Old and New Friends

Paint On My Ear

I'm covered in paint.  Actually, to be more precise, I am covered in linen colored paint.  I have it all over my right ear and down my right side.  I think I even have some in my tail.  Now, you might ask, why am I covered in linen colored paint?  And the answer:  It is a result of having way too much fun Sunday morning and being so completely exhausted by the afternoon that I did not realize where I was laying.  Let me explain.

I sensed something was up as soon as Sister stumbled down the stairs a full two hours before her normal Sunday morning waking hour and I knew something was up when she started packing my travel bag with cookies, newspaper, and my water bowl.  I was going on a trip!

After a twenty minute car ride, Ma, Sister, and I pulled up in front of a place I had never been before:  it wasn't the house out east, it wasn't my Old Westbury Gardens Estate or Sagamore Hill or Sands Point, and it wasn't, thankfully, the vet's office (don't get me wrong, I like visiting Doctor Friedman, but I really hate it when he tries squirting medicine up my nose).  On Ma's command, I jumped out of the car and looked up and down the street.  It was then I saw it:  a small rat-like animal on a leash.  Mecki!  Dragging Sister behind me, I lunged toward my bff and bunked noses with him.  Then, I realized Mecki and I weren't alone.  There were two other dogs on leashes, a big black Giant Schnauzer and a medium sized gray Standard Schnauzer.

Tink and I Hangin' Out

I immediately recognized the Giant Schnauzer.  It was my friend Tinkerbell (known as Tink) who I haven't seen since our play date at my house in the spring of 2010.  The Standard was her Sister (Tink has a four legged Sister) Zee Zee.  After bunking noses with Tink and Zee, I turned my attention to the humans holding my buddies' leashes.  First I said hello to Mecki's Dad Andre, then Tink and Zee's Mom and Dad Faye and Doug, and finally I scurried over to Karin and checked her for cookies (Karin always has something tasty in her pockets).

Tink, Zee, and I

After all the hellos were said and a couple of cookies mooched, we all walked into Tink and Zee's backyard.  It was then that our leashes came off and the fun began.

Mecki and Tink

We chased each other all over the backyard:  through the bushes, around the pool, and to and from the water bowls.  Tink and I boxed like we did a couple of years ago then spent a fair portion of the rest of the time getting each other soaking wet from the water we were storing in our beards (her) and jowls (me).  Zee and I tussled for a little while and Mecki scuttled around eating all the dog biscuits that Tink and Zee had been hiding away for the last few weeks.

Watching the Fun

After playing for over an hour and a half, it was time to go home (but first we walked around the corner as a pack to visit a house with a whole herd of dachshunds--I won't lie, it was a bit disturbing).  Although I did not nap while Sister drove Ma and I home, I did lounge in the back seat comfortably while Ma scratched my back.

Once at home, Ma decided that she was going to spend the rest of the day painting the living room walls.  Unfortunately, she failed to inform me of this decision so when I, thoroughly exhausted, curled up in my usual spot by the front door, I brushed against the fresh paint, coating my beautiful blonde locks.  Ma made a face at me, but honestly I was just too tired to care.  Not to mention, people pay big bucks for faux finishes and I just created one for free.  You're welcome Ma.

Betrayal

I'm sure all my loyal readers will agree with me when I say that I am a very flexible and low maintenance kind of dog.  I don't ask for much, just my fair share:  a 90% share of the bed at night, as many cookies as I can weasel out of my humans, all the toys I can shred, etc.  Well, apparently I'm going to have to make it known that I also require absolute loyalty from my family.  I know, it shouldn't have to be brought up, but obviously, someone (I won't mention names...okay, I won't mention her name right now) is lacking in the unwritten rules department.

But before I begin, allow me to set the scene of my great betrayal.

Last weekend, for the first time in over a month, my family and I drove out to the other house.  At first everything was great and I had a lot of fun.  I said hello to the next door neighbor Darrin who, while currently a cat owner, once owned a dog so he's okay.  Then I barked at the other neighbor's kids (their ball rolled onto my property, what else was I supposed to do?).  Next, I ran around the backyard even though it is still not fenced in (Sister remembered to bring my long leash and even attempted to keep up with me on foot while I ran around like a crazy dog before throwing myself onto the nice green grass and rolling on my back).  And finally, I went to the dog park where I ran around with another dog even though she was way more interested in the game of fetch she was playing with her human than with me (her Dad tried to get me to chase the ball, but every time he threw it and she took off after it, I stayed behind staring up at him with a quizzical "If you wanted the ball so badly why did you throw it all the way over there?" look (humans just don't make any sense)).

