My Weekend on the Estate

My family surprised me this weekend.  They never told me that I was going to have lots of fun.  They didn't tell me that I was going to meet lots of other dogs.  In short, they never told me that this weekend was Dog Days at Old Westbury Gardens!

Me at Old Westbury Gardens.

On Saturday morning Ma, Sister, and I all piled into Ma's car and drove to my estate (Pa went for a ride someplace else--I was a bit upset when he didn't take me, but I got over it when Sister told me where I was going).  We had a grand time in the gardens, even though my sniffing and exploring ability was limited due to the fact that my long leash had been misplaced and I had to stay on my normal short one (if I must be on a leash at all times while on my estate, which I still believe is wrong, it should at least be long enough for me to sufficiently explore the territory).  We walked around two ponds, took some glamorous pictures, and stared down a squirrel (if I was on my long leash I could have chased it).  I also met a number of cousins (aka Golden Retrievers) including my friends Holly and Emma Rose whom I met at the last Dog Days weekend and a really nice half cousin (a Goldendoodle).  I even got the chance to bunk noses with a number of small dogs.  

Admiring the flowers.

Pa joined Ma, Sister and me at Old Westbury Gardens on Sunday afternoon.  I love it when Pa comes because he and I always have a good time when we're together (we even have a saying:  "Dogs and Pas know how to have fun" though Pa thinks the order is actually "Pas and Dogs").  Anyway, Ma found my long leash so I had the ability to really sniff around and check out all the trails.  Like the day before, I got to meet a tons of dogs including a few more cousins (even a blonde one like me) and a whole mess of little dogs.  I also took the opportunity to try my paw at a little mischief.  First, I tried to trick Pa into walking me over to the smelly plants I like to roll in, but apparently he remember the last two times we came to the Gardens and what a fool I made of myself (not to mention all the plants I crushed) and he purposely took me down a different path.  Then, at lunch time, I climbed up on the picnic table and laid down in hopes that my family would share their lunch with me.  I was kicked off, but Sister gave me a piece of ham from her sandwich for being such a good boy all day.

The only disappointing part of my weekend was that I never got the chance to see my best friend Mecki.

A Clean Bill of Health

I got my bandage removed today!

Okay, it didn't happen quite like that.  Allie the Alligator, the new toy Pa bought me, played no part in the removal of my bandage.  Nope, Ma and Sister drove me to the vet this evening, the nice technician took me in the back room and removed the bandage for me, and the vet gave me a clean bill of health.  Granted, my paw is far from pretty right now--it's gnarly and shaved with splotches of pink, black, and purple skin, and a few undissolved stitches--but I should be good as new in no time.

I have mixed feelings about having my bandage removed.  I'm happy because I was tired of having to wear my protective boot each time I went outside, I was really tired of the sticky tape from the bandage yanking on my golden locks, I was really, really tired of accidentally knocking myself upside the head with my leg when I rolled on my back (not to mention the ridicule I had to endure), and I was really, really, really tired of being yelled at for nibbling on the bandage and picking at the boot's Velcro fasteners (yeah, I could have left the bandage and boot alone, but what fun would that be?).  On the flip side, now I have to stare at the empty place my dew claw used to be (I miss it already), people won't stop Sister and me in the middle of the street to ask "What happened to the poor little puppy?" (what can I say, I love the attention), and worst of all, I heard Pa tell Ma this morning that once my foot is totally healed I need to be, not only washed, but groomed (luckily, I also heard the vet say that they should wait a couple of weeks before giving me a bath). 

Obviously, it's tough being a handsome, intelligent, and deep dog such as myself (though I am looking forward to chasing squirrels again).

Home Sweet Home

On Saturday my family took me out east again to my vacation home.  I had a lot of fun; the air was crisp and Sister, who is starting to understand that I deserve more than 2/3 of the car's backseat on the ride out there, has begun squishing closer and closer up against the car's side door to provide me with more leg room.

Here's some of the stuff I did while visiting my house:

• I searched for my Ken doll's leg only to be told by my Sister that the kids next door must have taken it back because it wasn't where I left it.
• I barked at the next door neighbors in hopes that they would return my Ken doll's leg.
• I helped the oil heater guy when he came in to inspect the system (I made sure I was smack dab in the middle of whatever he was trying to do--I'm so helpful).
• I barked at the Sleepy's delivery guys because they wouldn't let me test out the beds (I'm quite the connoisseur you know).
• I searched for moles (I don't know what moles are, but apparently we have them in the backyard and seeing that I am Head of Security, I need to look into the threat).
• I stuck my head out of the dining room window when Pa removed the screen so it could be cleaned (Sister held firmly onto my leash so that I wouldn't try jumping out of the two story window--I guess I'll never live down the jumping out of a moving vehicle stunt I pulled last year).
• I watched the Golden Retriever two doors down roll around on his back in a sunny section of his yard (I'm hoping we can play together in the backyard when Ma and Pa install a fence).
• I helped Sister clean a room by stealing the roll of paper towels she was using followed by the entire bottle of Windex.

