RCHS Update

Meet Bola.

Cute, eh?

Bola is currently available for adoption at the Rutland County Humane Society. You can go read about him over on their website, but I think I have cuter pictures. And I won't accuse him of being unmannered. Unmanned, yes, but not unmannered. He has manners, they're just not entirely appropriate for most human households.

First let's have some stats on good 'ol Bola, and then we'll get on to the cute pictures.

Shar Pei Look-a-like Wrinkly Forehead and Ears?


check!

Happy Bully Grin?

check!

Serious Dog Expression?

check!

Big Muddy Feet?

check!

White Spot on Right Hind Foot?

check!

Airplane Ears?


definite check!

Bola and I went hiking in Pittsford today. This is what the trail looked like from Bola's point of view.

This is what Bola looked like from my point of view as he tried to climb back up the vertical riverbank.


It's a good thing he was wearing my dog harness instead of the one from the humane society, or I wouldn't have had a handle to pull him back up the bank.


Bola was up for adventure today when we went out. I no sooner got him back on the trail, and he decided to dig to China.


Once the Great Dig had been averted, Bola made another attempt at the river. Until he realized just how chilly the water was and he executed an emergency screeching halt.


All the mud necessitated a good scrub down when we returned to the car.


And all the digging, climbing, and screeching halting necessitated a nap.

I'd Like To See You Do Better

As we all know, the first thing a dog must do when he wakes up in the morning is patrol the house to check for anything suspicious. The second thing a dog must do when he wakes up in the morning is go outside and put fresh marks on his territory. The other morning I determined it was about time I marked the crab apple tree in the front yard again. I strutted over to it, carefully positioned myself, lifted my leg high, and let it rip. Boss Lady reports that I peed about a gallon, with a look of serious concentration on my face the whole time. I'd like to report that the look on Boss Lady's face was one of utmost amusement.

When I'd finished my task I inquired as to the cause of her amusement. It would seem that my aim is not as good as I'd thought. Apparently, nary a drop landed on the crab apple tree. Apparently, I was a good 3" off the bullseye. Considering the nearness of my target, I was downright embarrassed. I hung my head in shame, whilst she giggled and tee-hee'ed about it. After about the 7th insult to my studliness, I was ready to go inside and be done with the whole territory marking thing. I'd just like to tell her that aiming that thing takes quite a bit of practice, nevermind the fact that I don't have any side mirrors to help me. Hmph! It's not like she could have done any better.

I Am The Human; You Are The Dog

I am the human; you are the dog. That's Boss Lady's new motto. She uses it whenever she is trying to put one over on me. For instance, she used it the other day when I decided I wanted to get up early and go adventuring in the snow. I trotted my furry self right up the stairs and into her room, where I nose-pokered what I thought was her arm under the covers (turned out it was her knee, but, really, it's all the same). She pulled the blankets further over her head and moaned that she would not be getting out of bed early on a frosty cold morning. I nose-pokered her again and added a whine. She pulled the covers off her head and glared at me. I pointed my bright, shiny eyes right into hers and grinned. I even thumped my tail a little bit so she could tell how I excited I was about the prospect of adventuring in the snow all day. My efforts at dog to human communication worked wonderfully: Boss Lady fully understood exactly what I was telling her. Unfortunately, my skills of persuasion weren't so well tuned, and I was rudely rebuffed with a glare and a most unladylike curse. As a last resort, I turned on my begging eyes. Which is when she informed me of the obvious,

"I am The Human, you are The Dog, and I say we're staying right here in this toasty warm house where it is dry and comfy. There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it."

And that was the end of that discussion.

A couple days later, Boss Lady's motto made another appearance. I'd finally convinced her, with significant assistance from Boss Lady's Mother, to go for a walk. As we came around the corner, we found ourselves headed straight into a particularly wet and muddy section of the sidewalk. There was just the littlest bit of dry sidewalk available, only enough for one person to pass at a time. I promptly steered myself towards that dry patch, in the process bumping Boss Lady out of the way. I figured the leash was long enough that she could just follow along behind me. No sense in me getting my feet wet for no reason. Her response was immediate; she commanded me to heel, and then forced me to walk through the muddy mess, while her boots stayed clean and dry. I balked at the mud puddle, and gave her a dirty look. She just replied,

"I am The Human, you are The Dog, and it's much more important that my feet remain dry than yours."

