Vacation

Greetings from a devilishly handsome pup who recently returned from a thirteen day excursion to sunny eastern Long Island; a land of big back yards, interesting smells, and, most importantly, central air coupled with cool floors.

 

 

Introducing Betsy Ross!

Yep, that’s right, I was on vacation, and it was great from its very first minutes. You see, my family took two cars out east: Pa and I drove out in his car while Ma, Sister, and the newest hamster Betsy Ross took Sister’s car. This is my favorite driving arrangement—it means that I don’t have to share the backseat with Sister (nothing against the girl, but I think her continued insistence that she is allotted a full one third of the backseat can only be described as unreasonable).

But as wonderful as the ride was, it paled in comparison to the fun that was to come over the next week and a half. Here’s some of the stuff I did:

• I stole a toy sword from the little boy who lives next door. Now, before anyone thinks me a brute, allow me to explain that the sword was on my side of the fence so, legally, it was mine. Anyway, I grabbed hold of the sword by its handle and ran around the backyard with Sister in hot pursuit (I think she thought that I might try to threaten a squirrel with it—not a bad idea!). After a couple of loops around the backyard, I found a nice cool spot on the grass, plopped down, and proceeded to gnaw on the sword’s handle. Sister caught up with me shortly thereafter and took the sword away from me. She then threw the sword back over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
• I defended my turf against the exterminator…wearing a bee suit. I won’t lie, the bee suit threw me at first, but I quickly recovered and barked at him both with and without a tennis ball in my mouth (I am truly gifted when it comes to barking...my family doesn’t call me a “barky boy” for nothing). 
• I tried my hand at old fashioned letter writing by sending a postcard to my friends Mecki, Bastille, and Ralphie (the problem with writing postcards is that they don’t allow for random pictures to be inserted into the text for no apparent reason). 

  

  See?!  Random is Good!

• I bunked noses with “Sausage Dog” who lives next door (I was also barked at—rather unpleasantly—by the other two dogs living next door, but I didn’t let that bother me). 
• I found a smelly chunk of fish in the backyard and, while Pa and Sister wouldn’t let me eat it, I did get a few licks in before anyone realized it was there. This marks the second time that a fish was discovered in my backyard. The first time happened a few weeks ago when Pa discovered an entire fish lying in the grass (talk about unseasonable weather!). I’m hoping the next piece of fish comes with tartar sauce and lemon. 
• I added a new variation the daily squeaky bone/squeaky football game that I play with Pa, Ma, and Sister. 
1. My playmate throws my squeaker toy as far across the yard as he can (Pa is very good at this step—he throws it very far; Sister isn’t so good, in fact, she nearly clocked me a couple of times when she accidentally threw my toy downward rather than outward).
2. I sprint after the toy, grab it in my mouth, take two steps, then throw myself down into the grass to chew on the squeaker. 
3. My playmate, who by this time has walked the entire length of the yard to my current location, tries to grab my toy, but I get up and run away, my toy clenched firmly in my mouth. 
4. And here’s the new addition to the game: I run toward the house, gallop up the ten steps onto the porch, and sit down patiently at the side door as my playmate trudges across the yard and up the stairs after me. Upon getting the toy from me, my playmate then chucks it back into the yard, and makes his way down the steps and back into the yard. 
5. Repeat steps two through four over and over and over again (and let me tell you, the look on my playmate’s face as he climbs the stairs for the sixth time is priceless). 

A Sample of My Handiwork

• I took a large branch that fell from one of the trees in the backyard and turned it into a pile of smaller branches. Now, if Ma hadn’t taken those smaller branches away from me when she did, I would have turned them into even smaller sticks and, eventually, landscaping chips.

But what was the absolute, number one highlight of the entire vacation (aside from cool floor tiles and central air I spoke of earlier)? Paws down, it was my trip to the beach.