Needless to say, with all this activity, I was quite exhausted by the end of the day.  It is very difficult, don't you know, to keep track of three people and get sufficient naps in.

Still, despite all the fun I had, I kept getting this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right.  In fact, I was so troubled by the feeling that when Ma asked if I was ready to go home at the end of the day I jumped up, grabbed my leash, and ran for the door as though I'm not a fan of the new house (which is so not true).  It was on the ride home, between naps, that it finally dawned on me!  I'm not 100% comfortable in the new house because there is only one bowl--my water bowl!  I'm staying in a house with no supper bowl!  I really need to talk to my humans about this.  What happens if we're stranded there?  What am I going to eat from?  No wonder I'm so troubled!

Mean Sister

I've been feeling pretty restless lately.  I think it is because my foot is still bandaged up and I can't really run around and cause trouble like I'm used to.  As a result, I've had to settle for low level mischievousness--nothing really creative, but still effective at annoying people. Since my last post I've attacked a roll of paper towels, destroyed a plastic bottle (sadly, there was no juice in it), shredded my protective boot, and stole a stapler, a TV remote, a couple of crumpled papers, a brush, a pen, and some tissues (which I picked straight from the box) from Sister's room.  True, I've kept myself busy, but I still feel slightly frustrated that my bandaged foot keeps slowing me down.

That frustration boiled over this morning when Sister took me outside in the backyard to survey the damage from the thunderstorm that blew through the night before.  Overall, there wasn't much to look at.  A couple of small branches had fallen from the tree, nothing I couldn't handle.  Then, from the bushes, Sister pulled out a branch that was at least two times longer than me with lots and lots of branches and leaves to strip off.  Well I couldn't control myself; I charged, jumped up, and grabbed the stick from Sister's hands and dragged it to the other side of the yard where I proceeded to tear it to shreds.  It wasn't until I started eating the stick that Sister decided that it was time to take it away from me.  Not wanting to give up my stick, I jumped up, grabbed the end, and started running (Sister does not like playing keep away, but I think it is a lot of fun).  When Sister finally got the stick away from me I went crazy!  I started running around in the backyard like a possessed dog; keeping low to the ground and trying (sometimes unsuccessfully) not to trip over my bandaged foot.  Sister was concerned that I might hurt myself and screeched that I should stop, but I payed no attention to her.  Instead, I raced down the driveway to the gate then back up the drive way and into the backyard narrowly missing Sister while doing so.  Then I ran around in circles pausing, every once in a while, to have a go at tearing the boot off my foot).   Exasperated, Sister eventually called out the magic words:  "You want a cookie?"  Without hesitation I bolted to the side door.

Then Sister did a very mean thing.  Rather than giving me the cookie as soon as we got into the house, she instead brought it into the living room, sat down, and told me that I wasn't going to get the cookie until I relaxed.  At first I thought, "this isn't going to be too bad....Sister is a pushover...she'll give me the cookie in no time," but while I sat there ears forward and drooling, I started to realize that Sister wasn't kidding around.  For ten minutes we sat staring at each other (okay, I was staring at the place I last saw the cookie and Sister was staring at the television) then, five minutes later and extremely exhausted, I decided to give in.  With a large and dramatic sigh I rolled on my side and put my head down.  Only then, when I had given up all hope of ever eating that cookie, did Sister give it to me.

After I had eaten my cookie and got a drink of water (had to replenish my drool supply), Sister came over to me and asked if I wanted to go for a walk.  "Aah, trying to get back on my good side are we?" I thought.  I wagged my tail eagerly.

Once my leash and collar were put on, Sister and I started down the block in the direction of the park.  When we reached the first intersection I stopped dead in my tracks; Sister had turned left rather than continuing straight ahead.  Now, I am not a big fan of change.  Sister and I have a very specific route to the park that we always use and whenever she tries to stray from it I throw myself down in the middle of the street and show my belly (it's a win win...I make her look silly to passing drivers and occasionally I get a belly rub).  Anyway, when she noticed that I had stopped, she assured me that we were still going to the park, but that we had to go the other way because the Pomeranian on the next block was out and she didn't want me to pull her over to greet it (I can't resist saying "hi" to little dogs).  Then she pointed down the street she wanted us to use.  "Look," she said, "a Chocolate Lab!"  Now, while I can't resist saying "hi" to little dogs, I absolutely love dealing with dogs my size because I can box with them and bunk chests.  Begrudgingly (I didn't want to appear too eager less Sister would think its okay to change our route daily), I turned away from my established route and headed down the street in hopes of meeting the Chocolate Lab.  My hopes, sadly, were dashed a block later when the Lab continued going straight and Sister, looking to return to our usual route, turned right.