So much for looking out for the health and well being of a loyal and beloved pet.

This evening Boss Lady's motto made one more appearance. Boss Lady's Mother was preparing a nice steak and potato supper, complete with carrots and homemade harvest bread. It smelled delicious to me, and I couldn't wait to enjoy my share. Boss Lady appeared and announced it my supper time. As Boss Lady headed for the food closet, I trotted over to Boss Lady's Mother and nosed her elbow. Boss Lady's Mother exclaimed, and Boss Lady gave me a strange look. She walked over to me with my allotted scoop of kibble and prepared to give me my first handful. I looked at the kibble, looked at the steak on the counter, and then looked at Boss Lady. I didn't want to be rude, but that steak just looked so much more appetizing than my daily ration of dry kibble. Boss Lady ignored my looks and shoved the kibble into my mouth. When she tried to give me the next handful, I pointedly stared at the steak. I ended up with another mouthful of kibble. On the 3rd try, I flat out refused the kibble and informed her that I wouldn't settle for less than my share of the steak.

In a very flat voice I was informed, as if I could possibly forget with her constant reminders, "I am The Human, you are The Dog; I eat the steak, you eat the kibble. Take it or leave it."

Well, who can turn down a proposition like that. The kibble suddenly seemed very appetizing.

A Real First

I am now made to feel guilty for abandoning my blog for so long. Whilst I was being lazy, a friend and fellow blogger, Mel over at The Research Journal, gave me my very first blogger award. She deems me a Kreativ Blogger. I'm very honored. I'm also stymied. I'm supposed to nominate 7 other blogs. But, but, but. I read so many more blogs than only 7. *sigh* I guess I'll just have to limit myself.

Once you receive the Kreativ Blogger award you’re supposed to pass on the good cheer.

Here are the instructions:
1. Copy the award to your site.
2. Link to the person from whom you received the award.
3. Nominate 7 other bloggers. (how to choose only 7!!)
4. Link to those sites on your blog.
5. Leave a message on the blogs you nominate.

I pass along the good cheer to the following blogs:

1. Vet On The Edge
2. Haley Poulos Photography
3. Some Day All This Will Be Yours
4. Save The Pit Bull, Save The World
5. Living With Infidels
6. Three Woofs And A Woo
7. Just Another Dog Blog

Can't Fool Me

I was aimlessly wandering the kitchen, checking for any post-supper droppings, when I smelled it. Food. Only dog kibble, but still, food is food. I snuffled around the bottoms of the cupboards, under the bar stools, and even in Boss Lady's Father's slippers, but found nothing. I sniffled intently along the floor, inhaling random dust bunnies that smelled promising. Still nothing. Finally, my nose locked upon the kibble smell: under the fridge.

I could smell it, a gold mine of kibble under there. I wedged my nose between the fridge and cupboard and snuffled and sniffled and licked around, but couldn't capture the elusive kibbles. I whined, moaned and directed pathetic looks toward Boss Lady's Mother. I scratched at the floor until finally Boss Lady's Mother went in search of Boss Lady to solve the problem.

When Boss Lady appeared, I eagerly looked at the fridge and whined. Boss Lady's gruff response was to "back up and down stay." So I did. She proceeded to dig out gobs of dust bunnies, a Chihuahua sized ball of pet hair (that cat sheds so much!) and 3 wonderful pieces of kibble. They glowed at me from within the dust and dirt. I could barely contain myself, a little puddle of drool formed under my chin. Boss Lady wandered out of the kitchen in search of a dust pan, leaving me all alone with the wondrous kibble. The kitchen was flooding with drool when she finally returned. I was dismayed when, instead of releasing me, she swept up the mess and unceremoniously dumped it in the garbage.

