Dog Day 2013

Happy 4th Dog Day to me!  Today marks the four year anniversary of the day I decided that I was going to be adopted by my two legged family.

Last year, I shared the story of my adoption experience: how my brother and I were woken up from a nap to meet the family that would eventually become mine, how I rose to the occasion and convinced that family that I was the perfect dog for them, how I threw up on Sister on the ride home, and how I happily slept the whole night alone in my crate without so much as a whimper.

This year, I've decided to tell you about my first full day living with my family:  Monday, July 27th.

The day started off very early.  Pa woke up and quickly took me outside to do my business (I have many puppy memories of my humans scooping me up out of my crate, holding me at arm's length like a baby, and hurrying down the hall and out of the house frantically saying "out, out, out!").  After that, I ate, went out again, and played with my new family.  Then Ma and Pa left for work.

To say I wasn't alarmed by my family's sudden departure would be a lie.  After all, I was a little puppy in a brand new house with brand new people who looked and sounded nothing like me and all of a sudden everyone seemed to be leaving me.  But everyone wasn't leaving me.  Nope.  Sister had the day off from work and she was going to take care of me and introduce me to a number of new people and experiences.

Adventure Number 1:  My First Trip to the Library

Right after Ma and Pa left for work, Sister put my leash on, picked me up, and set me down on the front passenger seat of her car.  Right off the bat, I was not happy with the arrangement:  I did not want to sit in that big chair all by myself.  I gave a whimper and started scooting over to where Sister was sitting in the driver's seat.  "Do you want to sit on my lap?" she asked me as she helped me climb over the center console and find a comfy spot between her and the steering wheel.  Once settled, Sister drove off.

Before I could even get in a quick nap, Sister parked the car and carried me toward a big building with lots of windows.  "You're going visiting," she told me as we walked through the door.  The first thing I noticed was a cool rush of air conditioning blowing through my fur (hey, it was July in New York, I was wearing a fur coat, and being held by Sister who is her own little furnace).  The second thing I noticed was all the people; all of Sister's co-workers came running over to greet me.  I met Diane, Rita, Faye, George, and a lot of other people whose names I can't remember (don't forget, I was struggling to learn my own name at this point).  I spent 40 wonderful minutes being passed from person to person and being told that I was the cutest thing ever (even at such a young age I knew they were right).

Introductions are very exhausting for a little eight week old puppy so after meeting everyone, Sister put me back in the car and we drove home.  Once at home, Sister let me do my business again (house training is hard work and requires many trips outside) then put me in my crate for a much needed nap.

Adventure Number 2:  My First Piece of Bling

An hour later, I woke up from my nap and was quickly carried outside (with the "out, out, out" command) to do business again (I'm telling you, I spent a lot of time outside doing business).  Then Sister and I came back inside the house.  "I've got another surprise for you" Sister told me and pulled from her pocket a bright blue shiny piece of flat metal.  "This is your name tag; Rigby's name tag" Sister told me as she wrestled the metal tag out from between my sharp as needles puppy teeth (hey, it was her fault for holding it so close to my mouth) and hooked it on my collar.  I turned my head to try to see it hanging from my collar, but I wasn't able to and had to take her word for the fact that it made me look quite distinguished and handsome.

Adventure Number 3:  The Stairs

"Pretty soon," Sister told me, "you're going to be much too big to carry around."  I cocked my head to the side with a quizzical look.  "You're going to have to learn how to climb down the side steps to go outside to do your business" (I know, I know, it's only about 11:30am and I've already gone out a dozen times or so).

Wagging my little whip-like tail, I followed Sister into the kitchen and to the side door.  I looked out and saw two rather steep steps, a landing, a door, and two additional steps to the driveway.  "Okay, let's go!" Sister said as she marched down the first two steps then turned to face me.  From my perch on the top step I shifted anxiously from paw to paw and wagged my tail.  "Come on," Sister said with a smile while producing a cookie from her pocket, "you can do it!"  I shifted uncomfortably again then bounded down the two steps and landed at Sister's feet.  "Yay!" she screamed and tossed me the cookie.  Then she opened the door and, without hesitation and without having to be told, I scurried down the final two steps into the driveway then turned around and climbed back up them.  I looked up and smiled at Sister who was laughing and clapping her hands.  I had learned how to climb up and down the stairs.

