Moose Droppings

RCHS Update

2009-05-05T15:17:00.009-04:00

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

2009-03-10T09:30:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-09T19:48:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-03T17:09:00.005-05:00

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

2009-02-20T21:37:00.003-05:00

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

2009-02-07T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-06T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-05T17:58:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-27T16:20:00.005-05:00

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

2009-01-24T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-22T09:30:00.001-05:00

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?

2009-01-16T09:30:00.003-05:00

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

2009-01-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-14T11:00:00.002-05:00

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

2009-01-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-09T08:30:00.002-05:00

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

2009-01-08T09:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-07T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

RCHS Update

2009-01-06T14:56:00.008-05:00

With the stressful holidays finally behind us, I was able to return to RCHS today and play with one of their pups. RCHS reports a fabulous holiday, in which they made many happy adoptions and are finally down to an acceptable number of cats. I couldn't believe it when I went in and there weren't any cat cages in the hallway. They also adopted quite a few dogs out. Last time I was there, every run was full (about 16 dogs) and today there were only 8 dogs. There were several dogs that looked like fun, but I was informed that Shadow was most in need of play time. And indeed she was.

I was very happy to discover that the road to the Pittsford Trails trailhead is once again passable. The river is still high, about 2-3 feet higher than normal, but it's better than the 5-6 feet it was a couple weeks ago. About 3/4 of the trail seems to be flooded. Fortunately, it is also frozen, and the ice is covered with about 1" of crusty snow for traction. Today was a perfect day for a hike, and Shadow and I enjoyed ourselves immensely. Unfortunately, the camera did not enjoy itself. The batteries died after my 3rd picture. I managed to get a few more, but I was kinda bummed.

I don't know what it is with labs and water, but Shadow just wouldn't stay away from the edge of the river bank. She kept trying to slide over. And once she did manage to slide over whilst I was busy arguing with the camera batteries. Fortunately, the edge of the river is rather frozen and I was able to convince her to climb back up before she got herself in real trouble. Stupid dog.

I informed her, once and for all, that I was not going to allow her near the river. The "bog" on the other side of the trail was nicely frozen, so I allowed her to skid around over there. In between skidding sessions, she sniffed out something under all the dead weeds and snow, and proceeded to dig it out.

She never brought anything out, but she certainly managed to dig herself in there pretty deep.

I think I'll take Colyn over there tomorrow to play on the ice. It really is all ice. And I'll make sure the camera batteries are fully charged.

You Want Me To What?

2009-01-04T09:17:00.002-05:00

What does she want?! I have no idea. She gets out the clicker, and we run through the usuals. Down, crawl, circle, turn around, musica (that's my new one! I can play the piano!) Then, she puts this thing on the floor, and it rings like the thing on the wall, but it sounds a little different. You know, the thing that rings, and then a human picks it up and talks to it. I don't know why they talk to it. If they wanted someone to talk to, I'm right there.

Anyway, so she puts this thing on the floor. It's making a strange noise, and it's on the floor, so I go investigate. Click! Oh, boy, I did something she liked. I go claim my treat, and go back to investigate. Another click!! I'm liking this. I get my treat, and back I go to the ringing thing. Only, now it has stopped ringing, and really it's not very interesting, so I turn around when I'm only part way to the ringing thing and I go back to her. No clicks. Wait a minute...where's my click? I look at her, and she's staring at the ringing-but-not-right-now-ringing thing. She's watching it like it's going to attack or something. So, I go rushing over to check this out. We can't have anything attacking her. Click!!! What the heck is going on? I cannot figure out these clicks. She's still watching it, so I better go back over and investigate more closely. Click! Hmmm...... This seems to be working, whenever I get near it, Click! Alright, I don't know why she wants me to, but I'll do it. Except, now I'm practically standing on it and she's not clicking! I swatted it with my foot, I tried to bite it, but she's not clicking. Then, suddenly, randomly, she clicks!

Ok, I don't know who put her in charge of the clicker, but I am going to take responsibility for firing her. This totally random clicking is not helping me at all. Click! now, what was that for!?! Apparently she doesn't like the biting or the foot swatting and she does like the nose. Well, I've got lots of nose, and I don't mind using it. HEY! CAN YOU SEE ME? I'M NOSING ALL OVER THIS THING! Click! finally, thank you. I'm starting to get this, she wants me to only nose on the pick-upable part. Ok, I can do that. Click! Well, that was easy. But, really, couldn't you have just told me that from the beginning? Instead of all this foolishness with the foot swatting and biting. Really, was it that difficult to say: Colyn, I want you to smush your slobbery nose all over the pick-upable part of the ringing thing?

Take Your Dog To Work Day

2009-01-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

Apparently, today was Take Your Dog To Work Day. I was not aware of this holiday, nor, in fact, was Boss Lady. Despite our ignorance, Boss Lady managed to comply with this unannounced and secret holiday. You'll want to know how I enjoyed my day at the office, I'm sure. Well, I didn't. That is, I didn't go. Instead, she took my dog hair. Enough hair to make a whole 'nother dog. Or so she says. I think this has something to do with the hair she found in her cocoa while she was working on paperwork. Plus the 3 hairs she found in her pork chops and rice combo she ate for lunch. Not to mention all the hairs clinging to her shirt, sweater, coat, gloves, and even hat. That's what she reported to me this evening, anyway. Are you sure? I asked her. I really shed that much? I don't believe you. You must be cheating on me with some other highly shedding dog.

The Secret Ingredient

2009-01-02T22:14:00.002-05:00

In almost all my activities there are special actions I must take to ensure that the activity will occur as I want it to. Boss Lady denies that my special actions have any bearing on the outcome, but I know better. For instance, when riding in the car to a destination, I must whine the entire time. If I don't whine, we won't get there. I don't care what you say, I know it's true. When receiving scritches, I must drape one foot over your hand, arm, leg, whatever. If I don't, it is not possible for you to scritch me. No, I don't know why this is true, I simply know it to be true. When we're playing fetch in the house, I must touch Mr. Green to your toes 4 times, otherwise you won't be able to throw him again. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of lever or sensor or something in your toe that makes your hand work after it has been touched 4 times. Most importantly, when it is supper time, I must spin in a circle at least 3 times while you're carrying the food from the closet to the kitchen. If I were to only spin twice, you wouldn't be able to get to the kitchen. I think you would probably enter some weird alternative dimension where dog food doesn't exist and there is never supper time. You would probably drag me along with you, too. Hence the need for me to spin at least 3 times.

Boss Lady, if you persist in questioning my habits, I may be forced to pull a Busch's Baked Beans sequence. You've seen the commercials, right? With the golden retriever who is forever trying to give away the secret to Busch's Baked Beans. Well, I'd be mighty tempted to give away the secret recipe for the famous Chocolate Chip Cookies.

One Track Mind

2009-01-01T14:11:00.002-05:00

It turns out that I have a one track mind. This was discovered this morning. Boss Lady toasted a bagel for breakfast, but she didn't have much time and was forced to consume it whilst also preparing me for my morning trip outside. I wasn't at all interested in the trip outside, I was only interested in the toasted bagel. Toasted bagels are yummy.

Boss Lady had to set down the toasted bagel when she put her boots on. She put the bagel on the bannister; there's this nifty little spot on the railing that is perfect for the setting down of small items. Setting the bagel on the bannister created something of a problem for me. See, I sit in a specific spot while waiting for the door to open. But, I'm also not supposed to get too near Boss Lady's food. She's get downright attitudinous if I dare even think about enjoying a mere sniff of her food. I couldn't sit in my normal door opening spot, because that would put me too near the bagel. At the time, I didn't want to lose sight of the bagel, because you never know when things will fall on the floor and be donated to the dog. One must always be prepared for such occassions. I settled on sitting as far from bagel as possible and staring at it with utter devotion. Boss Lady had to order me out the door.

I hurriedly took care of things outside, and then hurriedly came back inside. I didn't want anything to happen to that toasted bagel while we were gone. Fortunately, nothing had happened. It was sitting in the exact same spot when we re-entered. So, I took up my spot as far away as possible and continued staring. Boss Lady glared at me. She refused to entertain the idea of sharing the toasted bagel. I followed her out to the kitchen, still staring at the bagel. I may have drooled a little bit along the way. Boss Lady became more and more annoyed. Then she looked at the clock, realized she was late, considered whether she was more interested in filling her stomach with the bagel or freezing her hands while she ate the bagel on the drive to work, decided the bagel really wasn't all that important, and tossed it to me. WooHoo! Dog scores toasted cream cheese bagel for breakfast! "Fine. Eat it. It wasn't toasted properly anyways." She said to me, as she rushed out the door. She must be picky, I thought it was toasted just fine. Could have done with more cream cheese, but oh well.

Seriously?

2008-12-31T20:12:00.002-05:00

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

2008-12-31T20:03:00.002-05:00

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?

I Know How To Spell, Thank You Very Much

2008-12-29T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

Where's That Dictionary?

2008-12-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

Under The Knife

2008-12-27T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

And You, Little Johnny?

2008-12-26T20:27:00.005-05:00

"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?

SQUEAKY HEDGEHOG!!!!

2008-12-24T09:30:00.001-05:00

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,

That's Why They're Called Dog Biscuits

2008-12-23T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

Don't Lick'em When They're Cold

2008-12-22T22:49:00.005-05:00

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.

My Grandson is Furry And Four Legged

2008-12-20T23:55:00.000-05:00

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.

You'll Be Getting A Dictionary For Christmas

2008-12-19T13:44:00.000-05:00

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.

Identity Crisis

2008-12-18T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

Brought To You By: Dyson

2008-12-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

And Just What Makes You So Sure?

2008-12-16T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

Men Are From Mars

2008-12-15T23:58:00.002-05:00

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

2008-12-15T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

Aaaaalmoooooost!

Aha! Caught one.

Ooops. This one caught me.

Just Keeping You On Your Toes

2008-12-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

Who Says I Don't Contribute?

2008-12-13T09:30:00.000-05:00

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.

I Will Kill You!

2008-12-12T20:18:00.003-05:00

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.

RCHS Update

2008-12-10T09:30:00.006-05:00

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.

Well, That's Not Very Nice

2008-12-09T16:08:00.006-05:00

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.

Is It Better Now?

2008-12-08T23:31:00.003-05:00

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

2008-12-08T09:30:00.001-05:00

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.

He's Not As Helpful As Me, Though

2008-12-07T09:30:00.002-05:00

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.

Now You're Looking For A Fight

2008-12-06T13:10:00.002-05:00

Boss Lady and Boss Lady’s Mother took me for a walk today. It wasn’t an adventure, it wasn’t even a mini-adventure, but it was better than being stuck in the house all day. We took the usual route, which involves walking up the hill past the two dogs that are sometimes outside and bark at me, walking down the other side of the hill past the cedar hedge that Boss Lady won’t let me pee on, through the swamp where Boss Lady does let me pee, and then past the house that has only had a dog outside a couple times but I always remember to check. It also involves walking past the house with the 2-3 dogs outside in the yard who sound like they want to kill me. Boss Lady and I both dislike those dogs because we’ve had words with their owner.

Today, as we rounded the corner where that house sits, Boss Lady’s Mother went a little ahead of us and out into the road to scout for us. She reported that the dogs weren’t out, and we continued without any problems. But, passing the house jogged Boss Lady’s memory and she told Boss Lady’s Mother about what happened the other day. Boss Lady and I were taking a walk, along the usual route, and as we turned the corner and approached That House, we were met face to face by the more vicious of the dogs, a black and white BC looking dog. Instead of being hitched in the yard where it’s at least 3-4 feet from the sidewalk, it was hitched to the front of the house, where it can practically step into the road, and it has complete control of the sidewalk. As soon as it saw us it started barking ferociously. Boss Lady stopped and looked at it. She waited for someone to come outside and control the dog. When no one came outside, we were forced to step out into the middle of the road to walk past the house.

Boss Lady was furious. After that time the owner accused us of being the reason his dogs bark, she has had it out for him. But, there was nothing she could do to him. Despite their barking and annoying behavior, the dogs were always chained in the yard and couldn’t actually reach the sidewalk. There was no legitimate reason Boss Lady could call animal control to complain. Recently, though, the owner is giving Boss Lady more and more reasons to complain. Twice in the last couple months the dogs have been loose, completely loose, in the yard when we walked by. Fortunately for all of us, the owner noticed us before the dogs did and he took them inside. Now we have the dog chained on the sidewalk, blocking the way for all pedestrians. Boss Lady can’t wait for it to happen again. You can bet she’ll be on the phone as soon as we get home. Boss Lady is not a lady to mess with when it comes to my safety.

Grey's Anatomy According To Boss Lady

2008-12-05T19:51:00.004-05:00

I was all worried about what to write in my blog today. After teasing somedog else for slacking off with his posts, I felt compelled to make sure I posted today. And, after reading another somedog else's riveting blog today, I felt compelled to make sure I posted a really good blog today. Unlike the other somedog else, a really funny thing didn't happen to me today. A really normal thing happened to me today: I got left home alone. Blah. Blah. Blah. Until a few minutes ago, when a really funny thing did happen. It was also an educational thing. I received a rather detailed lesson in anatomy.

It all started when Boss Lady's Mother returned from grocery shopping. After all the bags of grocery were in the house, Boss Lady set to putting them away. She grabbed the cold stuff first. A couple bags of english muffins, some bagels, a big pack of chicken breasts all needed to go in the freezer. In order for it all to fit, some rearranging was necessary. During which Boss Lady picked up an odd item. A single hot dog, wrapped tightly in tin foil, and frozen. Boss Lady held it up for all to see and inquired as to whether or not it was really a hot dog, and not, possibly, something naughty. Aunt A, sounding horrified, inquired as to why anyone would want something that cold near her cha-cha.

"Cha-cha?" asked Boss Lady.

"No, not cha-cha, ta-ta." Replied Boss Lady's Mother.

"Wrong. Ta-ta's are up here." Explained Aunt A.

"And ninnies. Ninnies are up there, too." Added Boss Lady.

