Nice Work If You Can Get It

At three and a half years old I believe that it is high time that I decide on a profession.  Well, today I've finally made up my mind.  I have decided that I want to be the dog of someone who does technical support.  Here's why.

Over the last couple of days, Sister has been trying to fix a problem that my friend Rita has been having with her computer.  Sister spent a couple of nights searching the Internet for answers (while I slept comfortably on her bed) and yesterday she worked on Rita's computer at work (I slept comfortably on Ma and Pa's bed--but don't tell them).  Ultimately, Sister was successful; she solved the problem and managed not to destroy Rita's computer.

When Sister came home from work today she had a tin canister in her hand.  Being Head of Security, I quickly scurried over to her and gave the tin a good sniff over (got to make sure it's not dangerous, you know).  Well, let me tell you, it smelled absolutely delicious!  Sister told me that Rita had sent her home with explicit instructions that the contents of the tin were for the "entire family."  My tail started wagging in circles; I liked where this was going.

Sister opened the metal tin and started pulling out its contents.  First she pulled out a zip lock bag of cookies (they smelled really good, but Sister said they weren't for me).  Next she pulled out a second zip lock bag of cookies (they also smelled really good, but Sister wouldn't share them with me either).  Finally, she pulled out a third bag with two cookies--one heart shaped and one bird shaped.  These, she informed me, were for me.  I started to drool.

So there you have it; the absolute best job in the whole wide world.  Sister does the work and I get the cookies!
 
Thanks Rita!

Deconstructing "Come and Sit"

My bff!

Before I begin, I just want to give a shout out to my bff Mecki who turns two years old today!  Happy birthday Mecki!

I love to run.  Check that, I love to run short distances (long distances require energy which could be put to better use such as collecting pets, stealing food, and otherwise causing trouble).  As a result, I've always enjoyed playing one particular game with my family:  "Come and Sit."  In this game, I sit at one end of the driveway and wait for my playmate to scream out "Rigby, come and sit."  Once the words are uttered, I set off at warp speed and sit at his or her feet (of course, it goes without saying that I only play this game when treats are involved).  Now, some might think that when a dog, such as myself, decides to play this game, his brain recognizes the command then tells his legs to move.  Well, I'm here to say that the entire process is actually far more complicated.

Step 1:  Hear the command to "come" and make the conscious decision to pretend that you didn't.

Step 2:  Laugh to yourself while your human begs and pleads with you to "come."  A word of caution:  while it is exceedingly fun to push your human to the point of crying and/or cursing, such tactics may ultimately cost you a cookie.

Step 3:  Decide that you've harassed your human enough.  You are ready to respond to the command.

Step 4:  Rear back slightly to maximize your eventual push of forward momentum.

Step 5:  Allow facial muscles to go limp.  Two things occur when you do this.  First, your jowls fly backward and up allowing everyone to see your sparkling white teeth (extra points if you've recently gotten a drink of water and your jowls are sopping wet).  Second, the skin around your eyes shifts to your forehead allowing the whites of your eyes to become about 50% more prominent.  The combination of these two facial rearrangements gives you a "crazy dog caught in a wind tunnel" expression.

Running with abandon.

Step 6:  Run with abandon.  While you bound toward your human like a runaway freight train, you will notice five things:
     1.  Your ears are flying forward, backward, up, and down with your gait.
     2.  Your jowls are flapping in the breeze (throwing spit everywhere).
     3.  Your front legs are, at times, behind your back legs.
     4.  All your feet occasionally leave the ground at the exact same time.
     5.  You're not entirely certain you can stop your forward momentum at will.

Step 7:  This is the moment where you must either stop, crash into your human, or skirt around him/her.  It is your choice, but realize that human knee cap on pointed dog skull is not necessarily the most ideal situation for anyone involved.  To avoid this bone on bone collision, try to sideswipe your human's knee causing the knee to buckle and him/her to crumple to the floor (be sure to smile, wag your tail, and act like it was all good fun).

Just before the crash!

Completely off the ground!

Step 8:  Collect your treat.

Greenport then Home

This morning began day four in my new house out east and let me tell you, it is not a place where you’re allowed the luxury of sleeping late. Take yesterday morning for instance. I was minding my own business, sleeping on my pillow in Sister’s room, when a sudden rapping at the door woke me up. Well, I started barking like a maniac (Sister who was sound asleep and didn’t hear the knocking jumped about ten feet when I started barking) and ran to the front door wanting to make sure that whoever was at the door knew I was there and ready to be petted (I consider it a reasonable toll for entering the house). It turned out that the people at the door were there to work on the oil burner and not to pet me (which is insulting, but I get it), but really, was it totally necessary for them to show up at 8:00 in the morning? This morning was very much the same. There I was, sleeping on Sister’s bed—trying to get her to relinquish the rest of the bed to me (what can I say, I like to stretch out)—when I heard a knocking on the bedroom door. I bounced up, jumped to the ground, skidded on the tile floor, and began barking like mad at the door (Sister, meanwhile, rolled over, muttered something very unkind under her breath, and covered her head with a pillow). It turns out it was Ma—the fence guy was coming soon and she wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to have my breakfast and go out before he came. Obviously, no one respects my beauty sleep!

