No Rest for the Weary

Sleep is very important.  Not quite as important as eating or ripping toys to shreds, but definitely in the top three.  Now, for me to function at my highest trouble making “isn’t-he-too-cute” capacity, I need a full night’s sleep.  When I don’t get that rest, I’m just not myself; I’m listless and tired and incapable of causing the mayhem I’m known for.  Well, thanks to my family, I did not receive my allotment of sleep last night.  You see, last night was very windy.  So windy, in fact, that the gusts kept waking my family up who, in turn, woke me up.

It started with Pa.  Now, Pa has a history of getting up in the middle of the night to either go to work early or clear his mind by watching a horror movie for a few minutes.  Either way, I always wake up and follow him wherever he goes.  Yes, it’s a bit annoying to be rousted from my slumber just to watch some boring horror movie, but I always go with him because I want to keep an eye on him just in case he is actually getting ready for work.  You see, I like mornings when Pa goes to work early for three reasons.  The first is that Pa is the one who takes me for my morning walk and when he isn’t around I don’t have to go (hey, it's really cold outside and my stylish jacket just doesn't cut it some times).  The second is that Pa has to eat breakfast and make lunch before he leaves and he always gives me a taste (i.e. some cereal, dried fruit, fresh fruit, and/or cold cuts).  And finally, as soon as his car leaves the driveway, I can return to the bedroom and sleep on his side of the bed undisturbed.  Anyway, horror movie it was, so I curled up on my pillow and tried to take a little nap.

Just as I was starting to dream about chasing squirrels and bunnies, I was once again awoken, but this time by Ma.  I gazed up at her with sleepy half open eyes.  I guess the wind woke her up too.  After checking on Pa, Ma returned to bed, the sound of her slippers on the floor waking me up for a third time as she passed.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps descending from upstairs and Sister emerged from the darkness with her pillow and comforter.  “Am I the only one who sleeps soundly enough not to be bothered by the wind?” I thought.  Pa relinquished the television remote and returned to bed while Sister plopped down on the couch.

Well, by this time I was wide awake and raring to go.  I scurried over to Sister and demanded that she scratch my ears.  Then, when she started to doze off, I swatted her with my paw until she woke up and started rubbing my ears again.  Now, having my ears scratched was fun, but what I really wanted, I determined, was a belly rub.  I gave Sister one more swat of my paw and a kiss on the nose then collapsed on the floor and rolled onto my back.  Obligingly, Sister scratched my belly until she fell asleep.

It wasn’t until Sister was completely asleep that I decided that it was safe to settle down and go to sleep myself.  Who else was left to wake me up again anyway (unless, of course, Sister’s hamster Meri decided to start banging her exercise wheel against the glass walls of her enclosure)?  But where was I to sleep?  I knew that Sister had blocked off her room before she left it and, seeing that Pa had not gone into work early, I knew that I couldn’t jump into his and Ma’s bed unnoticed.  That left only one other option:  I got up, jumped up onto the end of the couch, circled three times to nudge Sister’s feet out of my way and pat down her comforter into a nice cozy pillow, and curled up in a little ball.  I fell asleep almost immediately.

The next thing I knew it was morning and Pa was standing in the living room’s doorway shaking his head at the sight of me sleeping on the couch.  He didn’t have the heart, however, to kick me off.

A Sister Free Weekend

This was a very strange weekend.  It all started Friday evening when Ma and Pa came home from work.  You see, Friday nights usually consist of my humans ordering a pizza (which I am rudely never given a piece of), watching Jeopardy, and playing tug with me and one of my toys until I rip the toy and start eating the pieces.  Not this Friday though.  Immediately after dinner the overnight bags came out, the car was loaded, and my travel t-shirt was pulled up and over my head.  This flurry of activity could only mean one thing; we were going out east that evening rather than Saturday morning. 

