31 December 2008


You people are weird, and, coming from me, that's saying something. Seriously, though, who would've thought the search terms "moose droppings" were this popular? Several times a week I get a blog hit because someone googles "moose droppings." I guess I should be appreciative that I get those extra hits, but mostly I'm mystified as to why moose droppings are so interesting. Anyone care to explain?

And that's not the only weird search that brings people to my little corner of the interwebs. In the past 7 days I've had hits from searches for: moose anatomy, dictionary of Christmas, dog vagina anatomy(2, I'm hoping the same person), obsessed with tennis balls, dog powered plow, and bubbly farts. That's the other one, bubbly farts. Do you know how many hits I've had from people googling bubble farts, or some variation thereof? A lot. Twice in the last week, in fact. A half dozen times before that.

I guess it just goes to show that you never know what you're going to encounter out here in the wilds.

Penny For Your Thoughts

Did you really just wake me up to tell me it's time to go to bed? No, I do not want to go outside one more time. What I want is to go back to sleep.

If I close my eyes really hard, will that platter of turkey miraculously appear in my dinner bowl?

29 December 2008

I Know How To Spell, Thank You Very Much

Pain. Do you know how to spell pain? I'll tell you. P. E. T. E. Pain. Pain in the ass. That's what you are, a pain in the ass.

I think that's kind of harsh, Boss Lady's Father. I don't think I'm a pain in the ass at all. In fact, I think I'm quite helpful, really. Just today, I helped Boss Lady's Mother clean the cupboards. She took out all the cans and boxes and packages of food. She put them all on the counter, and then she got out the vacuum to suck up all the random crumbs that had fallen behind the drawer. I thought she probably needed some help, so I went out to see what I could do.

Hmm. A piece of stuffing. Yum. Mmm. And some ritz crackers. Oooh. I think those are peanuts. Yum yum yum. There you go, Boss Lady's Mother, all clean. No need for the vacuum now.

Pain in the ass, indeed. I prefer the title Cupboard Cleaner Extraordinaire.

28 December 2008

Where's That Dictionary?

Boss Lady is obviously confused as to the nature of an adventure. Today she loaded me into the car for our maiden adventure with the new snow shoes and backpack. She thought we would head up to Moosalamoo because she was sure they'd have snow even though we don't. Plus, she was pretty sure there weren't any VAST (re: snowmobile) trails in Moosalamoo.

As you can imagine, I had myself all psyched up for a nice 2 hour romp in the snow. Why I ended up sitting in the car for 3 hours is beyond me. See, we left our house in the rain. According to the weather channel, there was only supposed to be a little rain at Moosalamoo. Normally we wouldn't hike in such inclement weather, but I really needed the exercise and Boss Lady really wanted to try out those new snow shoes. As predicted, it was only raining a little at Moosalamoo. And, as Boss Lady expected, there was plenty of snow. Too much snow, in fact, Or maybe just a driver with too few brains. Can you see what's going to happen to here?

Boss Lady was excited to find that the forest roads were mostly plowed. That is, most of the ones she needed to use were plowed. Not all of them, though. The last forest road, the one that leads to the trail head and summer (re: non-snowy weather) parking area, was not plowed. There were, however, tire tracks. Someone had managed to drive at least part of the way up the road. Boss Lady, equipped with a 4 wheel drive vehicle figured she could at least get up to the first barway where she could stop and turn around in preparation for our exit. And she was right. We reached the barway with only a little trouble. That's when the brains failed her. She decided that, being as we'd had such good luck with the first part, that we'd continue driving up to the parking area. She got to the first bend, not even out of sight of the barway, and realized that going further was a bad idea. Just as she was deciding to stop and back up, she slid off the road into the ditch.

Now, she doesn't have a lot of experience not getting stuck, being as she hasn't often chosen to drive in conditions that cause vehicles to get stuck. Which is to say, she's not perfect at preventing a vehicle from becoming completely stuck once it is a little bit stuck. Quite the contrary, as we discovered today.

So, once she was a little bit off the wheel track and into the ditch, all her efforts to remedy the situation only caused her to further mire the car in snow. Would you like to know just how mired she was? When she opened her door, she was pushing snow with it. Realizing that having snow up to the door frame is not an ideal situation, she set about to kicking as much as possible out of the way, in the hopes of being able to drive back out of the ditch. When she'd completed that plan, she found herself so far in the ditch could barely open the door because the car was plastered against the hill on the far side of the ditch. Yes, folks, she was well and truly stuck. And we hadn't even begun the adventure.

Being as Moosalamoo is a 45 minute drive from home, Boss Lady called home immediately to report her distress. She spoke to Boss Lady's Father, who agreed to attempt a rescue. She gave him directions as best she could (he's never been to Moosalamoo) and took note of the time. It was 1:45pm. She considered the fact that he would have to put on cold weather rescue appropriate clothing, find a couple shovels, get together some chains, and generally put himself into the right mindset before he could even leave the house, she didn't expect to see him until about 3:00pm. Which gave us enough time to hike up the road and back down, thus getting at least a little bit of hiking time. It also made sure she was still just barely within cell phone range in case Boss Lady's Father got lost on the way up.

About the time we got to the end of the road and were turning around, Boss Lady's phone rang. She answered and was informed by Boss Lady's Mother, that Boss Lady's Father had only just left the house. It was almost 2:30pm at that time. Which pushed back his arrival time to 3:15pm. Hmph, she thought. We could've just hiked the trail and probably still have gotten back to the car in time. Of course, it was too late for that now, but she wasn't about to sit in the car waiting when we could be hiking. She planned to use every moment she had. So, off we went on another trail, with the intentions of hiking out to one of the other intersections and then simply turning back.

Off we went, me digging buried branches out of the snow all along the way. Her purposely finding the deepest snow in which to tromp through. When we were most of the way back, Boss Lady's Father called to report that he had reached a nearby intersection and should be there immenently. She told him we'd probably be there a little bit after him. About 15 minutes later, we reached the car. Boss Lady's Father was not there. We walked down to the end of the road. Boss Lady's Father was not there. We tried to call his cell phone, but Boss Lady's Father was outside the reception area. Cold and wet, we settled ourselves into the car, hoping that he would appear momentarily. Fifteen minutes crept by. He did not appear. Another 10 minutes slid away, and still no Boss Lady's Father. At this point, it was 3:30pm. Boss Lady was beginning to get really cold. She decided to climb back out of the car and make some effort at dislodging it from the ditch. But, there really wasn't much she could do without a shovel. She looked at me, sitting cold and wet in the back of the car and figured I was getting pretty cold, too. And the only solution she could think of, was to let me out to play in the snow. At least if we were moving around, we could keep the cold at bay, right?

