Equal Parts

When we got out of the car this morning, I was equal parts excited and terrified. I'd been whining in the car -- at one point even barking -- as we drove down the bumpy, snowy road to our favorite ski spot at Snoqualmie Pass. We haven't been skiing in so long, I was beside myself with joy.

Then Gretchen pulled out my red coat AND my black booties. I cowered in the corner of the car while she and Ann bundled up, put on their ski boots, and packed up their bags for the trip.

The joy was still there -- that tingling in my belly and shaky anticipation of running pell mell in the deep snow -- but the fear of my red coat and black booties gripped me and all the whining and whimpering of excitement strangled at the back of my throat.

Gretchen tells me that there are some things that spark irrational fears. For her it's the sight of snakes. No matter how much she tries to steal herself for their appearance, when a snake slithers by she jumps and runs the other way. "I can't control it," she tells me, "My body doesn't listen to my mind and the next thing I know, I'm sprinting as far away from the snake as my old legs will carry me."

That's how I feel about my red coat and black booties. When we were packing up this morning at our house, I saw Ann head for the closet where both the demons are kept and instantly, I found a safe hiding place on the stair landing where I could escape to the upstairs bedroom if need be. All morning long, while the boots and the poles and the ski clothes were organized and packed, I shook on the landing and leaned toward an escape whenever I saw red or heard that tell-tale sound of velcro ripping (the underbelly of my coat and the tie downs for my boots).

It's irrational, I know, and I can't seem to control the fear that overwhelms me, but once in the car, heading up to the mountains, I forget about the horror of those items and sleep with dreams of romping in the deep white snow.

So when we arrived at the turn off for our favorite ski spot, I was thrilled and exuberant -- we were going to play in the snow!!! Only when the red flashed and the velcro ripped did that fear seize me and I headed for the safest spot I could find -- smashed up behind the driver's seat shaking in terror.

But there's no avoiding it. I knew I was trapped in the car - no escape to the upstairs bedroom this time -- so when I was summoned, I obeyed and let Gretchen strap me into my red coat and my black booties. I certainly didn't want to be left behind while they had all the fun now did I?

Ann and Gretchen laughed at me then. Not in fun, but at my dance of mixed emotions. I was so happy to be in the snow, so thrilled as the snowflakes tickled my nose that the fear of my apparel made me scurry and hop as I tried to flick the booties from my paws and shake the coat from my back. Gretchen calls me a bucking bronco. I suppose I am, but mostly I'm in battle with myself. Which will win out -- my excitement or my fear?

I should know the answer to this deep philosophical question because about 15 minutes into the ski adventure, I've forgotten all about what I'm wearing. Instead, I'm racing from one mom to the next, eating treats from their gloved hands and licking snowflake-covered lips. Only occasionally, when we stop to get a drink of water or pause for a quick snack do I gnaw at my booties and twitch at my coat. No with any seriousness, but with just enough annoyance as to let everyone know that my life would be perfect if I were, shall I say, naked.

But then we get back to the adventure and it's all anyone can do to contain my joy. I am a tight bundle of excited energy and I race on the trail, bounding in the deep snow catching a scent of squirrel (or perhaps something bigger) while Ann and Gretchen push along the path with a swoosh swoosh swoosh of their skis.

Back at the car, when we are all tired and happy and ready for something warm, I leap into the car exhausted. Gretchen calls me to her and tries to take off my dreaded attire -- the boots and the coat I've forgotten about -- and then she changes from her cold boots and chilly clothes into something warm. I curl up into a ball listening to the snow fall all around our car and wait, happy and patient, for the long drive home. I am equal parts exhausted and content; tired and blissful with only faint memories (and sour whiffs) of my red coat and black booties drying in the back of the car.

