While I Was Out

This was an odd month.

It all started three Fridays ago (yeah, Sister's been kind of negligent when it comes to recording my stories...you just can't get good help).  Anyway, three Fridays ago, Sister got up earlier than usual (she's about as much a morning person as I am, so her getting up early is always a surprise) and rather than pack her work bag, she packed her overnight bag, kissed me on the snout, and left the house.

A few hours later, she sent me the following video.

I was confused.  That barking in the background?  It sounded really familiar, but I just couldn't put my paw on it.  Those deer, however, definitely looked familiar (actually, I'm pretty sure I've barked at them before).  And that backyard?  Not only was it familiar, I knew exactly where it was.  It was my backyard out east.

A little later, Sister sent me the following picture and things suddenly started to make sense.

It was my bff Mecki and his little brother Bastille!

But then I started thinking...what are Mecki and Bastille doing in my house out east?

I learned later that Sister and Karin had spent the weekend out east eating Reubens (they didn't bring me a doggy bag), hunting for treasure on the beach with a metal detector (they dug up a quarter without my help), sightseeing (the last time I went to Greenport it was 95 degrees and Pa and I spent an hour looking for a shady tree to sit under), and painting rocks (if you recall, growing up, rocks were "my only friends").  And when they weren't directly included in the fun, Mecki and Bastille lounged in my house and barked at my deer!

Collar Bling

Two days later (and smelling like Mecki and Bastille), Sister came home and brought with her a peace offering for me--some bling for my collar.  Now, I was a bit annoyed that I wasn't invited on the trip, but Sister's gift was just so me that I couldn't be too mad at her for very long.  I mean, look at it!  As my loyal readers know, I so don't get fetch!

Anyway, as the new week began and life got back to normal, I kind of forgot about the previous weekend (except for the occasional fits of laughter that came about whenever Sister described Bastille lunging face first at the glass window and sliding down it cartoon style).  In fact, by the time the following weekend rolled around, my concern and bitterness had disappeared completely.

Which brings me to two Friday nights ago.  After they had returned home from work and finished their dinners, Ma and Pa whisked me into the car and we headed out east.

When I got there, I immediately ran inside the house and hot footed it to my pillow where my toys are usually kept.  But they weren't there.  Ma, thinking quickly, grabbed a squeaky ball left on the table and tossed it onto my pillow.  I lowered my head to grab the toy, but stopped inches from the ball.  My pillow smelled like Mecki.

I looked up quizzically at Ma who was watching me expectantly.  It was then that I realized that there was a wafting smell of Mecki and Bastille bombarding me from all directions.  I sniffed my way around the living room, then into the kitchen and the dining room.  I circled back into the living room (sniffed the bulging eye/nose smudge left on the window by Bastille's leap) then made my way to the guest room and bathroom.  Their scent was all around, yet my four-legged pals were nowhere to be seen.

Ma suggested at this point that we should go outside and check the perimeters, and do you know what?  Mecki and Bastille's scent was all over the backyard too.  I went around sniffing every tree and following every trail.  I sniffed high and low and even circled back a few times to sniff a spot again.  I was so preoccupied with the task of tracking my friends that I didn't even realize that I had wandered out the side gate until I heard Ma screaming my name.  She found me in the neighbor's front yard, hooked a finger under my collar, and escorted me back into my yard.  After a few more sniffs, Ma and I went back inside the house.

Once inside, I followed Pa, who seemed distracted by something, into the basement where I discovered that even that part of the house smell like my bff and his little brother.  I didn't get a great chance to really investigate because after a minute or so Pa hurried up the stairs to report that the heat wasn't working (I didn't notice, but then again, I'm always wearing a coat) and I felt like I needed to be present at the troubleshooting session that would surely follow the news.

An hour later, a knocking came at the door.  I started barking furiously expecting the knocker to be Mecki or Bastille showing up to end this game of hide and go seek.  Well, it wasn't Mecki or Bastille, but instead a repairman who made his way through the living room, then the kitchen, the dining room, and finally down into the basement to fix the burner.

Great, I thought, another trail to follow!