Ten minutes later, her gloves soaking wet from throwing snowballs, Boss Lady decided she was tired of waiting for Boss Lady's Father. She tried to call him again, but still no signal. Then she called home, to see if they'd heard from him. They hadn't. So, now both Boss Lady and Boss Lady's Father were stranded somewhere in Moosalamoo. And Boss Lady's cell phone was quickly draining battery life. She decided to wait 10 more minutes and then start walking out. If nothing else, Boss Lady's Mother would have to begin a secondary rescue mission to at least get us home and dry, even if we had to leave the car stranded in the ditch over night.

Boss Lady packed up the backpack again. She grabbed the extra set of hat and gloves she keeps in the car, and the giant maglite/club, leashed me up, and headed for the road. She was almost hoping to find Boss Lady's Father in a ditch somewhere along the way so she'd at least know where he was. She didn't. Instead, mere moments after she phoned the house to say that, yes, a second rescue mission was in order, Boss Lady's Father phoned her to find out where he was and how to get to her. It turns out, he was just barely out of sight around a bend in the road. So, yet another phone call was made, and the 2nd rescue mission was canceled. Then Boss Lady and I climbed into Boss Lady's Father's little Ford Ranger (have you ever tried to put 2 grown adults and a large dog in the cab of a small truck? It's cramped quarters, I'll tell ya.) and off we headed to dig out the car.

And that's how we ended up with both vehicles stuck in the ditches on either side of the road. That's also when it really started raining. And getting dark. It's also when Boss Lady determined that I would be best able to help if I was inside the car staying out of the way. And, 45 minutes later, after lots of shoveling, several almost successes, and a whole lot of cussing, Boss Lady's car was out finally out of the ditch. Leaving only 1 vehicle still stuck in a ditch. And stuck it was. Boss Lady's Father went into the ditch on the wrong side of the road. The side that slopes downhill. Very downhill. He had both front tires mired in snow, with a tree about 1 foot from his front bumper, and his driver side tired lodged on the far side of what appeared to be an ancient stone wall. It was not a happy place. After another 30 minutes of shoveling and cursing and kicking at immovable objects, they were just about to give up on the truck. That's when Boss Lady's Father's shovel struck the stone wall, and the frozen mass moved. Moved, I say. It wasn't a stone wall at all. It was simply a massive lump of frozen dirt and rocks. Another 15 minutes later, Boss Lady's Father had extracted from behind the tire and beneath the truck, two massive lumps of frozen dirt and rocks. With those out of the way, and the bonus addition of loose dirt behind the rear wheels, Boss Lady's Father finally succeeded in getting out of the ditch.

Both cars finally back on the road, we headed home. And, finally, after another 45 minutes in that blasted car, I arrived home. I'm telling you, this 3 hours in a car for 1.5 hours of adventuring is not fun. Most especially not when it causes my supper to be late. Nearly two hours late. A dog could starve to death in these circumstances.

I hear the plans for tomorrow are to head for Shrew(woohoo!)sbury and see if we can get stuck up there.

27 December 2008

Under The Knife

Squeaky Hedgehog made another appearance during evening playtime. I think Star, Tim, and Winnie deserve one more kudos. Not only is this a wonderfully entertaining toy, but it has been the muse for 2 blog entries.

You'll recall that Squeaky Hedgehog was an assemble-it-yourself kind of toy. I'm not sure assembly is really the right word, though. Exactly how difficult is it to put stuffing and two squeakers into a toy and velcro it shut? Apparently, it does take some skill. While Boss Lady had managed to complete the necessary steps, we noticed during this play session that the squeakers were not much in evidence. Boss Lady finally decided we might have to do something about the missing squeakers. She took Squeaky Hedgehog from me and palpated his abdomen. No squeakers. She gently felt his head. No squeakers. She checked his anal glands. Two squeakers. What are the squeakers doing in his butt?! Don't you know anything about squeakers, I asked her. Squeakers belong in the stomach, not the butt. You need to fix this immediately.

Boss Lady agreed to perform immediate surgery to correct the problem. She pulled apart the velcro and stuck 2 fingers inside. She poked. She prodded. She accidentally squeaked one of the squeakers. Each time she managed to get one squeaker in place, it would move while she was trying to fix the other squeaker. I have to tell you, I was worried about my beloved Squeaky Hedgehog. I paced in front of her. I whined. I even licked Squeaky Hedgehog. I just couldn't bear the stress. My poor Squeaky Hedgehog.

It was touch and go for a few moments, when some of the stuffing and one of the squeakers slipped completely out of Squeaky Hedgehog. In the end, though, everything was just fine. Both squeakers were properly positioned in Squeaky Hedgehog's belly. The next time I fetched Squeaky Hedgehog, I was very pleased to find that he squeaked pleasantly when I squished him round the middle.

Next time I get a stuff-it-yourself kind of toy, I'll make sure to find someone qualified to assemble it properly.

26 December 2008

And You, Little Johnny?

"What did you get for Christmas?"

I got a whole lot, actually. Even some of what Boss Lady got was for me. First off, Boss Lady's Mother gave me a new Bone. The Bone I got last year for Christmas is looking kind of sad. Boss Lady's been thinking about retiring it, because I keep breaking off pieces. And you're not supposed to be able to break off whole pieces of a nylabone. Anyway, I really appreciated the new Bone. Of course, I would've appreciated it more had they actually taken it out of the package and let me chew on it. No, they thought it would be funny to make the poor, stupid, dog open it himself. Have you ever tried to open those plastic packages? It's impossible. I scratched it, and chewed it and I couldn't get into that thing. Finally I settled on chewing Bone through the plastic package. And they wouldn't even let me do that. What party poopers.

Bone vs One Year Old Bone. Hard to believe, isn't it.