What a mean Sister!

Feeling Better and Looking for Trouble

Well, it took just over thirty six hours, but the anesthesia has finally worn off.  I woke up bright and early this morning, ate my breakfast (Pa didn’t need to hand feed me today), and immediately started planning my reign of mischievousness that would make up for the hours I lost to sleepiness.  The following is a list of the troublesome, yet extremely cute, things I did today.

Showing off my boot

1. I stole a towel from the bathroom.
2. I jumped up on Ma and Pa’s bed.
3. I grabbed the towel Sister was using to dry her car.
4. I took a nap on the living room chair.
5. I stepped on Sister’s foot. 
6. I slobbered all over Sister's newly washed pants.
7. I discovered that my bootie has Velcro.

By and large, the best part of my day revolved around mischief number 7.  I love Velcro!  I love the crackling and ripping sound it makes when I grab one end of it and pull.  I first discovered the wonderfulness of Velcro when I was a little puppy playing behind the living room couch.  You see, the back panel of material was held onto the chair’s frame with Velcro and once I discovered this I had hours of ripping fun (and hours of listening to Ma, Pa, and Sister telling me to stop).  Now that I’ve noticed that there is Velcro on my bootie, there’s no telling what fun I could have.  All I have to do is figure out how to keep my family from hearing the ripping sound.   Wish me luck!

The Dew Claw I Used to Know

A very sad thing happened to me on Tuesday.

Remember the dew claw I ripped off about a month ago?  Well, it's been hurting me a lot lately.  At first, my family thought that it hurt because it was growing in--like how my mouth hurt when I was teething--but when I started waking up at five o'clock in the morning with an upset stomach from licking the wound, they started thinking differently.  So Ma, on Monday, gave my friend Doc Friedman at the vet's office a call and made an appointment for Tuesday morning.  She told me that even if the doctor looked at my foot and determined everything was okay, I was due for some shots and Pa wanted to get me chipped just in case I decided to wonder off while visiting my house out east.  Needless to say, she didn't ask my opinion on any of the aforementioned subjects.

On Tuesday morning Pa took me to the vet’s office and, after giving me my shots and chipping me (Sister says me getting a chip implanted in my neck reminds her of what happened on The X-Files when Scully was abducted by aliens--needless to say, I am not amused) Doc Friedman took a look at my dew claw.  He said it didn’t look too good; the nail was growing in super thick and that was why it was bothering me.  He gave Pa two options to choose from: antibiotics or the removal of the nail...permanently.  “Antibiotics! Antibiotics!” I screamed, but apparently Pa couldn’t understand me and decided on the second option.

As I did one month ago, I woke up hours later in a room with a lot of barking dogs and meowing cats with a big bandage on my foot.  The rest of the night was a haze riddled with moments of lucidity.  I remember coming home and seeing Sister (she had just returned from vacationing in Montauk).  I remember struggling with her when she tried to remove the bootie protecting my bandage and struggling again against Pa when he tried to put it back on.  I remember Ma pulling my tail out from under me.  I also remember hearing something about me having to keep the bandage on for seven to ten days.  After that, I remember nothing.

It has been over twenty four hours since I came home and I'm still coping with the grogginess associated with the anesthesia (Sister says I should be the poster child for a "Don't Do Drugs" campaign).  I'm just so tired--too tired even to chew a small cookie--but my family has been really nice to me.  This morning Sister wiped my chin when I forgot to swallow and broke up my cookie so that I could eat it with less effort.  She even chased three mourning doves out of my yard when the two of us were outside getting some air.  Pa, when he got home from work, hand fed me my dinner and Ma gave me lots and lots of pets.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll be more myself.

Home Away From Home

I never thought I'd say this, but I think I've had enough car rides for a while.  Shocked?  I'm kind of surprised myself.  I spent a grand total of six hours in the car on Saturday and Sunday; three hours each day!  And where did I go?  Let me tell you.