"Ninnies?" Echoed Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother.

"Yes, ninnies." And Boss Lady proceeded to relate the story she recently read regarding ninnies and horrible mistreatment thereof.

Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother made appropriately horrified comments at all the right places and then Aunt A, who is, though not currently employed as, a vet tech, added her own story to the mix. While working the reception desk one day, she received a call from a woman saying she wanted the vet to look at her dog's 'box.' Aunt A, totally mystified, asked the woman to repeat herself.

"Her, you know, box. Her 'back there.'"

"Ok, well, which part of her back there?" Asked Aunt A, still totally confused about the problem.

"Um. Ok. I need the vet to check my dog's.....'area.' Her 'personal area.'"

"Ah! Alright. Let's seen when the vet is available." Said Aunt A, finally understanding what the woman was trying to say.

According to Aunt A, many pet owners have a lot of difficulty using the anatomically appropriate names for the dog's vagina.

"And the penis, too!" says Aunt A, motioning to me, I suppose as an example of one armed with a penis.

"No, no, no. That's not a penis, it's a pink highliter. I learned this from Dogster, from one who isn't shy about flashing it around. Or, alternatively, it's a protractor." And Boss Lady explained how those nicknames became. Something to do with studying geometry and for the Mdogs, with a lot of excitement.

"Oh, I've got a much better one." Claimed Aunt A. "Back this summer when I was up at the farm hiking with L and Rusty the dog. Well, Rusty has a little problem with containing his 'donger' when he's really excited. L turned to me and ask why Rusty's donger keeps falling out. You try explaining to a 4 year old why the dog's 'donger' keeps falling out, in such a way that her teacher will not be phoning the next day asking what L is witnessing at home. I had to come up with some story about underwear and how Rusty's skin is his underwear and that's why you can't always see Rusty's 'donger. I thought I did a pretty good job."

So, there you have it. A discussion starting a frozen hot dog, and ending with a dog's donger. I hope you feel more enlightened and educated than I did after that discussion.

RCHS Update

2008-12-03T13:40:00.003-05:00

Today's visit to the RCHS introduced me to Reno. He looks surprisingly like a coyote, doesn't he?

He's very sweet, though. His write up says he doesn't like to be handled, but he didn't mind putting on his harness at all. Well, except for the fact that it's all pinks and purples and flowers, and coyote look-a-likes don't wear flowers. Reno, and I just have to say that I think that name is all wrong for him. I don't have any suggestions, but Reno doesn't fit. Reno loves butt scritches, and neck scritches, and head scritches, and pretty much any scritches he can receive. I took him for a hike in Pittsford, and he was very well behaved. He's pretty laid back, but don't be fooled; there's still some puppy in there. Or maybe it's just Husky mischievousness. He wanted to chase the stick I picked up, and he got all bouncy in the tall grass. He even wanted to go wading in the river. What is it with dogs and water when it's cold?!? I do not allow swimming when it's only 40 degrees. Sheesh.

He wasn't very cooperative with the camera. He refused to turn around and look at me, so my first few photos were of his butt. Then I realized that if I wrapped the rope around a sign post, then I could anchor him in place while I walked around to face him. Even with that trick, he wasn't very cooperative.

He was pretty sure there was something behind him, and it was far more interesting than some chick in front of him with a camera. By the by, he doesn't know the word biscuit, or treat, or popcorn, or cookie.

He was disgusted that I wouldn't let him go where he wanted. He was annoyed at the anchoring. This is the dirty look he gave me. I ended up with lots of dirty look pictures.

When it became obvious that his dirty look wasn't going to sway me, he opted to just look pathetic. Why is it that dogs with bat ears can do such a great pathetic look?

When the pathetic look didn't earn him any freedom, either, he tapped into his husky side and told me exactly what he thought about the photo shoot. And he wasn't exactly polite.

Did you notice the blurry tail in these pictures? That's because his tail never stopped wagging during the entire hike. Seriously. He wagged and wagged and wagged. Everything was waggingly terrific. Riding in the car was fun (and he was very well behaved), getting out of the car was fun, getting into the car was fun, hiking was fun. Basically, everything was fun, and everything warranted tail wagging.

False Accusations

2008-12-03T00:05:00.002-05:00

This evening Aunt A clomped down the stairs, partially eaten bag of potato chips in hand, and inquired as to whether or not Boss Lady had moved said bag of potato chips at some point during the day. Boss Lady answered to the negative and waited for Aunt A to continue. "Well," said Aunt A, "I was positive I put the bag of chips next to my computer last night. I remember closing the bag and setting it down and putting the computer against it to keep it closed."

"And?" Prompted Boss Lady.

"I thought maybe you had noticed it sitting within reach of the dog and you'd moved it, or something."

"And?" Prompted Boss Lady again, the whole time anticipating an accusation involving a certain furry four legged animal and an empty bag of chips.

"And, I just found the bag on the other side of the room, inside another plastic bag." Replied Aunt A as she carefully removed a chip from the bag, sniffed it, and then ingested it.

"If you're accusing Colyn of moving your bag of potato chips across the room and then putting it inside another bag, then you're barking up the wrong tree." Boss Lady laughed hysterically.

"Yeah, I didn't really think he would do that. I guess I'm remembering wrong."

Safely cleared of the potato chip thievery charge, I continued sleeping on the floor. I did make a mental note of the fact that, should I feel hungry in the middle of the night, there might be a bag of potato chips to be found in Aunt A's room.

A couple hours later, Boss Lady's Mother lodged another accusation. It seems Boss Lady's Mother was enjoying a steaming cup of tea at work this afternoon, when she discovered what appeared to be a black hair floating in it. Apparently the fact that I am covered in black hair caused her to immediately blame me. Nevermind the fact that I was not anywhere near Boss Lady's Mother's place of work, not to mention her cup of tea. Boss Lady pointed out this fact in my defense. Her Mother noted it was true, and also noted that I probably shed the hair on her sweater this morning just so that it could fall in her tea this afternoon.

What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

It's Mine! All Mine!

2008-11-30T13:53:00.002-05:00

Early this week, the humans brought home a frozen 20 pound turkey. They didn't say so, but I knew they got it for me. They really are devoted to me. The turkey sat around on the counter for awhile so it could thaw. I also saw it in the fridge every time they opened the door. Yesterday morning it was stuffed full of something yummy smelling and shoved in the oven. I couldn't believe how thoughtful my humans were being. I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into that bird. After many days of waiting (they claim it was only a few hours, but I know better) my turkey was finally removed from the oven. I was so eager I was drooling. I backed up so they could put it on the floor, but instead they put it on the counter. I was about to complain, but then they explained that they wanted to let it cool off a little bit. I'm telling you, these people are just the greatest. They even made sure I didn't burn my mouth. I have to tell you, though, it was extremely difficult to contain myself while the turkey cooled. I think I created a small puddle of drool while I was waiting. Finally, they deemed the turkey cool enough for consumption. Again, I made sure there was plenty of space on the floor for my turkey. But, they weren't ready to give it to me yet. First they wanted to carve it into neat little pieces. I don't know why. I certainly didn't need it cut up, my teeth work just fine. In recognition of their kindness, I continued to wait for my reward. I waited and waited and waited. I watched as all the nicely carved meat was neatly placed on a platter. I began to wonder if they had forgotten why they got the turkey. I don't eat off a platter, I eat out of a stainless steel bowl. Then I thought maybe they were going to give me a special platter to go with my special meal. Of course, that's exactly what they were doing. I would have to think of something really terrific to do to reward them. Finally, the turkey was all carved. I stood up to signal my readiness for dinner. And then I watched in utter astonishment as they carried my turkey to the table. They all sat down and started eating.

Wait a minute! Where's my turkey?! I waited so patiently. Surely you didn't forget about me? I'm the dog; how could anyone forget about me? I sat politely; no response. I downed on the rug; still no response. I gave them my best sad puppy dog eyes; nothing. I whined pathetically; that elicited a quick reprimand. Then I started thinking. I thought and thought and thought. Just one word was running through my mind: TURKEY! I was going to get some of that bird no matter what. I just needed to bend their minds to mine. I watched the turkey platter go around the table, I awaited the perfect moment. I needed the turkey to be in the only perfectly accessible place and then I would strike. When the turkey reached the end of the table near me I knew it was time to strike. The platter was balanced in mid-air, passing from one set of human hands to the next. I flung waves of thoughts at the humans: drop the platter, drop the platter, drop the platter. I could tell it was working. The platter started to dip towards the floor, then it was actually tipping. I shot my strongest thought waves and the platter actually fell! All the turkey spilled. I had done it! The turkey was mine! Oh, the excitement, the satisfaction, the power of a doggie mind. I was going to eat all that turkey. It was going to be so good.

Unfortunately, I stopped sending my thought waves a second too soon. One of the humans grabbed for the turkey and managed to actually save all of it. The platter landed on the table, and only a couple of the tiniest scraps ended up on the floor. And even those were snatched out of my reach when another human threw her body in front of me and grabbed those scraps. I was left to sadly watch as my turkey platter continued to make it's way around the table. *sigh* Maybe next year my plan will work better.

Well, We Try To Be Environmentally Friendly

2008-11-30T13:49:00.003-05:00

Boss Lady was perusing her presence on the internet last night, because she had nothing better to do, and she came across a bunch of stuff she'd written on another website several years ago. Much of it was about me. She'd forgotten how much she wrote. Now, she wants to reclaim it. To do so, she will be recycling it through this blog from time to time. So, in the near future you might find yourself reading stories that seem a hair of out place. Don't worry, though, I won't let her go too crazy.

Is This What You Meant?

2008-11-29T21:23:00.004-05:00

I took Boss Lady's comments seriously the other night when she told me that I needed to do a better job as guard dog. As you'll recall, she was concerned that I was not fulfilling all my roles and responsibilities as guard dog. I wasn't greeting her at the door. I wasn't announcing the arrival of guests. I generally wasn't guarding the place.

To prove to her that I am fulfilling my dogly duties, I spent this week guarding the house. I barked at the people walking on the sidewalk in front of the house. I growled at the kids being vomited from that big yellow bus. I threatened to go through the window and attack the neighbor's dog that accidentally got loose and wandered into our yard. I greeted all humans at the door, and even remembered to bring Bone and drop it on their feet.

As reward for the perfect execution of my responsibilities, I was banned from the festivities on Thanksgiving. No scritches and scratches from friendly guests for me. No accidentally or otherwise dropped food on the floor. No opportunities to impress with my expanded repetoire of tricks. Nope. I was unceremoniously gated first in the living room, and then in the front hall. At all times within sight and sound of all the festivities, but not actually involved.

Supposedly this was not a punishment. Supposedly this had nothing to do with how well I did, or didn't, perform as guard dog. Supposedly this was simply because an 11 year old 2nd cousin was one of the welcomed guests, and I don't generally get on well with 11 year olds, be they 2nd cousins or not. Supposedly, as a dog, I don't have a memory long enough to hold a grudge. Supposedly, my tail.

So, when C and her boyfriend arrived later Thanksgiving evening, I made sure to threaten each of them as they came through the door. And when C arrived again this afternoon, I made double sure to bark ferociously, jump all over the door, and refuse her entry until Boss Lady came out and called me off. We can't be letting strangers who could be axe murders into the house after all. And when Boss Lady arrives home from work next time, you can be sure I will enthusiastically greet her at the door and I will be sure not to drop Bone on her toes until after she's been able to take off her shoes.

The Cursed Middle Man

2008-11-28T20:07:00.002-05:00

Most evenings Boss Lady, Boss Lady's Mother and Boss Lady's Father all gather in the living room to relax. Usually the television is turned on, although they tend to multi-task and/or fall asleep. During these times when all the humans are gathered together in one room, I like to gorge on attention. I'm not overly particular about who gives me attention, so long as someone is. And I'm not overly particular about what kind of attention is it. Getting patted on the top of the head until my brain shakes out my ear is pretty much the same as having someone throw Mr. Green, as far as I'm concerned.

This evening, the sitting arrangement was somewhat changed. Boss Lady's Father was reclining in the ancient recliner, while Boss Lady curled up on the couch. The ancient recliner provides a better position from which I can chase Mr. Green, so I presented Boss Lady's Father with Mr. Green. He wasn't interested in playing toss, so he handed Mr. Green to Boss Lady, and she tossed him. I fetched Mr. Green and presented him to Boss Lady's Father again. Boss Lady's Father handed Mr. Green to Boss Lady, and she tossed him. I fetched him and presented him to Boss Lady's Father. Who handed him to Boss Lady. Who threw him. We continued with this game for several more throws until Boss Lady's Father finally informed me that he would prefer to not be poked in the crotch with a tennis ball one more time. Boss Lady told me I'd probably have more luck continuing the game if I eliminated the middle man.

I tried Boss Lady's version of the game, and found it somewhat lacking. Half the fun of the game is hearing all the odd little squeaks and squawks Boss Lady's Father makes when I poke him in the crotch. It's hard to poke Boss Lady in the crotch when she has a computer on her lap. And even when she doesn't have the computer, she doesn't make any fun noises; she just tells me to get my nose out of there. What with the fun of the game ruined, I decided it would be more fun to take a nap. Sometimes you really do need a middle man.

I Think You've Got Your Story Confused

2008-11-27T09:30:00.002-05:00

Boss Lady didn't have to work on Tuesday, and I desperately needed an adventure. She promised me a lengthy adventure. And then she reneged. She says it was because of the rain. Had it been snowing, we would have gone hiking. But with rain, we couldn't. She seems to think 40* is too cold for hiking in the rain. She told me we could both catch pneumonia and die. I suppose I agree with her, but I still would have liked an adventure.

So today, which was only about 40*, when she decided to get me soaking wet with a bath, I was a little bit confused. What happened to the "it's too cold for the dog to get wet" business? You won't let me play in the water. You don't take me adventuring in the rain. But, you throw me in the tub and force me to endure a bath? What are you going to do when I catch pneumonia? Huh? You're going to feel soooo guilty. I could even die. Yeah, how about that. You gave me a bath in this cold, cold weather, and now I'm going to catch pneumonia and die. That'll teach you to give me a bath when I don't want one.