So, on to the plain, white envelope from Aunt A. I had some pent up frustration left over from the Bone, so my initial approach to the envelope was a bit rough. I was thinking about good old fashioned paper shredding, Boss Lady wouldn't let me. Which turned out to be a good idea. That plain, white envelope was more than it seemed. It was a whole $30 to our favorite pet store. WooHoo! Doggie level treat buffet, here I come!!! Boss Lady tells me I'll have to spend some of it on non-food items. Maybe a new collar, to match my snazzy harness. I think I even heard her mention doggie shampoo. I'm going to have to veto that. Christmas presents should not be spent on implements of torture.

That was it for my presents. I know, I think I got cheated. Maybe I shouldn't have chased away that fat dude in the red suit. Or threatened to chew on his reindeer. Oh well. As I mentioned, some of Boss Lady's gifts are really for me, so I'll tell you about those.

First, she got a new adventuring backpack. Considering the old one was an original from when she was little and they all went on family hikes, it really was time for a new pack. This one is a little bigger, the better to carry 2 water bottles. And it has more padding. The better to protect ones back from the banging of 2 water bottles. And it has numurous pockets, one of which, I am promised, will be dedicated to me.

Now, for the bestest of her presents: snow shoes! Tubbs snow shoes, to be precise. And anybody who knows snow shoes knows that Tubbs makes mighty fine snow shoes. Boss Lady can't wait to get out and try them this weekend. We might have lost all our snow to the rain Wed. night, but we know where we can find plenty more. Having her very own snow shoes means she doesn't have to steal Boss Lady's Mother's pair. And it means they can go hiking together instead of only one at a time. Nothing can stop us now.

I figure I should mention the crowning glory of presents now. Boss Lady protests that it is not actually a Christmas present. She tells me that it is simply a coincidence that it appeared Christmas Morning. I don't really care. It's for me, and it's pretty grand. My very own Dog Crib. We're either going to have to amend the name, or seriously work on PR. I know it started life as a stinky diaper type crib, but I plan to convert it to my very own Crib.

It only needs a little work. A slab of plywood so it doesn't sag. A nice thick mattress so I'll be comfy. Maybe a new coat of paint. A more permament place in her room.

Are you jealous, yet?

24 December 2008


Do you remember how I received a package from Star, Winnie, and Tim the other day? And it had a fun stuff your own squeaky toy inside? Boss Lady thought it was so cute that she stuffed it immediately. She let me sniff it. Then she threw it a couple times. But, she didn't let me play with too much. She was afraid I would destuffinate it before she could get any fun pictures. During this little while when we played with the toy, she referred to it as Squeaky Hedgehog.

Last night, while Boss Lady was relaxing in front of the fire and surfing the internet, I decided that I wanted to play. I brought her bagel and spinner and Mr. Green. But, those weren't the toys I really wanted to play with. I wanted to play with the forbidden Squeaky Hedgehog. Boss Lady thought maybe it was a good time to play with Squeaky Hedgehog, too.

Prepare to be destuffinated, Squeaky Hedgehog.

Boss Lady would like to announce that Star, Winnie, and Tim are geniuses. I've never played with a stuffy toy, without destroying it, as long as I played with Squeaky Hedgehog. Usually, I chase a stuffed toy for about 10 minutes before I started ripping it apart. Last night I chased Squeaky Hedgehog for 45 minutes and never made a single hole. I shook it and tossed it and fetched without hurting it at all. Boss Lady was very impressed.

Which brings us to Tyrone. Tyrone was not at all impressed. Tyrone made his feelings perfectly clear.

If you come near me with that damn squeaky hedgehog, so help me you’ll end up with a leaky nose quicker than you can say squeak.

And the same goes for you and that damn camera, Lady.

Tyrone is something of a stick in the mud when it comes to playing. He hates it when I get rambunctious.

I’ve got my eye on you, so don’t try anything funny.

Then the funniest thing happened. I gave Squeaky Hedgehog a particularly wild throw, and it bounced off the chair right above Tyrone's head. If you've ever wanted to see a Portrait of a Pissed off Cat, I've got one for you.

Throwing squeaky hedgehog at me qualifies as something funny. And I don't find it amusing.

I thought maybe if I shared my toy, Tyrone would understand the fun better. I was wrong.

It squeaks. It’s covered in dog slobber. It is inherently offensive. What the hell is it doing invading my space?

The only other thing I could think of to try was the goofy look.

Is it working?

And, because one more picture of Tyrone can't hurt,

23 December 2008

That's Why They're Called Dog Biscuits

The other day I received a wonderful package from Star, Winnie, and Tim. It had a sweet little note, paw written by Star herself, a fun stuff-your-own-squeaky-toy Hedgehog, and some peanut butter biscuits. Mmmmm. Peanut Butter Biscuits. I could smell them as soon as Boss Lady pulled the package out of the mailbox. When we got back in the house, she couldn't open it fast enough to please me. I nosed the note aside, ignored the not-stuffed-yet squeaky toy, and dove straight into the Peanut Butter Biscuits.

Boss Lady says it's a good thing they were in a plastic bag to slow me down, or I would have inhaled them before Boss Lady even knew what they were. As it was, she just barely managed to snag them before I ingested them, bag and all. Once I was sitting politely, she opened the bag to give me one. And then she smelled what I had been smelling the whole time: Peanut Butter goodness.

Now, one thing you have to know about Boss Lady is that she loves her peanut butter just as much as I do. So, it's not a stretch to imagine that she might enjoy peanut butter cookies herself. Another thing you have to know about her is that she takes her job seriously as my care taker. She doesn't just let me eat anything, if she can help it. She likes to know what's going into my mouth. So, it's not a stretch to imagine that she might thoroughly investigate any food items sent my way. Such an investigation will involve visibly inspecting the food. It will probably involve sniffing the food. It might even, should the food sniff pleasantly enough, involve actual human tasting of the food. There's been more than one time that she ingested a treat meant for me.

Fortunately for me, the Peanut Butter Biscuits passed all her tests and were deemed safe for doggie enjoyment (as she fully expected they would.) Even more fortunately for me, they were not deemed satisfactory for human consumption. Which means I won't have to share my peanut butter yummies with Boss Lady.

Thank you sooooo much Star, Winnie and Tim!!!!