I knew something was about to happen as soon as I got up on Saturday morning (okay, as soon as Pa woke me up...I was comfortably lounging in Sister's air conditioning at the time).  Everyone was rushing around and packing large boxes of cleaning materials into Ma's car.  I was a little concerned that I wasn't going to be invited on the trip (my plan, if left behind, was to jump up on the dining room table, grab the newspaper, and shred the sports section all over the living room floor then grab the toilet paper from the bathroom and throw that on top), but then I noticed Sister packing my alternate water dish and a Tupperware container of dog cookies.  "Whoo hoo!" I thought as Pa attached my leash to my collar, "I'm going for a ride in the car!"

After what seemed like forever, we all piled into Ma's car--Pa was driving, Ma was riding shotgun, and Sister and I were in the back seat--and pulled out of the driveway.  But where were we going?  At first, I thought that perhaps we were going to Sands Point to go swimming, but we turned left out of the driveway instead of right.  Then I thought that maybe I was being taken to the vet's office, but remembering that I hadn't ripped out another nail and wasn't bleeding all over the place I figured that that wasn't where we were going either.  About twenty minutes from home, I suddenly smelled the familiar scent of Belmont Lake State Park wafting through the air conditioning, but alas, we didn't stop there.  Instead, we continued driving.  We drove for such a long time that I even attempted to take a quick nap.  Sadly, however, I couldn't fall asleep because I couldn't find a comfortable spot (Sister, for some reason, demanded that she get 1/3 of the back seat for herself...what nerve).  Anyway, after nearly an hour and a half of driving, Pa pulled into a driveway and turned off the car.  "We're here!" Ma said, "It's your new vacation home, Rigby!"  Sister opened the door and we all got out.

Without a moment's hesitation, I dragged Sister up the driveway of the house, onto the porch, straight to the front door, and, as soon as Pa unlocked the door, into the house.  In and out of the rooms I skidded (tile and wood floors are not conducive to running) sniffing every single inch of every single room.  It didn't take me long, however, to discover that this house had two really cool qualities:  central air (finally) and windows.  Now, I know what you're thinking:  "The central air thing makes sense, but how exciting can windows be to a handsome dog such as yourself?"  Well, first of all, stop before you make me blush and second, these weren't just any windows.  Nearly every window in the living room and each one in the dining room was low enough so that I could look out without having to jump up on them (I'm yelled at at home when I jump up on the windowsills even though I'm just trying to keep up my part of the neighborhood watch).  Pretty cool, huh?

My yard--can you see me?

After investigating the inside of my new house, Pa put my leash on me (Ma and Pa have to build a fence before I can go out without a leash) and took me outside to check out the rest of the property.  I sniffed all along the perimeter and then each and every one of my trees (and let me tell you, there were a lot of trees!).   I smelled smells I've never smelled before!  Pa said that he saw a bunny while we were walking, but I did not.  He said it was just as well that I didn't see it though.  He said that this wasn't like scrawny little Henry at home.  Nope.  This Suffolk County bunny could have beat me up.

Pa and I check out a tree.

I spent the rest of the day checking out my new house; clicking my way across the tiled basement floor, sticking my head in the fireplace, looking out the window, and periodically going outside to sniff trees.  My humans were far less productive; they spent the entire day cleaning.  Then, when I had had enough, we all got back into the car and drove home.  I slept the whole way.

Sunday started much like Saturday did.  Lots and lots of boxes of cleaning supplies were loaded into the car followed by me and my family.  This time I was smart.  I slept on Sister's lap the entire way so that when we got there I was all bright eyed and bushy tailed (which is a strange expression Sister uses--my tail is naturally bushy).  Once again, I dragged Sister into the house and spent a fair portion of the day napping in the sunny living room, barking out the window (the empty house created a wonderful echo which really allowed my barks to reverberate), and exploring the back yard.

Ken leg!

Nice and chewy!

It was while exploring the backyard that I had one of my biggest thrills.  I found the disembodied leg from a Ken doll.  Now, I don't know if it was left by the family that used to live in my house or from one of the neighbor kids, but, you know the saying:  "Finders keepers, losers weepers."  It was mine!  I grabbed it and immediately flopped down in the cool grass to chew on it.  It was perfect; just the right amount of chewiness.  I'm ashamed to say that I then got a bit carried away and started rolling on my back.  Sure, it was embarrassing, but I think it was well worth it.

Welcome home!

Thanks Pa and Ma for buying me this great vacation home.  I can't wait to spend long summer days lounging in the central air and playing on the nearby beach, brisk fall evenings chewing on my Ken doll's leg (I stashed it in the garden for later use--hopefully the kid who dropped it won't go looking for it), snowy winter days staring out the windows, and sweet smelling spring mornings chasing after squirrels, bunnies, and perhaps deer in my yard (and hopefully I won't crash into one of the trees--they have a habit of sneaking up on me).