And another thing, I may have missed that whole puppy kindergarten thing, but don't think I don't know what a "bad touch" is. And that, missy, is a bad touch. Bad, bad, touch. No. No no no no no. Soap does not belong there! Stop scrubbing. Definitely no scrubbing! I am going to glare daggers at your back until you release me from this controlled drowning. No amount of popcorn and cheerful "good boy"'s will appease me.

When the whole thing was finally over, and she'd released me to rub my face all over the kitchen cabinets, I asked her what possessed her to give me a bath today. I haven't had a bath since early summer. She replied that it's the holiday season, and lots of company will be coming to visit, and I was getting rather stinky. She thought it an ideal moment.

Wait a minute. It's a holiday? What holiday? Is there food involved? And all these people who are going to be visiting....will they be sharing any of this food? What are the chances that a handsome, well-behaved dog will get some good treats? Pretty good, I'd say.

As you can see, Loyal Readers, there are positives and negatives to the holiday season. The positives involve greater amounts of fabulous food. The positives also include a steady stream of visitors. Large amounts of food+lots of people=yummy food for the dog. The negatives, however, include baths and the possibility of being banished to one room in the house.

All I've got to say is the food better be damn good to warrant a bath and banishment.

Green Energy? That's not what it sounds like to me

2008-11-26T09:30:00.003-05:00

Have I told you about Boss Lady's latest plan for me? She dreamt it up the other night while we were walking. I've gotta tell you, this after work, after dark walking thing just isn't working out for me. All summer long, Boss Lady would take me for walks after work. Most of the time Boss Lady's Mother would accompany us. That's when it stayed light until 9pm. Now, it gets dark at 4pm and Boss Lady's Mother doesn't wait for Boss Lady to get home to take a walk. She walks as soon as she gets home. Which leaves Boss Lady and I to walk by ourselves. Or, more pointedly, it leaves Boss Lady walking with no one to talk to. When she walks with somebody else, they chatter away about this and that. When she walks by herself, by which I mean with me but without another human companion, she thinks to herself. She thinks away about this and that. The this and that are starting to get a little dangerous for me.

The other night it was a little chilly, but not nearly as cold as it has been. Boss Lady got to thinking about deep winter weather; the snow and ice and sometimes impassable snowbanks. She got to thinking about how she's going to get me enough exercise when we can't bike and it's just not possible to cover as many miles on foot. Whenever she gets to thinking about other exercise options for me, she comes back to pulling.

I must have told you about her original pulling idea. She's been playing with this idea for at least a year. She wants me to pull a wagon. Think Radio Flyer wagon. A really big one, though. Because she wants to put two garbage cans in the wagon. She figures I'll pull the wagon around town, and she'll pick up garbage. She needs two cans so she can separate the nickel bottles from the garbage garbage. We could have our own personal Green Up day every couple months. Yeah, that's her grand plan. She's yet to enact it for several reasons. One, none of the pet stores around here seem to have pulling harnesses. Being as Boss Lady's not entirely sure what a pulling harness looks like, or how it should fit, she's not comfortable ordering one online.

So, like I said, she keeps coming back to this pulling idea. And she had herself a light bulb moment on our walk the other night. "Wouldn't it be great," she thought to herself, "if I could figure out a way to create a doggie snow plow. I could make Colyn plow the driveway. We could plow the sidewalk as we walk after those big snow storms. Heck, I could rent him out and make money on his snow plowing." I lost her for a little while as she fell deep in thought engineering this doggie snow plow.

The engineering certainly slowed her down. She's no engineeer; she wouldn't want to be after all the years listening to her father (the mechanic who cleans up the messes made by the engineers) curse idiot engineers. The thing about a snow plow, is that it pushes the snow in front of it. And you've never heard of a dog who pushes. Dogs don't push, they pull. But, you can't put the dog in front of the plow because then the plow will cover the dog with snow. Not to mention the added difficulty of the dog gaining enough purchase to pull in snow that's who knows how deep. Nope, somehow you'd have to figure out a way to have the dog behind the plow.

Hmmm.

What if the dog was hitched up to something that he had to pull behind him? And that something behind him, was hitched to something in front of him? So, as he pulls whats behind him, it tranlsates the force to whatever is in front of him, which plows the snow? Yes, that idea has potential.

And, slowly, as our walk progressed, Boss Lady's Dog Powered Snow Plow took shape. In the end she'd decided that it would be a frame-type thing with the dog harnessed up inside the frame. The plow would be on the front. The whole thing would, maybe, be on wheels. She couldn't decide for sure about the wheels. Wheels would probably make it easier to move the plow, but would they get all clogged up with ice and snow and ultimately make it harder to move? Then there would be the question of the kind of plow. Should it be one of those double-angled, V-shaped ones that pushes the snow off to both sides, or should it be one that is angled in either direction and pushes it all to the same side? Probably a V-shaped one would make it easier for the dog, but then it would only be good for plowing sidewalks and walkways. The single angled one would be better for driveways. What about turning around and backing up, though? Aha! Put a plow on both ends, and then attach the harness to the top of frame in such a way that the dog can be easily turned around inside the frame and go in the other direction. Yes, the perfect solution to all of Colyn's winter exercise needs.

By the end of the walk, Boss Lady was all puffed up with pride at the thought of her ingenious invention. She imagined the first snow storm when she'd be able to use the Dog Powered Snow Plow. She imagined the people in the neighborhood coming out of their houses in curiosity to find out what this foolish contraption was. She imagined their loud ooh's and ahh's as she explained how the snow plow worked. She imagined them all exclaiming over her geniusness in creating the machine, and my amazingness in powering it. She imagined plowing all the sidewalks in our neighborhood, and how doing so would supersede the need for the regular sidewalk plow, which wastes gas. Oh, yes, she would win accolades and ride the coattails of the green energy movement.

Green energy? Green power? Are you colorblind woman? This isn't any green energy you're talking about here. You're proposing Black and Tan Power. As a Black and Tan myself, I'm not entirely sure I like it. Besides, who ever heard of a dog powered snow plow?

Dogster World's Coolest Dog Contest

2008-11-25T17:13:00.002-05:00

Dogster is running it's annual World's Coolest Dog contest. The contest is down to the Best In Show vote. I can't decide who to vote for. Out of 75 dogs, I narrowed it down to these 3.

Cody definitely looks like he's got game. Vote CODY for Best in Show!

more: dog pictures & breed info

Orson looks like the monster that might plague my nightmares if I don't vote for him. Vote ORSON the DOGGE for Best in Show!

more: dog pictures & breed info

And Bella Mia is just so darn cute! Check out the winking. Vote Bella Mia for Best in Show!

more: dog pictures & breed info

Every time I think I've definitively decided which one I like best, I change my mind. It's a good thing I've got until Dec. 5 to decide.

RCHS Update

2008-11-25T13:49:00.004-05:00

This morning Boss Lady managed to make her way to RCHS early enough that she was able to take a hike before the weather started. Blazer was the dog of the day today. He's a big, beefy black lab mix. He was desperately in need of some exercise, so Boss Lady went outside to collect him from the outdoor exercise pen. As she was headed towards the pen, one of the fellows who works at RCHS offered to leash up Blazer for her. Well, Boss Lady isn't some wimpy toothpick, she's perfectly capable of leashing up a dog. Even a large, excitable, ill mannered black lab. Besides the fact that if she couldn't handle leashing him up, she probably shouldn't be walking him at all. Boss Lady thanked the fellow, but told him she didn't need any help. She also told him she planned to use a harness anyway, and she was perfectly capable of wrestling him into a harness. The fellow laughed and wished her, "Good luck with that."

He doesn't look so bad, now does he?

Boss Lady grabbed the harness and leash out of the car and marched up to Blazer's pen. She looked at him: big, beefy lab. She looked at the harness: a medium sized harness, currently sized just about as small as it could be. She took a couple moments to resize, all the while thinking that it just figures the one time she doesn't bring my larger harness is the day she needs it. Then she stepped inside the pen and greeted Blazer. He jumped on her, of course. And he wasn't particularly interested in being harnessed up. She managed to get it over his head, and to get his one leg through it. But, when she tried to clip it she realized she was going to have to expand it as much as possible. She managed to pull it off Blazer, and fix it, and put it back on him. Then she leashed him up (which really wasn't any trouble at all compared to the harnessing) and led him to the car.

Blazer turned out to be a pretty good boy. He jumped on her a lot, mostly immediately after he had run through mud. He pulled, but he also stopped and looked at her quite a bit. He sniffed a lot, and very much wanted to play in the water. He discovered that iced over mud puddles provide a certain kind of fun, as long as one doesn't go psycho puppy and try to spin in circles whilst in the middle of the frozen mud puddle. At one point he decided he was tired and, without warning, flopped down on his side in the middle of a particularly torn up and muddy section of the trail.

Aside from the drizzling rain that started about half way through, it was a nice hike with a happy companion.

Wanted: Guard Dog

2008-11-24T09:30:00.001-05:00

So, only a couple days after I fired Boss Lady for breaking my blog, Boss Lady fired me for not properly fulfilling my guard dog duties. As the sole dog residing in this home, I am expected to fulfill all guard dog duties. These duties involve announcing the arrival of any strange or unexpected animals into my yard, announcing the arrival of any strange or unexpected people/vehicles into my yard, announcing any strange or unexpected people who wish entry into my house, greeting any strange people who are admitted into my house, greeting any special humans who arrive home after an absence (absence being defined as any length of time outside of the house without me), scaring away any foolish Mormons who want to harass us, and generally sounding menacing whenever necessary.

Lately I have been failing at one of these important duties: that of greeting special humans when they arrive home. Twice I have failed to greet Boss Lady at the door when she arrived home late in the evening. Not only did I fail to hear her vehicle pull into the drive, I also failed to hear her open the door, and I even failed to hear her call to me. Boss Lady's Mother had to actually wake me up and warn me Boss Lady had arrived home. Then she had to instruct me to get up and say hello. Similarly, Aunt A has arrived home several times lately and I've not so much as twitched an ear. I used to loudly announce her arrival home as soon as she pulled into the driveway. While, Boss Lady is happy that I am now familiar enough with the sound of Aunt A's car that I needn't announce it as the arrival of a strange vehicle, Boss Lady deems me derelict in my duties for failing to properly greet Aunt A at the door.

Each time this has happened, Boss Lady has warned me that she expects better. "What if a stranger had just walked in?" she asks. "We could be robbed and you wouldn't even open an eye."

"But, it wasn't a stranger," I remind her. "It was you or Aunt A. Neither of you are robbers."

"Yes, but it could have been a robber," she maintains.

"Look, if it had been a robber, I would have announced him properly, but it wasn't a robber so I don't see what the problem is."

"What about C, then? Huh? You've let C just walk right in countless times lately. C doesn't even live here. You should definitely be announcing C."

"C doesn't live here, eh? Have you counted the number of times C has slept here lately. I have, it's a lot. Besides, C is over here all the time, she might as well live here. As such, she hardly qualifies as a stranger and definitely does not warrant an announcement. "

"There is still the issue of greetings. You are failing to greet us at the door. It's not as if you have a lot of work to do around here. Your chore list isn't exactly lengthy. The least you can do is greet us at the door. The bringing of a toy is totally optional, but you must come say hello."

"Fine. I'll work on the greetings. Now, can I get back to sleeping? I had a particularly tiring day, today. There were two squirrels in the yard this afternoon, and they couldn't be bothered to use the same bird feeder. I had to keep running from the living room to the dining room to keep track of them both."

So, what gives?

2008-11-23T09:30:00.001-05:00

I, Boss Lady, am going to address you, Loyal Readers, directly today in an effort to diagnose what seems to be a problem: lack of Loyal Readers. Heck, lack of any readers. I realize that I am not as prolific a writer as one would wish. I strive to post daily, although it more often ends up only twice or thrice weekly. But, I seem to have a severe shortage of visitors. Even during the times when I'm successful at posting daily, I only get a few visitors a day. What's worse, the visitors I do get don't stick around long enough to even read anything. According to my hit counter, the majority of my visitors leave immediately. When I pimp my blog, I do tend to get more visitors, but the visit lengths still don't increase. Far too many people leave before they even get through the door. I try to get around to other blogs I like, and even leave comments in the hopes of increasing my visitors. I'm not sure what else to do.

So, you've got to tell me what's wrong. Is it my voice? My writing style? My content? Is it simply that I don't write often enough? Is it really that picture at the top of my blog? Because I happen to think that picture is awesome and creative and just perfect for this blog. But, if the readers really think it's scary, I guess I can replace it with something friendlier. Or am I just stuck in a dark, unpopulated, little corner of the world?

Colyn's Cure-All

2008-11-22T23:22:00.002-05:00

The Boss Lady seems to be under the weather, as they say, lately. She's spending an awful lot of time sleeping and sneezing. I can hardly hear her when she talks to me because she's whispering so quietly. The rare times when she gets up and moves around, she mostly holds her head and moans about the guy with the jack hammer. I'm thinking that might be a sign that she's delusional. And she's been guzzling this licorice tasting stuff from a bottle like it's liquid chocolate. Huh, I wonder if that's what is causing the delusions? I don't know exactly what's wrong with her, but I do know what's wrong with me. I'm bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored out of my mind. Bored enough that I'm going to start chewing stuff soon. Dog, I'm bored!

In the interest of helping Boss Lady feel better, which should help me get some exercise, I'm going to offer her my special Cure-All medicine: outdoor play time.

Have you got a headache? Go outside; the fresh air will clear your head in no time.

Is your nose all stuffy and runny? Take it outside where the cold air will freeze it up and you won't have to worry about wiping it.

Are you hacking and coughing? Get out of that dusty, dirty house and play in the clean, fresh air.

Are you experiencing a full body ache? Obviously, you haven't been stretching and using your muscles enough so you need to get outside and play.

Do you just feel tired and lacking energy, but you can't seem to get a good night's sleep? Trust me, you just need to get some fresh air and exercise and you'll sleep like a baby tonite.

