Hot, Hot, Hot

And the Costumes Continue

Last week, according to the big glowing screen in the living room that every in my family seems to worship, over two thirds of the country was under an extreme heat advisory stemming from a multi-day heatwave.  Now, my loyal readers are very much aware of how I feel about hot weather, but for any new additions to my online family, allow me to express them right here and now:

I DO NOT LIKE TO BE HOT!!!!

Did I make myself clear?

Anyway, because it was so hot for so long and because I have a permanent fur coat on (though Pa’s always threatening to give me a puppy cut), my family was nice enough to always leave the air conditioners on for me when they went to work each day.  So, while they were chasing squirrels or making peanut butter for my PB&K as I imagine all humans do when they go to work, I was living the life of leisure basking in air-conditioned comfort.

On Monday, the heat finally broke and by Tuesday morning, the temperature had decreased significantly compared to the previous few days of triple digit temperatures.  Riding the wave of slightly cooler air (or still crazy from the heat), Ma decided that the air conditioner would not be necessary that day.  “It’s supposed to only reach 80 degrees” she told me as she walked out the door.  I merely stared at her with a quizzical look, blinked, then gave her a weak tail wag as if to say: “yeah, sure it is.”

Well, the temperature did reach 80 degrees, then steadily climbed throughout the day to around 90.  And the humidity!  Let’s just say that it had rained heartedly that morning so the air was nice and wet in addition to hot.  So, to summarize, it was sauna-like that day and I was stuck in the house with open windows letting in the hot sticky air and absolutely no way of turning on the air conditioner (damn my lack of opposable thumbs!).  

Well, nine hot and sticky hours later, Ma rolled up to the house in her comfortably air-conditioned car.  I met her at the door (which I rarely do), pushed past her when she opened it, and scurried into the backyard to seek relief (and possibly revenge if I could find a nice flower to crush or pee on). After a quick scan of the yard, I found what I was looking for:  the doggy pool which had filled completely to the brim with rainwater from that morning's storm.  I hot footed it to that pool and climbed in.  And then, I stood there.  

Ma asked if I wanted to do my business.  

I stared at her from within my pool.

Ma asked if I wanted my dinner.  

I stared at her from within my pool

Ma asked if I wanted to say hello to Pa who had just arrived home. 

I stared at her from within my pool.

After a very long time, I finally managed to cool down enough that I was able to leave my pool (plus Ma had admitted the error of her ways and promised to turn the air conditioner back on).   And from that day on, Ma made sure that the air conditioner was left on for me regardless of how hot or cool it was supposed to be.

Dig, Dig, Digging No More

I dig in the snow.

I dig in the doggy pool.

I dig on the carpet.

I dig in the side garden.

I dig in the vegetable garden.

I dig by the cherry tree.

I dig under the forsythia bush (my favorite).

My love of digging has always been a bit of a sore spot between me and my family; a sore spot with some definite mixed signals mixed in.  They have no issue with me digging in the doggy pool and they actually build (and rebuild) snow mountains for me each winter.  But the concept of me digging on the carpet or in the garden is seriously frowned upon.

And oh, has my family tried to discourage my digging in inappropriate places over the years.  They've turned the vegetable garden into a "Land of No" with the assistance of a metal portable fence.  They've blocked my favorite digging spots with flower pots (which I run off with), buckets, garbage can covers, and broken pieces of fence.  They've blocked my access to my favorite carpeted areas with books and chairs.  They've cut back the forsythia to make my digging area less private.  And, as I mentioned in a recent post, they've developed a sixth sense when it comes to reading my mind and can therefore head me off with a stern "no" when I've merely look at a patch of dirt.

Yesterday, however, Ma took an epic maneuver in the ongoing battle between my digging and the welfare of her garden.  First, she filled in my latest hole under the forsythia bush.  Then, she planted four cement pavers right in the middle of that prime digging real estate.

 
Touché, Ma; well played.  But don't think for a minute that this war is over.  I'll come up with a way of reclaiming my favorite digging spot!

Christmas In July

I was born for air conditioning.  I was made for lounging in a 69 degree room while the rest of the world sweltered in 90+ degree heat.  Sadly, however, I was adopted by a family who had limited air conditioning potential in their home.  Sure, I could lounge in the air conditioned bedroom at night when everyone was home and on really hot days the bedroom air conditioner would be turned on full tilt and all extraneous rooms closed off in a pitiful attempt to cool the house while my humans were at work, but other than that, I had to rely on marginally cool hardwood floors and the "rinse, roll in the mud, and repeat" technique associated with the doggy swimming pool.