An Addendum:

It has been brought to my attention by someone in the know (re: the baker) that those biscuits contain not one sniff of peanut butter. None whatsoever. They are, in fact, parmesan cheese. Which, as far as I'm concerned, is only slightly below peanut butter on the scale of yumminess. Boss Lady, though, isn't as fond of cheese as I am. Oh, she enjoys it, don't get me wrong, but she doesn't revel in it nearly as much as I do. Which is probably why she was so disappointed by the biscuits and deemed them unfit for human consumption. Oh well. All I know is it means I get to eat them all.

22 December 2008

Don't Lick'em When They're Cold

Ask and ye shall receive seems to be the motto around here lately. I wanted snow, and snow is what I got. First we got a small storm midweek which dumped about 6" on us. Then we got another storm on Friday that dumped a foot. It was supposed to clear up Saturday before another storm hit on Sunday, but it turned out that it never really stopped snowing from Friday until Sunday night. We didn't accumulate much on Saturday, but Sunday gave us another 6" or so.

I really enjoyed the snow on Wed, during that little misadventure. On Saturday I was thrilled that Boss Lady got up early to run errands and then decided to play in the snow instead. She dragged out Boss Lady's Mother's snow shoes and took me down to the Town Farm Trail. She fully expected (and hoped) to be the only person braving the storm for such a frivolous thing as exercising the dog. She hoped that the road to the Rec Center would be at least plowed. She was pleased to find that the road was plowed. She was not so pleased to find another guy with his 3 dogs already down there. The two of the dogs that she greeted seemed friendly enough, but they did jump on the car several times. >:( Once she'd determined that the fellow and his pups were on their way out, she clipped on the snow shoes and let me out.

I hadn't realized just how much snow there was until we started for the trail. The other dogs had broken something of a path at first, but then they'd obviously turned back and just played in the field near the parking area. When I ran out of path, I discovered what 1 1/2" feet of snow feels like. Let's just put it this way: I can honestly say I'm happy I'm missing a certain part of my anatomy, because that snow was cold! I guess I can't fault Arya for not wanting to lower her hoohoo into that mess.

Once we'd crossed the big bridge, Boss Lady decided to take a chance and let me loose. After all, how much trouble could I get in with two fields and a river between us and the parking lot, plus over a foot of snow on the ground. It's not as though I was going to run away, I could hardly run.

Once I was free, I bounded through the snow. I chewed on snow. I plowed through snow. I accidentally took a couple of face plants. I also gave Boss Lady a bit of a scare. There are several small streams that cross the beginning of the trail before you actually reach serious part of the trail. There were some planks and impromptu crossings created over these streams, but they were all washed out in the rain before the snow storms. Well, Boss Lady didn't realize the planks were gone, and I've never been one to be bothered by splashing through a little water. I really thought Boss Lady was going to keel over from a heart attack when I went splashing through the first stream. All I heard was a desperate scream about deep snow and temps in the teens and the potential concerns for frozen feet. I guess her boots aren't waterproof and her snow shoes don't work on water. My feet were fine, but she refused to go any further and actually insisted we not play in the stream at all. What a killjoy.

It all worked out, though. She threw sticks for me for about a half hour and then we turned around and went back to the car.

This is what I call Balls Deep Snow.

Look quickly, now, it's not every day you get to see that Mythical Creature known as The Abominable SnowDog.

I'm telling you, there's some varmint under all this snow, and I'm going to find it.

20 December 2008

My Grandson is Furry And Four Legged

Lots of surveys, research, anecdotal evidence and retailers will tell you that these days people spend a lot of money of their pets. People consider pets part of the family. Some people (particularly those who are approaching Old Maid status) even consider their pets to be their children. And this household certainly doesn't provide any evidence against such thinking. On our fridge there is a picture of moi, in one of those cute little magnetic frames (dog themed, of course.) In Boss Lady's wallet there are 2 pictures of moi. In Boss Lady's Mother's wallet there is one picture of moi. Whilst Boss Lady may not spend millions on me every year, I do have my very own savings account, into which she regularly makes deposits, and out of which she rarely makes withdrawals. I'm definitely more than just a dog.

When Boss Lady's Mother is asked about current grandchildren, or the possibility of future grandchildren (both Boss Lady and Aunt A being of such ages that grandchildren would be expected) she replies that yes, she does have a grandchild: he is furry and four legged, and then she pulls out her wallet. Upon further questioning, she'll divulge that quite likely she'll only ever have furry and four legged grandchildren.

When Boss Lady is asked similar questions regarding children and the having of them, she says there will likely never be any children. She prefers dogs and cats, really. At least she can lock them in a cage or the cellar when they're obnoxious, she'll joke. And when she's asked whether or not she considers me her "child," she replies no. I am not a child. I am not the equivalent of a child. I am a dog. It's a whole different category. No other explaining is needed as far as she is concerned.

I'm not so sure her actions today properly reflect her position on children vs dogs, though. Today she drove all the way to Pittsford, without me, mind you, to purchase a new bed for me. It's more than a bed really. Almost a throne. It's certainly quite the set up for a dog. It was, in it's previous life, a child's crib. It was used for a child who is probably now an adult several years older than Boss Lady currently is. It has metal bars, and metal springs, and two sides that slide up and down. Most likely today it would be considered most dangerous and anathema for children, let alone an infant.

The perk of this little piece of furniture is that when one side is down, it creates a wonderful little day bed. Or, for those who see such things, a dog bed. Thus it is that a child's crib becomes a dog bed, further blurring the line between children and dogs. Just to be sure, though, Boss Lady maintains that I am not a child, nor a child replacement. It's just that this piece of furniture was perfect, and can't adequately be described as a mere dog bed. I am the proud new owner of a dog crib. And if she ever manages to make space in her room, put the thing back together and make a cushion, I'll encourage the taking of pictures.