Adventure Number 4:  Exploring the Backyard

Checking Out the Hastas

The First Stick I Ever Ate

After breaking for lunch and another nap (plus the obligatory after nap "out, out, out" session), Sister released me into the backyard to explore.  I trampled the hostas, ate some grass, chewed on some sticks, and checked out the perimeters (I was too overwhelmed the previous day to explore my new digs).  Then Sister and I played a game that was supposed to teach me to come when called (yeah, still working on that) which, when it failed, turned into a round of "rub the belly" (mine, not hers).

The outdoor adventure continued, on and off, for the rest of the afternoon until eventually Ma and Pa came home from work.  By that time, Sister and I were totally exhausted and decided to take a much deserved nap.

Sister and I Taking A Nap

Blue Ball

I'm not your traditional ball dog.  I don't chase after balls and I certainly don't catch them in mid air.  I do, however, collect tennis balls on my daily walk to the local park (it is the job of whoever is walking me to carry the balls home for me), walk off with balls lost and forgotten by the neighborhood kids (ill gotten gains are the best), and walk around the house with a ball in my mouth while my family sings the "Bally-Ball" song (perhaps some day I'll talk my family into recording it for some major music label).

Anyway, Pa's dream has always been to have a traditional ball dog; one he can play fetch with for hours on end.  A couple of years ago, in an attempt to make Pa's dream come true, Sister set about trying to teach me how to play fetch.  She went out and bought me a special blue ball to use only during training sessions and had a bag full of Cheerios in her pocket to use as rewards.  She gave me daily pep talks ("You're a retriever," she told me, "fetching is in your blood!").  Then she developed a game, complete with word cues, which we played everyday at lunchtime in the living room.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "How can you play fetch inside the house?" (at the time, Sister deemed it too cold and too icy to play outside for extended periods).  Well, it wasn't easy.  Sister would sit in the living room and throw the ball into the adjoining dinning room with the command "go get!"  Off I'd run and weave my way between the legs of the dining room table and chairs.  Once I found the ball (sometimes, it would ricochet off a chair and wedge itself behind the china cabinet at which point Sister would have to come and liberate it) I would grab it and, with the promise of a Cheerio and the command "bring it back," I would return to the living room.  After some persuasion (read begging and pleading on Sister's part) I would give the ball up and collect my treat.  Then we'd start again.

Overall, the system worked well enough, however, a ball dog I was not.  You see, the game never really translated well to the outdoors.  Provided I actually ran after the thrown ball (there are so many other more interesting things to do outside than chase a ball), once I got it, I would end up playing keep away with Sister rather than bring it back to her.  As time went on, Sister and I gave up on the experiment and the game was all but forgotten.

That is, until two days ago.

While cleaning out the cabinet under the sink, Ma and Pa discovered my special blue ball and, after I barked at them loudly because I wanted it (I always know when there is a toy hidden just out of my reach), I was reintroduced to my toy.  Ma and Pa tried to play the blue ball game with me, but sadly something just wasn't right.  They didn't know all the rules.

The following day (yesterday), Ma suggested that Sister give me my blue ball and once she did, everything suddenly clicked.

She sat on the living room floor, showed me my blue ball, and chucked it into the dining room screaming "go get!"  Despite the oppressive heat, I barreled into the dining room and picked up the ball.  Then I heard the command "bring it back."  Into the living room I scurried.  Then Sister said something that wasn't part of the original game:  "Toss!"

"Toss."  That's a new addition to my repertoire.  You see, I was never particularly good at the commands "give" or "drop."  Any situation that called for either term usually resulted in a fun (at least for me) game of keep away.  Well a few months ago, my family realized that the word "toss" actually meant something to me.  They discovered that if they said "toss" I'd (most of the time) spit whatever I had in my mouth at them like a pitcher throwing a ball.  Now, rather than "give" or "drop," I'm told to "toss" whatever I have (generally something I've stolen).  Everyone wins; it's a game for me (last night, after I stole Pa's flip-flop, Ma told me to "toss" the shoe at Sister who was laying on the floor in front of the fan--I got a cookie for doing that!) and my family doesn't have to chase me when I steal something.

