The Games We Play

Chillin' on Two Pillows

Ever since I was a pup, Sister and I would play a game where she would hold a cookie in one of her two clenched fists and I was tasked, when presented with these fists side by side, to pick out which one had the cookie using only my keen nose and my canine intuition.  Comparing the choices, of course, involved a lot of slobber transfer from my drooly jowls to Sister’s hands, but once I made up my mind, I would tap the hand of my choosing with my snout repeatedly (or, in my younger days, slash the attached arm repeatedly with my nails).  Sister would always try to trick me—she’d give me the option of switching hands one last time (Monty Hall’s got nothing on Sister)—but I always stood firm with my decision and most of the time ended up being correct.  “You’d be a great bomb sniffing dog,” Sister once told me, “if only bombs were made of cookies.” 

But that’s an old game, a game that Sister and I have played for years and years.  Recently, I’ve come up with a new game.  A game I play with Pa.

Each morning, after breakfast and my first perimeter search of the day, Pa gives me a beef flavored vitamin pill which I’ve happily scoffed down every day for years and years.  Well lately, I’ve been occasionally snubbing my vitamin, but not with any regularity.  I’ll accept the vitamin on Monday, but snub it on Tuesday and Wednesday.  And on Thursday, I’ll take it again, but spit it out on Friday (after breaking it into dust with my teeth) and so on.  There’s no rhyme or reason to my snubbing (at least my family hasn’t figured it out and I’m not telling), but I find the thrill of keeping my humans guessing is quite invigorating and the peanut butter used to persuade me to eat my vitamin on snub days is pretty nice too.

Me and George

Lookin' Good

There is no such thing as a boring walk.  There’s always...

1. Someone to meet (human and/or canine);
2. Something to sniff (I’m a big fan of corner fences); and/or 
3. Someplace to pull (usually from one side of the street to the other).
   

On Saturday, Sister took me for a walk to the park and, aside from pulling her from one side of the block to the other, I got to meet not one but two new human friends. 

At first, I didn’t realize that Sister and I weren’t alone on the block—I was too busy sniffing every fence post and blade of grass to notice.  I only realized that a man and a woman were walking toward us when Sister pulled me aside onto the apron between the sidewalk and the street to allow the couple to pass us by unobstructed on the sidewalk. 

But pass us by they did not. Instead, they stopped and extended their hands for me to sniff.  Obviously friend and not foe, I leaned in toward both to take advantage of the scratches they seemed so eager to share.  “What’s his name?” the woman asked as I dragged my drooly frothy chin across her black sweater sleeve from wrist to elbow.  Sister, speaking on my behalf because I was too busy enjoying all the attention to respond myself, shared my name, apologized for the drool, and then engaged in a conversation with the couple about what a good boy I am and how I’m just a big softie (luckily there were no other dogs around to hear this admission). 

“How old is he?” the friendly lady with the drool up and down her arm asked. 

“Almost twelve and a half years old,” Sister replied. 

The man and the woman gasped and commented on how handsome and good looking I am. 

What can I say?  I’m the George Clooney of dogs.

 

A Weekend Adventure

Between the pandemic and my two jobs (full time Administrative Assistant for Sister and part time Administrative Assistant for Ma and Pa), I haven’t gotten a lot of vacation time. On top of that, both the spring and fall Dog Days at my estate were cancelled and, while I have gone on more walks lately (and have actually come to enjoy and instigate them), I haven’t gotten the opportunity to meet a lot of new friends on those walks (both the two and four legged variety) as everyone is trying to avoid one another.

But Sister decided last weekend that it was time to take a break from my workaholic ways; it was time for me and my family to have an adventure.

All great adventures, at least for me, start with a car ride and after I was boosted in (I’m a little leery about climbing into the car right now), I paced and panted excitedly throughout the entire trip which was admittedly short, but provided me with enough time to drool on the back of the driver’s headrest and put nose prints on the newly cleaned windows.

After parking the car, Sister let me out of the backseat. I looked around. There was sand on the pavement and the distinct smell of water in the air. I was at the local beach!

Now, I’ve gone to the beach before (some loyal readers might recall my family’s failed attempt to get me to swim), but it’s not one of my usual haunts, so I was super excited to explore.