After the fence guy (I barked at him), then the sofa delivery men (I barked at them), and then the guy who was taking the old sofa away (I barked at him too), all came and left (none of them took the time to pet me—obviously you can’t hire good help anymore), Ma, Pa, and Sister told me we were all going to take a ride in the car and visit the town of Greenport.

When we got out of the car I was super excited; so many smells, so many people, so many dogs! I did my best to sniff everything, but Pa kept insisting that I walk nice (it’s so hard sometimes to act dignified). We walked past all the stores (I could smell that there were dogs in some of those stores—sadly, I was not allowed to visit them), watched with distain as two mean little scruffy dogs caused a ruckus barking and growling at me (so unrefined), and sniffed the wharfs (sadly, I wasn’t allowed to go wadding or take a ride on a boat). A low point in the day occurred when I made a fool of myself on Front Street when I passed a couple of leopard statues outside a store. They looked so real and lifelike that I actually panicked and dragged Pa away from them. I tried to save face by going back to sniff them, however, the damage was already done. I can only hope that not a lot of people noticed my alarm—though their attention might have been drawn to me when they noticed my family laughing hysterically at my expense. Que sera.

In Greenport.

After walking around the town, my family began to talk about getting lunch. After much back and forth discussion, it was decided that Ma and I would stay behind on a park bench while Pa and Sister went down the block in search of food. I wasn’t so sure about this decision. Why is it I’m always left behind when it comes to getting food? I don’t believe there is anyone more qualified than me to pick out food. True, I suspect I’d have a lot of trouble actually bringing the food back in one piece (I’d have to test each dish or sandwich once or twice to make sure everything was okay), but I’m a true connoisseur of all things edible (and let’s face it, inedible, too). Anyway, it was determined that Ma and I would stay behind while Pa and Sister got food. Usually, when my pack breaks up I freak out; I bark and whine and pull like crazy. Not this time, though. I decided to be a big boy and wait patiently for my family members to return; so I sat there, staring into the direction in which my Pa and Sister went. People and dogs came and went, a few stopped to talk to me and give me pets. While I truly did appreciate the complements I got (“What a handsome boy!” and “What a good boy!” and “He looks like a model!”) as well as the pets, I knew my mission and was not going to be distracted. When Pa and Sister returned Ma boasted what a good boy I was. Everyone crowded around me and scratched my ears and patted my sides. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit slighted. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the attention and, truth be told, I was quite proud of myself for being so good for so long, but no one offered to share their lunch with me (though I was eventually given a new Nylabone (for medium chewers—I love the chewy texture) which eased some of the pain).

Shortly after lunch there was a sudden increase in activity at the house. Towels were cleaned, floors vacuumed, and my toys bundled up in a plastic bag and tossed in the car. I looked up at Sister eagerly with my tail wagging. “Yep,” she said, “we’re going home!”

Sister and I slept the entire way home. To quote some girl (who frankly sang too much, but owned a cute little dog), “There’s no place like home!”

Reporting From Out East

This is Rigby reporting from the field. Okay, it’s actually out east…and technically, Sister is posting this from the town Library (where dogs are not allowed—obviously the Board of Trustees never met a dog such as me)…but otherwise, here I am! Here’s what’s been going on:

Overlooking the back yard.

On Wednesday my family, still on vacation, decided that they wanted to go out east and spend some time in my new house. In hindsight, I should have immediately become concerned when I noticed that they were finally packing my food bowl, but I was so excited to go for a ride in the car that I never put two and two together. You guessed it, my family had decided that we were going to be spending the night in the new house (it would have been nice if they asked my opinion).

And what a night it turned out to be. I had no idea what to do! Should I chew on my toys? Should I steal shoes? Should I howl at passing school buses? Should I just take a nap; and if so, where? I ended up spending most of the night pacing from the first floor to the basement, on Sister’s bed and off, taking short naps in between. Needless to say, it was not a restful night for me (apparently my family couldn’t sleep either—not sure why, but I noticed that they kept giving me sleepy dirty looks while they ate breakfast and I napped on my pillow).

