The Puppy Files: Taste Tester

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 I've said before, I was a complete terror when I was a puppy.  In fact, to this day, I'm still utterly amazed that my family put up with me for the fifteen months it took for me to become a "civilized" Golden Retriever.  Truth be told, I was kind of concerned back then as well; concerned that one day my family would simply give up on me and my shenanigans.  Of course, I wasn't concerned enough to change my ways, but I was definitely a little concerned.  It was from this infinitesimal amount of concern that I became a bit of a suspicious eater.

With the exception of the kibble in my dinner bowl (which I'd happily scoff down if Jack the Ripper himself gave it to me), whenever someone gave me a treat I would quickly grab it in my mouth (sometimes catching hold of a few fingers in the process) and then, rather than chew the treat (or, more likely, swallow it whole) right on the spot, I would scurry into the living room and unceremoniously spit it out onto the floor.  Then the inspection would begin.  Suspiciously, I would sniff the treat all over making sure it was a) food (which, let's be honest, covered pretty much any item I could fit in my mouth from bits of cheese to tennis shoes--still does, technically) and b) not tainted.

Now, I don't want people to think that my family would actually do something to my food; they wouldn't.  Despite all of the trouble I caused, I knew that they all loved me and at least some of my fun loving antics (specifically those that didn't involve my unnaturally large pearly white teeth wrapped around their wrists).  Still, for a pup as troublesome as I was, it didn't hurt to be at least a little bit cautious.

Anyway, having determined that the treat in question was not only edible but delicious, I would quickly scoop it up again in my mouth and start chewing (or, as I said earlier, swallow it whole).  After swallowing the last crumb, I would scurry back to the room where I initially received the treat (usually the kitchen) and beg for more.  Most of the time my begging was for naught--I would be told to "get lost" because I had already been given all the treats that I was going to get (I know, so rude).  On rare occasions, however, I'd be offered another little tidbit and do you know what I'd do?  I'd grab it in my mouth, scurry back into the living room, spit it out onto the floor, thoroughly investigate it, and then, only after determining without a shadow of a doubt that it was indeed edible, I'd eat it.

And the process would begin again.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Bow Ties Are Cool!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

to all my friends!

Taking the Fun Out of Snow

Sometimes, Pa and Sister can be really mean.  Sure, they're awfully nice most of the time (Pa shares his cereal with me each morning (the flakes and the dried fruit) and Sister doesn't mind me sleeping on her bed), but they're also really quick to point out and mock me when...well, let's just say...when I'm not having the best of days.

Take, for instance, this photo:

It is a picture from last weekend of the trails I left in my wake after running through the snow that had accumulated in my backyard out east (I hadn't been out there in nearly two months so there was a solid one and a half feet of undisturbed snow blanketing everything).  Now, some might say, "wow, Rigby must have had a good time playing in the snow," and they would be one hundred percent correct.  Who wouldn't, after all, enjoy guffawing through fluffy white snow and gnawing on an icicle that had been snapped off the side of the house especially for you (thanks Pa)?  But did Pa and Sister focus on the fun I had when they saw these paw prints?  No, not at all.  Instead, they focused on the two round flat spots located half way through the trails.  Those "crater like holes" in the snow, Pa and Sister were quick to point out repeatedly, were the spots where I face planted.

Yes, I admit it, I stumbled when I was running through the snow (actually, I sunk in a melted spot and fell forward), and yes, I face planted when I did so.  But is that any reason for Pa and Sister to mock me repeatedly?  I think not.

Highly Suspicious

Last Friday, Sister took a day off from work.  Now that, in and of itself, is not especially exciting or noteworthy--Sister has taken other days off in the past (though not nearly as often as I would like--I'd like her to stay home every day to rub my belly).  What is noteworthy, however, is that I think Sister lied to me about why she took the day off.

You see, Sister told me Friday morning that she was going to the opening day of the Hicks Nursery Flower show to take pictures.  This seemed perfectly reasonable to me.  Sister's gone to the show every year for the last three years and I've often found her lying on the ground at home trying to take pictures of flowers that sprouted up in the middle of the lawn (I say "trying" because I usually come along and sit on said flowers before Sister can actually snap the pictures--ahh, good fun).  Anyway, camera in one hand and shovel in the other (eight inches of snow had fallen the night before), I watched as Sister skidded to her car, got in, and drove off.

A couple of hours later Sister returned.  I greeted her in my usual fashion (walking around her in circles with a toy clenched firmly in my mouth), but all of a sudden I got a whiff of something.  I dropped my toy and started sniffing all over trying to locate the source of the smell.  After a moment of investigating, I figured out where the smell was coming from--it was coming from Sister.  But what was it?  I started making snorting sounds as I sniffed up and down Sister's arms and legs.  Then, all of a sudden, I realized what the smell was and my tail started wagging in excited circles.  Sister smelled like my bff Mecki and his little brother Bastille (whom I still haven't actually met, but I recognize his smell from the first time Sister met him).

But why did Sister smell like Mecki and Bastille?  She had told me that she was going to the flower show not work (where Mecki and Bastille sometimes visit) and if she had gone to Mecki and Bastille's house she would have brought me along with her (like when Sister, Joan, and I went to Mecki's house for a barbecue).  What gives? I thought.

Proof of Sister's Whereabouts?

Sister immediately started trying to explain (she spoke very quickly--a sure sign of guilt).  She swore that she really did go to the flower show and showed me pictures to prove it.  She also explained that Mecki and Bastille's mom went with her and that Sister was in charge of driving the two of them to the show.  But that doesn't explain why you smell like Mecki and Bastille, I thought.  Sister, as though sensing my thought, quickly added that she said a quick "hello" to my bff and his brother when she stopped by to pick up their mom--that it was the polite thing to do.

So, do I believe Sister?  I don't know, but I am kind of disappointed that I didn't get to visit my bff and his brother (though, truth be told, after reading Mecki's blog I'm a bit concerned about meeting any pup who's been described as a "vampire piranha").  Sister tried to make me feel better by saying that Dog Days at Old Westbury Gardens (AKA my estate) is coming up next month and that I'd probably get to play with Mecki (and maybe Bastille) then, but I'm still kind of bummed that Sister got to visit them and I did not.