and her four adorable kittens. The neighbor isn’t too keen on cats, or pets, really, nor was she too keen on letting the poor things freeze through the winter. (Here in Vermont we are always thinking about winter, even in the middle of August.) In light of her un-keenness of these things, the neighbor asked Boss Lady to see what she could do to catch the little guys (and/or girls) and deliver them to the humane society where they could be adopted to cat-loving (and warm) homes.

This request was received Saturday. Being as she (not me. No. I wasn’t invited) was otherwise engaged on Saturday, Boss Lady put it on her schedule for an initial review on Sunday. On Sunday, she talked to the humane society (who called to ask her to do a transport, which made it a perfect time to ask if they would take the kittens.) and was assured they would be happy to take the mama and kittens. She learned that another neighbor quite conveniently had a have-a-heart trap she could borrow. She went to the store to obtain tuna fish and tuna cat food to entice the mama cat and kittens. Late Sunday evening, she introduced herself to the feline family.

She was not warmly received. The kittens fled. Mama cat hissed and growled. Boss Lady expected this, so she just shrugged, put down a plate containing half a can of tuna fish, and backed up to see what would happen. Mama cat stopped hissing/growling, and the kittens reconsidered Boss Lady’s advances. After they cleaned the first plate, Boss Lady rewarded them with the second plate which had the other half a can of tuna fish. Boss Lady watched them for a little while longer and then left them alone for the night. Monday morning, Boss Lady repeated the routine. Boss Lady made a mental note that for a second time Mama Cat let the kittens eat all of the first plate and herself only ate part of the second plate. Boss Lady took a bunch of pictures, and then went to work. Monday evening she repeated the routine, only this time she lured the kittens further out from the shed. She took more pictures of their antics. She determined they are super cute.

Tuesday morning Boss Lady repeated the routine one more time. Tuesday afternoon, Boss Lady picked up more tuna cat food and retrieved the Have-a-Heart trap from the neighbor. Late Tuesday afternoon, Boss Lady began the cat/kitten catching process. Knowing that the mama cat would probably be the hardest to catch, she set out to catch her first. Based on her previous observations, Boss Lady brought down a first plate of food for the kittens. The kittens happily ate it. Then she put some food on a small piece of board, put it all the way inside the have-a-heart trap and put the trap where she normally puts the 2nd plate of food. Then she stepped back to wait. Less than 2 minutes later, she heard the trap clang and discovered a very pissed off and frantic mama cat stuck inside. Step One of The Plan, catching Mama Cat, was a total success. On to Step Two.

Step Two involved transferring Mama Cat from the Have-a-Heart trap to the hard plastic cat carrier. Unless she waited another hour for someone to arrive home from work, she would have to perform Step Two by herself. She got some thick work gloves, put on a long sleeve shirt, locked herself and the cat carrier and the trapped Mama Cat in the bathroom and attempted the transfer. And she quickly discovered that a smart move would have been to remove all the curtains from the window, pull up the blind, and put away all the glass and ceramic objects on the counter. Mama Cat was not any more amenable to being trapped in a cat carrier than she was to being trapped in the Have-a-Heart. Mama Cat made her feelings known by shooting out of the Have-a-Heart, onto the sink, up the mirror, over onto the window sill, and all the way up into the top corner of the window behind the curtains and blinds. As you might imagine, it is not easy to cling to a solid glass window, so Mama Cat employed the curtains and blinds to stay up there. After some careful thinking, Boss Lady decided to remove the curtain rod (thus eliminating the curtain) and pull up the blind. Mama Cat managed to remain wedged in the upper corner until Boss Lady was luckily able to scoop her off the glass with the open end of the cat carrier. Once Mama Cat was inside the cat carrier, Boss Lady slammed the door shut and put the carrier in the shower, just in case Mama Cat should somehow, mysteriously escape the carrier. Step Two of The Plan was a success, barely. On to Step Three.