Now, it goes without saying that I was super excited about going out east (and considering that I was already excited because it was snowing outside, you can image just how revved I really was).  In fact, I was so excited that I jumped right into the back of the car and didn't even realize that someone was missing until a few minutes later when I did a quick roll call in my mind.  First, I looked to the driver's seat and noticed that Pa was there backing the car out of the driveway.  Then I looked to the front passenger seat and noticed, with horror, that it was empty.  "Oh no!" I thought, "we forgot Ma!"  Just when I was about to start whining with concern, I looked to my left and saw that Ma was sitting next to me in Sister's spot.  We had forgotten Sister!

Now, in hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised that Sister was not coming with us.  In fact, thinking back, I do vaguely remember Sister trying to get me to sit still long enough to give me a goodbye hug and kiss when all I really wanted to do was race through the house displaying my excitement for the impending trip.  I probably should have just sat down and given her my paw or something.  Hopefully she wasn't too offended.

Anyway, it took us a long time to drive out to the other house because of the snow.  I passed the time sleeping on Ma's lap. 

I had a lot of fun out east.  I sniffed around in the snow, barked at two separate sets of delivery men, and ran around like a crazy dog in the dog park.  Best of all, I had Ma and Pa's undivided attention the entire time since, without Sister around, I was essentially an only child!  Now, don't get me wrong, I love Sister.  After all, she comes home at lunch time to play with me, she lets me sleep on her bed, and she is a bit of a messy eater.  But I must admit, she's a bit of an attention hog and it is nice to finally get all the attention that I so rightfully deserve.

On Sunday Ma and Pa told me that it was time to go home and check on Sister.  Ma and Pa stuffed me into my t-shirt and we all climbed back into the car.  Thoroughly exhausted, I collapsed on Ma's lap and dreamt of my weekend as an only child.

Sister was really happy to see me when I got home and gave me lots of pets.  She told me that she missed me a lot and that the house was really quiet without me around (by the way, I consider that comment to be an open invitation to bark as loudly and as frantically as I want whenever I want).  She also told me that while I was gone she got to play with Mecki at work and Aunt B came over on Saturday night.  I was a bit disappointed that I missed all the fun back at home, but I suppose Sister has the right to enjoy herself too. 

Then Sister told me that she had an extra special surprise for me in the living room.  I rushed in and saw...

Old Friends Waiting for my Return

 ...all my broken and ripped up toys all freshly sewed.  There was Baby, and Lyle, and Green Froggie (now missing two arms), and Purple Froggie (now missing two hands), and Zebra (now missing a nostril), and Rudy, and Giant Fish (now missing a back fin), and Allie the Alligator (now missing some teeth), and Goose, and Hedgehog, and Albino Hedgehog, and Mini Mecki (now missing the top of his skull), and Floppy Bunny, and Floppy Moose, and Denny I and II, and Gingerbread Man (now missing a hand). 

Welcome Back!

It was like a dream come true; all my missing toys returned to me!  I ran into the living room and went from toy to toy not knowing which one to play with first. 

Don't I have the best Sister in the whole wide world?

(Just don't tell her that I've already ripped a hole in Floppy Bunny.)

The Intruder

Last weekend was Sister's birthday and I was super excited about it.  You see, I love birthdays (actually, all holidays to be precise).  I love the fun, the food, and the extreme possibility of being able to rip wrapping paper to shreds.  In fact, it has become a bit of a tradition for Pa to attempt to curb my destructive tendencies during holiday present times by putting me on my leash and forcing me to sit next to him.  This event was no different and, although he did manage to cut down on my manic shredding, he couldn't stop me from grabbing that single piece of red tissue paper right out of Sister's hand and ripping it to smithereens.  It goes without saying that I had a grand time!

But then, I noticed the intruder.  He was just staring at me menacingly from alongside the television.  Truth be told, I'm kind of surprised that I hadn't notice him earlier considering that only a few hours prior I had been intently watching a television program on the Animal Planet Channel about a big brown mother bear and her two cubs.  Anyway, I jumped up, approached the intruder and let out a low warning bark.  He didn't budge; he just kept staring at me with his black beady eyes.  "Alright," I thought, "don't say I didn't warn you!"  It was then that I unleashed my big-dog bark, the one I use when I mean business (i.e., when a scary paper bag falls off the table or when a car door slams two blocks away).  Still, despite my best efforts, that brazen intruder didn't move away. 