I pulled Sister all over the beach: up into the fluffy dry sand and down toward the rocky wet sand. I even dipped my toes in the water! And while I did all this, I also managed to produce my longest shoelace drool on record. 

 

There were only two disappointing aspects of the entire adventure. First, Sister did not alert me to the fact that there was a half-eaten fish on the shore that I would have loved to sniff if given the opportunity. The other problem was that no one thought to bring me drinking water. Now, normally, in November, this wouldn’t be too much of a problem—I’ve taken many a November walk where I waited until I got home to get a drink—but it was unseasonably warm (70 degrees) and well, fur coat. But despite secrets and a dry mouth, I persevered and thoroughly enjoyed my outing.

When we got home, Ma brought out a towel to wipe off my feet, a brush to brush the sand from my fur, and a big bowl of water. Well, I was so thirsty at this point that I basically dove into the water. I drank and drank and drank. Then, I stuck my foot in the bowl, dug at it twice, and drank some more. While I drank, Ma tried to wipe off my paws, but at this point it was kind of pointless because I was standing in a pool of drool and water. When I was done drinking, I circled my bowl twice and laid down next to it.

As soon as I got comfortable, my relaxation was immediately disrupted by the sound of my family laughing. I looked up at them wearily not immediately knowing what their problem was, but after a moment I figured it out: my ear was hanging in my water dish.

I considered moving my ear from the water bowl, but ultimately decided that if I wanted to sleep with my ear in my water then that was my prerogative. I was lounging on my deck, in the shade, in a pool of water and drool, and I had a bowl full of water so close that I didn’t even need to get up to get a drink. What else could a pup ask for?

When the Spit Hits the Wall

Quick!  Drop everything and call the newspapers!

I am proud to announce that I have achieved a personal (and perhaps world) record:  I managed to fling spit a full 35 inches up the side of a vertical wall.

I'll pause here a moment to allow for the inevitable applause.

Thank you!  Thank you!

Wait, did I hear someone say "speech"?  Well...okay, if you insist!

It has been a long hard yet rewarding road I've traveled.  I've spent countless hours honing my skill.  I remember back when I was a little pup and first discovered the ability to leave unattractive black drool on unsuspecting pant legs and bedspreads.  I was so proud and my family was so disgusted (little did they know that that was just the tip of the iceberg).  But despite my success, I chose not to stop there.  I set my sights on higher goals and that was when I discovered the joy of leaving my drooly calling card on walls.  Of course, I started small, a few inches at a time, but with hard work and vigilance, I finally managed to reach the epic level I'm at today.  Look at me, I'm a champ!

Summer Vacation 2015

Me on Vacation

A few weeks ago, I spent fourteen days on the North Fork of Long Island vacationing with my family.  During the course of those two weeks, I came to realize that I absolutely love being a dog of leisure.  Don't get me wrong, I love my house, my pillow, and the fact that I have an opportunity each week to bark at the guy who comes around with that noisy shopping cart collecting bottles from the recycling bin, but there are some definite highlights to life out east including central air conditioning inside and a warm sunny deck outside.  But my days out east weren't just about alternating between snoozing in the warm sun and cool air conditioning.  No, they included exciting, tasty, and sometimes unsettling events.

But before I wow you with my vacation highlights, allow me to take a moment to compliment whoever in my family came up with the traveling arrangements for this trip.  You see, Pa and I traveled in one car while Ma, Sister, and the hamster Betsy Ross drove out in a second.  What's so special about taking two cars?  I get the backseat all to myself!  You see, when Sister and I travel in the back seat together, I spend an uncomfortable hour and a half fighting for my fair share of the seat and listening to Sister drone on and on about how she doesn't have enough room or I'm drooling on her.  Also, I spend the entire time fidgeting--I stand up, I sit down, I lie down, I repeat.  But when Sister takes her own car, I get to stretch out across the entire length of the backseat.  And because I have the entire back seat to myself, I remain in the down position for the entire duration of the trip.  Sure, I love the girl, but traveling without her is so much more pleasant than traveling with her.

That said, here are some highlights from my two week summer vacation:

Visiting Greenport:  

Whenever someone suggests taking a drive out to Greenport, I can't help but get excited.  Why?  Because Greenport is such a dog friendly town!  Whenever I go there, I see dozens of dogs strolling around with their owners and nearly every store keeps a bowl of fresh water on its doorstep.