"What about my kibble?!" I wailed. She gave me a disgusted look, dug three Charlee Bears out of the cupboard, dropped them on the floor where the mess had been, and released me. Mmmmmm. Charlee Bears. But, you can't fool me. I know there was kibble, and I know where you put it. I may never forgive you for this blatant display of kibble abuse. I hope you're happy with yourself.

First Times

And the purge continues.

Back before Boss Lady and I got sick, she finally managed to make contact with an important person regarding the trails at Shrewsbury. This important person finally put in her hands a nifty little map of the trails, allowing us to, at long last, hike a loop instead of just hiking out and back. These are some very nice trails, and allow for various lengths of hikes. With both of us finally feeling better, we made our first Shrewsbury loop attempt. It just happened to be only 2 days after a massive storm. At our house, we got about 8" of snow. Up in Shrewsbury, they got anywhere from 1-3 feet of snow.

In case you're curious, this is what the upper end of 1-3 feet of snow looks like. No, I am not laying down.


Erm. I think I'm stuck.


Ooomph. This doesn't seem to be working very well.


According to Boss Lady, First Tracks are much sought after and very awesome to win. Lucky us, First Tracks in 2 feet of snow.


Truth be told, though, I'm the one who got first tracks. Boss Lady spent most of the hike following along in my trail.


Tromping through 2-3 feet of snow is exhausting work. Considering how excited she was about the First Tracks, I finally thought it might be a good idea to let her actually have First Tracks. Which means that, for probably the First Time Ever, I walked behind Boss Lady while we were hiking. Not too far behind, mind you. I kept close enough to tromp on her snowshoe every 3rd step. I was surprised at how much easier it is to walk in someone else's trail. No wonder Boss Lady had been hanging back for so long.



Even with following behind Boss Lady, hiking through all that snow was hard work. Another First: I actually plopped down in the snow to take a break. Boss Lady can't remember that happening ever before. I don't think she's one to comment, though, because she flopped down in the snow before I did. She claims it was an accident, but I don't believe her. She certainly took her sweet time getting up, and then she couldn't do it without holding on to me for help.


Anyway, despite the hard slogging through 2 feet of snow, and all the plopping down and whatnot, we did manage to successfully complete the loop. Boss Lady was very proud of us for pushing through and not giving up. It took us 2 hours to cover 2 miles; somewhat slower than our summer hiking time.

When we finally got back to the car, Boss Lady discovered I was carrying a couple extra pounds in snow. My whiskers were all icicled.


And my chest and tummy were covered with snowballs. My feet were even worse.

Yes, I was a poopered puppy.

The Adventure Not Taken

Here is a fine example of an entry in need of purging. Whilst Boss Lady's Writer's Constipation was preventing the documentation of our splendid adventures, it was not preventing the adventures themselves. One afternoon, she decided we needed to attempt Patch Hollow, which is off the AT/LT in East Wallingford. Boss Lady's Father introduced her to Patch Hollow, and showed her the old wheel track to follow to reach the beaver pond. So, off we went in the hopes of reaching The Pond. Along the way, I had a lot of fun playing in the snow.

Here I am at the beginning of the trail, before we went bushwacking on the old wheel track.


There's a good reason I'm standing on this stick.


See what it did to me?


You shouldn't have messed with me, Stick!


It was a very treacherous adventure. I had to fight off so many sticks. This one thought it could insult me while protected by plentiful snow cover.


Fortunately, I'm an expert snow digger.


Now, what was that you were saying, Stick?


That's what I thought, not so vocal once you're out in the open.


Ha! Who's in charge now, eh?


We never did quite make it to The Pond, although we did find this nifty cabin hidden in the woods.