Boss Lady’s Step Three was a little fuzzy. Step Three involved catching all four kittens, be it one at a time, two at a time, three at a time, or the super miracle of all four at a time. She put a little more food on the board in the trap (most of the previous had been slung out of the trap by Mama Cat’s crazy attempts to escape.) Boss Lady put some more food on a plate. She took the trap and the plate back to the shed and placed the plate directly in front of the trap. Then she went back to the house to figure out where she was going to put the kittens once they were caught. She elected to use the soft sided cat carrier for the kittens, in the hopes that they would be too small and weak to destroy it. She figured once she had all four kittens, she could put them in the hard carrier with Mama Cat. With that problem solved, Boss Lady returned to the shed to check on the progress of Step Three. She was happy to see a partial success. Black&White kitten was caught in the trap. Boss Lady took the trap up to the house, locked herself in the bathroom again, and proceeded to trasnfer Black&White kitten to the soft carrier. It was very easy. Black&White kitten let itself be scooped up and gently placed in the soft carrier.

With three Kittens remaining, Boss Lady put fresh food on the board, and a little bit more on the plate and reset the trap as before. Then she waited. And waited. And waited. Either the remaining kittens were no longer hungry, or were super wary. Boss Lady checked the trap about once an hour and finally got lucky when she checked right after supper. Two kittens, Yellow Splotches and Striped Tiger, were both caught in the trap. Striped Tiger was fairly calm, but Yellow Splotches was not happy. Boss Lady brought the trap up to the house and enlisted her mother in helping her transfer to the two kittens. They decided to put them directly in with Mama Cat, in the hopes that they would calm down quicker. Yellow Splotches managed to escape during the transfer and hid behind the toilet. Fortunately, as a tiny kitten, Yellow Splotches was easy to catch and slip into the hard carrier. Striped Tiger didn’t present any problem at all.

This left three of the four kittens captured and reunited with Mama Cat in the hard carrier. One kitten remained, all alone in the shed. By this time, it was dark and Boss Lady felt extremely guilty leaving the last kitten alone for the night. So, she went back out one more time with the trap, and the plate, and the little bits of food. She set it all up and determined to wait thirty minutes. She crossed her fingers and was overjoyed to discover kitten number four, also known as Splotches, caught in the trap. Splotches was not overjoyed. Boss Lady brought the trap up to the house and locked herself in the bathroom for the final kitten transfer. Once again, Boss Lady’s Mother helped out. And, once again, the transfer did not go smoothly. Splotches managed to escape during the transfer and also hid behind the toilet. Splotches was recaptured and then reunited with Mama Cat.

Mama Cat and the four kittens will spend the night in the hard carrier in the neighbor’s garage and tomorrow morning they will be delivered to the humane society. When they are old enough, one or two of them might, just might, return to our house, which is both cat-loving and warm.

(Want more absurdly cute kitten pictures? go here

Wuss in Boots

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate going out in the rain? Or walking in the yard during/after the rain? Just in cast I haven’t mentioned it, I really hate doing those things. Really. Hate. It. Boss Lady has to drag me out into the wet grass just to piddle. And don’t think about asking me to poo in that situation. I have no problem running through a field of grass taller than I covered in morning dew. I have no problem piddling (multiple times) or pooing (multiple times) in that situation. Of course, that situation also involves an adventure and me being off leash. Piddling or pooing in wet grass in the yard at home on a leash during a non-adventure? Ain’t gonna happen. You can stop complaining, and whining, and coaxing, and trying to convince me that the rain actually is fun. Furthermore, I can assure you that getting me stupid little doggy booties to protect my feet won’t change anything. Except that you will have spent however much money on a new chew toy that I will destroy in mere minutes.