Yesterday, I helped Pa with the plumbing in the kitchen. Now, I’m not sure if everyone knows this, but Golden Retrievers absolutely love plumbing. I mean, what could be better? You spend your entire time laying on your back under the sink (where nice tasty things fall and are forgotten about), there are lots and lots of mouth size tools and pipes to carry off, and there is always the chance that you might get sprayed with water (or even better, the human you’re helping might get sprayed). Anyway, Pa really appreciated the help I provided (go ahead, ask him!) especially when he decided to test out the dish washer.

I won’t say I was afraid of the dish washer. No, I was merely voicing my concern regarding how it sounded kind of like there was a giant angry bear stuck in there that really wanted to get out. Basically, I was protecting Pa by acting crazy and demanding to go outside…like NOW!

I guess Pa got the message because shortly after going outside (and after I ran back and forth on my leash trying to warn the neighbors about the giant grizzly bear in the dish washer) he suggested that he, Sister, and I go check out the dog park in the next town over. I was all too eager to jump in the car and flee, but I found it troubling that Ma decided to stay back at the house. “So sad,” I thought, “I kind of liked Ma. Too bad she’s going to be eaten by that bear.”

Sandy, Tootsie, and me!

Hanging with Tootsie.

When Pa, Sister, and I pulled up to the dog park I was immediately greeted by an exuberant two year old yellow lab named Sandy. Excited to play, I dragged Pa up and down the fence until he managed to wrangle me, my Sister, and himself into the waiting pen. Then Pa opened the inner gate and the fun began. Sandy and I bunked noses, exchanged all pleasantries, and then took off running. We ran from one end of the field to the other stopping only long enough for Sandy to take a sip of water and for me to dunk my snout in the overflowing bowl (jowls flapping in the air are much more impressive when sopping wet). Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly have any more fun, another family came along with their dog, a brown Husky mix (also two years old) named Tootsie. At first, I was a little freaked out—Tootsie had one brown eye and one blue eye—but after one sniff I knew we’d be fast friends. Off we ran chasing after the ball Tootsie brought but Sandy had firmly clenched in her mouth (I, of course, was running after my friends and not the ball—I do not chase balls). Occasionally, our paths somehow collided and we either jumped over each other (Tootsie was really good at this) or rammed into each other (which happened far more often). Either way, I had a great time and when I got tired of running Tootsie came over and boxed with me. Sometimes, I guess channeling my best friend Mecki, Tootsie rolled right over top of me!

Boxing!

After a lot of fun and frolic, Pa came over and told me that we had to go home because it was my dinner time. When we got home I greeted Ma (who had not been eaten by the bear), ate my dinner, and collapsed on the nice cool kitchen floor to nap.

Attack of the Giant Chicken

It's been a very good week; my entire family has been on vacation.  Now, I know what you're thinking, "Doesn't having all those people hanging around the house upset your daily nap schedule?"  Truth be told, it does.  I've actually missed numerous naps this week and everyone knows how important beauty sleep is (I certainly don't want dark circles under bloodshot eyes).  Still, despite the loss of valuable nap time, I really love it when my humans take off from work to spend uninterrupted time with me.  They should do it more often.

It's also been a very enlightening week.  On Thursday, my family and I climbed into Ma's car and made our way out east to my new house (sans a food bowl I might add).  I didn't know it while we were driving, but I was in for one of the biggest surprises of my life!

The picture doesn't do it justice

It all started as soon as we got out of the car (okay, after I dragged Sister into the backyard to check out the perimeters).  Anyway, Ma and Pa were standing in the front of the house talking to the neighbors down the street when I came bounding out from the backyard to see what everyone was up to (I like to make sure that no one is having more fun than I am--and how could they if I'm not around).  As I rounded the bend, sprinting to the neighbors to introduce myself and collect my fair share of introductory pets, something caught my eye and caused me to stop dead in my tracks.  There, directly across the street from my house stood six to eight big, plump, beach ball sized chickens.  I was in complete shock!  I never knew birds could get so big (or look so much like giant stuffed dog toys).  I was so shocked that I couldn't even bark; all I could do was whine pitifully.  Sister kept a firm grasp on my leash and prevented me from chasing the birds which, at the time, was disappointing, but in hindsight a good thing.  Pa later told me that those were some tough chickens and they easily could have taken me out without a second thought (I imagine it would be highly embarrassing for me if I was chased down the street by a pack of giant angry chickens).  The chickens hung around all day--roosting in the trees, pecking for food, and clucking in a mocking sort of way.  I kept a cautionary watch on them from the window, just in case. 

And while I've got you...I have some really good news.  Sister found my Ken doll's leg trampled in the grass not far from where I left it two weeks ago.  I was so happy that I immediately grabbed it, threw myself onto the ground, and rolled around on my back.  Ahh...the simple things in life.