(Ir)Regularity

My blog entries lately have been few and far between. For that you have my apologies. You'll recall that the last frequent entries I posted were regarding some bowel dysfunction suffered by both Boss Lady and myself. Between my frequent trips outside, and her extended stay in the bathroom and subsequent convalescence, blogging simply wasn't a priority. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're accepting this explanation as a good reason for the initial lack of entries, but you're wondering why it has lasted so long. Well, let me tell you, that was bowel related as well. Specifically, what Boss Lady is calling Writer's Constipation.

Writer's Constipation is similar to Writer's Block, in that it means no writing is happening. Boss Lady has coined this new term because she's had plenty of ideas, she simply hasn't been able to get them out. They just sit there in her brain, no matter how hard she works, and they just won't move. Aside from leaving you, my Loyal Readers, without entertainment, this condition leaves Boss Lady feeling bloated and cranky. As of this evening, though, the ideas seem to be moving again.

Hence, in the next few days you may look forward to new posts, some of which will probably be purges of incomplete, and now finished, entries attempted during Boss Lady's bout with Writer's Constipation. I can only hope my readers will come flocking back.

RCHS Update

Boss Lady managed to make her way to RCHS this morning. Jess told her there were only 4 dogs to choose from for hiking. It's always good when there aren't many dogs waiting to be adopted. What Jess didn't tell her was that there was a litter of puppies playing in the front cat room. Puppies! Oh, they were so cute! They're mutts, with maybe some dachsund, or maybe not. They're 5 1/2 weeks old right now, and raring to go. They kept their distance at first when Boss Lady stepped in to play with them, but pretty quick 3 of them trotted over to tackle her. Then two more joined the group. Only one puppy kept it's distance, and it was busy attacking the stuffy toy and chewing on the cat tower. Boss Lady scopped them all up, one at a time, and cuddled them. The little boys liked the cuddling, the little girls not so much. They chewed on her fingers, and her boots, and her boot laces, and her pant legs. One even tried to play tug with her sleeve. They were simply adorable! But, enough with the puppies. Boss Lady finally dragged herself away from them and chose a hiking partner.

Per Jess's advice, Boss Lady snagged Alaska, a very nice husky x chow mix. Alaska trotted along very politely with Boss Lady, although he was a little camera shy at first.



After a little while, he warmed up and discovered just how cool Boss Lady is. See his pretty stripes? Maybe he's got some tiger in there somewhere.



About half way through the hike, which she cut short, by the way, Alaska suddenly stopped walking, trotted back to Boss Lady, sat down politely, and requested scritches. Boss Lady was only too happy to accomodate him. She's a sucker for scritches requests. When his need for scritches had finally been satisfied, they continued on their way.

Alaska has a special message for my loyal readers: I'd really like to go home with you.




I'll use my sad face, if you don't come take me home.

Let The Record Show

Boss Lady is on another of her "I make the rules and you'll abide by them without comment, question, or complaint" kicks. So far, the only rules she is really cracking down on are the supper time rules. Rule #1: make and maintain eye contact before each mouthful. She really thinks I'm going to take my eyes off the food for even a second? Rule #2: supper is never served before 5pm, no matter how much I beg. If Boss Lady is home from work, I start begging around 4pm. I don't want her to forget, after all. Sometimes, they all go off somewhere and return home in the early afternoon. When they all arrive home en masse, that means it must be supper time, even if it's only 3pm. Boss Lady is becoming more and more annoyed with 2 hour supper begging routines.

So, yesterday Boss Lady arrived home from work at the regular time. I was busy in the kitchen helping Boss Lady's Mother peel carrots, so I was unable to greet her at the door. As soon as she appeared in the kitchen, though, I told her I was ready for supper. She patted me on the head and walked away. A few moments later she returned in a change of clothes. I told her I was still ready for supper. Instead, she offered me a walk. Well, I wasn't going to turn down a walk, and I was sure supper would still be there when we returned.