This year, Pa and I decided to hang out at Mitchell Park while Ma and Sister went shopping.  First, we strolled up and down the marina, but after a little while, Pa suggested that we go find a nice shady spot to sit in because it was really kind of getting warm.  But there was a problem with this plan; there aren't many shady spots in that particular park.  After much searching, I finally located a tree and, after dragging Pa to it, I threw myself down onto the cool grass.  Now, if I hadn't been so preoccupied by the blessed relief of shade (I was the one wearing the fur coat after all!), I would have noticed that there was no bench for Pa to sit on.  Always the trouper, Pa sacrificed one for the team and stood in place while I lounged in the grass.

While Pa and I hung out under the shady tree waiting for Ma and Sister, I was visited by a number of little dogs and some overly friendly children.  The children kind of reminded me of my bff Mecki (really hyper and super bouncy).  Working off that concept, I concluded that since Mecki is fond of the hair gel drool treatment I give him each time we meet, then the children would equally enjoy it.  Yep, you guessed it!  I made sure to thoroughly wipe my drooly chin over each and every child.  You should have seen their faces!

Meeting a New Friend

Being so far from home, we generally don't get many surprise visitors out east.  In fact, with the exception of the occasional gardener, air conditioner repairman, or deliveryman, most visitors arrive in the same car as I do and are therefore not really a surprise visitor.  That changed on the second Thursday of vacation.

My family returned home from Riverhead to find their friend Den circling the block looking for the house.  Now, I've never met Den and no one informed me that he was coming, so when I scurried out of the house to greet my family with my Mr. Bill toy clenched in my mouth, I was, let's just say, taken by surprise.  I started barking furiously at Den (with Mr. Bill still in my mouth) while cautiously approaching him.  At first, every time he reached down to pet me I backed away, but eventually I warmed up to him and by the time he was eating the soft pretzel and beer my family offered him, we were best buds.

Baiting the Dogs Next Door

As my loyal readers know, I don't get along particularly well with the dogs next door.  Sure, I used to get along with the dog my family and I affectionately called "Sausage Dog," but his owner was only renting and he left a few months ago.  Now I'm left with the two dogs who bark menacingly at me every time they see me.

Anyway, overall I'm a good boy and don't stoop to their level by barking back at them (I save my barking for important causes such as car doors being slammed in the distance and pedestrians walking by my house).  However, I must admit that I don't deserve a halo and angel wings in this situation either.  You see, whenever the neighbor dogs charge the fence and start barking, I strike one of my signature poses and stand perfectly still in the middle of the yard.  This annoys the dogs to no end and they start barking even more.  Eventually, the neighbors bring their dogs back inside.

My work here is done.

A New Treat
 
One evening after dinner, my entire family and I went outside into the backyard and set up in a circle around the fire pit.  Once the fire was good and strong (Pa was in charge of making sure that I didn't set my tail on fire), Sister went inside and got a bag of white fluffy things (they called them marshmallows) and three incredibly long sticks.  The sticks caught my eye first since one of my favorite hobbies is making large sticks into smaller sticks and I couldn't help but wonder how it was that these three sticks had escaped my detection inside the house.  After a couple of minutes, however, I came to realize that the sticks were not the highlight of the event--the marshmallows were.  Realizing that I had never had one before, Sister suggested that I be given my very own toasted marshmallow, but the idea was scrapped because apparently soft sticky marshmallows and a handsome furry face is not a great combination.  Instead, I was given a raw marshmallow.  It was delicious!

A Dental Extraction

My loyal readers will recall the time I accidentally bit Pa while he attempted to retrieve a chewy-bone from the back of my mouth (for those who don't remember, the post is here).  Since then, my family has been, understandably, a bit hesitant about going in after something I'm chomping on (and that's fine by me...I'm personally still traumatized by the events of that day).  At one point during this vacation, however, Sister had to risk her fingers when I got a piece of blue chewy bone lodged between my bottom front teeth.

At first, Sister went for a frontal attack:  She walked right up to me, grabbed hold of my head, pried up my lip, and tried to grab the offending piece of blue plastic with her fingers.  I'm proud to say I fought her the entire time--shaking my head and eventually walking away.  Undeterred, Sister tried a different (and very sneaky) approach:  She waited until I was fast asleep, grabbed and pried back my lip, and, while I was still groggy and just waking up, managed to pinch and pry the blue plastic out from between my teeth.  Ultimately, it was a win-win situation for Sister and me.  I received a cookie for my troubles and Sister managed to walk away with all her fingers.

