The Puppy Files: Autodefenestration

Welcome to yet another edition of The Puppy Files, a series in which I travel down memory lane to when I was an itty bitty little puppy with large gnashing teeth and a bad attitude.

Today's story is a very special one.  It is about an event that I have mentioned in passing multiple times, but never took a moment to fully describe.  Today's tale is about the day I jumped out the window of a moving vehicle.

It was the fall of 2011, and Pa and I were driving home after having picked up breakfast at a local bakery.  Pa was driving and I was riding shotgun (I had begged Pa to let me drive, but he said that I was still too little to drive...I was only two years old after all).  All the windows in the car were open, though mine was only open about half way (Pa and I both enjoy the rush of air in our hair/fur).

So there we were, cruising down the road at 30 miles per hour; just a dog and his Pa.  Pa looked over to me, saw that I was sitting quietly in my chair, staring out the front window, and turned his attention back to the road.  A second later he looked back toward me and saw two legs and a tail sailing out the window.

Alarmed by the turn of events (I had never shown any interest in jumping out of a window before), Pa slammed on the brakes and simultaneously grabbed hold of my leash.  Held aloft by my collar, I bounced a couple of times against the passenger side door panel of the braking (though still moving) vehicle before breaking loose and tumbling, end over end, down the street.

Now, it goes without saying that I was a bit stunned when I finally stopped rolling.  Dumbfounded, I looked around at my surroundings (some houses, a car passing by, the asphalt street, and Pa, running toward me) and decided that it was in my best interest to just stand perfectly still and wait for assistance.

Seconds later, Pa cautiously approached me.  "You okay, Buddy?" he asked.  I looked at him blankly, my ears squared.  "Squirt" he continued (Pa has many nicknames for me which, aside from Buddy and Squirt, also includes Sam), "you want to sit down for a little while?"  My ears dropped and I scurried over to Pa's side (he was relieved to discover that I was not limping and did not appear to be bleeding).  Our hearts still beating wildly from our adventure, Pa and I both sat down on the curb for a few minutes to catch our breaths.

I was lucky that day.  The only physical evidence of my near death experience was a small scuff on my back leg, the loss of all my whiskers on one side of my head (they got shaved off on the concrete), a shiny buffed spot on the passenger side door of the car where my butt rubbed off all the dust and dirt, and a couple additional gray hairs on Pa's head.  After a few months time, all signs were gone (well, except for the gray hairs).

But while (most of) the physical scars eventually went away, the damage was done.  It's been three years since that fateful day and Pa still won't let me ride in the car with the windows down (not even a crack) and my family feels the need to point out all the nice dogs riding in cars who don't feel the need to jump out the window.

An Uneasy Alliance

Joe "Who Me?" the Squirrel

I am not a fan of squirrels.  In my opinion, squirrels are annoying rats that don't respect my property's boundaries, chatter at me angrily when I chase them up nearby trees, and frequently tease me with empty peanut shells tossed haphazardly throughout my yard.  And don't even get me started on the fact that Sister used to feed three squirrels (named Joe, Fatty, and Mangy Mike) peanuts every day the year before I was born (she stopped when Joe tried to break through the kitchen window on Thanksgiving morning looking for his breakfast).

Despite my reservations, every summer the squirrels and I come to an uneasy agreement.  I guess even the most hated adversaries can occasionally find themselves linked by a common goal.  And what is that goal?  The consumption of peaches.

The people who live behind me have a peach tree.  For most of the year, it's rather disappointing; it grows leaves in the spring and drops them in the winter.  However, in late spring, it starts growing fruit and that's when the fun begins.  As soon as the peaches reach optimal ripeness, the squirrels descend on the tree and, completely ignoring the plastic bags the homeowners tie to the tree's limbs in a futile attempt at protecting the crop, pick most, if not all, of the fruit. Then, with peaches clenched firmly in their mouths, the squirrels climb up the large maple tree also in the neighbor's yard, transfer over to the tree on my property, and find a perch directly above my yard.  After taking one, maybe two, bites, the squirrels then drop the remaining peach into my yard.