Are you seriously worried that your dog is going to destroy a prized possession if he's left home alone and unexercised for another 5 minutes? Well, then take him outside to play already!

Can't You Behave For Just 5 Minutes?

2008-11-18T01:09:00.003-05:00

The Boss Lady had this past weekend off. She ran away without me on Saturday, and tried to appease me with a fake adventure on Sunday. The fake adventure involved driving to The Mall, and leaving me in the car while she went inside to Play. With. Other. Doggies. Boss Lady and Boss Lady's Mother claimed they needed to go inside The Mall to do a quick Christmas shopping trip. However, the last time I checked, you couldn't get doggies at The Mall. Her story is that Fast Friends, a Grey Hound rescue group, had some adoptable Grey Hounds looking for homes. She claims that she simply couldn't walk by the doggies without saying hello. She claims that she only petted one of them for a couple minutes. She claims that I have nothing to worry about and she will not be bringing home any Grey Hounds. Just once I'd like her to go somewhere and not come back smelling like another dog. Just once I'd like her to come home without another dog's dog hair all over her coat.

Just so you know, taking me for a *very* short walk along the nature trail behind The Mall doesn't count as an adventure. Nor does it put you back in my good graces after cheating on me with those Grey Hounds.

You're Fired

2008-11-18T00:55:00.004-05:00

I think I've mentioned that the Boss Lady is my typist. She's also my do-er of all things internet related. Which means she's kinda sorta pretty much totally in charge (and control) of this whole blog thing. And, as of the other day, she's fired. Why, you ask? Because she broke my blog. *I did not break your blog. It still works perfectly fine.* Yeah, well, it looks all ugly now. I'm a handsome dog, I can't have an ugly blog.

It all started when she saw the little update thing from the blogger people about this new "reactions" feature. Considering that my readers don't seem particularly willing to leave feedback in the form of comments, Boss Lady thought this "reactions" feature might be helpful. Plus, she had some great categories all thought up (we'll get into that later.) She went ahead and turned on the reactions feature, only to discover that her category names were too long. She pared them down and tried again. She finally got them all listed, then looked at the blog and discovered they aren't visible. So, she played around with the blog layout, and the format, and all that sort of thing. In the end, she still couldn't make the reactions categories visible and now I'm stuck with this ugly blog. I don't know exactly what's different than before, but I know something is. And I don't like it.

As for those reactions categories, here they are:

Shrew(woohoo!)sbury (always off leash, always fun)

Moosalamoo (sometimes off leash, always fun)

Pine Hill Park (never off leash, still lots of fun)

Walk Around The Block (never off leash, but at least it's not:

Stuck In The House (rarely fun)

You, Loyal Reader, may feel free to post one line comments including whichever reaction category you think best describes your enjoyment of any given entry. Or you can continue to not post comments, leaving me feeling unloved.

Do You Think There'll Be A Recall?

2008-11-14T22:48:00.002-05:00

I like to sleep in front of the couch. Right in front of the couch. Then I like to get annoyed when any of the humans put their feet over me to stand up. I give them dirty looks and dare them to touch the toy that is 3 feet away and I have been totally ignoring for the past 2 hours. Boss Lady gives me a dirty look in return, and then scritches my belly. Then she tells me I'm defective. I'm missing a tickle button. All dogs are supposed to have a tickle button, but I don't have one. No matter how much she scritches my belly, my leg never starts kicking. Apparently this is some sort of problem for her. So, I sneeze a big, wet sneeze on her. Then she stops looking for my tickle button. It's good to know at least my boogers aren't defective.

RCHS Update

2008-11-13T20:29:00.003-05:00

Better late than never, I always say.

Boss Lady duly visited RCHS on Tuesday. Upon inquiry as to who needed hiking, she was most disappointed to discover that her options were Flash the beagle, or Chelsea the beagle mix. Sadly, Boss Lady is not a huge fan of beagles. It's not that there's anything wrong with beagles, per se, it's simply that Boss Lady greatly prefers to keep her arms attached to her body and beagles greatly prefer to detach said arms. Boss Lady has yet to encounter a leashed beagle that did not immediately and at all times pull, hard, on the leash. Really, if you're going to walk a beagle you might as well simply detach your arm at the shoulder, hand it to the beagle and be done with it. Because when you're done with the walk, that's how things will stand. But, feeling too guilty to simply run away from the beagles and deprive one of them from a much needed hike, Boss Lady ventured forth to meet Flash and Chelsea.

As it turns out, Flash is your standard, every day, run of the mill beagle, and Chelsea is a cute little brindle beagle x pit bull mix. Being partial to brindle's, and having never had anything but positive experiences with pit bulls, Boss Lady opted for Chelsea as a hiking companion. She harnessed her up, and loaded her in the car. (And here is where I would like to happily thank Boss Lady for finally investing in a new and appropriately sized harness so that she no longer has to steal and resize my personal harness each time she goes and cheats on me. I mean, it's bad enough that she's playing with another dog, there's no need to steal my adventuring gear to do so.)

What with the increasing number of "designer breeds" these days, Boss Lady would like to suggest an appropriate name for Chelsea's "designer breed:" Pit Bugle. Chelsea, as the prime example of her breed, is as loud and obnoxious as a bugle at sunrise. So obnoxious, in fact, that after the short 5 minute ride to their hiking destination Boss Lady was ready to drop Chelsea in a pit and run away. Thus, Pit Bugle.

Aside from this noisy annoyance, Chelsea was a nicely behaved little girl and didn't even try very hard to pull Boss Lady's arm out of the socket.

Also at RCHS on Tuesday was an absolutely adorable GSD puppy. Just adorable. She was maybe 6-8 months old, and almost silvery colored. Her name is Lucy. I think I am quite lucky that Boss Lady is currently in a living situation where she is not able to bring home another dog. Lucy would surely have come home with her otherwise.

Scrrrreeeeeeeech! slam

2008-11-11T17:52:00.003-05:00

"You know, one of these days your brakes are going to fail and you're going to smush your nose up so badly you'll look like a pug. Mark my words, it's going to happen."

Well, it hasn't happened yet, so I don't know why Boss Lady is so worried.

When Boss Lady arrives home from work it is an exciting event. It means I'll get scritches and scratches and she'll take me out. When I'm done sniffing stuff and peeing on other stuff, we'll walk across the street to get the mail. I will sniff more stuff and pee on more stuff. Then we'll come back across the street and down the driveway. I'm usually so excited I can't control myself. See, when Boss Lady gets home from work one Extremely Important Thing happens: she feeds me supper. So, while we're doing the whole sniffing, peeing, checking the mail thing all I can think about is getting back inside so she can feed me. Which is why Boss Lady usually drops my leash and sends me flying towards the house when we're only about half way down the driveway. She's careful to make sure none of the neighborhood cats are visible. And she checks that there isn't anybody walking down the street. Then she lets me go. Without fail I race down the driveway as fast as I possibly can, leap over the two steps up onto the porch, and finally put on the brakes about 2 feet from the front door. I always manage to stop just barely in time. But, Boss Lady is convinced that one of these days I'm going to misjudge (probably the day we get the first slick coating of ice) and smash my nose right into the door. She's also pretty sure she'll laugh hysterically at my misfortune.

Speaking of slipping and sliding and smashing into things, the Rec Center Ice Skating Rink is in the works. Boss Lady took me on a mini-adventure to hike the Rec Center Town Farm Trail this afternoon. While we were there, Boss Lady noticed that the skating rink is being set up. It's nothing fancy, just a medium-sized, leveled off spot next to the t-ball field and behind the rec building. They set up a bunch of boards in a vaguely rectangular shape, flood it, and let it freeze. If we're lucky, somebody will volunteer to keep flooding it and smoothing it off. If we're not lucky, somebody won't volunteer and what little ice there'll be will be rather lumpy and bumpy. Either way, you're reminded to bring your own shovel if there's been recent snow. You'll be smart to bring a thermos of hot cocoa as well, because chances are the rec building will not be open.

Boss Lady hasn't been ice skating in years. She's not even sure where her ice skates are, or if the blades are sharp enough to use. Seeing the beginnings of the town skating rink, she thinks she'll make a strong effort to go out skating this year. She just needs to find a partner or partners. As interesting as she thinks it would be to take me out on the ice, she's pretty sure it's a bad idea.

One Smart Puppy

2008-11-01T22:00:00.006-04:00

Boss Lady agreed to take me for an adventure today, and so she did. Off we went to Pine Hill Park this afternoon and it was quite pleasant. I sniffed sniffs, peed on plants, and rolled in rotten stuff. We encountered hikers and bikers and puppy dogs, one of which was even a puppy. And that puppy might have been the smartest dog I've ever encountered, which would be quite a surprise considering it was a yellow lab. And labs are generally more better known for their enthusiasm than their brains.

This little pup, though, came barreling towards me in a puppy gallop, only to stop short about 4 feet away. Boss Lady was attempting to convince me to sit, or down, or at least hold still on the side of the trail. I agreed to the hold still part. And I puffed myself up to my bestest Big Scary Don't Mess With Me Dog look and stared down that vicious little puppy. As I said, it stopped short a few feet away and considered me. It tilted it's head to better understand the situation, tilted a little further, and concluded that perhaps I was not the dog to be messing with. Then it happily trotted by me with it's owner in tow and continued on. I'm telling you, that's the smartest dog I've ever met. That's one pup that knew enough not to mess with me. *puff puff puff* <--- That's my ego growing, there.

Boss Lady, being the lover of puppies that she is, chose to interpret the entire event in a completely different light. And I think there was a little bit of emotion shining from her lamp. She saw the whole thing as the wonderful beginnings of a great lifelong bond between master and dog, perfectly experienced through grand outdoor adventures. Shared lunches on the trail. Shared sunsets on a porch. Blah blah blah. It all stems from the foolish memorial she spied stapled to the back of a tree during our hike. We were just coming down Overlook trail to the rocky ledge overlooking Rocky Pond. We've traveled that trail a few times, but today was the first time she noticed something stapled to the back of a tree further down the trail. Being the curious person she is, she insisted we wander over to investigate. And this is what she found.

It is a bit difficult to read, so let me tell you what it says.

"Near this place lies one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man without his vices.

To sit on a hillside with a dog on a glorious afternoon is to be at peace. For dogs are our link to paradise.

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this world, the one that never deserts, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. She will kiss the hand that offers no food. She will lick the wounds that come with encounters in the world. When all friends desert, she remains.

She is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are her life, her love, her leader. She will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of her heart. You owe it to her to be worthy of such devotion.

I adored her."

Now, if your eyes are still dry, you did better than her. She's read this 4 or 5 times since we got home and she cries each time. You can't tell from the picture, but there was originally what we assume was a picture of the beloved dog posted above the memorial. Sadly, the picture has been ravaged by the elements. It's quite surprising that the memorial has survived. Take a look at when this is dated: May 7, 2006. Two and half years this has been hanging on this tree. When Boss Lady realized that, right after she finished reading it the first time, the tears just poured down her face. What a stirring memorial for what can only have been a perfect dog.

I hope she realizes that now that I'm aware that such things are done, I expect a similar type memorial.

RCHS Update

2008-11-01T20:46:00.005-04:00

I'm very happy to report that Julianne was adopted to what I am told is a wonderful family. So, when I arrived at RCHS today to give a dog a hike I got to take Manny. He was a total sweetheart. In fact, he was so thrilled to be going on a hike that he had to pause for a moment to consider his good fortune. Please forgive the blurriness, Manny wasn't particularly good at holding still.

I'd like to report that Manny only pulled on the leash a couple times, and was really quite an angel. Except for those couple totally psychotic spazz attacks. Manny apparently took offense with the harness and leash. Granted, the harness was a bit too large, but still. He twice found it necessary to attack the leash in a grand game of tug of war. And when I attempted to stop him from chewing my brand new rope leash, he decided to take out his frustration on the harness. While trying prevent him from destroying anything, I managed to get pretty thoroughly chewed on. Manny decided that my hands were fine chew toys, and my sleeves were fine tug toys. Fortunately, his heart wasn't really in it and I don't even have one scratch to show for the whole thing. So much for vicious, dangerous pit bulls with locking jaws, eh?

Isn't he just the cutest little brindle boy?

Now, I dare you to you to look into his eyes and not think he is the cutest thing ever.

And You're Supposed To Be The Smart One

2008-10-29T23:10:00.002-04:00

This morning it was cold. Very cold. Snowy cold. Boss Lady was up fairly early and decided we needed to make a morning trip to the grocery store for some cupcake supplies. (Too bad the stupid grocery store didn't have all the necessary cupcake supplies.) She warned me that it was cold out. She put on her warm fleece jacket. She explained that she had to be toasty warm before going out in the snowy cold. She put on her warm felted wool hat. She told me not to blame her if my toes got cold. She looked around for her gloves. She reminded me one more time just how winterish the temps were. Then she slipped on a pair of purple crocs. These are non-fleecy lined, very full of holes, great for the swimming hole crocs. And she warned me about the cold toes.

Um, I Think You Forgot Something

2008-10-28T11:39:00.001-04:00

Last night, directly after her supper, Boss Lady randomly decided to hop in the car and drive to Rutland. She kindly invited me along. She told me it was just a ride, no adventures involved. We sped over the bypass and pulled into Michael’s. Boss Lady got out of the car and went inside. She told me she’d be “right back.” Unlike the last time we were in this scenario, she actually exited the building fairly quickly. Apparently, the purpose of the trip was to rescue her assistant manager, who had managed to lock his keys in the office. On the drive home she skipped the bypass route and instead followed a couple of the lower, town roads which led us to a nice view of the lit up city in the dark. Then we were home.

Um, I think you forgot an important aspect of this trip. Where’s my Ben&Jerry’s Ice Cream Cone?