A Very Merry

This is my friend Tucker. His smile, I believe, represents my recent holiday vacation. We didn't go very far away at least, not as far as we've gone in the past nor did we stay away too long, but our time away at the Grandparent's house was filled with love, fun, and food. Who could ask for anything more?
Not I, as you can see. I got to play fetch with Tucker as well as wrestle a bit with my wild cousin, Ringo.
Ringo is a good guy, but he can't help his Terrier qualities -- gnashing teeth, the need to poke and bite at the most inappropriate times, his possessiveness of people, places, toys, and food, and his undying persistence to annoy me as well as his older sister, Hope.

Still, in small doses, he's lots of fun.
Usually we head to Ringo's house for Christmas, down south in Oregon, but this year we met at Grandma and Grandpa's house a little over an hour away. It was nice not to have to travel so far though the house in Oregon has a really big yard where Ringo and I can wear each other out.

Things were a bit cramped this year, but not too badly. The problem is, of course, the problem we face every year -- too many presents! We all had to dance around, in our holiday clothes, the boxes and bags filled with cooking utensils, socks, and oodles of gift cards. The only presents sensibly out of the way were hung in huge stockings. I even got one (green one on the end) and it contained toys, squeakies, and the most interesting gift of all, an edible greeting card. Yum!I am so busy these days with my work blog that I haven't been very good at keeping up this one. I'm told that this is the time of year when one makes resolutions, resolving to do some things differently. Okay, I resolve to keep up with this blog more. I also resolve to eat my meals on time (something I'm not very good at), listening better when I am called, and visiting my relatives more often...even my silly cousins, Hope and Ringo.

Busy Holidays

Wow, it's been a busy four days. I love Thanksgiving because both my moms are home and we get to go visiting, but man, it's kind of exhausting. Who knew a dog's life could be so full and busy? I'm not complaining, just trying to explain why I'm kind of pooped tonight.

Sometimes, when we go to our friends' house for dinner we share one special moment of the day. I thought, since I'm kind of tired, I'd share some special moments from each day, though holding it down to one moment might be kind of hard.

Thanksgiving Day - You need to know that my Grandma is a great and efficient cook. She makes all sorts of yummy goodies, so when we arrive at their house, my first duty is to run into the kitchen and see what she's up to.

This Thanksgiving all the guests shared the cooking duties so even though Grandma didn't need to make the turkey, she got to make something even better!

Yep, she whipped the cream and man, was that yummy!

But licking the beaters, while an important moment, was only one of the special moments of the day. Another moment was meeting up with Tucker again. Tucker is an 11 year old boy who belongs to our friends Ann and Jan. Tucker LOVES me. I think he's pretty cool, too, but he's like obsessed with me. So even though I got a little tired of him smelling me all the time and constantly staring at me, it was nice to be so wanted.

Which leads me to the next day -- the day after Thanksgiving. Not only did I get turkey in my breakfast and dinner, I also got to play with Tucker at his house. My moms call Tucker the White Shadow because he follows me everywhere! But I don't mind. He's really kind of cool! And cute!



We came back home on Saturday and I thought for sure we'd rest from all the holiday hoopla, but no. First, we went for what was going to be a short walk when we ran into Richard and Ginger. Oh I do love those two. I was hoping we'd play, but Ginger was a bit sore from our romp on Thanksgiving morning so we just went for a walk. Still it was fun.

Mom didn't take any photos, but here's a picture of Ginger and her silly Dad, Richard walking with a bunch of us on a nice summer's day!


Next we met up with our friend Laurie and her new dog, Olive. As much as Tucker loves me, I think I love Olive. She's so cute and when we went on our walk around Seward Park, all I wanted to do was play with her, but we couldn't because we were on leashes. We tired, but it was hard.

And then, to top off a full Saturday, I got to spend the evening with my buddy Monty. We went for a long walk and played some fetch and then Monty stayed for dinner before we took him back home. It's always good to spend time with Monty. No pictures from our time together, but believe me, we have lots and lots of pictures of Monty and me!

Sunday I thought for sure would be a rest day, but once again we went for a nice long walk, then Quillette came over with Jessica and they took me for a walk. And then...yes there is more...we went to our friends' house for dinner and play time. Our friends how two young girls and they love to make me do tricks. I love it too, especially tonight because Gretchen didn't have any dog treats to feed me so she had to use GoldFish! Oh my dog those were good!