The menacing intruder.

I blame blind furry for the fact that I didn't notice immediately that Ma, Pa, and Sister were once again laughing at me (this rude behavior is rapidly becoming a habit for them).  In fact, I only noticed it when Ma walked over to the intruder and picked him up.  "It's a birthday card, Rigby, for Sister from your friends Rita, Ralphie, and Brandy," she said.  She let me sniff the greeting card (sadly she wouldn't let me rip it up).  Yeah, it was definitely a card, but the picture on the front continued to unnerve me.  Realizing that I would obsessively bark at that furry face staring back at me for the rest of the evening if steps weren't taken, Ma turned the card around so that it faced away from me.  With the intruder now taken care of, I happily climbed onto my pillow and gnawed on my Nylabone.

Fun At The Dog's Expense

My family is at it again; they have discovered two additional ways to make me look foolish and they are taking full advantage of it.  Boy, are they lucky that I’m such a good natured and well behaved dog, for no other dog of lesser integrity would tolerate it.

How My Family Makes Me Look Like A Fool, Part I:  Large Jowls and Tiny Candies

It is no secret that I have very large, and often drooly, jowls.  The sad fact of the matter is, I have spent a fair portion of my life listening to my family joke about the fact that I need a lip-tuck to reign in my lips and having them run after me with paper towels to wring my jowls out after getting a drink of water.  Hurtful, right?  Anyway, a couple of days ago, Ma dropped a mini M&M on the floor.  Needless to say, I pounced on it.  Yeah, I know chocolate isn't good for dogs, but it was such a tiny piece of chocolate I didn't think it would hurt.  Well, I was wrong.  It did hurt, but not my tummy.  No, it hurt my pride.  You see, I had a devil of a time trying to swallow that little piece of candy because it kept getting lost in my jowls and falling back out onto the floor.  I must have struggled for a good five minutes before I finally managed to swallow it.  Ma, Pa, and Sister laughed at me the entire time.

How My Family Makes Me Look Like A Fool, Part II:  Ticklish Spots

I have a ticklish spot.  I know, that's not all that strange; many dogs have ticklish spots especially on their bellies.  How many times, after all, have you rubbed a dog's belly only to have his leg start moving as though he's scratching an itch?  (By the way, don't stop scratching his belly just because he's got a ticklish spot...just pick a different spot and continue on).  My ticklish spot, however, is not located on my belly.  No, my ticklish spot is located on the right side of my snout.  Whenever someone rubs my snout, my lip curls, I show my teeth, and, most embarrassing of all, I start sneezing.  Now, some of my loyal readers might have gasped just now.  Rigby, the debonair Golden Retriever with the statuesque stance of a model and a jovial and fun loving spirit, showed his teeth?  Yes, I show my teeth, but not in a mean or menacing sort of way.  Yeah, I'm annoyed at the way my family laughs at me while I'm sneezing and snarling (even Pa laughs and he and I are supposed to be buds) and yeah, I really wish Sister wouldn't take videos of me snarling (I refused to give in to her entirely and managed to yawn rather than sneeze when she recorded me), but I would never snarl at them threateningly.  I'm simply not that kind of dog.

So there you go, two addition examples of how my family is actively seeking out ways of making me look foolish.  It's okay though.  I've been extracting my revenge the last couple of days by barking hysterically at even the smallest of sounds.  Thus far, I've barked at car doors closing, the oil burner starting up, and Sister putting a book down on the table.  I think my family will agree:  Once I put my mind to something, I give it my all.

Meeting A Fan

The sudden rush of activity yesterday morning could only mean one thing: It was going to be an out-east weekend! I watched with great interest as everyone filled their overnight bags and repeatedly went outside with Pa to help pack the car (Pa did all the heavy lifting; I just barked instructions). I threw a bit of a fit when Pa drove off briefly to get something at the store, but that was only because I was afraid he had forgotten to take me (oh, and Ma and Sister too).