As soon as we returned from the walk, I began begging for supper again. Which leads to rule #3: thirty minute rest breaks between exercise and food. By which time they were eating their supper, and Boss Lady wasn't about to interrupt her supper to dish out mine. When they were finally finished, I jumped up in preparation for mine, only to be informed I would have to wait until she'd cleared the table. I stood in the middle of the way staring pathetically at her. Finally she looked at me and commented, "you really think you're going to starve to death waiting another five minutes. You act like I never feed you!"

The only way I could respond was, "you'll recall you have a bistory, and a very recent history at that, of with holding my sustenance. I do not think it out of line to make sure you remember."

Chastened, finally, finally, Boss Lady fed me. I may have to rethink pre-supper walks, if they're going to delay delivery of my supper by two hours.

Celebrity Status

It's official; I'm famous. I'll be speaking with my lawyer soon about a new contract. I will not be kept from my fans. They wonder, they ask, they inquire as to my health and well being.

Boss Lady stopped at the Post Office while running errands today. You'll note that I was not invited for the errand running adventure. While at the Post Office, Boss Lady ran into a woman we frequently see out walking. She inquired as to my whereabouts, noting that she hadn't see us out and about lately. When Boss Lady explained that I'd been sick, and then she'd been sick, and we simply hadn't been able to get out, the lady seemed to accept the excuse. Then she reminded Boss Lady that someone is always watching us, so we'd better continue making regular appearances around town so everyone knows we're fine.

Do you hear that Boss Lady? My admirers miss me. It's time to get crackin'.

What's Wrong With You?

This is pathetic. And just a wee bit offensive. You came home the other night, barely said hello to me, and promptly locked yourself in the bathroom. What kind of greeting is that? I've been repeatedly informed that my greetings to you must be warmer and more inviting than that. And what's with collapsing in bed and sleeping for 12 hours? Are you some kind of lazy bum? What about my breakfast? What about my play time?

Oh, you're sick, eh? So what. As I'm sure you'll recall, I was sick for several days last week. Really, our symptons are surprisingly similar: non stop diarrhea and vomiting. It certainly wasn't fun, and I didn't enjoy it by any means, but I also didn't collapse in the living room and not move for 36 hours.

Just one more thing. Why is it that last week you were prepared to squirt gatorade down my throat with a turkey baster and this week you're ready to take my head off if I so much as sniff the gatorade? Make up your mind, please.

And you do realize that this does not exempt you from a Saturday/Sunday hike, right? Good. Now then, how about a little play time with Mr. Green?

I'm Not Eating That

First, I wasn’t allowed to eat anything. No breakfast, no supper, no treats. No counter surfing or dish licking. It was awful. The only thing I was allowed to eat was some stupid little pill. Boss Lady fooled me the first time. She talked about popcorn. She mentioned a biscuit. She held something in her hand and pretended to throw it to me. She asked for several tricks. She got me all super excited about some sort of food, and then she simply tossed the pill to me. It went down the hatch before I knew what it was. Blech. A pill. Well, I won’t fall for that again.

She must have known her little scam wouldn’t work quite as well the 2nd time around, because she changed the routine. She talked about popcorn, and then tossed me a piece. She talked about biscuits, and then tossed me one. She got all excited about an even more yummy and special treat, and then she tossed it to me. Can you guess what that extra special treat was? Yup, another pill. Unfortunately, it went down the hatch before I realized what it was again. Hm. Obviously, I can’t trust the Boss Lady anymore.

The third go ‘round with the pill, Boss Lady tried the popcorn, biscuit, pill toss. I decided to chew everything thoroughly. The pill did not pass the chew test, so I spit it out on the floor. Boss Lady looked at me incredulously. She toe-tapped the floor and told me to eat it. I picked it up, and spit it right back out. I’m not stupid, I know a pill when I taste one. Boss Lady was disgusted. She picked up the soggy, slightly chewed pill and considered me. I looked at her, waiting for another treat. She realized she was going to have to get creative.