19 December 2008

You'll Be Getting A Dictionary For Christmas

On Wednesday, Boss Lady promised me an adventure. A real adventure, too, not another one of these half adventures down at the Rugby Field. She told me we were going to Pittsford. I distinctly recall hearing the word hike. Boss Lady must have an old dictionary or something, though, because I ended up doing 1 1/2 hours of riding before finally getting a 1 hour hike. She loaded me into the car with good intentions. We just had to take a short ride before we could hike. Except, once she got in the car she realized that she would have to get gas or we wouldn't make it to Pittsford. And, in order to get gas, she had to stop at the bank to get some cash. Then she figured that if we were driving all the way to Pittsford, we might as well make a quick stop at RCHS. She wanted to drop off a bag of nickel bottles and a holiday card. Plus, she really wanted to check at Gormley's Christmas Tree Farm to see if they still had the old fashioned crib from last year.

When Boss Lady saw the crib last year, she immediately knew it would be perfect as a dog bed. Unfortunately, she didn't have the space or the $100 to bring it home. This didn't prevent her from wishing she'd brought it home. All year long, she's been thinking about that dog bed. So, she decided that if Gormley's was still trying to get rid of the crib, then it was coming home with her. Nevermind the lack of money or space, she'd figure something out.

So, off we headed to the bank, the gas station, RCHS, and Gormley's. Oh, did I mention that we had a snow storm on Wednesday? We did, and the roads were awful. Which meant Boss Lady drove 35mph all the way to Pittsford, instead of 55. And the winding road out to Gormley's was particularly fun. The good news was that after that long trip, the crib is still available, and reduced to $75. Boss Lady told them she wanted it and would return on Saturday to take it home.

Yeah, great, I've got a wonderful dog bed, but I'm still sitting in the back of this car waiting for my hike.

Finally, Boss Lady headed the car towards the Pittsford Trailhead. Only to discover that we couldn't get to the trailhead because the road was flooded from all the rain we got a couple days before that. When she explained the situation to me, I just looked at her. You don't really mean to tell me that after being promised a hike, and riding around in this car for 1 1/2 hours, you plan to take me home without any hiking? I know you're not really going to do that.

So, she didn't. She drove back to boring Rutland and took me out at Pine Hill Park. At least I got first tracks on one of the trails.

I can tell you what Boss Lady will get from me for Christmas.

18 December 2008

Identity Crisis

I am currently suffering an identity crisis. With the cold weather, my humans don't like Tyrone staying outside at night. So, every evening before Boss Lady's Mother goes to bed, she calls Tyrone inside. She opens the front door and calls, "Here, kittykittykittykittykitty." And I come running from where ever I am sleeping in the house. The humans all laugh about it. Boss Lady even managed to set me up for another starring role in a moving picture. She demanded that I inform you that no training was involved in this "trick." I learned it all by myself, with absolutely no help from the popcorn jar. Boss Lady is thinking about making this my recall; so far it's the most fool proof response yet.

She tried to get video proof of me chasing a string as well, but I wouldn't cooperate once she turned on the camera. They've got strings and ropes and dangly things all over the house with the decorating business going on. I love to chase them and pounce on them and bat at them with my feet. Boss Lady and the others laugh hysterically at me. They say I think I'm a cat. Well, I know I'm not a cat. Besides, cat's don't have the market cornered on string chasing.

17 December 2008

Brought To You By: Dyson

Boss Lady's Mother was petting me the other day. She was scritching under my chin, and around my ears, and on my butt. Butt scritches are the best. She was just scritching away, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Until I heard Boss Lady's Mother exclaim about the amount of hair falling off my furry body. She was covered in hair that moments before had been covering me. She stopped scritching me so she could scrape all the hair of herself. With my wonderful massage seemingly finished, I shook myself out, releasing puffs of hair into the air as if someone had just blown 3 year's worth of dust off a shelf. Boss Lady's Mother was appalled. She'd just vacuumed the house and didn't want all my hair dirtying it up again. How on earth was she going to keep the hair off the floor? She lit upon the great idea of vacuuming the hair straight off my body. Why bother to wait for it to fall to floor, she figured, when she could just suck it off me and save a step.

Moments later I found myself stationed in the middle of the living room, while Boss Lady's Mother worked me over with the Dyson and Boss Lady snapped pictures for evidence, I allowed myself to be groomed with a small appliance.

At first, I rather enjoyed it. It was kind of like being brushed.

I enjoyed it less when she started vacuuming against my fur. My fur grows in that direction for a reason.

You know, I think I'm getting kind of tired of this game. Are you done yet?

When Boss Lady's Mother finally gave up, she looked at the dirt canister and found that it was almost full with dog hair. She couldn't believe how much fur she'd vacuumed off me. I stepped away from the vacuum and gave myself a good shake to get everything back in place. She was appalled by how much hair puffed up into the air. So much for vacuuming all the loose hair off me.

Boss Lady now has another million dollar invention: a dog brush vacuum attachment. She envisions your standard dog brush, except it has a hollow handle. The handle then attaches to the vacuum so that the hair is sucked up as you brush the dog.

16 December 2008

And Just What Makes You So Sure?

The other evening, when the humans finally returned home from partying, they all slipped into pajamas and settled down on the couch for a relaxing evening. While I was still prowling in the kitchen, hoping they'd dropped some of the left overs as they filed them away in the fridge, I heard a noise outside. It was a very disturbing noise. I barked at it. Just one, loud woof. Boss Lady, cozied up to Sam (which is her laptop, don't go getting excited for her) ignored me. I woofed another single, loud bark. This time Boss Lady whistled me into the living room, told me I was a wonderful puppy for coming when called, instructed me to sit, and then proceeded to inform me that I was woofing at a false alarm. I cocked my head and looked at her, not understanding her explanation. The proper procedure for declaring a false alarm is for me to woof, her to come to the door or window, her to determine that the noise is something benign like a visitor at the neighbor's, and then inform me it was a false alarm. She can't declare something a false alarm until she gets up and looks out the door the check. She can't see the driveway, or the front door from her chair in the living room. How can she possibly know it's a false alarm?!? I remained unconvinced and trotted back out to the kitchen to keep watch.

See, it wasn't that long ago when we had that conversation about my responsibilities as a guard dog. Boss Lady made it very clear that I was expected to fulfill all responsibilities at all times. I seem to recall a rather lengthy lecture regarding the possibilities of robbers, burglars, rapists, and serial killers breaking in without me noticing. So, if I hear a noise, I'm going to announce it properly. And, if my responsibility is to warn against perceived dangers, then Boss Lady's responsibility is to follow up on my warnings. Following up definitely involves more than sitting on your butt in a comfy chair next to the fire. Are we clear on that? If I bark, you better jump up. I refuse to be held responsible when that burglar breaks in and steals all the chocolate.