10 August 2008

No, Nobody Didn't Tell Me

Yesterday was the Boss Lady’s birthday. When she arrived home from work, she and her parents had a mini-celebration during which she opened her presents. All 2 of them. And several cards from friends. Both presents were from her parents. After she had opened said presents, and appreciated them, and thanked her parents for them, she looked at me and inquired as to what I had gotten for her. Me?, I asked. I wasn’t aware I was expected to get anything. I did try to get her some soap, knowing how obsessed with bathing these humans are. Well, truly, I tried to eat the soap, but I was thinking of her while I was eating it. Sure, my thoughts might not have been the purest or most in the birthday spirit, but that isn’t particularly relevant and we needn’t discuss it. The Boss Lady correctly interpreted my blank look to mean that I didn’t get her anything. She replied, “I guess Nobody told you it was my birthday and you were expected to present me a gift.” Well, now that you mention it, no, Nobody (whoever this person may be) didn’t tell me any such thing regarding birthday’s and proper celebratory etiquette. I will do my best to remember next year. But, you better talk to this Nobody person. Who knows what all information Nobody isn’t telling me.

Yes, I can

Apparently, and much to my dismay, it is physically possible to swim while wearing my doggie life vest. The Boss Lady and I, well, really just I, discovered this earlier this week when we attempted our first ever kayaking adventure. Boss Lady rented a kayak for the afternoon/evening and we headed out to what we hoped was a not too busy lake. While I was busy discovering that not only can I swim while wearing my doggie life vest, I can also pull Boss Lady in whatever direction I choose when swimming in my doggie life vest, Boss Lady was busy discovering that a little grace goes a long way. And not much grace doesn’t go very far at all. Yes, she managed to fall in the water, and flip over the kayak in a mere 5” of water while she was trying to get out. And, no, it was not my fault; I was obediently maintaining a down/stay safely out of the way.

Due to the anticipation of the possibility of her getting a little wet, we do not have pictures to prove our adventure. You’ll have to take my word for it. While Boss Lady may have been dumb enough to bring both her cell phone and car keys in the kayak with us (though she was smart enough to put them in a water proof bag in her pocket), she was not dumb enough to bring her digital camera in the kayak with us. Perhaps next time she’ll bring a friend to snap pictures. Or, perhaps, I will eat my doggie life vest and there will be no next time. Here’s hoping...

05 August 2008

No, I can't

As you by now have surely figured out, and despite my recent absence, I have not fallen off the face of the planet. Been abandoned: yes. Been reclaimed: yes. Been subjected to horrible trauma and cruelty: yes. Boss Lady went on vacation (which was unapproved) for a whole 5 days. She did not take me. She finally came home. Instead of taking me for a grand adventure or even a short walk to celebrate our reunion, she opened the big box that had arrived via UPS from Cabela's while she was away. And then she began the process of perfecting the fit of my two new "prizes." A doggie life vest, and a pulling harness. As in pulling rocks in a wagon, not pulling a human on skis or something crazy like that. She did say she might let me pull her around in a kayak out on a lake. But, I have to wear my doggie life vest for that. I am unimpressed. I ate another wooden spoon to properly illustrate my feelings.

Wooden spoons notwithstanding, the fit of my doggie life vest has been perfected. It took several fittings and subsequent adjustments, but it now snugly hugs my furry self. Boss Lady deems it great. She says I even manage to look handsome wearing it (seriously, she'd have to do something far worse than clothe me in a doggie life vest to arrest my handsomeness). There's only one problem: I can't walk in it. Can't move at all, in fact. The first time the Boss Lady put it on after she'd finished the adjustments, she stepped back to take a good look. She waited to see how I would react. She expected me to try to rub it off or chew it or something. I did none of those things; I just stood there, feeling ridiculous. She thought perhaps I was confused and thought I was in a stand/stay. She gave my release command, just to be sure. I still didn't move. I did look at her pleadingly, though. She called me to her to receive treats for my good behavior. I didn't come. She started laughing at me. Great, loud, belly laughs. Aimed at my poor self.

A dog can only take so much, you know. I picked up a foot, but I put it right back down. I tentatively backed up while hunching my shoulders, hoping it would slide off. It didn't, so I stopped moving. Now Boss Lady and Boss Lady's Mother were calling to me. I ignored them. They had handfuls of popcorn for me. I just looked at them. Boss Lady held a piece inches from my nose and tried to lure me to take a step. I kind of trembled. She dropped a little pile of popcorn on the floor a little bit in front of me, grabbed her camera, and waited.