More Mud!  I Need More Mud!

That is, I had to make do until today.  You see, Christmas came early for me in the form of a living room air conditioner.

Gloriously Cool Air!

From this day forward, whenever there is a sweltering heatwave, you will find me lounging on my end of the couch (conveniently located immediately next to the air conditioner) cool as a cucumber.  All I can say is:  It's about time!

Nice and Cool

Dig, Dig, Dig

"I think I see a new place to dig!"

I consider myself to be an expert on all things digging and hole related.  I love digging holes, I love wallowing in holes, and I even love watching people fill in my holes (because that means I get to re-dig them as soon as that person turns his/her back).  And considering I'm generally not allowed to practice my hobby (for some reason my family does not want me digging up the lawn/garden nor do they particularly enjoy me being covered from nose to tail in mud) my workmanship is pretty impressive.  Consider some of my handiwork from the last couple of weeks.

A Cool, Shady Hole

Forsythia:  A couple of weeks ago I dug this hole under the forsythia bush.  I've used this spot before; it's one of my favorites because the sheer size and density of the bush makes it nearly impossible for my family to hook my collar and drag me out from under it.  I dug this particular hole because a) it was fun (the ground was nice and dry so every sweep of my paw caused a dust cloud to form) and b) Sister was distracted and not paying me the proper amount of attention.

Posing With My Hole

Vegetable Garden:  Recently removed from the "Land of No" list, the area that contains the vegetable garden is a treasure trove of entertaining digging mediums including grass, dirt, and the occasional bunny burrow.  A couple of days ago, I chose the cold damp dirt of the vegetable garden itself.  Now, most of the vegetable plants themselves were removed weeks ago, so sadly there weren't any tomatoes or peppers to nibble on, but that didn't hinder my enjoyment.  My nose got muddy, my paws got muddy, and Sister's pants got muddy when I casually rubbed my snout across her knee.

Scratch Marks on the Rug

Rug:  The inside of the house doesn't offer too many opportunities to dig, but being the creative pup that I am, I've managed to find a few spots.  Over the years I've discovered that the wall to wall carpeting in the upstairs hallway and bedrooms practically beg to be dug at.  And dig I do; I dig in the morning, I dig in the afternoon, I dig in the evening, and I even get up and dig in my sleep (this last one really annoys my family).

Digging in the Doggy Pool

There are a couple of places and times that I am actually allowed to dig (or "dig, dig, dig" as my family calls it).  The problem is, however, that these opportunities are few and far between.  I'm allowed to dig in the doggy pool and on the giant snow mountain my family builds me after every winter storm.  So, basically, I'm only allowed to dig on the hottest days of the year and after a significant snowstorm.  Believe me, that's not a lot of opportunities for a little dog who loves to dig as much as I do.

Security Breach

This was a really bad weekend.  First, Ma and Pa snuck out of the house on Friday night and went out east (where there's central air) without me (they thought sneaking out without their bags and all the paraphernalia they usually transport would fool me...well, it didn't).  Then, to add insult to injury, on Saturday it cracked 90 degrees (which really stinks when you're born with a heavy, though gorgeous, fur coat).

Me and My New Toy!

But I have the best Sister in the world.  She realized how upset I was and tried to make me feel better by letting me nap in the air conditioned comfort of her bedroom, setting up the doggy pool in the back yard, and finally, buying me a new toy (all of which kind of makes me feel bad for waking her up at 7:10 on Saturday morning).  But despite feeling better, these acts of kindness on Sister's part did not take away the sting of Ma and Pa going out east without me.

And speaking of out east, last weekend I discovered a major security breach.

As my loyal readers know, I am the king of security.  I bark when I hear a car door slam, I bark when someone walks by my house, I bark when a neighbor talks too loud, and I bark when I image any of the aforementioned scenarios.  But for some reason, despite playing, drooling, and mooching food off of a guest the night before, when they emerged from the guest room the following morning, I was completely, 100%, do-a-double-take, caught off guard by their sudden appearance.