She contemplated my favorite treats. Popcorn, biscuits, and Charlee Bears are always favorites, but those obviously weren’t going to work anymore. Carrots are an all-time favorite, but you can’t hide a pill in a carrot. Then she lit upon cheese. I love cheese. It’s soft enough to hide a pill in. And I’m likely to swallow it without thinking. So, she chopped a hunk of cheddar off the block, all the while mumbling about wasting good Cabot Hunter’s Sharp cheddar on the dog. She smushed the cheese around the pill a little bit, demanded a trick, and tossed it to me. I swallowed it without a 2nd thought. She grinned happily and put away the cheese. That’s when I realized I’d just been tricked. Oh, but the cheese was worth it. The next morning, she got out the cheese again, and tossed me another hunk. Belatedly, I remembered the previous night’s trick. Darn! She got another pill into me. Hm. I’d hate to give up cheese, but next time I’ll really have to remember to slow down and chew it.

When she came home from work that night, I was all prepared for the cheese routine. But, she didn’t go for the cheese. Instead, she announced good news and started boiling rice. Supper? You mean I get supper?! WooHoo! I was so busy spinning in circles and drooling in excitement, that I didn’t even notice when she slipped another pill into the middle of the rice. And, after no food for 4 days, I wasn’t particularly interested in chewing. Down the hatch with another pill.

The same thing happened with breakfast the next morning, in which she mixed some cottage cheese, and supper the next evening, in which she mixed boiled hamburg. She got me each time with another of those blasted pills. This morning, though, this morning I was ready. She tried to up the ante by mixing rice, cottage cheese, and boiled hamburg, but I was careful. I paid attention while she was putting it all together and I saw that pill go in the middle. With much difficulty, I controlled myself and managed to eat around the pill. When I was done, it was sitting all by itself in the middle of the gleaming stainless steel. Ha! She glared at me, but didn’t have time for the camouflage routine. She remembered it at lunch though. After she’d fried up some hamburg to go with her fake mac and cheese, she grabbed a hunk of hamburg, put the pill right on top, and spoon fed it to me. Mmmmm. Hamburg. Off a spoon. Yum. Down the hatch with another pill. Drat! She outsmarted me again! That’s ok, I’ve got another 4 chances to refuse that pill.

Anticipation Of The Kiss

Boss Lady had a very wise lit. professor who always did the same lecture at some point during a class. He firmly believed that the anticipation of the kiss is always better than the kiss. Which is to say, that our expectations of an event are always better than the actual event. It's just the way things are. I had never really contemplated this idea until Sunday.

On Sunday, after the vet visit for a few more pokes and prods, Boss Lady took me up to Shrew(woohoo!)sbury for some fun hiking. Yes, the vet gave his approval. Anyway, we both expected to enjoy a near perfect hike. There were several inches of fresh snow from an overnight storm. (Which made the roads a bit sloppy and delayed our arrival time by an interminable number of minutes.) The sky was crystal clear, the temperature was in the low 20's, and Boss Lady was feeling good.

The bubble of her good mood burst as soon as we arrived at the parking area. The parking area that is normally completely empty of any other vehicles, was completely packed with large pick-ups and SUV's each towing a double snow machine wide trailer. She sighed. So much for a calm and pleasant hike. What was worse, there was a dog running loose in the parking lot, while 2 cross country skiiers gathered gear, and the newest snow machine arrivals unloaded their 2 snowmachines in the middle of the road. At first glance, Boss Lady couldn't see a single place to park our tiny little mini-suv. She could see right up the nose of the loose dog as he jumped all over the car, though. Blasted jumping dogs. Fortunately, it turned out the dog belonged with the cross country skiiers, and they were actually packing up to head home. The guys unloading their snow machines figured they could park where the cross country skiier's car had been, and Boss Lady could park slightly ahead of that on the edge of the snow bank. Once all that was settled, Boss Lady suited up, unloaded me, and we headed out.