Here's where I enter into the equation.  Every day throughout the entire summer, I check my yard for those discarded peaches (along with lizards, squirrels, bunnies, and other potential interlopers).  And when I find them, in any degree of wholeness or freshness, I feast on the fruit (I try to avoid eating the pit because, when I do, I inevitably end up throwing up not only the pit, but the peach and the last meal I ate as well which is so not cool).

Ma doesn't like this alliance; she doesn't think I should consume half eaten peaches coated with squirrel spit (just another case of Ma and me not seeing eye to eye on a topic).  At first, this disagreement meant that whenever Ma was around I had to find and eat my peaches as quickly as possible lest she catch me and pull the slimy ball of fruit from my mouth (and haste, I discovered, makes one prone to accidentally swallowing the pit).  Now, however, Ma and I have worked out a system which benefits both of us (but mostly me).  For every peach I find and spit out I get a cookie.  This might not seem like much, but when you consider that at the peak of peach season I'm averaging four discoveries an outing, those cookies start adding up.  And sometimes, when I'm really fast, I can manage to sneak in a few bites of peach before I spit out the rest to collect my cookie (shhhh...don't tell Ma).

Vacation

Greetings from a devilishly handsome pup who recently returned from a thirteen day excursion to sunny eastern Long Island; a land of big back yards, interesting smells, and, most importantly, central air coupled with cool floors.

 

 

Introducing Betsy Ross!

Yep, that’s right, I was on vacation, and it was great from its very first minutes. You see, my family took two cars out east: Pa and I drove out in his car while Ma, Sister, and the newest hamster Betsy Ross took Sister’s car. This is my favorite driving arrangement—it means that I don’t have to share the backseat with Sister (nothing against the girl, but I think her continued insistence that she is allotted a full one third of the backseat can only be described as unreasonable).

But as wonderful as the ride was, it paled in comparison to the fun that was to come over the next week and a half. Here’s some of the stuff I did:

• I stole a toy sword from the little boy who lives next door. Now, before anyone thinks me a brute, allow me to explain that the sword was on my side of the fence so, legally, it was mine. Anyway, I grabbed hold of the sword by its handle and ran around the backyard with Sister in hot pursuit (I think she thought that I might try to threaten a squirrel with it—not a bad idea!). After a couple of loops around the backyard, I found a nice cool spot on the grass, plopped down, and proceeded to gnaw on the sword’s handle. Sister caught up with me shortly thereafter and took the sword away from me. She then threw the sword back over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
• I defended my turf against the exterminator…wearing a bee suit. I won’t lie, the bee suit threw me at first, but I quickly recovered and barked at him both with and without a tennis ball in my mouth (I am truly gifted when it comes to barking...my family doesn’t call me a “barky boy” for nothing). 
• I tried my hand at old fashioned letter writing by sending a postcard to my friends Mecki, Bastille, and Ralphie (the problem with writing postcards is that they don’t allow for random pictures to be inserted into the text for no apparent reason). 

  

  See?!  Random is Good!

• I bunked noses with “Sausage Dog” who lives next door (I was also barked at—rather unpleasantly—by the other two dogs living next door, but I didn’t let that bother me). 
• I found a smelly chunk of fish in the backyard and, while Pa and Sister wouldn’t let me eat it, I did get a few licks in before anyone realized it was there. This marks the second time that a fish was discovered in my backyard. The first time happened a few weeks ago when Pa discovered an entire fish lying in the grass (talk about unseasonable weather!). I’m hoping the next piece of fish comes with tartar sauce and lemon. 
• I added a new variation the daily squeaky bone/squeaky football game that I play with Pa, Ma, and Sister. 
1. My playmate throws my squeaker toy as far across the yard as he can (Pa is very good at this step—he throws it very far; Sister isn’t so good, in fact, she nearly clocked me a couple of times when she accidentally threw my toy downward rather than outward).
2. I sprint after the toy, grab it in my mouth, take two steps, then throw myself down into the grass to chew on the squeaker. 
3. My playmate, who by this time has walked the entire length of the yard to my current location, tries to grab my toy, but I get up and run away, my toy clenched firmly in my mouth. 
4. And here’s the new addition to the game: I run toward the house, gallop up the ten steps onto the porch, and sit down patiently at the side door as my playmate trudges across the yard and up the stairs after me. Upon getting the toy from me, my playmate then chucks it back into the yard, and makes his way down the steps and back into the yard. 
5. Repeat steps two through four over and over and over again (and let me tell you, the look on my playmate’s face as he climbs the stairs for the sixth time is priceless). 