I know what you're thinking:  "How can you lose track of who is staying in your own house?"  The answer's simple:  I've got a lot on my mind.  Consider the fact that on a normal day I must think about my next meal, who/what I should bark at, and which toy I should rip up next.  And the fact that these security breaches have only occurred out east further proves my point.  Out there I also have to think about interlopers such as bunnies, deer, turtles, and fish falling from the sky.

With all that on my mind, no wonder some odds and ends (and people) slip through!

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!

Behold the Power of Cheese

The good old days!

Another steaming hot day.  Did you know that it's been nearly a year and a half since I've seen snow?  Now if that isn't depressing enough consider this:  A year and a half for humans like my Ma, Pa, or Sister equals to about ten in dog years.  Imagine no snow for ten years when you've been born with a thick (and snazzy) fur coat and a fun-loving personality.

Anyway, realizing my obvious discomfort, Pa, when he came home from work this evening, surprised me by setting up my doggy pool (don't worry--it had been more than an hour since I ate my dinner).  As soon as my pool touched the ground I jumped in it and immediately dedicated my attention to trying to drink all the water as it came out of the hose.  I failed, but I gave it a good try.  I wasn't disappointed by my failure for I had suddenly become aware of a little painted penguin clinging to the bottom of my pool.  Well, he seemed to be mocking me with his ducky inner-tube so I began to dig...and dig...and dig.  I dug my little heart out trying to get that penguin, but he always seemed just out of reach.  It didn't matter though.  Like a dog possessed, I continued to dig.

Suddenly, I heard something--a faint crinkling sound.  I stopped digging for penguins and raised my sopping wet snout in the air.  With a deep sniff I realized what had drawn my attention away from my pool.  Sloshing water behind me, I jumped out of my pool (spraying Pa and Sister--who had recently come outside to cheer me on with penguin quest, with water after a single, and well timed, swish of my tail), hot tailed it down the driveway, jumped up the side steps, and skidded to a halt in front of the side door.  Then I started to bark.

Sister, after a few seconds, caught up with me and asked me what I was 'yapping at' (on a side note, I am not particularly fond of her phraseology in this circumstance).  I barked in response, but apparently she wasn't paying attention because she still had no idea what I was trying to tell her.  Someone understood me though.  From inside the kitchen Ma called out:  "He heard me unwrapping a block of cheddar cheese."

Sands Point

Lately, it's gotten really hot again.  Nighttime isn't so bad--I spend most of it in my Sister's air conditioned room--but the daytime is really tough because, aside from the bedrooms, no other room in the house has air conditioning.  Yeah, I get to play in the doggy pool on really hot days, but sometimes it's not enough.  Now, I've heard tell of a marvelous invention called "central air" and it sounds great to me.  How could it not be?  I mean, the entire house would be cool all the time!  I wonder if my humans ever heard of it?

Anyway, Pa told me this morning that it was my lucky day.  He said that my entire family and I were going to get in the car and drive to a place where I would feel much cooler.  "Whoo hoo!" I thought.  Not only was I going to get out of this heat, but I was also going to go for a car ride (and I know for a fact that the car has air conditioning).  He wouldn't, however, tell me where we were going.

It was really hard, but I waited patiently until it was finally time to leave the house later that afternoon.  We all piled into my Sister's car and we were off.  We drove for a long time, but aside from Pa not allowing me to sit on his lap in the back seat, I really didn't mind because it was nice a cool thanks to the air conditioning.  Eventually, we turned off the main road and onto a driveway where, before long, we pulled up to a little house where Sister stopped the car.   A nice lady came out of the house, declared how handsome I was, and asked if I could have a cookie.  That's all I needed to hear!  I started pushing my way into the front seat of the car, slobbering down Sister's back (she seemed less than amused by this, but then again it was her fault--she should have gotten out of my way).  The really nice lady came back with the cookie and Sister gave it to me while she wiped the slobber off her neck.  Sister then started up the car and we drove a little while longer until we reached a parking lot where we all got out of the car.

Water!

Once out of the car, I breathed in deeply and immediately knew exactly where my family had taken me.  We were at Sands Point!  I love Sands Point and this is why:  They allow dogs to visit all year round, there are lots of hiking trails with interesting smells, there's a beach to walk on (and roll on smelly sea creatures), and best of all...I'm allowed in the water!  Despite the heat, I started pulling my family down the trail that led to the Long Island Sound (they really need to learn to walk faster).  Eventually, we made it to the beach, and after climbing over some rocks and sniffing some seaweed, we made our way down to the water.

