I Am The Human; You Are The Dog

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

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

And that was the end of that discussion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can't Fool Me

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

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

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

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

Let The Record Show

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

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

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

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

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

I Know How To Spell, Thank You Very Much

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

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

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


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

Where's That Dictionary?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And You, Little Johnny?

"What did you get for Christmas?"

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





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


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

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

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

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

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


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


Are you jealous, yet?

Identity Crisis

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



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

Brought To You By: Dyson

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

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

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


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


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


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

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

Well, That's Not Very Nice

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



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


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

I Do Not Take Whoa For An Answer

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

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

He's Not As Helpful As Me, Though

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

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

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

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




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




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

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




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




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



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




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




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





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




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

Now You're Looking For A Fight

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

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.

False Accusations

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?

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

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?

Wanted: Guard Dog

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."

We Should Do This More Often

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

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.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

“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?

Equal Opportunity Insults

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.