Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

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.

Yes, I can

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

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

No, I can't

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

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

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



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

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

In the Pitts

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

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

See? Swimming funness.






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




The water shake progresses forward.



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

Who's Laughing Now, eh?

Boss Lady and I went swimming yesterday afternoon. Somebody else beat us to our regular swimming hole, so we went downstream a little bit. It was still plenty deep enough for swimming and plenty of room for splashing. Instead of just rolling up her pants legs and wading, Boss Lady actually went swimming. As I was splashing around on the bank, digging up rocks and pulling down dead tree branches, Boss Lady was testing her swimming muscles. The results of that test? She has no swimming muscles. I looked over to see her just swimming away, and not making any progress whatsoever against the current. I stood there laughing at her, and then splashed right in and swam right past her. Ha! I said. Ha!

You might recall that in the spring she put me in a similar position. Convinced me to jump out into the fast part of the river and then threw lots of rocks to convince me to keep swimming even though I wasn’t making any progress. She called it a swimming treadmill and thought it was a grand trick. And now that I see from the other end how this trick works, I must agree, it is grand. She seemed not at all bothered that a) I was laughing at her and b) she wasn’t making any progress. Part of the problem, she claimed, were the crocs on her feet. She claims they create quite a bit of drag, as well as impeding her kick. Furthermore, the rope around her wrist, which is connected to my harness at the other end, also seems to create a problem. It ended up wound around her arm several times. Besides, she said, she rather enjoyed swimming in place. Frankly, I don’t care about her excuses. I’m just glad to see her suffering the same trick she played on me.