So I weaved under legs, jumped over scrunched up little girls, gave lots of high fives, and laid down on command. I am such a good dog and a really good dog when GoldFish are involved.

But now...well, now I am very tired so I shall post this blog and settle into my dog bed for some needed rest. Good thing tomorrow isn't a super busy day!

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Weekends

Just a few days ago, this is what Seattle looked like from one of our favorite view parks. It's too early to walk up there today, but I imagine if we took a photo of this same view, Seattle would not be visible. We're socked in at the moment with rain and low hanging clouds.

These are the times I wish I was a dog allowed up on the couch. That's where I'd be at this very moment stretched out with my head on a throw pillow, one eye focused on the window that looks out on all the church-goers covering their heads on their way to the early service. But I am not a dog that is allowed on the couch, and only by invitation am I allowed on the bed. Of course lately, I've nudged my moms for an invitation every night and they have obliged. That's because I know when and how to ask.

See, I can't ask when everyone first goes to bed. That gets me no where. Instead, I wait for everyone to be in those first stages of sleep, an hour or two after they go to bed, and then I sit at the end of the bed, stomp my feet ever so slightly and give a gentle moan. The moan is crucial. It must be a moan that sounds almost like the moan alerting my moms that I need to go out, that I MUST go out or something bad will happen. It can't be that exact moan, but close enough to get their attention.

Then, once they hear me, there is a plaintive look, a look of innocence and love, a look on the verge of begging, but the cute begging look, not the annoying begging look. The other night, I crossed over the line and my request looked too much like begging so I was sent back to my bed. Grumpily, I obeyed, but I learned my lesson -- be subtle, be patient, and most importantly, be politely persistent.

It worked last night and the night before last, but that's partly because it's the weekend and my moms are always a little more willing on the weekends. They know they get to sleep in so even though I dominate the end of the bed and they must sleep in curled up balls, they are willing to endure it because they know they get to sleep in.

Oh, how I love to sleep in. That's why now, though I'm not allowed, I would love to be lounging on the couch while one mom reads the morning paper and the other makes a grocery list.

But I am not allowed on the couch. I have yet to figure out a way to be invited, but given time, I'm certain I'll come up with something.

Me as a puppy -- 6 weeks old.

How to Relax

We have a nightly ritual. Gretchen puts me on my back and rubs my belly. I fall asleep and sigh heavily. My back legs relax and my front legs go limp. I can lie like this for hours.

I only wish I could offer the same to Gretchen. She's a worrier and since I'm her dog, I must worry right along with her. I know she doesn't want me to worry, but I feel her energy and then that energy becomes mine, too.

Ann is not a worrier. If I spent as much time with Ann as I do with Gretchen, I would not be a worrying dog.

But my days are spent with Gretchen. I love it, of course. I love both my moms, of course. Really. When Ann comes home, I wiggle my way too her and then flop down at her feet. Wherever she sits, I sit right next to her. I feel like I owe it to her. I mean, she doesn't get to be with me every day and I know she misses me as much as I miss her.

But Gretchen's the one who gives me a massage and I like that very much. I just wish I could do the same for her. I wish I could say, "Here, look. This is how you relax."

Me, too!

Mom wrote about going on a long walk today. I know she did it partly for me. I needed a walk as much as she did though we like our walks for different reasons. She likes them for the beauty of it all. I like them because of the smell of it all.
And now I'm ready for a nice rest while she goes shopping, does her school work, and makes French Onion Soup. Any bacon in that? Nay, that's what I thought. I got bacon in my breakfast this morning leftover from last night's quiche. Nothing like the smell of bacon to get this finicky guy to eat.

I sure hope she stops at the pet store, too. They have all sorts of food that I'll refuse to eat, but they also have great treats and that's something I rarely pass up.

Wait! I get to go with her? Yippee! More later. I'm on the way to my happy place!