The End of a Friendship

2008-10-25T11:24:00.005-04:00

Last night while Boss Lady was busy interwebbing in the toasty warm living room, I was busy attempting to stave off the boredom that has crept upon me whilst Boss Lady was busy having fun without me (see: Trip to Burlington that Did Not Involve A Dog.) In other words, I was chewing. Consistent with my recently earned title of Very Good Boy, I was chewing on one of my specifically designated toys, Spinner, rather than the yummy looking coffee table. Now, I’m not sure I’ve formally introduced Spinner.

Spinner meet Loyal Readers. Loyal Readers meet Spinner.

Spinner has been with me for the better part of 4 years. Spinner is one of the few toys that I consistently enjoy without managing to actually destroy it or becoming dangerously possessive of it. Spinner is also one of the (very) few toys that can serve multiple purposes. Spinner’s primary roll is that of a chew toy. And a fine chew toy it is. However, due to it’s rubbery sproinginess, Spinner can also be called upon to perform heroically as a throw toy. Boss Lady can throw it for me to chase, or I can throw it at Boss Lady to demand her attention. In contrast, Mr. Green is only good for throwing. A Broken Mr. Green is good for popping, but popping can hardly be considered chewing. Mr. Green simply does not hold up to chewing. Bone, on the other hand, provides wonderful chewing, though he is sadly inequipped for throwing. Even the mere dropping of Bone raises worried cries from Boss Lady. Based on these unique qualities, Spinner and I have an unmatched relationship.

Sadly, Boss Lady has recently noticed that my constant and unflagging attention to Spinner is taking it’s toll on Spinner. You might have noticed that one end of Spinner looks distinctly destructed. Last night help, either.

So, there I was, contently stretched out across the living room floor, studiously gnawing on Spinner when I felt the need to pause and give Spinner some gentler attention. I started licking Spinner. Boss Lady noticed and wondered aloud exactly what was I doing. Why was I licking Spinner? No sooner had she posed the question, then I began gnawing even more fiercely than before. I was quite actively attempting to finish removing that destructed end so as to slide off all those spinning sections.

Boss Lady wondered aloud again. “Colyn, why are you working so hard to destroy Poor Spinner? What has he ever done to you to deserve such ferociousness? Nothing. That’s what he’s done to you. Absolutely Nothing. Quite the opposite, really. He’s been naught but a wonderfully loyal friend. He has stood by you for 4 years and all you do is destruct him. It really isn’t very nice. What are you going to do when you have finally succeeded in destructing Spinner? You know I haven’t been able to find a replacement Spinner for you.” Duly chastened, I set aside Spinner for a few moments. I think I might have to contemplate the best way to go about the ending of this fine friendship.

We Should Do This More Often

2008-10-24T23:26:00.002-04:00

Last Thursday evening Boss Lady came home from work and announced that she needed to remember to go out and gas up the car before morning. Boss Lady and Boss Lady’s Mother planned to go to Burlington Friday and they would need a full tank of gas in the morning. So, after she relaxed and had supper, Boss Lady decided to go fill up the gas tank. She thoughtfully invited me along.

I hopped in the car and enjoyed the ride to the gas station. I sat in the car looking out into the dark around me while she pumped the gas. There is always the possibility that a ride in the car will end with a fun adventure, but I was pretty sure there would be no adventure that evening. I was fully prepared for Boss Lady to turn around and go back home. Instead, she announced we were going to Ben&Jerry’s for ice cream. Or, rather, we would both be going, but only she would be getting the ice cream. I considered it somewhat rude of her to make such an announcement, but there wasn’t much I could do.

When we arrived at Ben&Jerry’s, she told me to wait in the car and she would be “right back.” I should really know better than the believe her when she says that. She went inside. I waited in the cold, dark car. And waited. And waited. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she exited Ben&Jerry’s with a half eaten ice cream cone. When I inquired as to the length of my wait, she informed me that she could hardly go into Ben&Jerry’s without visiting Annie’s Book Stop, which happens to share the building. As happens whenever she walks into a book store, she completely lost track of time and nearly forgot I was even waiting in the car. She apologized, but I just gave her a blank stare. Then I asked for some ice cream, but she told me no.

I anticipated she might have some trouble driving and eating ice cream, so I decided to enjoy the ride home with my head strategically placed on her left shoulder, my nose just inches from that ice cream cone. She didn’t seem to appreciate my closeness, but I didn’t care. She left me sitting all by myself in a cold, dark car while she enjoyed ice cream and books. I deserved a little ice cream.

During the ride home, she made quick work of the rest of the ice cream cone. And she didn’t let me help her. But, just before we pulled into the driveway, she reached over the back seat with the last little bit of the cone and offered it to me. Mmmmm. There were the last drips and dregs of double fudge chocolate ice cream. Yummy sugar cone goodness. MmmMmmm. It was good.

Last night when they returned from Burlington, I sidled up to Boss Lady and inquired as to whether she maybe needed to go gas up the car again. Wouldn’t want to run out of gas on the way to work Saturday, eh? And maybe a little side trip to Ben&Jerry’s was in order. Sadly, she replied that a quarter of a tank of gas would be plenty for her to get to work for several days. Besides, her new diet does not allow for too many Ben&Jerry’s ice cream cones.

Colyn The Moose, VGB

2008-10-20T23:17:00.003-04:00

Do I seem different to you today? Maybe I look different? You might call it a new and improved version of myself? You noticed? Why thank you. Thank you so much for those kind and polite words.

Yes, it is true. I, the lowly Moose, have been granted a title. Boss Lady has long dreamt of us being able to earn an Important Title. She’d be happy with a CGC, thrilled with an RN. Thus far, though, we’ve failed miserably. It’s not my fault, really. I mean, I can only do so much with what I am given. And the Boss Lady ain’t what you’d call Grade A Prime. But, I've forgiven her and we’ve moved forward with fewer dreams of strings of capital letters trailing my name.

The events that unfolded yesterday, though, rekindled Boss Lady’s hopes that someday we’ll work well enough together as a team to be recognized by those Big Important Dog People. You’re wondering what it was we did yesterday, aren’t you? I didn’t think it was really all that big a deal, to be honest.

We went for a hike. Not even a grand hike; we only went to Pine Hill Park. I’ll have you know I lobbied hard for Moosalamoo, and when it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen, I lobbied again for Shrew(WooHoo!)sbury. But, that didn’t happen either. Something about the great likelihood of a prevalence of gun-toting men in the woods. And, when it comes right down to it, if my options are around the block on a 6-foot leash or around the hill on a 20-foot leash you can bet I’m going to choose the latter. Pine Hill Park it was.

The Boss Lady and I haven’t visited Pine Hill Park in awhile. Last summer, and all through the winter, we spent quite a few weekends exploring Pine Hill Park. This summer, though, Boss Lady has been much more willing to explore points farther from home and less crowded. Pine Hill Park’s greatness has been much publicized of late and with the publicity have come more people and more dogs. Not all of whom are as well behaved as me. *cough cough* So, Boss Lady wasn’t exactly thrilled at the notion of hiking Pine Hill Park on what would most likely be one of the last beautiful Sunday afternoons of the year. She fully expected the place to be crawling with off leash dogs. But, when it comes right down to it, if the options are a place crawling with gun-toters or a place crawling with off-leash dogs, she’s gonna choose the latter option every time. Plus, there was the added bonus of the brand new suspension bridge completed just last weekend. She really wanted to see it.

So, we loaded up the backback and convinced Boss Lady’s Mother that hiking was a much more fun way to spend the afternoon than cleaning the gardens, and off we went. And just as she expected, there were lots of cars in the parking lot. We didn’t even get into the woods before we encountered other dogs. A couple with 2 dust mops pulled in directly behind us. As Boss Lady was unloading me, the couple parked right next to us (even though there were plenty of other spaces) and unloaded their dust mops. Boss Lady was somewhat concerned by the proximity of these other dogs, but I mostly paid no attention. We all approached the trailhead as a group, despite the fact that Boss Lady was moving as quickly as possible in an effort to put some distance between us. I moved along side her in near perfect heel paying no mind at all to those yapping dust collectors.

As soon as the trail split, Boss Lady took the trail less traveled. She knows it’s less traveled because we less often encounter other hikers on this trail than on the others. Just as we got out of sight of the trailhead (and those other dogs), a mountain biker came racing down the trail towards us. This, also, was expected by Boss Lady. The mountain bikers were just as likely to want to enjoy a last nice day as the hikers. Boss Lady quickly called me off the trail and down-stayed me. I don’t like bikes. Not when I’m running alongside, and not when they’re racing by me. They’re menacing monsters and I’m inclined to attack first and ask questions later. The biker approached quickly, slowed as it reached us, and then stopped to talk when it turned out the rider knew Boss Lady’s Mother. I, being the good boy that I am, mostly held my down-stay. I wriggled a little. And crawled a little. And whined a lot. But, I didn’t bark. Or lunge. Nor did I bark or lunge at the 2nd bike that flew by while we were talking to the first. Boss Lady was impressed and praised me highly.

We continued on and encountered 5 more bikers. For each and every biker I calmly down-stayed off the trail and patiently waited for the biker to pass. Not once did I bark, or lunge, or even seem more than acceptably curious about the bikes. Boss Lady didn’t have to squat down next to me to hold me in place. She didn’t have to get pulled flat on her face when I tried to eat the bike and she tried to restrain me. She didn’t have to tell Boss Lady’s Mother to stand between me and the trail to shield me from the bike. She just had to tell me to down-stay. Did I mention she was impressed?

It wasn't until the end of our hike that we encountered our first off-leash dog. The trail we were on came out at the pond, and somebody else was already there. That somebody else’s dog was off leash and not particularly interested in sharing the pond with me. It also wasn’t particularly interested in obeying it’s owners request for a recall. Fortunately, we were able to detour away from the pond, and the dog, without incident. And, while I wasn’t as nearly perfectly heeling as during my encounter with the dust mops in the parking lot, I was far from out of control. I even managed to give Boss Lady my attention several times. As soon as we were out of sight, and hearing of the other dog, I calmed right down and continued without worry. Boss Lady was impressed once again. Avoiding an off-leash dog is usually much more of a hassle and involves disjointed shoulders.

Just as a further test of my good-naturedness, we encountered 4 more hikers on our way down. At each encounter I happily heeled to Boss Lady and didn’t show any interest in bothering the hikers. Usually I really want to run over and say hi. Many hikers do not find the prospect of a 90 pound GSD running full speed ahead towards them pleasant. Many hikers do find the sight of a calmly heeling dog quite impressive. I’m proud to say, I was one of the impressive dogs yesterday.

When we finally made it back to the car, Boss Lady informed me that our hike had turned out to be one of the least stressful ever. She then told me I had officially earned a new title: Very Good Boy. You may feel free to address me with this new title at all times.

And, yes, we did find the suspension bridge.

I Do Not Approve Of This

2008-10-19T12:10:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was a wonderful day, weather wise. Bright, sunny, temps in the upper 40’s. Boss Lady even had the whole day off. We thought and thought about what to do for fun and decided there was no better way to enjoy the afternoon than by playing outside. Crunching through frosty, brightly coloured leaves. Reveling in the last bit of autumn glory still clinging to the trees. Celebrating the fact that we could run and play while wearing a sweatshirt and barely break a sweat. Yes, indeed, autumn is the best time of year.

And, while I have admit I did enjoy the afternoon, it might have been even better had we actually left the front yard. Because, you see, I was tied to the Boss Lady’s Mother’s flowering crab tree and Boss Lady was busy raking leaves. There were a lot of leaves in our front yard. We’ve got a sickly Maple tree, the afore mentioned Flowering Crab, and a couple Box Alders. They’re all naked at this point. While Boss Lady was busy raking, I was busy nosing about and enjoying the fresh air.

Enjoying it I was, up until Boss Lady lost me. There she was, just finishing up the last pile of leaves, when she realized she wasn’t sure where I was.

Colyn? Colyn, where are you?

Wait a minute, does that pile of leaves have ears?

Colyn! There you are, you Silly Boy.

If you think for one minute that I voluntarily climbed into that pile of leaves, then you’re smoking crack.

When Boss Lady was finished subjecting me to goofiness, she decided she’d better transport all those leaves down to the garden. Knowing from prior experience that the easiest way to accomplish such a task was piling everything onto a big tarp and dragging it, she set about finding the tarp in the cellar. Fortunately, it was surprisingly easy; our cellar is not exactly known for being well organized.

Whilst she was busy hunting up a tarp, I was busy getting bored. And Ted was busy being annoying. Downright obnoxious, really. I found it necessary to let him know exactly what I thought about his behavior.

At some point in the tarp finding process, Boss Lady thought it might be fun to put me to work. You know, make me earn my keep and all that. I’m a big strong dog, she thinks to herself, so why not have me help her pull the leaves down to the garden. I’ve got a harness, even if it isn’t a true pulling harness. And I’ve got plenty of energy. She’s pretty sure we’ve got a rope that will work. And, indeed, it turns out we have all those things. So, with no warning or consultation, I quickly found myself hitched up rather like an Ox.

That was the end of the easy part, though. I took one step hitched up to that mess and promptly decided I wasn’t interested in any of this pulling business.

A whole lot of popcorn and coaxing later, She’d convinced me all the way down to the garden. Boss Lady then dumped the leaves next to the compost pile, and *let* me drag the empty tarp back up to the front yard. We did this twice more and all I have to say about it is I think I should’ve gotten more popcorn. Really, who ever heard of a dog pulling a tarp full of leaves. I’m pretty sure this was not in my job description.

At least she rewarded me by playing tug.

And, as if it was necessary to further prove that these humans are a little crazy, they have allowed an asexual bum to take up residence on the front porch. I’ve been instructed not only to not bark at it, but to actually be friendly with it.

Channeling Fred

2008-10-15T11:04:00.000-04:00

Look, I’m not stupid. I know how this game is played. You take a bowl of food out of the fridge. You tilt it up and pour stuff out of it. There is a very good chance some of that stuff is going to end up on the floor. I’m just sitting here waiting for that very good chance. And, yes, it does increase that very good chance if I tilt my head the way you are tilting the bowl. No, it is not amusing to tilt the bowl as much as possible just to see how far I can tilt my head. I don’t know why this process confuses you so much.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

2008-10-07T20:58:00.003-04:00

“You know, you can’t bring that stick home.” I’ve heard that a million times. Usually after I’ve discovered a branch that I insist on carrying while we’re hiking. Boss Lady is averse to the bringing home of sticks. She tried it one time, only because I carried the branch for about a mile. When she realized what a mess of splinters I made in the back of the car on the ride home, she immediately informed me I would never be allowed to bring home another stick.