Pa trying to get me to swim

Now if you've read my profile, you already know that I'm not a big fan of swimming.  I've done it once before, at Sands Point in fact last year, but I simply do not like it when my feet are no longer touching the ground.  I do, however, love to frolic in the water--running in and out and snapping at the shallow waves which is exactly what I did.  I had so much fun and it was so refreshing!  Pa and Sister tried to get me to swim by luring me deeper and deeper into the water (once even with a piece of cookie), but I just didn't feel like it and kept going back to Ma who kept to shallower waters.  At one point, a lady and her two little girls came over to say hello to me.  The lady was very nice, she scratched my ears and said I was a very nice boy.  The girls were troublesome; they kept saying that they wanted to see me swim.  Despite that, I let them pet my back.

Just cooling off

We played in the water for a long time and when we were done I was really, really tired.  My family declared that we should go back home, but before we did, I rolled around in the sand to take full advantage of that fresh from the sea smell.  Then we got back in the car.  I slept the whole way home!

When we got home, Pa and Ma decided that I needed a bath to get rid of all the salt water on my fur.  I wasn't happy about it, but honestly, I was so tired from the fun I had at Sands Point that I didn't put up a fuss at all.

The Doggy Pool

It's been really hot.  I mean really, really hot.  It's days like these that make me wish I didn't have my gorgeous golden locks.  I know they're very becoming on me, but how would you feel if you had to wear a fur coat in 90 degrees plus heat?  It's not particularly fun let me tell you. 

 

Me in my pool

Yesterday, Sister came up with the perfect way of beating the heat (well, second best...sleeping in the air conditioning will always be number one):  she set up the doggy pool!  I love my doggy pool.  It provides me just enough water to play in yet not enough water that I might actually have to swim (I don't like it when my feet leave the ground).  I also appreciate the fact that my pool doesn't have waves.  The only problem I have is the annoying penguins wearing swimmies that are painted on the bottom.  They're a bit distracting--I try again and again to pull them up but all I get is snoutfuls of water.

Anyway, as soon as Sister pulled my pool out of the garage and put it down on the patio I got excited.  In fact, I was so looking forward to the fun coming my way that I jumped into the pool before Sister could even turn on the water.  When she finally did turn the water on, I started lapping it up as it flowed from the hose.  Now I'm not sure anyone else is aware of this, but I've noticed that water direct from the backyard hose tastes worlds better than any water I find sitting in my water dish (even when there are ice cubes floating in it).  Anyway, aside from liking the taste, it's also my personal goal of someday drinking the water faster than it fills the pool.  I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it.

Trying to catch a penguin

After drinking my fill, I decided to just stand around and let the cool water wash over my tootsies.  It felt really good; really refreshing.  After cooling off a bit I decided that I should have a go at one of those penguins at the bottom of my pool.   I picked out a penguin and furiously started to dig.  Now, for some reason, my humans don't have a problem with me digging in my pool.  I know; it doesn't make sense to me either.  Why is digging in the flower beds so different from digging in the pool?  It really seems to be pretty much the exact same thing to me.  I guess it falls under the category that humans are fickle creatures.  Anyway, I never did catch the penguin.  I did, however, manage to get not only myself soaking wet (which made me feel a little bit cooler), but my Sister as well (she seemed less than pleased for some reason). 

Even clean up was fun!  At the end of the day it was Sister's job to bail out all the water I had failed to slosh out when I was digging for penguins.  I watched with great interest as she used a giant pail to throw the pool's water across the lawn.  "Flying water?" I thought, "that looks like fun!"  I waited patiently for Sister to fill the next bucket and just as she tossed its contents into the air I ran after the airborne water biting at it.  I managed to catch some of the flying water, but mostly I succeeded at getting myself soaking wet again.  Sister and I continued to play our catch the water game until the doggy pool was (sadly) empty.  

Look how cool & happy I am

Obviously, I had a grand time yesterday.  But do you know what the most amazing part of the entire experience was?  I was so preoccupied with my pool that I completely forgot about my obsessive search for the stupid bunny that keeps appearing in our vegetable garden.  It's amazing the power the doggy pool has!