But then, everything went bad.

My family had left me home alone.  I know, that was very rude of them and while I was quite annoyed at them  for doing so, the giant Milkbone cookie Pa gave me prior to leaving dampened the blow just long enough for me to get in a good nap.  After what seemed like years, my family's car pulled into the driveway and Ma, Pa, and Sister all climbed out.  Armed with my green tennis ball (known as my Bally-Ball) and a wagging tail, I shuffled over to the door (furry feet on hard wood flooring does not lend itself to good traction) and waited for my family to enter.  When they did, I wagged my tail at Pa and used his leg to reposition my tennis ball in my mouth, I allowed Ma to give me a pet on the side, and then I came face to face with the traitor.

Sister Feeding a Calf

Greedy Goats

With one sniff, I immediately realized that Sister's hands reeked of fur and saliva that did not belong to me.  I was horrified.  I found out seconds later that when Pa, Ma, and Sister were cruising around town they stopped at a nearby farm to check out the animals.  Now, it would be upsetting enough to deal with the knowledge that my family went to a farm without me (my bff Mecki, after all, has been to a farm and got to come face to face with a couple of cows, why can't I?), but what made matters ten times worse was that Sister got to pet and feed a tribe of baby goats, a lamb, and a couple of calves.  Sister even commented that the goats were greedier than me when it came to their bottles and that the slime on the calves' noses put my drool to shame.  Talk about rubbing salt in a wound!

Well, I guess Sister realized how upset I was and set about trying to apologize.  She washed her hands, offered me a cookie (I'm beyond polite so I accepted it even though I was still angry with her), and finally pulled out my long leash and offered to take me outside.  I contemplated holding out until she offered me a T-bone steak or something, but it was obvious that Sister was really trying hard to get on my good side so I gave in and allowed her to take me outside (but I did insist that she rub my tummy while we were out there!).

No Mess In Here!

We've all dealt with it before:  Tummy troubles.  There you are, minding your own business, and suddenly it strikes: the gurgling in the belly, the convulsing hacks, and...well...you get the idea (by the way, if you haven't already figured it out, this post might not be the best thing to read during your lunch break). 

You see, my tummy has been bothering me lately.  On Monday and Tuesday I ended up losing the undigested leftovers of my breakfast (and only my breakfast--dinner stays down just fine) 6 to 8 hours after having ingested it. 

Thank you, I accept your sympathies.

Now, if you are a human, this nauseous feeling is upsetting and inconvenient, but when you're a dog, well, it's a disaster.  With one mighty hack you are suddenly out of a perfectly good meal (and when you're as food motivated as I am, this is a true tragedy).  And what's worse, you get to stare at the sad remains of what used to be your breakfast or dinner until your human cleans it up.  Now, if you had thumbs and could scurry into the bathroom and lift up the toilet lid before the sad event occurred, you'd be much better off.  But alas, you do not have thumbs and apparently one attempt at drinking out of the toilet is all it takes to gross out the humans enough to remember to put the lid down when the toilet is not in use.

As troubling as this tummy trouble is, I'm lucky to have a supportive family who goes to every extreme to make me feel better after the unfortunate event.  Once my stomach settles, Pa slips me a giant Milkbone cookie to make up for the meal I lost and Ma spends the rest of the day babying me and rubbing my belly.  I appreciate both tactics, but I especially enjoy Sister's methodology.  She makes a game out of it (and we played the game this afternoon).

As is customary, I greeted Sister at the door with Lyle Lyle when she stopped off at home during her dinner break from work.  Without even pausing to put down her bag or take off her coat, Sister knelt down, kissed me on the head, and asked:  "You wanna play 'No Mess in Here?'"  My tail went around in circles in a resounding yes.

The instructions for "No Mess in Here" are simple.  Sister and I travel from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, checking to see if I left behind a...ahem "mess."  When there is no mess in a particular room, Sister screams out "Yay!!!  No Mess in Here" and I wag my tail with great excitement.  Then we move on to the next room and repeat the process.