So, anyway, Sister called out "toss" and I spit the ball at her and everyone, Ma, Pa, and Sister all screamed "Yay!" in unison.  Now, for those not in the know, "Yay!" is a synonym of the phrase "you get a cookie" (though Ma, Pa, and Sister will argue that I am very much mistaken).  Despite our difference of opinion in terminology, Pa jumped up and gave me a cookie. 

The game continued for multiple rounds and I earned three additional cookies (sadly, I did not get a cookie for each and every "toss").  After a while, though, Sister declared that it was too hot to continue playing and that we should take a break.

Maybe we'll play again tonight!

Keeping Cool and Keeping Watch

My loyal readers all know of my penchant for air conditioning (how can they not, I’ve only waxed poetic on the topic a couple of dozen times in the last year). Well, I'm not done yet.  Here is yet another post dedicated to what I believe is the most wonderful invention since the dinner bowl:  the air conditioner.

I've been especially thankful for the air conditioner these last couple of days.  You see, we're in the middle of yet another heat wave and whenever it gets unbearably hot (like it is now), Ma, Pa, and Sister take pity on me and allow me to spend the entire day, while they are at work, in the air conditioned comfort of Ma and Pa's room.  Admittedly, being confined to a single room all day can get a little bit...dull (although the increased comfort level generally makes up for any and all boredom felt), however, every once in a while, I have company.  Yesterday, for instance, Sister was off from work and she and I spent the afternoon reading, crocheting (I only tried grabbing the ball of yarn once), and napping (my favorite) in the air conditioned comfort.

But there is one major downside to air conditioning, or at least the air conditioning system in my house where only a couple of rooms have window units.  You see, as much as I enjoy lounging in the air conditioning, I do still have my very important job of keeping track of the comings and goings of all those in the house.  I can't very well excel in my job if I'm cooped up in a single room all day, right?  So how do I get around this?

Yep, that's right--I jam my head in the doorway and prevent the door from ever being closed in the first place.  Instantaneously I have the best of both worlds:  I'm nice and cool from the air conditioner and I get to keep an eye on everything that's going on.  The downside of my technique, however, is that I have to listen to my family complain about how I'm letting all the cold air out of the room.

Fourth of July Weekend

This weekend I was introduced to the six saddest words I have ever heard:  "The central air conditioner is broken."  Can't get much more terrifying than that!  But that's not the worst of it.  Please consider that not only was the air conditioning system broken, but I had been promised four glorious days of basking in it (Ma, Pa, Sister, Aunt B, and I were spending the long holiday weekend out east and the promise of central air was the selling point of the trip), we were smack dab in the middle of a heat wave, and the humidity was unbearable (I swear my tail was starting to curl).  And I thought such terrors occurred only in horror movies.

But then, just when I was starting to despair and beginning to turn into a giant melted dog puddle on the floor, something wonderful happened.

It began with Pa and Sister driving away in the nice, cool, air conditioned car.  I won't lie, I was majorly annoyed that Pa and Sister were essentially abandoning Ma, Aunt B, and I in the hot-as-hell house while they gallivanted around town with the air conditioner set to its highest setting.  So what did I do?  I sulked (I'm a world class sulk-er).  About thirty minute into my sulking session (technically, it was more like pant-pant-sulk, pant-pant-sulk), Pa and Sister returned, but rather than come back inside the house, they lingered outside on the deck making strange shuffling and gurgling sounds.  I barked a couple of times to voice my displeasure at having my sulking session rudely interrupted and added a couple more for being excluded from the car ride, but Pa and Sister ignored me and continued doing whatever they were doing.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Pa came back into the house, put my collar and leash on me, and told me that he had a big surprise.  I wagged my tail gently (I didn't want Pa to think that I would forgive him based solely on the promise of a "big surprise"), then I followed him, Aunt B, and Ma out the door.  Here's a video Sister shot of me discovering my surprise:

That's right, Pa and Sister bought me home a brand new, bright green, doggy pool!

Boy did that water feel good on my paws (not to mention my head when I stuck my face down into the ice cold goodness).  And when I started digging (the pool is the only place I'm allowed to dig--key word here is allowed), I came to the realization that everything was absolutely perfect.

But how was I going to thank Pa for buying me my pool (I've been brought up with world class manners after all)?  Suddenly, it came to me.   I looked up at Pa and gave a mighty shake.  A shower of water flew from my fur.  Now he was nice and cool too!