Thanksgiving 2014

Before...

Happy Thanksgiving!

(No Pilgrims were harmed in the writing of this post.  Sadly, the same can't be said about their hats.)

...And After

Helping Out

This has been a very busy week in my house. There have been a number of projects undertaken by my family and I, in my ever helpful way, have been snout deep in all of them.

What Painter's Tape?

Painting the Dining Room with Ma:  Every couple of years or so, Ma decides to take on a major house project.  This year, she's painting the dining room.  Before I was born, Ma's had to muddle through her projects alone.  Now, however, she has me, and I'm sure she would be the first to say that her projects have become vastly more interesting and memorable with my assistance.  Here's what I did:

• Slept at the base of the ladder while Ma painted the crown moldings.
• Repeatedly walked under the ladder to make sure it was safe.
• Moved the plastic drop cloths.
• Cleared away the paper towels Ma used to clean up paint drips (and shredded them in the living room).
• Rubbed my tail up against the newly painted walls to check if they were dry.
• Found the missing roll of painter's tape.

Electrical Work with Pa:  I've spoken before of my love of plumbing; how there are few things I enjoy more than crawling under a sink with Pa and snatching his tools when he's not looking.  I'm sad to say that there was no plumbing done this week.  There was, however, electrical work, and I'm sure Pa would be the first to say that he and I are a great team.  Here's what I did:

• Stood in between Pa and the electrical outlet he was trying to replace.
• Left snout marks on the newly polished hanging lamp.

Tidying Up with Sister:   Sister took a couple of days off from work this week to help tidy up the house in anticipation of Thanksgiving and I was more than happy to chip in (after our afternoon naps of course).  I'm sure Sister would be the first to say that she wouldn't have been able to get the house quite so neat if it wasn't for my assistance.  Here's what I did:

• Stole a shirt Sister neglected to put away and tore out its tags.
• Grabbed a dust cloth.
• Took a nap on the rug Sister wanted to vacuum.

Holding Down the Leaves

Raking the Yard with Pa and Sister:  I also proved myself to be a master gardener this week.  Pa and Sister each spent a couple of hours outside raking up the leaves and I was there to help.  I'm sure they would argue over who would be the first to say how they couldn't have collected nearly as many leaves as they did without my guidance.  Here's what I did:

• Took long sticks and chewed them down into smaller sticks.
• Prevented the wind from blowing the newly raked piles of leaves away by laying across them.

No doubt about it, there is no one more helpful than me!

The Puppy Files: Impaired Vision

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.

As my loyal readers know, I am very much in tune with my surroundings; I see and hear things that most wouldn't even notice.  I can spot a forgotten crumb on the table from ten feet away.  I can hear the cheese drawer in the refrigerator open and close from outside in the backyard.  I can see a chicken scurry across a yard three houses down.

But as impressive as my current level of awareness is, it doesn't even come close to the levels I had as a puppy.  When I was a pup, I'd watch airplanes fly by over head, I was soothed by the sound of opera playing in the background, and I was known to watch people on TV walk from one corner of the screen to the other.

Sometimes, however, this highly tuned gift of mine proved to be problematic, and no example proves this point more than what happened one day at lunch time when I was less than a year old.

When I was a little puppy, Ma used to drive all the way home at lunch time to help Sister "handle me."  Ma would get home from work first, feed me my lunch (those were the good old days when I used to get three meals a day), and take me outside.  While outside, Ma would spend the next ten minutes or so chasing me around the backyard and wrestling sticks, rocks, plants, and her arms out from between my razor sharp puppy teeth.  Meanwhile, Sister would come home from work, eat her lunch, and relieve Ma as my favorite chew toy.  Then Ma would get back into her car and returned to work.

On this particular day, Sister must have finished her lunch early because she and Ma got to spend a couple of moments talking in the driveway before Ma had to hurry back to work.  Never wanting to be left out of a party (think of all the arms, hands, and ankles I could chew on) I came charging out from the backyard and skidded to a stop at their feet.  I gave my head a shake then lunged at Sister's hands.  But before I could grab her soft chewy fingers, I was distracted by something suspended in the middle of my vision; it was a large white glob.

I started chasing the glob, running in circles and snapping at it with my teeth.  Ma and Sister were very much alarmed by my behavior.  They already had their doubts, after all, if I was right in the head given the fact that I seemed to have missed out on the gene responsible for what the American Kennel Club defines as my breed's "eager to please attitude" and this latest quirk certainly did not say much for my sanity.  They looked into the sky for any passing birds I might be chasing and checked the ground for any bugs that might be bothering me, but they saw nothing.