After an excruciatingly long time, Pa finally declared that it was time to leave. It was at this moment, however, that the “idea” was hatched. You see, Sister apparently doesn’t appreciate the layer of fur I leave on her coat after each car ride. The solution my family came up with? Dress me up in one of Pa’s t-shirts. Why is it that the dog always suffers? Being the good natured dog I am, I allowed the shirt to be pulled over my head and my front paw’s to be placed in the arm holes (at least I didn’t have to wear pants, too), but for the record, I was not happy. I only hope Sister appreciates all the humiliation I endured just so that she didn’t have to get out of the car looking like me (though I don’t know why she wouldn’t want to look like me). As soon as we stepped foot into the house out east, Ma took the t-shirt off me. Thank you Ma!

The rest of the morning was fairly uneventful. It wasn’t until just after lunch time that the day got exciting.

I was snoozing happily alongside Pa’s chair in the dining room, when I was suddenly awoken by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Wasting no time (I didn’t even pause to stretch), I ran to the door to greet the visitor who, by this time, had made her way to the front door. I barked excitedly to alert everyone in the house that Mary, the real estate lady who found the house for my Ma and Pa, had arrived.

Now, I had heard a lot of nice things about Mary from my Ma and Pa, but they failed to mention two extremely vital things. The first was that she had dogs herself (a Boxer and Chihuahua), and although she didn’t bring them with her (an oversight on her part, I’m sure), I made sure to leave some fur and drool on her so that they could get a chance to meet me. The second thing I wasn’t aware of was that Pa had introduced her to my blog. Imagine my surprise when she inquired about my missing dew claw, the menacing chickens across the street, and the Ken leg I found (which has since gone the way of my dew claw). Needless to say, we bonded instantly. I even let her hold the tennis ball I greeted her at the door with, which, as my loyal readers know, I never do.

Mary stayed for a couple of hours giving me pets and telling me what a good boy I was. Not wanting to appear hoggish, I allowed Mary a little time to talk and have coffee and cookies with Ma, Pa, and Sister during which time I took a nap. Every once in a while, however, I woke up and strolled over to her for a scratch behind the ears.

After Mary left, I settled down on my pillow to finish off my early afternoon nap, but was rudely interrupted when Ma, Pa, and Sister (all of whom apparently had too much sugar in their coffees) decided, without asking my opinion, that a trip to the dog park was in order. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the dog park, but not when it interrupts my nap time! Anyway, we all piled into the car and Sister drove us to the park a few miles away and when we pulled into the parking lot, I saw a giant German Shepherd looking back at me through the park’s fence. I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t a little nervous (the dog’s head was about two times as large as mine), but after saying hello, I determined that he was a gentle giant like me and far more interested in the dirty tennis ball he was playing with than me.

Then something got into me. I don’t know what it was, it was as though something clicked inside my brain and suddenly I had this overwhelming urge to run. And run I did. I ran around like a crazy dog, kicking up mud in my wake. I paused briefly to sniff a little terrier dog named Toto that Ma and Sister were paying attention to, but quickly resumed my high speed circles. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the urge to run ebbed and I calmly walked toward the car.

Admiring the fire.

Needless to say, after all that excitement, I was completely worn out. I slept soundly on my pillow until my dinner time and hardly begged for food while my family cooked their dinners. Then, after all of our dinners, something wonderful happened. Sister made a fire in the fireplace.

As soon as it was lit I could feel the warmth and I was drawn to it. I love being nice and warm (except, of course, during the summer when, I feel, central air should be required in all buildings). I inched as close to the fireplace as Pa would allow me and sprawled out on the floor. An hour later, Sister gave me a scratch on the ear and commented on how warm my face and back were. It was pure heaven; a perfect ending to a perfect day!

Missing Dew

Four months!  It has been nearly four months since I lost my right dew claw.  And do you know what?  I still miss it.  I know, it sounds kind of odd.  How can I miss something that most people believe doesn't have much of a purpose; something that is more likely to be injured than used?  To that I say:  Of course it had a purpose, a very important purpose.  Allow me to explain.