Here Comes the Chill

They say it's supposed to get cold tonight. We'll see. The trees are turning, that's for sure, but there's been sun for more days than there's be any sign of rain or winter or cold. I've enjoyed it, myself. Lots of fetch. Lots of long walks. Lots of time hanging out in the backyard stretching my poodle legs in the warm sun.

This morning, though, I woke to the sound of the furnace coming on. It's been awhile since that sound woke me up, but I'll admit, the warmth of it was nice.


We played at the little park today where we met up with Richard and Ginger and ran around in the dewy grass until my feet turned green. I hear rumors of a bath soon and I'm trying desperately to discourage the notion. Not sure it's working.

Today has been a lazy day, which I've needed. As a dog dog walker, my four paws are ready for some time off and thankfully, that's come today. Maybe tomorrow, too. I had a wonderful nap with my moms on the bed this afternoon and have spent more time on my bed under the computer desk than I have in a long time. It's a nice, safe, and warm spot.

I don't mind the coming change in weather. Chilly means the possibility of snow. Chilly means sleeping by the furnace vent. Chilly means sometimes my dinner gets warmed up in the microwave. I can't complain about that.

Chilly means I might get invited up on the human bed more often and I really can't complain when that happens. It's a beautiful thing!

Shout Out

Saber, my new good friend, had to go to the vet today. He's kind of sick so I thought I'd use all my doggy powers and wish him well. If you're reading this, wish him well, too. He's a really good boy and when he's my age, he'll be a most excellent dog!

My Father's Day Weekend

I shall admit it...I am an anxious boy. My anxiety stems from the need to have my "pack" within view. If someone leaves or I do not know where they are, I get a bit whiny. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but it's my nature and I have yet to figure out how to change such instincts.

The level of my anxiety grows exponentially with every additional family member. With my moms, I can stay pretty calm partly because we have a routine of comings and goings. But this weekend when we traveled to Grandma and Grandpa's house where my Uncle Paul and cousin Lindsey were also visiting, well, I could feel the anxiety well up in my throat.

Where's Grandpa? Where's Grandma? Where's Uncle Paul? Where are my moms? These thoughts raced through my head at all times and when we headed to the beach to go kayaking, well, I thought I'd go into a spasm of fits when Uncle Paul and cousin Lindsey took off down the inlet. Momma Gretchen contemplated going kayaking alone, but my persistent whining made her reconsider.
In addition to my human family, I had the additional responsibility of being with Argo, our boarder for the weekend. Argo's a sweet fellow, but I sensed he was a bit confused about where he was sleeping now, who he was meeting next, and why on earth he had to drive so far to get there. So in addition to watching my "pack" with great intensity, I kept Argo close by lest he freak out by the chaos of family.

He did well, but I know he was thankful for my attentiveness.
I've gotten better over the years about my anxiety, but I think my moms are right -- I need to relax a bit more, really enjoy myself, and know that no matter where I am, my family/pack is not far away.

My View

I love to go to Doris and Steven's house. They have a pool. They have a big garden. They have a dog. They have good food.

So when I was told I'd be going there last night, I was thrilled. Swimming. Chase. Eating. Scratches on my belly. What could be more perfect?

Only there were about 50 people there and I was kept on a leash. What torture!
More torturous, Ben was not on a leash and he kept dropping tennis balls into the pool. MY POOL.

And Bailey was there, Ben's cousin. Bailey wasn't on a leash and he kept inviting me to chase him, only I couldn't because it was a party and I wasn't allowed to PARTY with my friends. It might disturb the human party. Who made up these rules!

Ben found tennis ball after tennis ball and bounced them right in front of me.

Even Ben and Bailey didn't understand why I couldn't play. They sat quietly with questioning looks, but still no go...
I was a good boy. I only complained a little. I did what I was told. And at the end of the evening I went home dry and exhausted not by chase or fetch, but by practicing patience.

Sometimes you just have to be a good dog.

Dang it!