When Bugs Attack

For whatever reason, the bugs were particularly active during the two weeks I was out east.  The result was not one but two bug attacks! 

Attack Bee!

• Attack Number 1:  There I was lounging on the deck, minding my own business, when all of a sudden a giant bumble bee made a, pardon the pun, bee line from the hydrangea bushes framing the deck to the back of my head.  Now, I know it might sound odd, but I could actually feel when that bee landed on me and I immediately started straining my neck, trying to reach and, ultimately eat, the unwanted passenger.  Ma and Pa also saw the bee land on me and they quickly jumped up from their seats and shooed it away before I could extract it myself.  Of course, one might question why a bee would mistake me for a flower.  Not me.  I know exactly why.  It's because of the stinky flowery shampoo Ma insists on washing me with.

• Attack Number 2:  Later in the week, Ma, Sister, and I were lounging in the backyard.  All of a sudden, a bird came shooting out of the sky and a loud squawking sound echoed from underneath Ma's seat.  Ma, concerned that a baby bird had just fallen out of the tree, jumped up and grabbed hold of my collar.  Sister, hearing the squawking, struggled to get out of her folding chair (the built in canopy folded down in front of her face when she raised the chair from its reclining position).  And me?  Well, I jumped up and, immediately realizing where the sound was coming from, struggled against Ma's grip and inched my way toward her chair.  Sister, finally beating her chair into submission, managed to make her way to Ma's chair and discovered that the squawking creature was not a baby bird but a katydid.  After much screaming, pleading, and promises of cookies, Ma and Sister wrestled me into the house and sent Pa outside to deal with the bug (which he tossed over the neighbor's fence).

Water Water Everywhere:

When I'm lounging on my deck in the morning, I like to have a nice bowl of water nearby.  Of course, the top two reasons why I like a bowl of water nearby are for when I'm thirsty and when I need a quick slobbery chin to drag across someone's pant leg.  A third reason is that I like to dunk my paws in the water from time to time to cool off.  This poses a problem, however.  After a couple of stokes of my paw, my bowl is usually completely empty and I'm suddenly dependent upon whoever is outside with me to notice that my bowl is void of water and refill it for me.

Ma, however, came up with a great solution.  While in Greenport, she bought me a 5.5 quart water bowl.  Now I can dig in my bowl and blow proper bubbles when I submerge my snout under the water line.

Thanks Ma! 

Kindling:

On the deck, my family keeps a pile of split logs for fires in the fireplace.  Because we're only out there part of the week, the number of fires we light are rather limited.  As a result, the wood sits there on the deck day in and day out and the only changes that occur to the collection is when a dried out tree branch falls in the backyard and someone adds it to the pile as kindling.  Well, on this vacation, I decided to claim the wood pile for my own.

You see, normally, I have to search out my own sticks to gnaw on.  In a big backyard like the one out east, this can be a daunting task.  But with a pile of sticks just sitting there on the deck, how can I possibly pass up the opportunity to help myself whenever I pass by?  I mean, it's like a kindling buffet!  Eventually, everyone caught on to my plan and started warning me to leave the pile alone every time I sauntered over to it, but I did manage to grab a couple of sticks and scurry off into the backyard with them (where I turned them into smaller kindling).

Kayaking:

Ma and Pa Kayaking

Throughout the vacation, my family spoke repeatedly of renting a kayak and each time they did, I nearly broke out in a cold sweat.  Why?  Think about it.  In every television show that features videos of amazing dogs doing amazing things, there is always at least one video of a dog standing calmly at the helm of a canoe or surf board while his owner sits or stand behind him.  Did my family expect me to do the same thing?  Don't they realize I dislike becoming buoyant in water?

Luckily, I was not invited on this excursion.  All I can say is, better them than me!

My Aunt B

Aunt B and I have had a very special relationship ever since I first came to live with my family.

It started with her rushing over to meet me when my family brought me home (I knew we were going to get on famously when she started gushing about how cute I was).  As 'Nanny B' she would check in on me during the day when my family was at work and taught me how to roll over on command.  She even rushed to my aid (and Sister's as well) when I tore off my first toenail at six months old (not only did she drive me to the vet, she also helped clean up the blood that had splattered all over the floor and walls).

