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?

My Grandson is Furry And Four Legged

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

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

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

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

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