This Summer I Went Swimming: Dog View

It starts like this. Gretchen gets me all warmed up for swimming in the pool. She throws my favorite floatie toy and I practice leaping off the side of the pool into the water. Then she leaves the toy behind and revs me up just like before. "Ready steady!" and she releases me (and herself) for a leap in the pool.
I push off and try to leap out farther than she does and usually I do because I have really strong back legs. She just makes faces.
I make mistakes, though. Like sometimes I jump in front of her. Not a good idea because she lands on me and I go under...like completely under. But that's okay because I bob right back up in my nifty orange life vest.
But Gretchen's learned to watch for me so she doesn't push me under the water. I appreciate it.

When we're all done with jumping and swimming, we hang out in Doris and Steven's backyard with their big dog Ben. Ben likes to hang out on the second floor porch where he pushes his tennis ball through the railings...

And I wait down below for the ball to drop...it's a game we play!

And we had another friend there as well...Jocelyn, Doris and Stephen's 2-month old granddaughter. She just hung out watching the silly dogs...that would be me!

What a good day...what a really good day!

Busy Boy

I've been so busy lately, I haven't had a chance to keep up with this blog. Here's an attempt (photographic) at catching up on this blog, but do check out www.wagsnwords.com for my other Dog Blog. You'll see, I haven't been a lazy boy!

Two new clients: Rufus (left) and Riley
Best Friend, Monty, sleeping on the back porch in the sun that decided to finally show up!Me enjoying a Pup-cicle in the sun...
And that's all I have time for...must get to work. More later, I hope!

Dogs in Mexico

My moms got back yesterday from their vacation. Apparently vacations are something humans do every now and then, but this was the first one they took without me. It was a bit odd since I'm usually ALWAYS with one or both of them almost all the time, but don't fret. I got to spend time with Jessica and her dog, Quillette who are two of my favorite friends.

Even though my moms didn't have ME with them, they were apparently surrounded by canine cousins. They traveled to Mexico (far, far away, they told me) and in Mexico dogs lead a very different life -- or so I've been told. First, very few of them are either attached to humans or have to wear leashes. Instead, they wander the streets eating scraps of food off the dirty roads, lounging on a curb, or sitting in front of the butcher's shop waiting for an act of god.

Next, while they bark a lot, they rarely fight with each other or bite humans. Dogs rest outside their houses and bark at passersby, but their barks are merely warnings letting their families know that "foreigners" are approaching. The photo below is one particular dog who "greeted" my moms as they approached their "casa" or house each evening.

On the beach, where my moms spent most of their time, the dogs run up and down the surf chasing each other, digging in the sand, and splashing in the water. Tourists pet them, some feed them, and others throw balls or sticks into the waves and watch the dogs chase after them. They pee on beach towels, they poop right next to surfboards, and they sleep on any pillow they can find.

This is one particular dog who hung out next to my moms on the beach one day. She slept, they say, for hours, curled up on someone else's beach bag only moving every once in awhile to tuck deeper into the warm sand. Apparently, this dog had quite a wild night and needed lots and lots of sleep!

Third, all dogs spring from the same mother, or so it seems. They all have some kind of pit bull blood line, but unlike the pit bulls in the US, these pit bulls are much more mellow EVEN those who are "fully intact." Few Mexicans spay or neuter their dogs, something my moms find this rather upsetting, but the dog of one of their friends was recently spayed after the birth of a litter of pups. The friend kept one of the puppies who hangs out with her mom and plays wrestling games all the time.

Finally, some dogs are tourists, too. People actually take their dogs to Mexico and you can spot these dogs because they are completely different from all the ways I just listed: 1) They are always attached to humans. 2) They are almost always on a leash. 3) They usually aren't sleeping on the beach. And 4) They aren't pit bulls in any way shape or form. In fact, they look an awful lot like Monty!

Which begs to question -- if other tourists took their dogs on vacation, why didn't I get to go?

I've asked this of my moms and they go on and on about plane rides and dog crates and long hours in dark places. Of course, they didn't take any pictures of that now did they?