Of course, over the years, we've had some disagreements.  You see, she and I have very different thoughts regarding drool.  She doesn't want me to drag my sopping wet chin across her nice clean pant legs; leaving "slug trails" in my wake.  I, on the other paw, see "slug trails" as a sign of affection (but I would like the record to show that I did make some attempt at reaching her half way by giving her a homemade "Sham-Drool" one Christmas and I swear, when I spent the rest of the day trying to steal it back, I was only doing so so that I could wipe my mouth and not because I wanted to rip off each individually glued on "Sham-Drool" letter that Sister had so carefully cut out of felt and glued on).  But despite our differences in opinion, Aunt B and I get along great.  So great, in fact, that a couple of days ago, when she and Sister were out shopping, Aunt B bought me a new toy--a bright orange monkey named George.

George and Me

I love my monkey toy.  I love him so much that he and I have pretty much been inseparable over the last two days (I even managed to sneak him outside this morning though Pa eventually took him away because he didn't want George to get all wet in the snow).  And speaking of getting wet, George is extremely absorbent; he's already seeped up three times his weight in drool (hey, that's what happens when you carry a toy around in your mouth all day).  Even more surprising, however, is that, despite having to be reminded repeatedly not to gnaw off his ears or tail, George is still in one piece and has not required a trip to the dreaded toy hospital.

So thank you Aunt B for buying me this awesome toy and hopefully it will still be in one piece the next time you come over (though I can't guarantee it)!

Breed Standards

Sister said something really insulting to me today.  She said that there are times that I am a disgrace to my breed.

Needless to say, I was shocked (and a little bit hurt...I might have to chew up another pair of her shoes later today).  How could I be a disgrace to my breed when I can...

• effortlessly strike a show dog quality pose (especially impressive when I face into a gentle breeze).
• execute a whole host of tricks from adorable ("say your prayers" in which I put my head down on my paws) to humorous ("BANG!" in which I drop to the ground and play dead) to agility driven ("eights" in which I do figure eights between someone's legs).
• make someone laugh with my zany antics and fun loving attitude.
• comfort someone who is having a bad day by offering them my belly to rub.
• stun someone with my devilishly handsome good looks (sparkling brown eyes, shimmering gold coat, and dimples--actual dimples--when I smile).

Sister couldn't help but agree that, in many, ways I am a perfect example of my breed, however, she continued to insist that her previous statement was still valid.  And to prove its validity, she showed me the following picture:

Okay, fine, I admit it--all the dimples, tricks, and poses in the world wouldn't be able to negate the fact that I had a giant string of drool wrapped around my snout.  So much for class.

Ping-Pong

Welcome to my first post of the new year.  Hopefully 2015 will be filled with lots of belly rubs, squeaky toys galore, a limited number of funny looking outfits to wear, and a boatload of yummy treats.  And speaking of yummy treats, I'd like to give a shout out to Ralphie's mom who gave me some seriously delicious homemade cookies (my family was so impressed with how good they smelled that I'm afraid I might have to keep a careful watch over them to make sure they don't take to sampling).

And now, on to my story.

New Year's Eve ended with a bang in my house.  Just hours before the big shiny tennis ball dropped in Times Square marking the start of 2015, I was invited into the basement Land of No to partake in my family's New Year's Eve tradition:  a rousing game of ping-pong. 

Truth be told, I wasn't very interested in the whole ping-pong game experience when I first climbed down the stairs that evening.  After all, I suddenly had full access to a rarely explored Land of No and needed to devote all my time and energy investigating every nook and cranny.  But, after checking out all the storage boxes filled with toys, house wares, and papers, after barking at a counter top on which a supply of squeaky bones were stored, and after being unceremoniously tossed out of the laundry room for trying to steal some dirty socks, I was finally able to devote my full attention to the game.

First, I dedicated myself to learning the rules of the game.  I did this by resting my slobbery chin on the playing table and watching while Pa and Sister batted a tiny ball back and forth to each other using paddles.  Try as I might, I must admit that I didn't really get the point of the game.  It seemed to me to be a modified version of playing fetch which I don't get the point of either (people trying to put as much distance between themselves and a ball only to expect it to be returned to them--if you wanted the ball that bad, why did you throw/bat it away?).