“I’d really love to know what you’re thinking when you’re carrying that branch? Just what is it you plan to do with it?” That’s the standard follow up question after she tells me I can’t bring the stick home, no matter how far I carry it. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m not usually thinking about anything. I just like carrying sticks.

What I’d like to know, though, is why, if I’m not allowed to bring home sticks, Boss Lady’s Mother is. She’s got a nice “y” shaped birch branch that appeared in the front flower bed several days ago. I tried to steal it, and was quickly instructed not to touch it. Now, we don’t have any birch trees in our yard. And the neighbors don’t have any birch trees in their yards. So, the only way this branch could have reached that flower bed is if somebody brought it home. And if I’m not allowed to bring home sticks, then why is somebody else?

I’d also like to point out that Boss Lady’s Mother’s obsession doesn’t stop with sticks. For several years she has had a minor obsession with moss. She wants to cover a perfectly good chair with moss, and put it out in the yard. So, while we were hiking on Sunday, she harvested moss from a rock and a rotting tree. Then Boss Lady found a “nifty” tree skin. I didn’t know trees had skin, or that they could shed. I thought only snakes shed skin. But, we found birch bark that was in perfect tree shape even though all the tree had rotted out of it. Boss Lady insisted on carrying it home.

Boss Lady’s Mother is also obsessed with rocks. Several times during our Sunday hike, she noticed nice, flat river rocks that would be perfect stepping stones in her flower bed. She also noticed a few interestingly shaped stones. Boss Lady’s Mother particularly likes stones with unique shapes. So much so that she once snagged this stone on an outing.

But, I can't bring home a plain old branch?

Fall In Vermont

2008-10-03T20:29:00.001-04:00

It is now fall in Vermont. That time of year when the weather returns to comfortable temps, the trees dress up in their gaudiest clothes, and tourist season begins (we recommend a 12 gauge or a 50mm.) That time of year when the days get shorter, you harvest the last of the veggies from the garden, and everybody pulls the winter clothes out of the attic. The time of year when the cluster flies invade your home. They crawl through every crack, fly through any opening, and even hitch rides on the family pet. They’re gross. They’re obnoxious. And they multiply like rabbits.

The flies have been particularly bad at Boss Lady’s place of employment lately. They hover and attack in droves while she’s eating lunch. They buzz and annoy while she completes paperwork in the office. They drive her very near the edge of sanity. Boss Lady finally declared war on the flies, and she promised no quarter. Sarah Palin may shoot wolves from low flying planes for sport, but Boss Lady hunts flies with electrified tennis rackets for fun.

Several years ago Boss Lady’s Father received this weapon as a gag gift. It looks like a small, short handled tennis racket with wire strings. It is powered by several batteries and when turned on, the metal strings are electrified. It is the perfect tool for hunting flies. No need to wait for the fly to land on a hard, flat surface. no need to stealthily sneak up and quickly strike. Just gently swing your electrified tennis racket through the air and touch the fly. Then watch it fry, complete with audible snapping noise and visible spark. Oh, it’s grand fun.

Now, some people may allow as to how such a weapon takes away from the time honored sport of fly hunting, but Boss Lady is of the opinion that it simply provides more opportunities to perfect one’s technique. You can use the gentle, swooping swing. Or a high powered smack. You can come from above or below. You can even circle your prey before sadistically dispatching it. Perhaps it should be an Olympic Sport, judged on the creativity of your swing.

Boss Lady has had intentions of bringing this fine fly hunting weapon to work, but she continually forgot it. Today when she sat down for lunch and was immediately dive buzzed by three flies, she said enough is enough. She rolled up several pieces of paper and commenced to swatting the old fashioned way. She began with wild swings and lunges, which only served to make the flies laugh and tease her. She quickly settled into a hunting crouch, though. She focused on one fly at a time, and watched it zoom the room. She didn’t let herself lose track even when it flew against a dark object. She waited for it to land, snuck up on it, made sure she was within inches and struck. Pretty soon she’d killed her three attackers. They were immediately replaced by four more. In dismay, she continued her pursuit. For each fly she killed, it seemed two more appeared. In frustration she baseball batted two right out of the air. She mortally wounded several others, and then crushed them under foot. In all, Boss Lady bagged eight of the little buzzing bastards, and was able to enjoy her lunch in peace for the first time all week.

Ah, yes, fall in Vermont. What a wonderful time of year.

I Told You

2008-09-30T21:35:00.004-04:00

Remember Julianna from last week?

Remember how I told you it looked like she was plotting something?

Well, she was. She was plotting to steal from me. The little thief. This morning Boss Lady woke up at a reasonable hour. It was cloudy, but it wasn’t raining. She checked the weather channel and discovered it would probably be cloudy all day (it wasn’t) but it wouldn’t rain (it didn’t.) Good news, this was, as it meant we could go forward with our adventure plans. Boss Lady got dressed in hiking clothes (re: grungy jeans and an old t-shirt). She filled her water bottle. She gathered my harness and my leash and my rope. And she drove away without me.

Julianna stole My Boss Lady, My car, My leash, My rope, My harness, My hike, and My chipmunk. That’s right, during their hike a foolish chipmunk ran across the trail in front of Julianna and she had the opportunity to pounce on it. She didn’t kill it, but she got to pounce it. That should have been My chipmunk and My pounce.

Somebody better take her home soon, because I do not take kindly to her stealing all my stuff. Here, let me remind you how cute she is.

Chocolate: Not Just For Dessert

2008-09-27T22:48:00.001-04:00

The Boss Lady decided to make a birthday cake for one of the women at work. She baked a nice chocolate, giant cupcake shaped cake last night (during the debate). She carefully put it on a plate, covered it with handiwrap and put it in the microwave so I wouldn’t eat it. She planned to frost it this morning, and then have plenty of time to take me for a mini-adventure before going to work.

Then Boss Lady’s Sister came home in the middle of the night. Boss Lady’s Sister was hungry, so she popped some food into the microwave. Of course, she had to take the cake out first. And she never put the cake back in the microwave.

Guess who had chocolate cake for breakfast this morning.

For the record, I only ate half of it. It was really good, but I was just too full to eat the rest. When Boss Lady got up this morning and discovered what I had done, she was really steamed. I mean steamed. I could see the smoke pouring out of her ears. Smoke rarely pours out of her ears. She refused to give me any breakfast, and she canceled our mini-adventure. Instead of going for a hike or a bike, she baked a new cake and managed to finish it just in time to go to work. All I got was a short walk around the block and a lot of dirty looks. Note to self: chocolate cake for breakfast might not be the best idea.

Equal Opportunity Insults

2008-09-25T21:22:00.001-04:00

As she does every morning, Boss Lady’s Mother called Tyrone inside for breakfast and put down his plate of wet catfood. As I do every morning, I took up sentry duty mere inches from Tyrone. Being the skittish cat that he is, Tyrone hates this. And, being the softy she is, Boss Lady’s Mother made me move away. Of course, she then rattled all the pots and pans in the cupboard directly adjacent to Tyrone’s breakfast nook. Tyrone responded by attempting to launch himself through the front door: nevermind breakfast, he wanted out of this scary place. He’s probably lucky he doesn’t have a concussion considering how hard he hit the door. I interpreted this as a sign Tyrone was finished eating and took it upon myself to clean up anything he left. Boss Lady shooed me away, Boss Lady’s Mother calmed Tyrone, and Tyrone returned to eating.

When his plate was clean of wet food, he immediately commenced begging for a 2nd ration. Boss Lady accused him of being a fat pig and refused to enable his unhealthy eating habits. Boss Lady’s Mother, once again the softy, relented and gave him some dry food. I came over to offer to eat the food instead-thus preventing further weight gain by the cat, but they both shooed me away.

When Tyrone finally finished and made his exit, I wandered over to clean up any crumbs he left. He usually leaves quite a few, and I was busy nosing the plate across the floor when Boss Lady walked by. “You Pig!” She exclaimed. “You had your breakfast. You may not be fat, but you’re just as much a pig as the cat.”

At least I’m not fat.

Some Dogs Are Obsessed With Tennis Balls

2008-09-24T10:29:00.003-04:00

It’s true. Some dogs are obsessed with Tennis Balls. They want to chase tennis balls 24 hours a day. If a tennis ball makes an appearance, those dogs are totally focused on the tennis ball to the exclusion of all other things. I’m not one of those dogs. Nor is the Boss Lady. But, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any obsessions. She does. Aside from chocolate and books and writing about every little sneeze I make. Boss Lady is obsessed with television. Colyn, I rarely watch television. Do you even know what an obsession is? Ok, so maybe she’s not obsessed with television in general, but she is obsessed with one particular television show. And season six of that show just started.

In our house, the one television we have is located in the living room. On Sunday, Boss Lady’s Mother removed everything from the living room and painted the floor. This is what the living room will look like for about a week until Boss Lady’s Mother puts all the furniture back.

On Monday, the new season of Boss Lady’s television show started. Hmmmm. How to watch the television when it’s not in the living room? Put the television in the front hall, where the shoes usually live. So, Monday night Boss Lady, Boss Lady’s Mother, and Boss Lady’s Father (who is not actually obsessed with this television show, but does sometimes deign to watch) positioned themselves in the little front hall in front of the television for 2 hours.

They did this again Tuesday night for part two of episode one of season six of her favorite television show. Does this look like an obsession to you? It does to me.

Here’s the most important question: what’s missing from that picture? There are three chairs. There’s a television. There’s not a whole lot of space. And there’s no dog. I was locked in the kitchen because my toenails would mar the floor. Nevermind that I like to watch ballroom dancing, too. Nevermind that I hate being isolated from my Boss Lady during television watching. Nevermind that there was plenty of room for a dog; I could have squeezed in that little space between the tv and the wall. Nope. I was locked in the kitchen. I think it a very unhealthy obsession, one that separates a dog from his Boss Lady. Anybody want to help with an intervention?

RCHS Update

2008-09-23T20:59:00.006-04:00

The RCHS Updates used to be a regular part of my blog, back when it was on Dogster. My lack of updates should not be assumed to mean that Boss Lady no longer volunteers at RCHS; she does. Unfortunately, the wet, mosquitoey summer meant that she didn’t volunteer as often. And when she did volunteer she didn’t take dogs for hikes. She didn’t even do anything fun at all. Mostly, she scrubbed doggy swimming pools and scooped poo in the outdoor exercise pens. Once in awhile she attempted a short walk through the path in the woods behind RCHS. While the updates were on hiatus, she met lots of fun dogs. There was Dojo.

And Spot.

She took Spot to the Wallingford Dog Days event, and tortured him.

And lots of others that she never got pictures of.

Today, though, the updates resume. The cool weather has killed off most of the mosquitoes, making it safe to hike in Pittsford once again. Which means the resumption of weekly trips to RCHS to take one special dog for a nice long hike. This week’s lucky dog was Julianne. She was last week’s lucky dog, too. Boss Lady is managing to fall in love with the psycho little devil...erm, I mean, the gorgeous little girl. I guess she is kinda cute.

And she does have some fabulous ears. Boss Lady has a soft spot for ears.

Julianne is pure energy in the form of a smallish dog. She jumps. She runs. She leaps. She races. She pulls on the leash until your arm dislocates. She’s also shy and skittish. But, all of that pales in comparison to her sheer cuteness.

She happens to love water. She’s not so keen on actually swimming, but she does love to splash, or run back and forth in the shallows. She can even be convinced to fetch a log after some coaxing.

And it doesn’t matter how cute she is, I still think she’s an evil little dog. Can’t you just see her plotting some sort of devilry? Like convincing Boss Lady to bring her home.

On Sightings Of Moose

2008-09-23T20:18:00.005-04:00

Boss Lady has a hard time letting go. She also has trust issues. I only have time to address these two issues today. We went back to Moosalamoo this afternoon. This time she carefully calculated how much time we had and decided to hike the Hogback Mountain Trail and maybe some side trails off of it. We headed out on the trail, and I politely asked her why I was on leash. After all, last time I did just fine off leash, so why shouldn’t I get to do it again.

Why can’t I run around off leash? Because you might run away. But, I won’t. But, you might. But, I won’t. But you might if you saw an interesting shadow. I won’t. But, you might if you flushed a bird. I won’t. But, we might come upon a moose. Have we ever come upon a moose? We might. Yes, but have we ever actually come upon a moose? We’ve seen moose prints and moose warning signs. Have. we. ever. actually. seen. a. moose? There was that one time when you were puppy and were hiking in Shrew(woohoo)sbury with the ex-boyfriend. That hardly counts, we were still in the car. Still, something bad might happen if I let you off the leash. You might run away. I won’t. But, what if you do? I won’t. But, what if you do? You have a very poor recall, you know. I won’t run away. But, what if you do? *sigh* Then I’ll come back after a couple minutes. AHA! I knew it! I knew I couldn’t trust you. No off leash hiking for you.

How is it that you trust me enough to put me in an off leash down stay in the kitchen while you have the front door wide open to bring in all the groceries, but you don’t trust me enough to let me off leash way out in the woods? I could run away from the down stay. But, you never do. I could. But, you don’t. I could see a cat and chase it. But, you don’t. I could see a dog walking by and run into the road and get hit. But, you don’t. I could just decide not to stay and race out the door. But, you never have, and you’re not going to. You have an excellent down stay. Your recall, on the other hand, is practically non-existent.

She did let me off leash for a little while. And then we came to part of the trail that is very close to the road, so she put me back on leash. She was going to let me off leash again after we were away from the road, but we ended up in the back yard of the Blueberry Hill Inn. She was going to let me off leash when we were far enough away from the Inn, but then we ended up in a beaver bog.

