Men Are From Mars

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

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

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?

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!

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

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

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?

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

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.