Bored with my court side view, I decided to try my hand at the game itself.  But which team should I join--Ma's, Pa's, or Sister's (they were taking turns playing one-on-one)?  I circled the court a couple of times and decided that the best team for me was all teams.  As a result, I spent the next couple of rounds playing doubles with all players--being careful to stand directly between the player and the court.  And let me tell you, my teammates were always very pleased with my assistance.

It was a missed return that introduced me to another thrilling aspect of the game of ping-pong.  There I was, helping my teammate kick butt, when the small white ball went whizzing past my head.   Now, as I mentioned earlier, I'm not a fan of playing fetch, but this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.  Skidding on the tile floor and slowed down by the back and forth hip checking between myself and my teammate (who apparently had the same idea I had), I made a bee line for the escaped ball and scooped it up in my mouth.  I was just about to bite down through the relatively thin plastic, when my entire family pounced on me and began to pry open my mouth.  I was no match for them.  I relinquished the slippery slobbery (and intact) ball into Pa's hand.  Over the course of the evening, I got hold of the ball a few more times, but, sadly, I was never given enough time to thoroughly destroy, I mean, investigate it.

When the game was over, the ball and the paddles were put away (I tried to grab the paddle out of Sister's hand, but apparently she can read my mind and moved it away before I got the chance), I was escorted back upstairs, and the baby gate blocking me from the basement was returned to its spot.

The Land of No was once more the Land of No. 

Halloween 2013

Trick or Treat!

Happy Halloween to all my two and four legged friends!

I had a very busy day today.  You see, in addition to keeping an eye on Ma and Sister who both took the day off from work (and believe me, keeping them out of trouble is a full time job) I...

• stole and punctured Sister's witch hat.
• shredded a pumpkin place mat.
• raced Sister for a runaway Gobstopper (Sister got to it first, but only because she actually saw where the candy landed--I only heard it bounce).
• barked at all the little ghosts and goblins who came begging at my door for candy but didn't offer me a single belly rub in return (some people can be so rude!).
• spit all over the front storm door while barking at all the little ghosts and goblins who came begging at my door for candy but didn't offer me one single solitary belly rub in return (can you tell I'm insulted?).

But that's not all.  At Sister's insistence, I also posed for a few Halloween pictures (and let me tell you, Sister is lucky I'm such a good sport--I hate dressing up, yet I always humor her just long enough for her to snap a few pictures).  Here are a few of them:

And while I might be good sport, Sister needs to learn the concept of quitting while one's ahead because...well...this happens:

RUN!!!!

BBQ

Yesterday was an awesome day.  Yesterday I was invited to my very first BBQ/playdate.

My adventure started off with me refusing to get into Sister's car.  There was really no reason why I didn't want to cooperate.  I guess I just wanted to be difficult.  Anyway, after much pleading, a few belly rubs, and some assistance from Pa, I jumped into the car and set myself down directly behind Sister and proceeded to drool and pant loudly in her ear while she drove away.

Just when I was starting to run out of drool (yes, it can happen), Sister pulled over, got out of the car, and let me out as well.  As soon as my feet touched the ground I started looking around for familiar sights, but I saw nothing that I recognized.  Then, all of a sudden, I heard it:  the sharp bark of my bff Mecki.  I was at Mecki's house!  Dragging Sister and all of her bags behind me (Sister just can't seem to pack lightly), I bolted toward Mecki's backyard.

Once behind the gate I:

Snout to Snout with Mecki

• Ran around like a crazy dog chasing and being chased by Mecki.
• Ate about half of the cookie that Karin gave me (Mecki came by later to eat the pieces I left behind).
• Stuck my snout in a bucket of water in search of Karin's fish, Mr. Freckles (he was shy and didn't say hello to me).
• Snacked on some grass.
• Wet on Karin's cucumber plant.

Just as I was starting to get worn out (Mecki has unlimited energy...I honestly don't think he ever gets tired), I heard a noise coming from the gate.  It was Joan, the lady known for carrying around baby carrots for good little puppies.  After collecting a sufficient amount of pets from Joan, Mecki and I spent a good ten minutes mooching carrots from her (I slobbered on her in thanks).  I like Joan a lot, and not just because she gave me carrots; she also repeatedly complemented me on my gorgeous eyelashes (it is always nice when someone notices and comments on your devilishly good looks).