A Sample of My Handiwork

• I took a large branch that fell from one of the trees in the backyard and turned it into a pile of smaller branches. Now, if Ma hadn’t taken those smaller branches away from me when she did, I would have turned them into even smaller sticks and, eventually, landscaping chips.

But what was the absolute, number one highlight of the entire vacation (aside from cool floor tiles and central air I spoke of earlier)? Paws down, it was my trip to the beach.

My Beach

The day started extremely early and with a flourish of activity. Everyone was up: Ma, Pa, and, oddly enough, Sister who usually doesn’t make an appearance until much later in the morning (she shares my love for sleeping late). But even more peculiar (and distressing) was the fact that, despite everyone being up and about, no one was showing any sign of getting me my breakfast. And so, with an empty stomach, Ma, Pa, Sister, and I piled into Pa’s car and pulled out of the driveway. A few short blocks later, Pa parked the car and we all got out. As soon as I got a whiff of the cool bay breeze I knew where we were and immediately started pulling Pa in the direction of the beach.

Pa and Me

Up and down the beach I ran, kicking up sand as I went. Occasionally, I’d run a little too fast and a little too far and come to a quick halt when I ran out of leash (Pa, restricted by the fact that he has only has two legs, couldn’t keep up with me and my four legs), but even that didn’t slow me down—I’d just go right back to running. Then, all of a sudden, I got an idea. Why not run into the water?

Now, I’ve been to this beach before, but when I was there last it was winter time (there was snow on the ground) and I was not allowed to play in the water because Ma said it was too cold (though I did disobey her by running, full force, toward the water to dip my nose into the freezing cold surf—it was a less than pleasant experience).

Anyway, this time, no one stopped me from running into the water. In fact, everyone came in after me; even Ma (though not as deep as me). And speaking of deep water—I waded all the way in until the water was up to the middle of my chest. Pa and Sister tried to get me to go in further; tried to get me to swim, but, as my loyal readers know from my profile bio, I don’t like to swim (or, more precisely, float).

 

Water in My Ears

So in and out of the water I ran, snapping at the waves, sniffing the seaweed, skidding down the dunes, and occasionally, taking a breather by lying on the warm sandy beach or in the cool shallow water. And as exhausted as I was when Pa said it was time to go home, I really wanted to stay (it didn’t help that I was told that there was a bath waiting for me when I got home).

Needless to say, I slept well that afternoon.

Of course, there were a handful of places that my family went where I was not allowed to join them (why certain establishments feel the need to forbid dogs—especially sophisticated, world famous bloggers such as myself—from entering their establishments will never make sense to me). Overall, I was okay with this arrangement; we all need some time to ourselves (it’s exhausting to keep track of Pa, Ma, and Sister), not to mention, I’d happily exchange a walk through Greenport on a 90 degree day for barking at the dogs next door from within my air conditioned house.

There was, however, one place I would have liked to have gone with my family: the aquarium. Why? Because, according to Sister, a relative of Mecki’s baby brother Bastille was there. You see, Mecki has repeatedly likened his new baby brother to a piranha because he’s all teeth. And what did Sister see at the aquarium?

Is it a piranha or is it Bastille?

So, overall, it was a great vacation. I played, I barked, I (nearly) floated, I napped, I stole, I smelled stinky things, and I lounged in air conditioned comfort. I’m home now, with my extensive collection of tennis balls, plush toys misshapen from multiple surgeries and amputations (I missed you Nuclear Bunny), and a herd of bunnies in the backyard who, I’m sure, have become quite cocky in my absence.

Whew...I think I'm going to need another vacation real soon!

Greetings from Eastern Long Island!