Boss Lady thought it was very disgusting. The water was orange and oily. There used to be a path across the bog, but most of the pallets had sunk into the bog or washed away. She had to tippy toe across the bog by walking along the mud wall. One wrong step and she’d’ve been knee deep in beaver bog water.

She did not enjoy it, but she made it. Of course, once we were completely across the boggy part, with dry feet no less, she decided we had to turn around and go back to get documentary images for this blog. She could have continued the hike with completely dry feet. Instead, she walked across the boggy section 3 times and ended up with damp feet. Not soaking wet, but not totally dry either.

She was going to let me off leash when we got across the beaver bog, but we found lots and lots of moose tracks. Some seemed pretty old. Some didn’t. Plus, there was this huge pile of moose droppings.

If you disregard the grass and the leaf, you’d almost think they were chocolate covered candies of some sort. I bet they taste just as good as chocolate covered candies, but Boss Lady wouldn’t let me try any. She’s such a stick in the mud.

Aside from the fact that I was tethered to Boss Lady most of the hike, I had an enjoyable time. We saw the beginnings of pretty foliage.

We found a nifty tree.

I tried to climb the tree.

We managed to not get lost, despite the fact that the Zach Osborne Trail was not marked as such on the map.

And despite the fact that this trail marker was less than helpful.

All in all, I’d say it was a good adventure. And, no, we didn’t see any moose.

It Was My Idea

2008-09-21T17:09:00.006-04:00

It all started simply enough. Boss Lady was hungry, but couldn’t decide what to eat. She opened the fridge, but all she found was an odd odour. She opened the freezer and only found ice cream and a big turkey breast. She opened the cupboard and found lots of crackers, but nothing substantial. She opened the fridge again, because something new might have appeared in the last 5 minutes. When the odour started bothering her, she grabbed the first thing that seemed likely to appease her hunger and shut the door. What had she grabbed? Crabapple jelly. Why? Because when all else fails eat PB&J. It’s always good. She grabbed the peanut butter and made her sandwich. When she was done there wasn’t enough left in the peanut butter jar to warrant putting it back in the cupboard. She started to throw it away when she had a sudden thought.

Not too long ago, you’ll recall, she allowed me to lick the crumbs out of the dog food bag. At the time, Boss Lady thought it would be something to give me an empty jar of peanut butter, except we didn’t have an empty jar at that time. Now, here she has an empty jar. Nothing to do but grab her camera and let me at it.

So, this is how it went. She told me to stay and put the jar on the floor in front of me.

Stay? I swear, I won’t move a muscle. If the reward is peanut butter, I won’t even breath until you say the word.

She said the word.

Note the nose smushing going on here.

MMMMMMM This is soooooo good.

Hold still peanut butter jar!

Serious contemplation regarding how to get my tongue to the bottom of the peanut butter jar.

Maybe if I turn my head this way.

Or maybe the other way.

Aha! Gotta come in from the side.

Peanut Butter High.

Mixed Metaphors

2008-09-20T13:46:00.002-04:00

I’m not sure what to call my adventure this morning. Maybe a run, hike, run. When Boss Lady was little Boss Lady’s Father worked with a fellow who was quite involved in the local foot and bike races. Lacking anything better to do, Boss Lady’s Father used to help out at said races. And Boss Lady used to tag along. She recalls lots of Run, Bike Runs. So, I guess my adventure was a run, hike, run.

I was none to clear what the adventure would be when we got started. Boss Lady collected my harness, rope leash, and back pack. That indicates a hike. She also packed a water bottle and my rope leash in the back pack. That indicates a probably local hike, because we’ll walk to the hiking trail. This could be a hike to the boardwalk, or out at the Rugby field. You’ll note she only packed water for herself. That indicates where ever we’re hiking is wet and I’ll be able to find plenty of water for myself. This rules out either the boardwalk or the Rugby field because neither have large quantities of drinkable water. It could mean swimming at Sabotka’s, but the weather really isn’t that warm. Just when I was thoroughly confused, Boss Lady grabbed my prong collar and short leash, which indicate either a bike ride or regular walk. Paired with the backpack, it must mean some sort of new bike riding adventure.

It was, indeed a bike ride. We went the long way around town and then out to Sabotka’s. And there was a lot more traffic than Boss Lady expected. Fortunately, we did just fine navigating it all. Only a couple people gave us dirty looks for being “in the way.”

Boss Lady’s reason for visiting Sabotka’s was the new hiking trail: The Town Farm Trail. There is a ribbon cutting ceremony tomorrow, but I obviously can’t go to that. And Boss Lady really wanted to investigate the new trail. She was worried it would just be a gravel path around the big field near the river. She didn’t expect to be impressed. She thought maybe it would be a nice place for those quick hikes when we don’t have much time. So, she was most surprised to find an actual hiking trail. Through the woods, up a hill, through muddy flats, with lots of tree roots to trip over. We ran out of time to fully explore the trail, but Boss Lady says she’ll go to the ribbon cutting ceremony tomorrow, take the “tour” of the trail, and then take me another day.

Oh, and despite the note in the local paper, the trail is not bike friendly. Not at all. Boss Lady does not say this because of the tree roots. Or the steep hill. Or even the narrow planks across the muddy parts. It’s because to reach the trail head you must cross a steel bridge. There are 4 steps up to the bridge and 4 steps down off the bridge. Bikes and stairs don’t mix well. Of course, I suppose you could always ride through the 4 inch deep stream that the bridge crosses. But, Boss Lady doesn’t think that sounds like much fun. It’s ok, though. She’ll just have to invest in a bike chain/lock so we can bike down to the trail and then hike.

A totally unrelated side note: the first person who guesses the meaning of today’s title will receive an as yet undetermined prize. Just post your guess in a comment.

I Dub Thee

2008-09-20T13:43:00.004-04:00

Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy's official name is Fred. With apologies to the Real Fred. It's just such a good name. You may address any mail to Fred Fish. Not that I expect him to get any mail. I hardly ever get any mail, so Fred definitely shouldn't be.

Tossing Mr. Green

2008-09-19T20:47:00.002-04:00

Mr. Green Tossing

Everyone Please Remain Calm

2008-09-17T12:17:00.005-04:00

There’s no need to panic. That’s what I told her. So, what did she do? Panic, of course. Yesterday afternoon, Boss Lady and I returned to Moosalamoo to attempt a different hiking trail. We planned to hike up the Halfdan Kuhnle trail and then come back down the lower section of Sucker Brook trail. Originally, Boss Lady wanted to hike the loop that is Sucker Brook trail, but we couldn’t figure out how to reach that trail head.

The first mile of the trail was a steep uphill climb. Boss Lady expected this, because she’s skilled enough at reading topo maps to know that the closer together the elevation lines (or whatever they’re called) the steeper the hill. Still, she didn’t expect the trail to be *that* steep. We persevered, though, and successfully summitted. I’ve even got proof. See? Cindy’s Summit. Nothing there but a sign, but I’ve got proof nonetheless.

This time note the stick Boss Lady stuck behind the sign so that I would be encouraged to climb the tree. She really does her best to embarrass me.

So, we reached Cindy’s Summit (which wasn’t on the map, but we were able to wager a guess as to where it would be on the map) in pretty good time. Boss Lady anticipated another mile and half before we reached our half way point. We hiked along at a gentle pace. We lollygagged to snap photos. We bushwacked to get the best picture taking angle of a nifty stream.

Boss Lady tried to drown me in said stream.

Let me show you that again in slow motion. This is my head.

This is the waterfall

Yes, I have great confidence that she loves me.

So, round about 4:45 she checks her watch and realizes we’ve been hiking for almost 1.5 hours and we haven’t reached our halfway point. This is a bad sign. She consults the map and realizes we haven’t even reached our first trail intersection, which is about half a mile before the half way point. This is really bad. She’s not entirely sure where we are on the map at this point. It could be as far as another mile before we reach the halfway point. That’s another hour of hiking. That puts us at 2.5 hours of hiking at the half way point. Which indicates about 2.5 hours of hiking out. That puts us exiting the woods at 7:15pm. It’s dark at 7:30 these days. We know from experience that it gets dark much earlier in the woods. Boss Lady didn’t bring a flashlight, or matches, or lighter. Boss Lady is not good at hiking an unfamiliar, rough, rocky trail in the dark or even semi-dark. Boss Lady begins to panic.

Boss Lady’s first determination is that we must begin hiking much faster. No more lollygagging. No more picture snapping, or stick fetching, or investigating of nifty moss covered rocks. No more chasing down flushed fowl. Off we go. Boss Lady continuously reconsiders all her calculations, trying desperately to figure out how she miscalculated so badly. Every 5 minutes she pulls out the map, wildly guessing at where we might be on the trail at that very moment, and then quickly running time and mileage calculations to see when we’ll be out of the woods (literally and figuratively.) She even grabs a long piece of grass to use to actually measure the trail on the map to really confirm the mileage. She cannot find any problems with her initial mileage calculations.

With each look at the map, Boss Lady’s panic was increasing significantly. We were walking the flats at that point, and she was panting heavily. Her temper was short. She was muttering and mumbling and doing a very good impersonation of the mentally ill. Suddenly, she loudly says my name and starts telling me how I need to calm down and not panic. There’s really no need to panic. As luck would have it, our trail goes down the west side of the mountain, which means we’ll have as much light as possible from the setting sun. We are familiar with the last half mile or so of the trail. And, the very last half mile back to the car isn’t even in the woods. We’ll be walking up the access road at that point which means better light conditions, and no worry of losing the trail. There’s absolutely no reason to panic, so stop panicking.

Just a couple moments later, we turn a bend and discover another trail coming in from our right. Boss Lady is ecstatic! This is the first intersection she’s been looking for. It means for sure that our half way point is only a half mile away. We weren’t nearly as far off, time wise, as Boss Lady had worried. She frantically looked around for the sign post announcing this intersection. She didn’t need it to tell her which way to go, but really wanted some proof. She couldn’t find any sign post. She considered this very odd, because all the other marked intersections on the map were properly marked on the trail and there had been no other unmarked intersections. So, for this intersection to be unmarked was suspicious. Boss Lady concluded that it was one of the few mistakes and figured sometimes it just happens. Maybe the sign got knocked down or something. We continued on, still at a good pace, but with much less panicking on Boss Lady’s part. What seemed like a half mile later we did, indeed, encounter another trail intersection. Boss Lady assumed it was our half way point intersection. Until she looked at the sign, and saw that it was, in fact, the intersection she thought we had passed a half mile ago.

Red lights flashed in her head. Panic buttons sounded. Boss Lady all but sat down to cry. We were farther behind than she thought. Frantic calculations ensued. Considering all the rest of the trail was flat or downhill, it wouldn’t take as long to hike out as it did to hike in. We’d been hiking faster for the past mile, and would for the rest of the trip out, so that would cut our time further. We also had refrained from all lollygagging and playing, which accounted for probably almost a half hour of the time in. If everything went perfect, we’d be out of the woods just before it got really dark. We continued on.

Up until that point, I had been off leash. Boss Lady felt that the area was remote enough that it was safe for me to run off leash. At this intersection, though, Boss Lady put me on leash. Our halfway point was actually a trail head. And trail heads mean access roads, parking lots, and potential people. She didn’t actually expect to see people, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

What felt like a half mile later, we encountered our half way point trail head, which was unmarked. She was pretty sure which way to go, but there was an extra trail that wasn’t marked on the map. She finally noticed a sign a little way down what she knew was the wrong trail. We went to check. Sure enough, we were in the right place and we had been going to right direction. There was simply an extra trail than the map showed. Boss Lady wasn’t going to worry about that at that point. She was just glad to know we’d reached the half way point and would be turning back. As soon as we turned the corner, she began looking for our next trail intersection. This was a key intersection as taking the correct trail would mean the difference of adding another half mile to our trek. At this late hour, any added hiking would be a major problem.

We encountered an intersection, but the signs did not match Boss Lady’s map. The signs also did not clearly indicate a nearly invisible trail which was the trail we actually needed to take. After several moments of extreme panic, we headed in the correct direction. The previous trails had all been fairly clear and looked traveled. This trail was very overgrown, poorly marked, and looked rarely used. Boss Lady returned to her impersonation of the mentally ill. She started to let me off leash again, but then reconsidered. We had reached the hour of deer watching. That is the point in the evening when deer tend to do their evening feeding. And if deer feed at that hour, what other wild animals might. Boss Lady was envisioning an encounter with a moose (it is called Moosalamoo, after all) or a bear (remember all those blueberries) or any number of other dangerous wild critters. I fed this fear by constantly trying to run off the trail through the woods after an otherwise invisible something. Boss Lady was much relieved that she had kept me on leash, as she just knew if I’d been off leash I’d’ve been gone.

Realizing that panic was really detrimental to our progress, Boss Lady did her best to calm me. She verbally went through all her time and mileage calculations again. She pointed out that thus far the map had been correct and she could feel confident basing her calculations on what it showed. She continued to feel confident that we would exit the woods while it was still daylight. Surely, we wouldn’t encounter any bears or moose or anything. To be sure, she randomly and regularly clapped her hands loudly and whistled. I looked at her blankly. The woman really is nuts.

The rest of the hike really went rather smoothly. All expected trail intersections were clearly marked. No unexpected trail intersections appeared. We reached the end of the trail while it was still light. And the only miscalculation Boss Lady had done was to think our hike up the road to the car was longer than it actually was. When the car came into view through the trees, Boss Lady told me she would do a happy dance when we got there. She didn’t do a happy dance, though, because when we did reach the car, we discovered a couple had set up a tent in the middle of the grassy space where Boss Lady had parked. We felt rather like we’d walked into someone’s bedroom unannounced. The important thing, though was that we had successfully reached the car before dark. Boss Lady did miss her meeting, though. That probably pissed her off them most. She really wanted to go to that meeting.