Things started out alright. We made it to the trailhead, where she deemed it safe for me to be off leash. We could see the tracks from the cross country skiiers, and that's when Boss Lady realized she should have inquired as to how far those skiiers had gone. Maybe she could have followed their tracks and made a loop. Oh well. Maybe she'll stumble upon a loop anyway. Out we headed, and this time we went left at the intersection, because that's the way the skiier's tracks went. We discovered countless other trails branching off, but continued to follow the skiier's tracks. Part way out, Boss Lady's right snow shoe seemed to be giving her difficulty. Her stride wasn't natural and the shoe kept twisting her foot oddly. She couldn't find any problem with the binding, though, and thought maybe it was the final failure of her winter boots. After an hour out, she was working up a good pair of blisters on her right foot and decided to give up. We turned back, and she dragged along with that bum foot.

About half way back, we encountered another pair of cross country skiiers. Of course, I wouldn't recall to her. I didn't charge the people, but the guy kept trying to talk to me and be friendly. Well, you just can't trust a guy who thinks he can befriend every German Shepherd who wanders down the trail. I started barking at him, and that made the woman with him kind of nervous. Boss Lady ordered me into a down, and I grudgingly complied. Hoping to avoid another run in with more skiiers, Boss Lady leashed me well before we reached the trail head. And it was a good thing she did so, because we encountered 2 more skiiers. And then another skiier, plus 2 loose dogs on the snowmobile trail. Fortunately, the dogs were very well behaved and didn't bother me.

Once back on the snowmobile trail, she discovered the problem with her snow shoe. Somehow, she'd managed to accumulate a huge chunk of icey, frozen snow in the crampon of the right snow shoe. The left snow shoe wasn't iced up at all. She tried to chip away the ice, but she couldn't even dent it. Tired, blistered, frustrated by my ill-behaved self, and generally disappointed with the whole adventure, Boss Lady loaded me back into the car and we headed home.

No Turkey Basters Were Harmed In The Making Of This Entry

As it turns out, the soap maybe didn't cause all my distress. Boss Lady took me to the vet this morning. Well, that's not the whole story. First she locked me in the bathroom. Then she left me here all alone. And then she came back and took me to the vet. The vet poked me and prodded me and left me with a naked spot on my leg. He sent me home with orders of no food until further notice. I'm beginning to not like this vet.

Boss Lady brought me back home from the vet, locked me in the bathroom again, and returned to work. When she arrived home this evening, my poor tummy was just a grumbling. Do you know what a tummy feels like when it hasn't been filled with food for 24 hours? It does not feel good. I looked hopefully at Boss Lady when she came through the door. Surely she'd heard from the vet and had been instructed to feed me. It turns out she had heard from the vet, but the direction was not to feed me. Instead, she needed to hydrate me. The diagnosis was Pancreatitis and it's important to keep me full of fluids. That explains the gallon jug of gatorade Boss Lady brought home. It does not, however, explain the turkey baster.



I worried about the purpose of the turkey baster. It obviously had something to do with the gatorade, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know the details of the relationship. Boss Lady explained to me that I was going to ingest at least 1 liter of gatorade whether I wanted to or not and if it came down to it, she would squirt it down my throat with the turkey baster. I was skeptical. She really thought she would be able to get a significant amount of that liquid down my throat with just a turkey baster? Apparently, she's an optimist.

Playing up the optimism, Boss Lady thought she would give me a chance to ingest the gatorade willingly. She poured my 1 liter ration into a water bowl, set it on the floor, and encouraged me to slurp. I sniffed at it. Surprisingly, it didn't sniff too bad. Maybe it was just my empty tummy talking, but the gatorade actually smelled kind of yummy.



I tasted it, and it tasted kind of yummy, too.


So, I consented to slurping down about half the bowl. Boss Lady made me stop because she was afraid of overdoing it. She didn't want to end up cleaning regurgitated gatorade off the kitchen floor. Several hours later, we went through the gatorade routine again. So far, 1 liter of gatorade has been ingested and no turkey basters have been harmed in the making of this cure.