15 December 2008

Men Are From Mars

And blog readers are from Pluto. Pluto's not even a planet anymore, so I'm not sure what that says about you blog readers. Frankly, I just don't understand you. The things I think will be definite hits, like videos of me being rammed by the giant stick Colyn is carrying around, or the genius Yankee Doorknob, get nothing. Nothing at all. Then the random, less good stuff, gets comments and reactions. And I don't think it was the picture scaring people away, because I have a very inviting picture now and you people still aren't sticking around for more than 2 seconds. What gives?

It's Snow Nice

It snowed! It finally snowed! On Friday we got 4 inches of snow, an inch of slush that froze into a hard crust, and another half inch of snow on top of the crust. Boss Lady managed to schedule a mini-adventure to the Rugby Field on Sunday so we could play in the snow. It was grand fun. I dug in the snow. I chewed on frozen sticks. And then Boss Lady threw snow for me!

A few times there were disappearing snow chunks. Which, I must tell you, was most annoying.

Poor Boss Lady doesn't have very good aim, and I ended up missing more than I caught.


Aha! Caught one.

Ooops. This one caught me.

14 December 2008

Just Keeping You On Your Toes

You probably don't know this, but we have 2 front doors. One is the front door, leading into the kitchen with coat hooks and a shoe rack, a nice bench for sitting on, and baskets for holding hats and mittens and what-all. The other is the front hall door which leads into the front hall where there are more coat hooks, another shoe rack, and a cute wrought iron hat and mitten tree. In the winter we use the front hall door, due to ice build up in front of the front door. All last winter we used the front hall door. We very rarely went in or out the front door. All summer, up until a couple months ago, Boss Lady only used the front hall door. I never got used to this routine. Every time Boss Lady asked me if I wanted to go out, I would go racing to the front door, while she headed for front hall door to get her shoes and coat. No matter how many times we went through the front hall door, I still thought the front door was the door we would use. Then, a couple months ago, the door handle fell off the front hall storm door and we pretty much discontinued use of that entry way. Which is exactly when I started racing to the front hall door to request a trip outside, while Boss Lady was headed to the front door for her shoes and coat. Boss Lady was exasperated by this. Now that it's full blown winter, and we have a nice coating of ice building up in front of the front door, we have rigged a Yankee Doorknob and begun using the front hall door again. And I'm still racing to the front hall door for trips outside. Boss Lady wonders how long this will last before I start running to the wrong door again.

The Yankee Doorknob

Speaking of doors, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but Boss Lady was right about the icy porch=pug nose scenario. As I mentioned, we're getting ice build up on the porch. Yesterday, during my she-just-came-home-from-work trip outside, Boss Lady set me free to race towards the door. I was so excited by the snow, and the prospect of supper, that I raced even faster than normal towards the front door. Paired with a nice layer of ice all across the porch, I managed to slide none too gracefully into the front door with a crash. Apparently, this is what it feels like to have a shortened nose.

13 December 2008

Who Says I Don't Contribute?

One of Boss Lady's most frequent complaints about me is that I fail to contribute monetarily to the household income, while at the same time demanding a certain not so small chunk of the household budget for my upkeep. She has contrived several different options to generate some sort of income from me, ranging from dog powered electricity for the house, to renting me out as a lumberjack. None of her options have been realistic, and thus all have remained unattempted. After the other day, though, Boss Lady will no longer be able to say that I never contribute monetarily to the household income.

On the same day that we adventured the mini-adventure at the Rugby Field/Swamp, which provided the entertaining videos from my previous post, I found 4 returnable bottles. At five cents per bottle, I am proud to report to the IRS twenty cents of income. Had Boss Lady not been forced, under threat of physical damage to the house, to take me for an energy expending adventure, I would not have been able to find these bottles, and she would not have been able to carry the bottles home and add them to the nickel bottle barrel. Thus, we have my not insignificant contribution to the household income.

And, just to be sure she didn't at some future point fail to recall this instance, I made sure to create photographic evidence, which I will share here with you.

Just in case you were wondering, I prefer Labbatt's Blue over Michelob Ultra.

Here I am totally destroying the Labbatt's Blue can in order to fully enjoy each drop of liquid left in the can.

Here you can see, up close and personal, how thoroughly I damaged the can in my quest for yumminess.

As the first picture showed, I did not similarly attack and destroy the Michelob Ultra can. It just didn't taste as good.

Finally, because Boss Lady was unable to produce a post that fluidly included the following picture, I will allow it to be posted here. It is one more picture from the recent mini-adventure to the Rugby Field. Yes, that is a leaf hanging off my chin. I allowed it to hang there for quite awhile, actually. Five or ten minutes to be exact. I would like to point out that my willingness to allow a dead leaf to hang from my chin is in no way suggestive of a non-studly dog. Once again, Boss Lady is tarnishing my image as a handsome, studly dog.

12 December 2008

I Will Kill You!

This will be a short post, wordwise, today. Boss Lady and I had a mini-adventure a couple days ago and she brought along her camera. She always brings along her camera. You never know what kind of foolishness I might exhibit. The fun thing about her camera, though, is that it not only takes pictures, but it also takes videos. She decided to use the video feature quite a bit during our mini-adventure. She thought she might show everybody how thorough my obsession with sticks is. My apologies for the video quality. It's not like I can afford a professional, you know.

First, we have a fairly straight forward video of me battling a stick. Notice how the stick keeps trying to knock me in the head, but I'm always too quick and manage to duck out of the way.

Next, we have me battling the stick again, this time with Boss Lady pretending she's a matador or something. Boss Lady asks that you please disregard the part at the end where I ignore her. *Note: No Boss Ladies were injured in the making of these videos. At least, not gravely.*

Finally, we have an illustration of how quickly I can dispatch a stick. Boss Lady kindly kept track of how many branches I broke off this stick. Again, Boss Lady requests that you disregard the part where I ignore her. Mostly, I don't ignore her, but sometimes I do. Which is why I have to run around on a leash.