Boss Lady consulted the map once again when we arrived home. She measured the distance one more time and concluded our hike was about 4.5-5 miles. It took us nearly 4 hours to hike it. So much for our 30 minute mile. I don’t think I can handle this sort of thing again. Seriously, would somebody please volunteer to be Boss Lady’s two-legged hiking partner and take the pressure off me? I’m just a dog, I’m not cut out for this. The abilities to read a topo map and use a compass would be a definite bonus.

In Her Old Age

2008-09-10T11:54:00.000-04:00

About a month ago, Boss Lady celebrated another birthday. I might have mentioned it. She’s 27 now. I might not have mentioned that. I don’t know if that added year is what made the difference, but Boss Lady seems to be getting braver in her old age. Either that or she’s not paying attention. Lately, Boss Lady has been experimenting with off leash behavior in the yard. She puts on my leash, takes me out the door, wanders me around the yard, and somewhere along the way she nonchalantly drops the leash and just uses voice commands. So, far, I’ve done excellently. No chasing of cats or kids or bikes. No making her think I was going to run off. No refusing to come back in the house. No problems at all. But, don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just biding my time, putting her at ease and waiting until she isn’t paying attention. Then I’ll make my move. And that obnoxious squirrel that sits on the bird feeder laughing at me will be the first to know about my new freedom.

Revenge Is Sweet

2008-09-09T23:40:00.000-04:00

Or

I Get My Due

So much for grand adventures today. The thunderstorm with pouring rain awoke the Boss Lady round about 7:30 this morning. She managed to pull her semi-conscious self out of bed to close all the windows, and then she collapsed back into sweet dreams. She did not again drag herself out of bed until nearly 10:00am. It was still pouring rain. We don’t have grand adventures in the rain. We don’t even have mini-adventures in the rain. So much for her plans for day-off grand adventuring.

Boss Lady put the rainy day to good work doing dishes, trying (and failing) to set up internet on the desktop PC, and baking chocolate filled dinner rolls. Round about noon, when there was a lessening in the rain, Boss Lady decided it was time for me to go out. She snapped on my leash and dragged me out the door. I gingerly stepped onto the grass and piddled. Boss Lady looked at me and suggested I Business (poo). I told her I didn’t need to. She didn’t believe me, but also took note that I was not giving any of my normal need-to-poo-but-don’t-want-to-do-it-in-the-rain signals. She realized that perhaps I really didn’t need to go, considering that I did get my breakfast a little bit late.

Late? LATE?! How about never! I did not get any breakfast this morning. None. Breakfast is served in the morning. Boss Lady wasted the entire morning sleeping. Did she think about me? No. Did she consider my starving, grumbling stomach? No. Did it occur to her that my contract requires breakfast at a regularly scheduled time? Definitely not.

*Boss Lady* “Hey! I fed you. Don’t go telling nasty lies about me withholding your rations.”

Ok, so I received an early lunch. It wasn’t breakfast, that’s for sure.

*Boss Lady* “Just don’t forget to mention that you don’t normally get any lunch at all.”

Yes, well, I’ll let my loyal readers decide what to think about you. Back to the story at hand. We were outside, I did not need to business, so we returned inside.

A little while later I stunk up the kitchen. My odour overpowered the wonderful smells of baking bread and baking chocolate. Boss Lady looked at me and decided we needed to go out again. She snapped on my leash and dragged me out the door again. I tiptoed onto a corner of the grass and piddled. She dragged me over under the big maple tree and instructed me to business. I explained that I didn’t feel the need. Boss Lady replied, “Try anyway.” I don’t know why she seems to think she knows everything about my bodily functions, but I informed her I wasn’t going to business. To which she said,

“Fine. Just remember that I don’t have to go anywhere today. I don’t have to go to work. I don’t have to transport kittens. I don’t have to run errands. I can stand here waiting for you to business all day. And the rain? Doesn’t bother me at all. It’s actually the perfect temperature for playing in the rain. Besides, if I get soaked, I can go inside and change. So, either you can business quickly and we’ll go back inside before you get too wet, or we can stand here all day. It’s your choice, but if you really want to stay dry, you’d better choose the first option.”

That little speech sounded awfully familiar to me. I scrinched my eyes tightly shut against the rain and thought about it. Then I remembered our little discussion regarding cream cheese bagels the other morning. I remembered that Boss Lady ended up giving me half her bagel that morning. As I stood there fondly recalling the gourmet flavor of that cream cheese, a particularly large rain drop landed right in my ear. I wandered a couple feet over, nonchalantly sniffed the grass, and businessed. After all, there wasn’t any sense in standing in the rain all day when there were yummy chocolate filled dinner rolls to beg for.

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

2008-09-07T20:27:00.000-04:00

I have to air my appreciation for Boss Lady’s corporate employer. Normally, as a show of loyalty to Boss Lady, I am very much against said employer. But, Thursday evening the floors where Boss Lady works were thoroughly stripped, cleaned, waxed, and buffed. When Boss Lady arrived at work Friday morning, she was immediately struck ill by the chemical stench leftover from the cleaning. She made an honest effort to stick it out, but the stench did not dissipate and her illness only became worse. After a few hours, Boss Lady gave up and came home early. Much to my excitement, it only took about an hour of fresh air and rest to clear Boss Lady’s illness. And we were left with an entire beautiful, sunny, warm afternoon to play! Woohoo!

Due to the heat, Boss Lady vetoed any hiking or biking. She did, however, agree that swimming was an acceptable activity for the heat. Even moreso because school is back in session and there was little worry our swimming hole would be already claimed by any rotten little kids. Off we went with my harness and rope and a fun toy.

So, let me talk about this fun toy. It’s called a Jolly Ball. It must be named for the entertainment of the handler rather than the dog, because this thing is far from jolly. It’s a big, thick rubber ball on a big fat rope. If floats, although it does take on water after awhile. It is also unpoppable, because it isn’t inflated. It’s kinda fun as just a tug toy, but once it’s in the water, it is horrible. Why? Because it is impossible to grab. Boss Lady tossed it out into the middle of the swimming hole and after it I went. When I reached it, I tried to grab the ball in my mouth. It bobbed under the water, avoided my teeth, and popped back up a few inches away. I tried again, with more force. The ball bobbed under the water, avoided my teeth, and popped up about a foot away. I swam in circles repeatedly jabbing the ball with my nose only to have it bob under and away. Finally, I managed to accidentally catch the rope and was able to fetch the blasted toy. After all that work, I was smart enough to not return the toy to Boss Lady, knowing as I did that she would only toss it out there again for another round. Unfortunately, she managed to catch me and snag Jolly Ball away, only to do just as I feared. I swam out after it, and went through the jabbing and bobbing routine until I finally captured the toy. We went through this routine several times until I made it a point to drop Jolly Ball in the strongest part of the current in the hopes that it would be swept away. No such luck, Boss Lady is quicker in the water than she looks. Fortunately, she took the hint and put away the Jolly Ball.

With the Jolly Ball retired, we proceeded to more traditional swimming hole activities, namely rock skipping and plain old swimming. Then I decided I really wanted to venture up stream and investigate things. Boss Lady actually agreed. The river is much shallower than she thought, so we waded a little way up. Then I found a giant tree branch along the edge of the stream. I tried to grab onto it, but it was too big for my mouth. I dug, and scratched and chewed at it until I finally managed to break off a narrower section of branch. Then I carried it back down the stream, skirted the edge of the swimming hole, and dragged it over to Boss Lady’s previously dry clothes.

Then Boss Lady declared us sufficiently cooled and exercised and we went home. I’m kinda hoping Boss Lady’s employer decides to clean the floors again soon. Maybe if I go over and spread some dirt and mud it’ll happen sooner.

Give Me One Good Reason

2008-09-05T22:30:00.000-04:00

I know I mention Boss Lady’s sleeping habits rather often, her late sleeping habits even more often, but that’s simply because it is true. Even on the mornings when she has to go to work, Boss Lady is incapable of dragging herself out of bed early. If she needs to be to work by 8:00 am, she sets the alarm for 7:00 am. Notice that I didn’t say she gets up at 7:00 am, simply that she sets the alarm for that hour. She gets up a couple minutes later. Then she races to the shower, digs furiously through her 3 laundry baskets of clothes (in various stages of clean/dirty), hopes that she matches and all is suitably clean, and races downstairs. If I’m lucky, she feeds me before Feeshy Feeshy Feeshy (who has never received a more suitable name, by the way). When she’s done feeding us animals, she sees to feeding herself. Quite often she throws a bagel in the toaster before she feeds me and it is all toasted by the time I’m done. Convenient for her because then she’s not standing around wasting precious minutes waiting for it to toast. Convenient for me, because then I have the opportunity to beg for an after breakfast snack.

The other morning, Boss Lady was running particularly late, and with her schedule that can be as little as five minutes later than normal. Not only did she have to toast the bagel while she was feeding me, she had to eat it while she was taking me out. And, of course, because she had food, I was much more interested in begging for some bagel than in doing my business. After the 17th time she told me to piddle and I ignored her in favor of staring longingly at her breakfast she exasperatedly asked, “Do you seriously think I’m going to share my bagel with you? Well, I’m not. Why should I? Huh? Give me one good reason why I should share my breakfast with you, you greedy moose!” One reason? That’s all? She just wanted one reason. Well, I quickly offered up a whole brunch...erm, bunch.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #1: because I want a bite of bagel with cream cheese. Really, I do. You might not know it, but I happen to loooooove bagels with cream cheese.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #2: because I’m hungry. Seriously, I’m starving here. You said it the other day, I’m skin and bones. You’ve been trying to figure out how to fatten me up again. Well, here I am giving you a perfect chance.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #3: because you don’t have time to eat the whole bagel. You’re running so late you’re telling me to hurry up with my business. You obviously don’t have time to eat that whole thing. And don’t even try to tell me you think you can drive and consume a messy bagel at the same time.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #4: because you’re trying to lose weight again. Carbs for breakfast? Not helping with the weight loss. Trust me. You should be eating fruit for breakfast, let me handle the bagels.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #5: because I always share my Bagel with you. Granted, it doesn’t have cream cheese, but still. You tell me to go get Bagel, and I go get it. You tell me to give it to you, and I toss it at you. Maybe not immediately, but I do.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #6: because I don’t have to be to work on time. I don’t even have to go to work. So, it doesn’t matter to me how long we stand out here in the yard waiting for me to business. I’m also not annoyed by the mosquitoes. They might be breakfasting on every square centimeter of your exposed flesh, but they’re not bothering me in the least. Let me repeat, I can stand out here in the yard all day.

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #7: because I’m a good boy. Can’t you see me sitting here? This is a perfect sit, with the kind of attention you only dream of. I’ve heard you say you’d give your left arm for this kind of attention from me. All I’m asking for is a bite of bagel. (And why is it your left arm? Why not your right arm, which is the more important arm because that’s the arm you use the most? You’re saying I’m only worth the less important arm? If you’re going to start giving away body parts, you might as well give away the ones that are worth something. Next thing you’ll be offering up your appendix for my good behavior.)

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #8: because you love me. I know you do. You tell me all the time. Plus, you hug me, and scritch my ears, and leave slobbery noisy kisses all over my snout (which is really annoying, by the way). You insist on inspecting my feet after we go biking, and checking my ears after we go swimming. Besides, who else keeps a cookie jar full of popcorn just for the dog? (Hey, after the bagel, maybe you can give me a handful of popcorn.)

Breakfast bagel sharing reason #9: because I’m not going to piddle or business until that bagel is consumed. So, either you can inhale it, or you can give it to me. It’s your choice. If you want to get to work any where near on time, you’d better choose the latter option.

Bubble Farts

2008-08-31T14:52:00.001-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

True To Her Word

2008-08-30T12:10:00.009-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

The Up Side

2008-08-27T00:31:00.003-04:00

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

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

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

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

Here I am impersonating a bear.

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

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

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

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

Now This Is What I'm Talking About

2008-08-25T21:12:00.001-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moose Droppings

RCHS Update

I'd Like To See You Do Better

I Am The Human; You Are The Dog

A Real First

Can't Fool Me

First Times

The Adventure Not Taken

(Ir)Regularity

RCHS Update

Let The Record Show

Celebrity Status

What's Wrong With You?

I'm Not Eating That

Anticipation Of The Kiss

No Turkey Basters Were Harmed In The Making Of This Entry

Simple Math

You Are Such A Girl

Thinking Outside The Box

RCHS Update

You Want Me To What?

Take Your Dog To Work Day

The Secret Ingredient

One Track Mind

Seriously?

Penny For Your Thoughts

I Know How To Spell, Thank You Very Much

Where's That Dictionary?

Under The Knife

And You, Little Johnny?

SQUEAKY HEDGEHOG!!!!

That's Why They're Called Dog Biscuits

Don't Lick'em When They're Cold

My Grandson is Furry And Four Legged

You'll Be Getting A Dictionary For Christmas

Identity Crisis

Brought To You By: Dyson

And Just What Makes You So Sure?

Men Are From Mars

It's Snow Nice

Just Keeping You On Your Toes

Who Says I Don't Contribute?

I Will Kill You!

RCHS Update

Well, That's Not Very Nice

Is It Better Now?

I Do Not Take Whoa For An Answer

He's Not As Helpful As Me, Though

Now You're Looking For A Fight

Grey's Anatomy According To Boss Lady

RCHS Update

False Accusations

It's Mine! All Mine!

Well, We Try To Be Environmentally Friendly

Is This What You Meant?

The Cursed Middle Man

I Think You've Got Your Story Confused

Green Energy? That's not what it sounds like to me

Dogster World's Coolest Dog Contest

RCHS Update

Wanted: Guard Dog

So, what gives?

Colyn's Cure-All

Can't You Behave For Just 5 Minutes?

You're Fired

Do You Think There'll Be A Recall?

RCHS Update

Scrrrreeeeeeeech! *slam*

One Smart Puppy

RCHS Update

And You're Supposed To Be The Smart One

Um, I Think You Forgot Something

The End of a Friendship

We Should Do This More Often

Colyn The Moose, VGB

I Do Not Approve Of This

Channeling Fred

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Fall In Vermont

I Told You

Scrrrreeeeeeeech! slam