Boys' Night Out

A couple of weeks ago, Pa and I got to do some quality father/son bonding out east.  Sure, we were actually there because Pa had scheduled a repair man to fix a leak and Ma, Sister, and Aunt B would be joining us a few days later, but until then, we would have a couple of epic boys' nights out.

Here are some highlights from our adventures:

• Joint Investigation:  The morning after he and I arrived out east, Pa accompanied me outside to do a thorough search of the backyard.  Upon setting foot on the grass, I immediately realized that there had been an interloper in my yard.  What it was, I wasn't sure (maybe a bear or a dinosaur or a giant antelope or maybe that stupid cat I cornered a few years ago), but I tracked whatever belong to the scent to the side door.  And do you know what?  Pa was right by my side the entire time; following me as I followed the smell (Pa's nose isn't as good as mine--not to mention, with him walking on two legs, his nose is way too far away from the scent covered ground to have any real success).  He even helped me look for the interloper by searching behind the big bushes that flank the back door.  Sadly, we didn't find anything.
• Deck Repair:  While Pa pulled up damaged planks on our deck and replaced them with brand new ones, I helped by carrying around bits of wood and supervising (obviously).  Pa said that I was especially helpful in that I refrained from falling through any of the holes he created.  I found this a tad insulting, but for the sake of our boys only event, I let it go.  I would have liked to carry around some of Pa's tools as well, but most were too heavy or awkwardly shaped for me to pick up (hey, you try picking up a miter saw with your mouth!).
• Breakfast:  One morning, Pa went out to the local deli to buy breakfast.  When he got home, he called me over and told me that he had a surprise for me.  From his plate, he gave me what he called "deer sausage." Now, I'm certainly no expert on deer (I've only smelled them through the back fence after all), but I am a self-proclaimed connoisseur of food and I'm willing to bet that Pa's "deer sausage" was actually breakfast sausage.  No matter, though.  Breakfast or deer, sausage is sausage and I ate it happily.
• Bruno:   Pa has set the precedent that every time he's around when Bruno (the Boxer pup next door) and I meet at the fence separating our properties he gives us a cookie as a reward for being such good boys.  Well, needless to say Bruno and I agreed, early on, to play Pa for all the cookies we could and made sure to meet at the fence every chance we got.  And do you know what?  Pa fell for the plan nearly every time.  I can't tell you how many cookies Bruno and I ate.  Yum!
• Curfew:  When Ma's around, she insists that I go out at 10pm for my last business trip.  Now this might not sound horrible, except for the fact that I usually call it a night at 8pm.  Think about how you would feel if you were unceremoniously woken up after two hours of sound sleep and forced outside in all types of weather to do business.  Anyway, with Pa and I, there were no 10pm bathroom runs.  I went out around 8pm then slept soundly until morning.

A Scientific Discovery

Recently, scientists proved that dogs, like their two legged human counterparts, use the left hemisphere of their brain to process words and the right hemisphere to process the tone in which those words were delivered.  This means that dogs understand not only what a human says, but how they say it.  Dogs, therefore, understand human language on multiple levels.

To that I say:  "Duh!"

I know when my humans are angry, happy, or sad.  I recognize the high pitched squeal my family uses when I do something good and the "big people voice" they use when I've been naughty.

As for words, my human vocabulary is huge.  It is so huge, in fact, that I have even taken to categorizing my lexicon into two distinct groups:  those words I respond to ("AC," "cookie," and "dinner") and those I tend to purposely ignore ("drop it," "no," and "stop barking at them, they live there").

Allow me to show off my vocabulary further.

Earlier today, Sister and I were hanging out in her air conditioned bedroom; both of us sprawled out on the bed.  While we basked in the coolness, Sister began to tell me about our upcoming Labor Day weekend plans; that we were going out east, that the central air would be on, and that I'd be allowed to repeatedly run up and down the stairs connecting the backyard to the side deck (a favorite pastime of mine).

I listed politely as Sister babbled at me.  Don't get me wrong, I liked everything that she was saying, but I was just too hot to show any emotion.  But then Sister said something important--something that I just had to react to.

"Maybe you'll get to chase some squirrels."

At the mention of squirrels, I woke up from my heat induced stupor, sprang to my feet, and, from the added height of the bed, stared out the window into the backyard, my ears square.