10 December 2008

RCHS Update

Yesterday morning I hiked with Reno again. He really is very sweet. I was actually thinking about taking out Shadow, but then I forgot to bring Colyn's large harness. Once I got a look at him, I knew there was no way the smaller harness would fit Shadow. Reno was perfectly happy to go out again, though. He was sleeping on his little platform bed in his run when I arrived, but he popped up when I came in and said his name. He was very excited about coming out with me. He was also very opposed to the notion of wearing a harness. He dodged and darted and ducked his head for almost a minute before I finally managed to wrestle it over his head. Once he was all dressed and leashed, he dragged me outside and headed for my car. I insisted he piddle before getting into my car, so he managed to squeeze out a few drops, before racing over to the car again. He hopped right in and sat down politely.

Now, you'll remember that I've only hiked with Reno one other time, so it's not as if he would be familiar with the ride to the trail. But, the closer we got to the trailhead, the more excited he became. As we crossed the one lane covered bridge, he could barely contain himself. He was bouncing around and talking loudly. You'll note I said talking, not barking. Reno doesn't seem to bark, but he does talk some. As soon as I opened the door, he bounded out ready for an adventure.

The first thing he did was run to the edge of the bank and think about sliding down to the river. I told him in no uncertain terms that such an attempt would be very, very foolish and would result in his immediate return to RCHS for drying off. He seemed to take me seriously.

He didn't stop watching the river, though. Apparently, he found it quite intriguing.

I did allow him to get a drink when we reached a suitable place. Surprisingly, he was very careful about it and hardly even got his toes wet.

He also found ample opportunities for practicing his nifty invisibility trick. If not for that brightly coloured flower harness, you'd hardly be able to see him.

He bounced along through the hike, sniffing at this and peeing on that. He was very polite while I stopped to take pictures of the river (most of which are posted over on the adventure blog that you probably didn't know I had). And he didn't mind too much when I insisted on pulling out all the burdocks as soon as I noticed he'd collected them. He even sat down and calmly waited while I took more pictures of the river.

He was a little annoyed when he saw these fun tracks going across the icy river. He wanted to follow them, using the argument that if the ice was thick enough to support that critter, then it must be thick enough to support him. I disagreed and refused to let him test his theory.

He only sulked for a few minutes before I found another appropriate place to allow him to get a drink.

When we arrived back at the car, he was just as excited about going for a ride as he had been about going for a hike. I'm pretty sure he would have been perfectly happy hiking for another hour, but as soon as he saw the car he was perfectly happy to hop in and enjoy the ride. He's really just such a happy dog.

09 December 2008

Well, That's Not Very Nice

A couple mornings ago, one of Boss Lady's Mother's cousins stopped in to visit. While I enjoy visitors, it does sometimes take me a little while to calm down and relax. And, not all visitors enjoy me sniffing and nosing at them. Boss Lady usually makes it a point to distract me with tricks and toys until both the guest and I are feeling comfortable. On this particular morning, after we'd run out of all our tricks, Boss Lady sent me to find Bagel. I dutifully brought it back and tossed it at her. After a couple rounds of toss and fetch, and some halfhearted tugging, Boss Lady decided to try something new. She loves to put Bagel on my head and watch me shake it off. Usually I won't allow it to sit on my head for even two seconds. This particular morning, though, it didn't bother me. Boss Lady plopped it onto my head, and I just left it there. Then something would catch my attention and I would move my head too suddenly and off would slide Bagel. Boss Lady would pick it up and put it back on my head, where I would let it sit. Boss Lady, Boss Lady's Mother and the guest were delighted by this new game (humans really are so very easy to entertain). When she got out the camera, though, I thought maybe I was in trouble. She proceeded to snap several pictures. I worried about what she might do with those pictures. Surely she wouldn't post them on my blog? No. She couldn't possibly be that mean.

Obviously, I was wrong. She can be that mean.

You know, this whole bagelhead thing is not contributing positively to my image as a handsome, studly dog. I think we should discontinue this game immediately.

08 December 2008

Is It Better Now?

As you've probably already discovered, Boss Lady decided to do some major tweaking on the blog today. First off, she decided to go ahead and change the header picture. While she really thought the poo picture was perfect, a lot of you weren't so sure. The results of the poll were as follows: 1 of you thought it was awful, 8 of you thought it was weird (or maybe you chose that because you think I'm weird), and 5 of you thought it was perfect. I'm guessing that those who are familiar with myself and the blog weren't so bothered by the picture, and those who were passersby were a little bit squicked out by it. So, we'll try a different picture and see how you readers respond.

Second of all, you'll notice that everything is a little bit wider. Boss Lady likes it better this way. Being wider also allows me to add the "reactions" feature. The reactions are: Moosalamoo, Pine Hill Park, or Walk Around the Block. These are different adventures and mini-adventures I often experience and their value coincides with the value of the adventure. If you need further explanation, here you go. Moosalamoo=hiking, which is great; frequent off leash opportunites, which is wonderful; and the option for short afternoon hikes or long day hikes, which is just perfect. Pine Hill Park=hiking, which is great; always on the long leash, which is better than the short leash; and only short afternoon hikes, which is good. Walk Around the Block=walking, which is better than nothing; on the short leash, which is better than nothing; and not longer than 1 hour, which is better than nothing. In short Moosalamoo is a great rating, Pine Hill Park is a good rating, and Walk Around the Block is a kind of blah rating. After this long winded explanation, I expect to see a lot of you using this feature.

In the next few days you can expect to see more tweaks, of a much more minor aspect. Pictures will surely be added. The template might be changed a little bit more. I might even institute a regular weekly poll.

I encourage you to post replies, responses, and thoughts regarding the layout, content, etc. I promise to take all under consideration.

P.S. My sincerest apologies for forgetting to mention that the most wonderful person in the world played an integral role in helping me collage the new header picture. I'm very grateful to her. You should be, too. If it wasn't for her, you'd still be looking at the poop picture.

I Do Not Take Whoa For An Answer

This afternoon, Boss Lady’s Mother was vacuuming the house. The vacuum and I use to be bitter enemies. Every time it appeared, I would follow it around the house trying to attack it. We have since come to terms and are, mostly, able to co-exist peacefully. Today, as Boss Lady’s Mother was vacuuming the hallway into the living room, I decided that I needed to be in the living room. So, I barged past Boss Lady’s Mother, and started shoving the vacuum out of the way. Boss Lady’s Mother hollered, “Whoa!” but I ignored her and shoved my way through. Boss Lady, who witnessed the event, just laughed and commented, “Colyn isn’t the sort of dog who takes Whoa for an answer.” I thought it was a rather observant observation.