It didn’t matter. Not even popcorn could free me from my inability to move. I don’t know how or why, but that stupid doggie life vest makes it quite impossible for me to move.

Boss Lady took pity and gave me a couple pieces of popcorn even though I didn’t move. She waved a couple more in front of my nose and then, finally, finally, I dared to move a single step. Just one. That’s all. But, it was a start. One step at a time, stiff legged and tortured, the Boss Lady lured me with popcorn all the way across the kitchen. How she thinks I’ll be able to swim in this get-up, I simply don’t know.

In the Pitts

Pittsford, that is, and it’s far from the pits. It’s got critters (beavers), water (two whole rivers!), olfactoray pleasantries (dead fish in the middle of a dry field), and duration (the Boss Lady can easily stretch it out for 2 hours of romping good fun). The only thing Pittsford doesn’t have is off-leash funness. Which makes it less fun than Shrewsbury, but not by much.

Despite the fact that she very nearly did not escape with her life, the Boss Lady did manage to snap a few pictures (damn new camera. she says it’s just too much fun) the last time we went to Pittsford. True to her word, we have not returned since.

See? Swimming funness.

Ah, and the old drowned rat syndrome. Which also illustrates nicely how a good water shake starts (at the tail, if you failed to notice.)

The water shake progresses forward.

And there I am nice and dry again. Sort of.


Several weeks ago now, but only a couple days after she got her new camera then, Boss Lady took me for a hike in Shrewsbury. A nice long, off leash, run through all the brambles and splash in all the mud puddles kind of hike. I will present for you now, because Boss Lady was too lazy to do so before, a pictorial tour of the event.

When we arrived in Shrewsbury, Boss Lady chose to begin our hike in a different than usual place. She required me to sit and wait politely while she gathered her equipment. I could smell the critters going about their business with no clue of their impending doom. Yet, look how politely I waited.

After Boss Lady finally released me, sans leash, I took off like a shot through the field. Only to discover that the Boss Lady ain't quite so quick. "What's the hold up, eh? This trail is ripe for hiking. Come on!"

One of the thousand little streams traversing our trail. Boss Lady was glad to find so much fresh water for me to splash in.

Despite the fact that we began our hike from a different trail, we ended up in a most familiar place: the Cleaning Off The Mud Stream. This is the stream in which I am required to splash until I am clean of all mud and grime before I can climb back in Boss Lady’s car. I am much opposed to the presence of sticks in my swimming areas. I made quick work of this particular offender.

Of course, whilst I was battling The Stick, Boss Lady was observing nature. I’m pretty sure she snapped more photos of this stupid little dragonfly than she did of me. And the only reason this mere one photo is included is because I had to ask Boss Lady to do the uploading and she snuck this in. If those buggers weren’t so icky, I’d’ve eaten it and solved the whole problem.

Once I was presentably clean, we headed down the road back to the car. Once again, Boss Lady found it necessary to snap-snap-snap away at nature. This time it was butterflies.

Sheesh. How about a little appreciation for critters who are willing to actually hold still for the camera.

Back at the car, I finally found the perfect place to wipe my face.

02 August 2008

You Furry Four-Legged Nose-Thing

The Boss Lady threw this epithet at me the other day as she was trying to put on her sneakers in preparation for our mini-adventure. Well, yes, I am furry. I try not to be, though. I shed as much as is dogly possible. Perhaps the Boss Lady should consider devoting more time to my grooming. If you did a better job, you wouldn’t be able to call me furry. Four Legged. Again, that is a yes. I don’t see a problem with that. Four legs are far better than two. Just look at the evidence: I can run faster, and farther. I am better able to splash through mud puddles. And digging holes is easier. I’m not sure what to say about the Nose-Thing. I do have a nose. I do use my nose. Maybe I am a Nose-Thing? I don’t know.