Simple Math

Today I learned something new; one plus one equals explosive diarrhea. This must be some of that new math we keep hearing about. One being a bar of Dove soap of unknown size, and one being a canine digestive system. Explosive diarrhea being exactly what it is. Unfortunately, the explosive diarrhea occurred while I was home alone all day. Aunt A discovered the disaster when she got home this afternoon. I couldn't decide whether to race out and greet her with the excitement of knowing I would finally get to go outside or whether I should run and hide because of the mess I made. Going outside won out. Fortunately, Aunt A understood that the mess wasn't entirely my fault. She even commended me for managing to leave only one mess on a rug, the other seven were on the linoleum or hardwood floors.

So, for tonite Boss Lady is working with the nothing in nothing out theory. If no food goes in, then no diarrhea can come out. I'd like to offer a different perspective on this in and out business. To wit: if no food goes in, then there's gonna be a whole lotta grumpy coming out real quick. I am not a happy puppy when my food routines are disrupted.

You Are Such A Girl

I enjoyed a bonus Wednesday hike today, despite the icky weather. After witnessing all the ice in Pittsford during yesterday's hike, Boss Lady decided to take me there. She really wanted to get me out on the slippery ice and throw snow balls. She wanted to make me slip and slide so she could take funny pictures. Luckily for me, the ice wasn't nearly as slick with the new snow cover. I did slide a little bit, but only to make her feel better. She was determined to get funny pictures of me playing on the ice, though, so she staged a couple. I didn't believe her, but it turns out I could fit underneath the ice.


I could also sit on top. And jump. And bounce. That's some strong ice.




We were experiencing a "wintry mix" according to the weather channel. In plain English, that translates to a mixed bag of shit. We had snow, sleet, and freezing rain. Miraculously, Boss Lady managed to drag out of bed early enough that the roads were still fairly clear and the trail was still in good shape. While we were hiking, the precipitation switched over to freezing rain, leaving us pretty well soaked, but who really cares. The rain didn't bother the mice running around under the snow, so why should it bother me?



About half way through our hike, Boss Lady looked down and discovered big gobs of blood in my foot prints.


She called me back to her and tried to figure out which foot was creating the bloody mess. It was my right front foot. It was really bloody, and she was initially worried that I had cut a pad. Turns out I just broke a nail, though. I snapped it pretty short and hit the quick, hence all the blood. Boss Lady cringed and shook her head. It didn't bother me, though. I didn't make a peep when it happened, which is probably why Boss Lady didn't notice at first. And it didn't slow me down one bit. It did continue bleeding for the rest of the hike, which was about a another mile. And for the 20 minute ride home. And it was still bleeding just a little when we went into the house. It still wasn't bothering me, but Boss Lady really didn't want blood spots all over the rugs. She dumped some corn meal onto a plate and proceeded to prepare my foot for frying. Mmmm. I'd never eaten corn meal before; it's kinda yummy.

Thinking Outside The Box

I was bored last night. Do you ever get bored? When I get bored, I get really annoying. I pace. I paw at people. I bring toy after toy after toy looking for someone to play with me. Boss Lady thought maybe some play time with Squeaky Hedgehog would appease me. Unfortunately, the excitement has worn off Squeaky Hedgehog and I was only amused for about 10 minutes.

Knowing that 10 minutes of fetch wasn't enough to calm me down, Boss Lady dug into the toy box again. This time she came out with Squeaky Fox. I fetched with him for another 10 minutes before showing boredom. Her next dig through the toy box brought out...an empty box. Um, ok. I gave it a sniff and determined it beyond boring. Then Boss Lady dropped one of those yummy Parmesan Cheese biscuits in it, and it's boringness disappeared. Suddenly, it was a very interesting toy.



Once Boss Lady realized what she could convince me to do for a Parmesan Biscuit, she decided to really have fun. We played the put-it-on-Colyn's-head game. First a box. Then bagel. Then Squeaky Hedgehog, and Squeaky Fox, and even a Parmesan Biscuit. Fortunately, Boss Lady didn't manage to get too many embarrasing pictures. Frankly, I don't think that's what Star, Winnie, and Tim had in mind when they sent me those Parmesan Biscuits.