A couple of nights ago my snout started itching.  Looking for relief, I scurried from the kitchen to the living room and immediately threw myself upon the room's nice, scratchy, fibrous rug.  Now, usually when I drag my head across it, the itch goes away (it's also great for when I've just been given a bath--there is usually some residual me smell I can rub up against to minimize the icky smell of shampoo).  Not this time however--the itch remained. 

Undaunted, I flipped on my back and started rubbing my face with my paws.  Immediately, I felt relief on the left side of my snout.  I was able to dig my left dew claw into my fur and rake it back and forth, back and forth.  The right side, however, felt just as itchy, if not more so.  I paused for a minute to try to figure out what was wrong.  It was then it dawned on me:  I couldn't scratch my itch because my right dew claw was no longer there.

Now, in general, I try not to dwell too much on bad things (the exception of course is when someone is sauteing something on the stove top--the noise really freaks me out).  Rather than sulk or sink into depression, I try to look for another way of accomplishing what I want to accomplish.  "I'm a ruggedly handsome and resourceful dog," I tell myself, "and if anyone can figure this out, it is me."

I scanned the room then, realizing that I couldn't properly scan the room while lying on my back (everything's upside down, you know), I rolled back over onto my stomach and scanned the room again.  Christmas tree?  Nah, the family would never give me the opportunity to jump head first into the tree and drag my snout across its branches.  The television?  No, I'd never hear the end of the complaints regarding the drool marks smeared across the screen.  Then, I saw it.  Perhaps it wasn't the best answer and perhaps it would never take the place of an actual dew claw, but I had to give it a try.

Casually, I sauntered over to where Pa was sitting on the chair with his legs outstretched at a forty five degree angle on the recliner.  I glanced up at him and discovered, to my relief, that he was so engrossed in his television show that he didn't even notice that I was there.  "Perfect," I thought, "I should be able to get away with my plan at least for a short while." 

Then, after angling my head, I started dragging my snout back and forth across his sneakers.  Ma, Pa, and Sister all started to laugh at me, but I didn't care because, while the sneakers weren't the best solution to my problem (they, after all, don't have a dew claw either), they did provide some satisfaction.

Still giggling, Sister got up and, after prying my head off of Pa's sneakers, scratched my itch for me.  Pa and Ma, in the meantime, suggested that they try to get me a prosthetic dew claw.  I think they were joking, but honestly, it doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.

The Nose Knows

Check out that nose!

I have a really good sniffer.  I know, some people might argue otherwise.  Some people might question my smelling ability based on the fact that I have stuck my snout in overtly stinky places (garbage cans, sneakers, disgusting things found at the local park) and have not only lived to tell about it, but didn't even flinch while doing so.  These people would be wrong.  The fact remains that I have a very impressive sense of smell and a snout so powerful that it can double as a GPS.

As my loyal readers already know, I spend extended car rides (defined as any distance further than the local deli Pa takes me to on the weekends) sleeping.  My system is always the same:  first, I lean in real close to Sister making sure to not only invade her personal space but also pin her arm against the back of the seat, second, I collapse onto her lap (all the while digging my elbows into her thigh), and finally, with a mighty sigh I close my eyes and snooze until a bump in the road or the sound of the car's directional wakes me up (at which point I begin the process again).  What can I say?  It's a simple system that ensures that I am well rested and ready to go when we finally reach our destination.  Anyway, that's how I spend a majority of every car ride...that is, until we're about five minutes away from our final destination.

It doesn't matter if we're driving to the house out east, the "Estate" (aka Old Westbury Gardens), Belmont Lake State Park, Sands Point, or even back to our house, it is always the same.  All of a sudden I awake from my nap with my nose a-twitching.  The air is somehow different; I can smell it.  It smells familiar, perhaps even a bit exciting, and I find that I just can't help myself.  I can't lay still; I need to stand up and wag my tail (which, in the small confines of the back seat, annoys Sister to no end).  The rule that I must remain seated while the car is moving suddenly flies out the window despite Sister's "sit" command, and all of a sudden I'm standing upright, pacing, and, occasionally, sticking my cold wet nose in Pa's ear trying to persuade him to hit the gas so we get to where we're going a little bit faster.