"Some deer too," Sister suggested.

My stance never changed.  I still stared out the window intently, but my ears dropped a little.  I've smelled and barked at deer in the past, but because they were hidden by a wooden fence, I've never actually seen one.  This unknown leaves me a little hesitant about meeting one in person.

Then Sister said the magic word; the word I could never ignore.  She named my archenemy.  "Or bunnies," she casually said.

That was it.  My ears snapped to attention and a low growl work its way out from deep within me.  Words cannot explain how much I hate those stupid little cotton tailed bunnies.

So no, it does not surprise me that humans and dogs interpret language the same way.  Dogs have lived with humans for thousands of years; it's not hard to believe that our faithful two-legged companions would eventually start, from an evolutionary standpoint, learning from us.

The Sweet Smell of Venison

There are lots of smells in this world.  Some are every day smells (squirrels, lizards, and rocks) while others are special occasion smells (brussels sprouts, Christmas trees, and goat slobber).  The strangest smells, however, can only be found out east and I got a good whiff of one particular eastern Long Island smell when Ma, Pa, Sister, Aunt B, and I vacationed there over the holiday weekend.

The smell first struck me when I exited the car upon arrival, but, truth be told, I was too preoccupied with helping everyone carry their stuff into the house and, more importantly, making sure all my bones and toys were where I left them, to really take notice.  It wasn't until later, when Ma and Aunt B took me outside, that I got the chance to investigate the smell.

It only took one whiff for me to know exactly where the smell was coming from:  the yard just beyond the far fence.  I ran across the deck, scurried down the steps (I skipped only the final three steps in an attempt to appease my family--they yell at me when I skip four or more), and bolted across the yard toward the fence, my nose held high in the air.  When I got to the fence, I found myself faced with a major obstacle:  the smell was stronger than it had been up at the house (as I expected...my nose always knows), but I had no way of tracking the smell beyond the six foot wood divide.  Desperate to discover what was hidden behind the fence, I started running up and down its length looking for a missing post to peer through.

It was while frantically pacing back and forth in front of the fence that I suddenly became aware of a loud tapping noise coming from behind me.  I turned toward the noise and discovered that it was Pa and Sister banging on the window.  But they weren't just rapping on the glass.  No, Pa and Sister were also acting really weird.  You see, they were both making strange hand gestures; Sister held her hands up to the side of her head like antlers while Pa made some sort of bounding wave-like traveling motion with his hands.  They also took turns pointing toward the fence.  Weirded out by their antics, I decided to ignore my humans who had obviously lost their minds, and returned to my anxious fence pacing.

Although I had no idea what Pa and Sister's strange gestures meant, Ma apparently did and, after alerting Aunt B that there were deer in the next yard, she quickly ran over to the fence and peered over.

Allow me a moment to mention how truly angry I was at this sudden turn of events.  I did all the hard work--I sniffed the air, I determined from which direction the smell was coming from, I dashed across the yard at break-neck speed while Ma and B leisurely sauntered over, and I ran back and forth looking for a good vantage point--yet Ma simply strolled over and, using her height advantage, was able to get a good look at the deer hanging out on the other side of the fence.  It's just not fair!

Anyway, I'm ashamed to say that the overwhelming smell of deer and the building frustration from my short stature eventually got the better of me and, essentially, short circuited my brain.  Even now I don't remember what happened, but I've been told that I suddenly starting racing around the backyard as fast as my legs could carry me.  At some point, my front legs got tangled with my back legs (hey, you try keeping track of four legs and a tail) and I had no alternative but to skid on my chest for a lap or two (and let me tell you, you haven't seen grass stains until you've gone skidding through the grass on your chest at a high rate of speed).  As though possessed, I weaved through the trees and, on one of my numerous laps, narrowly missing a full on collision with Aunt B.  It was only after jumping on Aunt B in an attempt to steal her gloves, that the fog finally lifted and I became aware of my surroundings.  Sheepishly (and hoping that Pa hadn't seen my faux pas), I scurried back toward the house.

The deer won this round...the next one would be mine!

I just have one question:  What's a deer?