I am proud to say that today I passed with flying colors!

Yeah, feeling sick, and being sick for that matter, is not fun, but at least I can look forward to playing "No Mess in Here."

A Weekend On The Estate

Totally Exhausted

I am completely exhausted.  I mean, I am beyond tired.  This weekend was Dog Days at Old Westbury Gardens (AKA my estate) and I spent a few hours there each day perusing the grounds, socializing with the two and four legged guests, and mooching lots and lots of treats (I'm particularly skilled at this enterprise).  Now, I'm sure that my loyal readers will agree that that's an awful lot of responsibility and work for one little dog to do, but, let me tell you, I had an absolutely wonderful time doing it and I can't wait for Dog Days Weekend in the fall!

Here's some of the fun I had:

Saturday: 

Mecki and Me

Ma, Sister, and I met up with my bff Mecki and his mom Karin right outside the Old Westbury House.  Actually, I could hear Mecki long before I could see him; he was barking greetings to each dog as he or she passed by.  Karin noticed me coming up the path before Mecki did, so she drew his attention to me.  With our ears and jowls flapping in the wind, we each ran toward each other, dragging our humans (they are so incredibly slow!) behind us and bunked noses.  Then, after Ma and Sister rubbed Mecki's belly and Karin fed me carrots, Mecki and I decided that it was time to start exploring the estate.

Chillin' with Mecki

We had a great time and  played lots of fun games while we explored.  First, Mecki and I took turns playing "Follow the Leader" (Sister said that Mecki looked like my shadow when he was following behind me).  Then, we played "Sniff the Tree" (Mecki sniffed a tree then I sniffed the same tree).  Next, Mecki and I played "Grub Food from Karin" (no explanation of the rules needed).  And finally we took turns marking the same bush in turn.  Can't get much more exciting than that!

A Rare Head-Shot of Mecki

Then something utterly disturbing happened.  Karin picked Mecki up and put him in a tree to take pictures!  I was horrified (as was Mecki).  Sister even helped Karin by ducking down behind the tree and holding Mecki's leash so he couldn't jump down or turn his butt to the camera (Mecki's a bit camera shy).  I felt so bad for Mecki!  After the photo shoot was done, Karin helped Mecki back down onto the floor and Sister came out from behind the tree.  Mecki, surprisingly, did not growl or bark menacingly at his mom (I sure would have), but I gave Sister "the death stare" to warn her not to get any ideas.  There was no way I was going up in that tree.

In addition to Mecki, I also got to meet Razzle Dazzle and Dakota, a couple of Old English Sheep-Dogs (and I thought I had a lot of fur!) and two cousins (AKA Golden Retrievers):  Bo who is blonde like me and my friend Emma Rose who I bunk noses with at every Dog Day weekend.

Sunday: 

Smile!

Posing with a Statue

On Sunday, Pa joined Ma, Sister, and I at the estate, but
Mecki was nowhere to be seen.  I was disappointed, but Sister explained to me that Mecki's mom had to work and that's why she and Mecki weren't there (after all, if a dog's human doesn't work, he/she can't buy the dog treats, and when a dog's human can't buy dog treats, the dog is not a happy camper).

Sister and Me Checking the View

Anyway, Ma, Pa, Sister, and I walked all around the estate taking pictures and sniffing plants (well, Sister and Pa took pictures and I sniffed the plants).  When we walked around the lake, I stopped briefly to sniff the tree that Karin perched Mecki in the day before, but I moved along quickly when Sister approached.  I also got the chance to bunk noses with a lot of dogs including Sophie, a super friendly mutt who kept giving Sister kisses and channeled Mecki by jumping all over me.  I especially liked Sophie's mom; she gave me lots of pats and treats.

Mean Pa!

So, as you can see, I was super busy this weekend and, I think, have earned a much needed nap.  Sadly, however, Pa appears to have never heard the saying "let sleeping dogs lie."

The Puppy Files: The Fleeing Song

I was a troubled youth. 

I know what you’re thinking: “How could such an upstanding doggy citizen such as the witty and ruggedly handsome Rigby be a terror in his puppy years?”  Well, it's true; I was a horror.  I admit it.  I played rough, I had more teeth than a dog my size should have (and never hesitated to use them), I was stubborn, I would jump on people, I wouldn't back down from a disagreement with my humans, and I disobeyed all commands.  Heck, I even had to go through two separate rounds of obedience training (and after the first round Ken the dog trainer suggested to my family that they enroll me in a sleep-away Doggy Boot Camp).