Mecki Wants to Play...I Want to Nap

The rest of the evening consisted of Mecki and I barking hysterically at the neighbors (both of the two and four legged varieties) while Karin, Joan, Mecki's dad Andre, and my Sister tried to have a conversation.  Then Mecki and I chased each other around the backyard for a time.  Eventually, I got tired, but Mecki didn't, so I had to give him a few good paws across the side of the head to make him stop (he didn't get the hint).

Now, I've debated long and hard on whether or not I should tell you, my loyal readers, the next part of my adventure.  You see, it was really kind of alarming and embarrassing.  When it first happened, I immediately thought that I should simply pretend that it never occurred.  In the hours since, however, I've decided that I should tell my story so that other dogs might learn from my mistake.

Well, here it goes:

It was time to go home and Karin and Mecki walked Sister and I out to the car.  Sister opened the door and gave me the command "up and in."  Like earlier, I refused to get into the car and flopped down like an 80lb rag doll (I witnessed Mecki do the same thing a few minutes earlier...he's quite good at it) and rolled over to show my belly.  Sister begged and pleaded with me to get up then tried enticing me into the car with cookies, but I refused to budge.  After about ten minutes, Sister managed to trick me into standing and lifted my front end up in an attempt to "walk" me into the car.  This I found disturbing, but what was to come was even worse.  Suddenly, my back legs left the ground too; Karin had picked me up by my back end (and I thought you were cool, Karin).  So, in short, Sister and Karin pick me up and, together, tossed me into the back seat of the car before slamming the door behind me.  Sheepishly, I stretched out on the seat and slept the entire way home (truth be told, I was kind of hoping that that last part was a dream...turns out it wasn't).  So the moral of this story:  When Sister says get in the car...get in the car.

Keeping an Eye on Mecki

It goes without saying that I slept very well last night (Mecki, on the other hand according to Karin, was not at all sleepy).

My 4th Birthday!

The Birthday Boy!

Today’s my 4th birthday and so far it has been awesome! The day isn’t even over yet and I’ve already been taken on an adventure, been fawned upon by my admirers, and been given more presents than I could ever expect.

My "Replacement"

The day started first thing this morning when Sister, who is desperately trying to make up for the fact that she brought home a ‘replacement me’ from the city yesterday (see picture on right), asked if I wanted to go for a ride. “Of course I do,” I thought, wagging my tail with excitement as Sister grabbed my traveling T-shirt and a bag of cookies. With my collars and shirt on (which was a little annoying considering how it’s been pushing 85 degrees these last two days), I burst from the house and ran to the front gate. It was then that I realized that Ma and Pa had taken their cars to work which meant that the only car left was Sister’s—you know, the one I’m not allowed in. Anyway, I glanced up at Sister with a warning “you don’t expect me to walk in this heat, right?” look. “Don’t worry,” she said, “we’re taking the car!”

At first I was a bit hesitant to get in the car. Despite being given the go ahead, I figured that Sister probably would be less than thrilled if I drooled all over her dashboard. A cookie chucked into the front seat, however, made me forget all my worries and soon we were off (after moving Sister’s rear view mirror with my head and causing the spring loaded sunglass compartment to pop open).

The Library was great. I collected pets and complements on my appearance and temperament from Karin (my bff Mecki’s mom), both Dianes, Shana, Elaine, Theresa, Lori, Rita (Brandy and Ralphie’s mom), Mary, Al, Vito, and Gary. Then Mary brought me a big bowl of water which I happy drank (sadly, Sister insisted on wiping my chin after I finished drinking so that I wouldn’t slobber on everyone too much—doesn’t she understand slobbering is my way of showing affection?). And if getting all the pets in the world wasn’t enough, I realized very early on that the Library was air conditioned! No wonder Sister spends all day there!

After saying our goodbyes, Sister and I headed home which was okay by me because I was exhausted. Nap time was calling my name and I was eager to respond.  