As she chuckled to herself about her witty comment, she thought to herself about just how true it is. The other day we were out in the yard, when a squirrel came running across the yard towards the tree. I immediately decided to chase it, despite the fact that I was connected to Boss Lady with a 6 foot leash and the squirrel was at least 15 feet away. Boss Lady hollered, “Whoa!” but I ignored her. She had to physically restrain me. Then, today, we went to the pet store to pick up dog food. Can you believe that she let me totally run out of dog food before going to buy more? I know, it’s totally unacceptable, but she doesn’t seem to see the problem. Anyway, as we walked in the door at the pet store, one of the employees was playing fetch with her fat little Chihuahua. She threw the toy right in front of the door and the Chi was running past just as I stepped in. Well, I immediately tried to chase the toy, too. Of course I was chasing the toy, I would never dream of chasing the Chi. Chi’s don’t taste good, they’re way too spicy and I end up with heartburn or indigestion. Anyway, Boss Lady hollered, “Whoa!” at me, but I just ignored her. After she promised to get me a treat, I finally agreed to sit quietly while she got the dog food and paid for it. And there are countless other times when somebody hollered, “Whoa!” and I ignored it. See, I’m just not the sort of dog who takes Whoa for an answer. Life would be so boring if I stopped every time they told me to.

07 December 2008

He's Not As Helpful As Me, Though

Boss Lady was supposed to do laundry on Tuesday, which is her day off, but she was busy and lazy and didn’t bother. Which meant she had to do laundry on Wednesday, which is the day she goes in late. First thing in the morning, she stripped the sheets off her bed and threw them in the laundry. She hoped to have them washed and dried and be able to remake the bed before she left for work, so that she didn’t have to do it when she got home from work at 10:30pm. She prefers to reserve that time slot for playing on the internet. Unfortunately, she didn’t think to check the drier when she started the washer. So, it wasn’t until the sheets were ready to go in the drier that she discovered an only partially dry load of towels already in the drier. She had to finish drying that before she could dry her own sheets, which meant she didn’t have time to remake the bed before leaving for work.

Then, of course, when she got home she didn’t feel like making the bed. She felt like sitting down to relax and see what fun had occurred in the land of social networking. She figured she would simply cut short her internet time and leave herself 10 minutes to make the bed. It shouldn’t have taken longer than 10 minutes. It’s just a matter of putting some sheets and a blanket on the bed and then arranging the pillows. It never takes longer than 10 minutes. On Wednesday, when she really needed to go to bed relatively early because she had to be to work earlier than usual the next morning, it took almost 30 minutes. Why so long? you ask. I’ll tell you. Because she had quite a bit of help making her bed. Let me tell you how it went.

When she arrived home from work, Tyrone came racing from the neighbor’s yard and streaked through the front door with her. He begged for some food, and then he came into the living room where he curled up on the couch and fell asleep. This was all very normal. When it’s cold out, Tyrone prefers to spend the night sleeping on the comfy couch in the toasty warm living room; he does not prefer to sleep in a bedroom upstairs. On Wednesday, though, he must have decided to give the bedroom a try, because, when Boss Lady went upstairs to make the bed and go to sleep, Tyrone followed her. He followed her right into her room, hopped up on the bed, curled up, and fell asleep.

Boss Lady looked at him, put her hands on her hips, and explained to him that this was not going to work. She could not very well make the bed with a cat sleeping in the middle of it. He would simply have to move. She told him he was welcome to return when she was finished, but he had to move for the moment. Tyrone ignored Boss Lady. Figuring that he would simply decide to leave rather than be covered up, Boss Lady began making the bed. She started, of course, with the fitted sheet. She put on the first corner, and waited to see if Tyrone would leave. He didn’t. She put on the 2nd corner and looked at him again. He rolled over and looked back at her. He did not seem amused. Note the flashing of sharp meat hooks.

She put on the 3rd corner and looked at him again. He remained unbothered.

In annoyance, she put on the 4th, and last corner and waited for Tyrone’s response.

He stayed put, forming a nice lump in the middle of her bed.

Boss Lady proceeded to poke, prod, shake, and generally harass Tyrone in an effort to piss him off. Her efforts worked nicely, and pretty quickly she could see his tail twitching through the sheet.

After he was thoroughly annoyed, he decided it was time to move, and he tried to crawl out from under the sheet. Boss Lady kindly lifted a corner to let him out.

He then promptly flopped down in the middle of the bed again.

Boss Lady just looked at him. Then she poked him and prodded him, hoping to get him to move. He just rolled over as if he wanted his belly scratched.

She gave up trying to move him, and put on the flat sheet. Then they went through the poking, prodding, and harassing routine until he decided to move. Again, he popped out from under the sheet and immediately curled up in the middle of the bed. At which point, Boss Lady covered him with the heavy wool blanket. Then she poked and prodded him. This time Tyrone decided to play along and he tried to swat at Boss Lady’s hands. He poked all his claws through the blanket. He twitched his tail. He rolled around. Then he finally decided to come out and curl up in the middle of the bed again.

Comfortable with the routine, Boss Lady tossed her homemade quilt over Tyrone and left him alone. All on his own, he got annoyed with being covered up and he crawled out. Then he got annoyed with the pillows and he attacked them. Finally, almost 30 minutes after Boss Lady started the process, her bed was made and she could go to sleep. Except, that she had to figure out how to get herself into the bed, which was, at that point, being hogged by a cat. Knowing that Tyrone would not take kindly to being picked up and moved, Boss Lady decided to just crawl in and hope for the best. The best ended up being a cat very excited to play a new game involving the attacking of toes and fingers through 3 layers of bedding.

The next morning, Boss Lady related this story to Boss Lady’s Mother in exasperation. And Boss Lady’s Mother explained that she plays this game with Tyrone every time she makes her bed. Boss Lady’s Mother and Tyrone think the game is quite entertaining. Boss Lady, not so much.