Due to my troublesome nature, my family would occasionally decide that I needed a nap and they required some time away from me.  So out the door they would rush and escape to a series of local parks and shopping centers for a couple of hours of Rigby free time.  Now, I can understand the concept of getting away for a few hours (I enjoyed my naps and you can't imagine how much energy it would take to be so bad), but what I found offensive about the entire situation was that Sister made up a song about getting away from me and she and Ma would sing it as they locked me in my crate and skipped out the door.  It was sung to the tune of The Flintstone's theme song and went like this:

"Fleeing.  We are fleeing.  We are fleeing from the family dog!

He has big gnashing teeth, and a nasty attitude to boot!"

Real nice, huh?  Can't you just feel the love?

Anyway, when I turned 15 months old (and my family, to this day, never hesitates to remind me of just how lucky I was to reach that age given what a terror I had been to them), my refined Golden Retriever genes kicked in, I became the prime example of canine excellence that I am today, and the song, thankfully, ceased to be sung.

(Now if only I could get that annoyingly catchy song out of my head!)

They're Baaaaack!

They're baaaaack! 



Two Brazen Lizards

Those tiny annoying lizards have returned in full force and are beginning to take up residence in the brick lined areas of my--MY!--house and garden.  You may recall my last run-in with wild lizards last year when, after cornering one in the garage, the lizard (now forever known as "Stumpy") jettisoned its tail and scooted away while I stared in disbelief, alarm, and disgust at the flopping appendage until Pa managed to catch it and throw it away.  But the situation didn't end there.  No, I had to deal with the humiliation of knowing that Stumpy spent the remainder of the summer sun bathing alongside the garage (where I'm not allowed to go) regenerating his tail.

Dutifully Searching

Well, yesterday marked my first run-in of the year with those tiny tresspassers. There I was, minding my business, traipsing through the garden listening to Sister beg and plead with me not to step (or eat) the pretty flower she was trying to take a picture of (don't worry, I didn't...yet), when all of a sudden the ground I was sniffing moved.  Startled (hey, you would be too if the ground suddenly moved), I jumped back but then lunged forward when I realized that the moving ground was in fact a lizard.  I followed that lizard into Ma's lavender bush, but then lost sight of it.  Undeterred, I kept searching; nosing and sneezing my way through the smelly plant (it smelled suspiciously like the shampoo Ma and Pa use on me).  After a few minutes of unsuccessful searching, Sister informed me that I had done a very good job and that the lizard had vacated the premises (how did she know?).  She then said that I should come inside for a congratulatory cookie.  I sneezed once more into the lavender bush then went inside.

It wasn't until later in the day that I learned three horrible truths about Sister and the lizards.  Apparently, Sister has a long history with these creatures.  Here's what she told me:



Horrible Truth Number One:  When she was little Sister actually caught a lizard outside of school and brought it home to keep as a pet (for some reason when she caught it the animal didn't jettisoned its tail--someday I'm going to have to discuss technique with her).  She said that Ma was okay with keeping the lizard until she learned that it ate live crickets at which point Sister released it into the backyard.  Sister insisted that the lizard population would have eventually made its way the four blocks to our house, but personally I blame Sister for all the problems I'm having now.  

Horrible Truth Number Two:  Last year Sister helped catch and release a lizard that made its way into the library where she works.  Once again, it did not jettison its tail.

Horrible Truth Number Three:  When Sister went out to do some errands shortly after letting me in the house, she stopped in the garden to pet one of the lizards sunning itself on the bricks in the front garden.  That's right, she knelt down and rubbed the annoying creature on its back.  It goes without saying that I was completely horrified by the entire event!  How could she betray me by petting that scaly interloper?  What's next--is she going to start taking in squirrels and bunnies (though the hamster Meri kind of looks like a miniature squirrel without a tail)? 

I know, just when you think you know someone!

So, you've heard it here first, I'm putting my paw down this year.  I am not going to allow those tiny trespassers to take advantage of me, of my Sister's startlingly naivety and trusting nature, or startle me again by dropping their limbs willy-nilly.  Nope, this means war!