Mini Mecki

Real Mecki

A few hours later, after I got in a nap and Sister visited Old Westbury Gardens and picked up lunch, Sister took me outside and told me it was time to open my first birthday present. From a plastic bag, Sister first removed a greeting card with a picture of a very majestic (though not nearly as majestic as me) Golden Retriever. “This is from your bff,” Sister explained and I wagged my tail with excitement (Mecki always gives the best gifts). Next she pulled a box of cookies out of the bag. I stood on my hind legs to get a better view as she pried the box open and gave me one (on a side note, I would have done a much faster job opening the box and would have eaten a lot more cookies if she let me handle it). Anyway, the cookie was very tasty! Then Sister pulled one final thing out of the bag. It was a brand new Mini Mecki toy and, what made this Mini Mecki better than last year’s Mini Mecki is that this one smelled like my bff too. “Mecki rolled on it,” Sister explained. No wonder it smelled like him!

My New Toy

The Fan, Mini Mecki, & I

Anyway, with my Mini Mecki clenched in my mouth, I scurried into the backyard and flopped down in a nice shady spot to play. And boy did I play! Even with the oppressive heat, I managed to gnaw on the toy, flip it up in the air, drag it through the dirt, and roll on my back while holding it over my head with my paws. I had so much fun! But, it was kind of hot outside so, after a little while, Sister suggested that I take my new toy inside the house. I happily complied and once inside I discovered that Sister had set up a fan in the living room (I really wish she had dragged the window air conditioner up from the basement instead, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers). Anyway, I scurried into the room and threw myself and my toy down in front of the fan.

Sister says there are more presents to come, but I have to wait until later which is fine by me because I’m still having a lot of fun with my Mini Mecki. Everyday should be my birthday!

Thanks Mecki!

Fun At The Dog's Expense

My family is at it again; they have discovered two additional ways to make me look foolish and they are taking full advantage of it.  Boy, are they lucky that I’m such a good natured and well behaved dog, for no other dog of lesser integrity would tolerate it.

How My Family Makes Me Look Like A Fool, Part I:  Large Jowls and Tiny Candies

It is no secret that I have very large, and often drooly, jowls.  The sad fact of the matter is, I have spent a fair portion of my life listening to my family joke about the fact that I need a lip-tuck to reign in my lips and having them run after me with paper towels to wring my jowls out after getting a drink of water.  Hurtful, right?  Anyway, a couple of days ago, Ma dropped a mini M&M on the floor.  Needless to say, I pounced on it.  Yeah, I know chocolate isn't good for dogs, but it was such a tiny piece of chocolate I didn't think it would hurt.  Well, I was wrong.  It did hurt, but not my tummy.  No, it hurt my pride.  You see, I had a devil of a time trying to swallow that little piece of candy because it kept getting lost in my jowls and falling back out onto the floor.  I must have struggled for a good five minutes before I finally managed to swallow it.  Ma, Pa, and Sister laughed at me the entire time.

How My Family Makes Me Look Like A Fool, Part II:  Ticklish Spots

I have a ticklish spot.  I know, that's not all that strange; many dogs have ticklish spots especially on their bellies.  How many times, after all, have you rubbed a dog's belly only to have his leg start moving as though he's scratching an itch?  (By the way, don't stop scratching his belly just because he's got a ticklish spot...just pick a different spot and continue on).  My ticklish spot, however, is not located on my belly.  No, my ticklish spot is located on the right side of my snout.  Whenever someone rubs my snout, my lip curls, I show my teeth, and, most embarrassing of all, I start sneezing.  Now, some of my loyal readers might have gasped just now.  Rigby, the debonair Golden Retriever with the statuesque stance of a model and a jovial and fun loving spirit, showed his teeth?  Yes, I show my teeth, but not in a mean or menacing sort of way.  Yeah, I'm annoyed at the way my family laughs at me while I'm sneezing and snarling (even Pa laughs and he and I are supposed to be buds) and yeah, I really wish Sister wouldn't take videos of me snarling (I refused to give in to her entirely and managed to yawn rather than sneeze when she recorded me), but I would never snarl at them threateningly.  I'm simply not that kind of dog.

So there you go, two addition examples of how my family is actively seeking out ways of making me look foolish.  It's okay though.  I've been extracting my revenge the last couple of days by barking hysterically at even the smallest of sounds.  Thus far, I've barked at car doors closing, the oil burner starting up, and Sister putting a book down on the table.  I think my family will agree:  Once I put my mind to something, I give it my all.

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.