Check Out My Eyebrow Whiskers

My circling intensified.  Concerned that maybe I was having seizure or something, Ma scooped me up in her arms.  It was then, in that moment of inactivity (by this age I hated being held so much that Ma only had a few seconds before I'd start squirming and biting to get down), that Ma saw what the problem was.  There, on the end of one of my eyebrow whiskers was a large white fuzzball.

Sister wiped the fuzzball away and Ma put me back down on the ground.  Relieved that my vision was no longer impaired, I looked up at Ma and Sister, and wagged my tail.  Then I lunged at Sister's hand.

Everything was back to normal.

Not A Kissy Dog

I am not a kissy dog.  Sure, I'll check your hands for tasty scraps or enticing smells after you've finished eating.  And yes, I have been known to obsessively lick a person's leg until he/she is totally grossed out.  But give out traditional kisses?  That's just not how I roll.  I'd much prefer to show my affection by allowing someone to rub my butt or scratch my belly, and if I felt particularly affectionate, I'd stick my wet nose in someone's eye (I've discovered that people squeal with appreciation the loudest when I do this while they're sleeping).

That being said, there have been a couple of times in my life that I have presented someone with an actual, genuine, kiss and I've discovered that these super rare signs of affection fall into one of three categories:

Who Wants A Kiss?

A Peck:  I walk up to the recipient and, before he/she knows what's happening, I give him/her one big wet lap across the face.  With the kiss out of my system, I simply continue on my way.

A Nibble:  This category is reserved solely for Sister.  It consists of me giving her two "pecks" on the nose with a quick nibble (using what my family refers to as my raspberry picking teeth AKA my incisors which are the perfect tools for precision picking of ripe fruit) in between.  And if nibbling on Sister's nose wasn't fun enough, I then get to watch her reaction which includes swatting me away with her arms and a hilarious combination of squeals, squeaks, and screams.  And my response?  A smile and a wag of my tail.

A Slosh:  This category is also reserved solely for Sister.  First, I get a big drink of water.  For those of you who don't know, I'm not one to drink water by politely skimming it off the top of the bowl, snout suspended well above the high water mark.  Instead, I drink from the bottom of the bowl up, meaning I stick my entire snout under the surface.  Because of this technique, and coupled with my abundant supply of jowls, when I come up for air I am sopping wet.  Having filling my jowls, I next go looking for Sister, and, when I finally find her, I give her a great big wet kiss across the face releasing the gallons of water I have stored up.  The combination of laughing, gurgling, spitting, and flailing that issues from Sister is priceless.

Insoles and Sneakiness

I never turn down the opportunity to be bad.  Why should I?  Sure, when I'm good and do exactly what my family says, I get treats and attention.  But I've discovered over the years that I get way more attention and way more treats when I do things that I'm not supposed to do.  Consider this: when I steal something I'm not supposed to have, everyone in the house suddenly drops whatever they're doing, chases me down, pounces on me, and begs me to drop my prize.  When I refuse to give up what I have, someone, usually Ma or Sister, shouts "toss it for a cookie?"  Well, for those not in the know, I consider "toss it for a cookie" magic words akin (though way more powerful) than "please" and "thank you."  Upon hearing these words, I quickly drop my prize and run into the kitchen to claim my reward.

But even better than being bad and being caught is being bad and not getting caught.  You see, despite my larger than life personality, I can be surprisingly sneaky.  That sneakiness is particularly handy when I get a hankering for my new favorite past-time:  Ripping the insoles out of Sister's shoes.

Getting the shoes are surprisingly easy.  I wait until Sister is distracted (the best is when she's either on the phone with someone or working on the computer), then I go in for the kill, swiping the shoe (I take one at time) without her even noticing (sometimes, she swears that she doesn't even remember taking them off).  And because Sister is distracted and has no idea that I have her shoe, I usually have plenty of time to disappear into another room and worked my magic on it.  First, I chew on the body of the shoe leaving teeth marks in the leather.  Next, I shred the insole.  For this step, I have two techniques.  Sometimes I tear out a large piece of the insole and then rip it to shreds while other times I shred the insole while it's still attached to the shoe.

Eventually, Sister discovers my mischievousness and takes her shoe back, whimpering over the shredded insole.  She also swears that she's never going to talk to me again, but I'm not worried because I know it is an empty threat.  After about ten minutes of me looking up at her with my big brown eyes and offering my belly for a rub, she eventually melts and gives in to my cuteness.  And really, in the end, she doesn't even seem that bothered by the destruction of the shoe.  Every time I've shredded one, Sister merely collects the pieces, puts them back together like a slobbery jigsaw puzzle, and, once the pieces are dry, goes back to wearing the shoes like they didn't have my teeth marks in them.

Me and My Collection

And now on to my record:  I'm proud to say that, within the last six months, I have managed to run off with and shred the insoles of three pairs of shoes (two rights and one left).