My Beach

The day started extremely early and with a flourish of activity. Everyone was up: Ma, Pa, and, oddly enough, Sister who usually doesn’t make an appearance until much later in the morning (she shares my love for sleeping late). But even more peculiar (and distressing) was the fact that, despite everyone being up and about, no one was showing any sign of getting me my breakfast. And so, with an empty stomach, Ma, Pa, Sister, and I piled into Pa’s car and pulled out of the driveway. A few short blocks later, Pa parked the car and we all got out. As soon as I got a whiff of the cool bay breeze I knew where we were and immediately started pulling Pa in the direction of the beach.

Pa and Me

Up and down the beach I ran, kicking up sand as I went. Occasionally, I’d run a little too fast and a little too far and come to a quick halt when I ran out of leash (Pa, restricted by the fact that he has only has two legs, couldn’t keep up with me and my four legs), but even that didn’t slow me down—I’d just go right back to running. Then, all of a sudden, I got an idea. Why not run into the water?

Now, I’ve been to this beach before, but when I was there last it was winter time (there was snow on the ground) and I was not allowed to play in the water because Ma said it was too cold (though I did disobey her by running, full force, toward the water to dip my nose into the freezing cold surf—it was a less than pleasant experience).

Anyway, this time, no one stopped me from running into the water. In fact, everyone came in after me; even Ma (though not as deep as me). And speaking of deep water—I waded all the way in until the water was up to the middle of my chest. Pa and Sister tried to get me to go in further; tried to get me to swim, but, as my loyal readers know from my profile bio, I don’t like to swim (or, more precisely, float).

 

Water in My Ears

So in and out of the water I ran, snapping at the waves, sniffing the seaweed, skidding down the dunes, and occasionally, taking a breather by lying on the warm sandy beach or in the cool shallow water. And as exhausted as I was when Pa said it was time to go home, I really wanted to stay (it didn’t help that I was told that there was a bath waiting for me when I got home).

Needless to say, I slept well that afternoon.

Of course, there were a handful of places that my family went where I was not allowed to join them (why certain establishments feel the need to forbid dogs—especially sophisticated, world famous bloggers such as myself—from entering their establishments will never make sense to me). Overall, I was okay with this arrangement; we all need some time to ourselves (it’s exhausting to keep track of Pa, Ma, and Sister), not to mention, I’d happily exchange a walk through Greenport on a 90 degree day for barking at the dogs next door from within my air conditioned house.

There was, however, one place I would have liked to have gone with my family: the aquarium. Why? Because, according to Sister, a relative of Mecki’s baby brother Bastille was there. You see, Mecki has repeatedly likened his new baby brother to a piranha because he’s all teeth. And what did Sister see at the aquarium?

Is it a piranha or is it Bastille?

So, overall, it was a great vacation. I played, I barked, I (nearly) floated, I napped, I stole, I smelled stinky things, and I lounged in air conditioned comfort. I’m home now, with my extensive collection of tennis balls, plush toys misshapen from multiple surgeries and amputations (I missed you Nuclear Bunny), and a herd of bunnies in the backyard who, I’m sure, have become quite cocky in my absence.

Whew...I think I'm going to need another vacation real soon!

Greetings from Eastern Long Island!

Happy Mother's Day

I love holidays.  Who wouldn’t?  Holidays come with the guarantee that at least one of three things will happen.  Number one, people will come over to pet the dog (can’t beat that!).  Number two, presents wrapped in brightly colored paper will be exchanged (the paper, of course, will be shredded by the dog).  Number three, tasty food will be made and hopefully shared (or stolen) by the dog.  Needless to say, it’s great to be the dog!  Well, yesterday was Mother’s Day and this holiday arrived with two of the three aforementioned promises.

Ma's Mother's Day gift

First, there were presents.  I was really excited about this part of the day because I remembered that Pa had helped me to pick out the perfect gift for Ma: a big stuffed rabbit with long ears, multiple squeakers, and a pink tongue that stuck out.  Adding to the enjoyment of the gift was the addition of the colorful paper Pa had wrapped it in (wrapping gifts isn’t my forte…tissue and wrapping paper gets stuck on my tongue).  As soon as Ma opened the present I quickly snatched it (plus a little wrapping paper) from her hands.  I knew that it was my responsibility to show her how to properly play with this new gift (it’s not like it came with instructions or anything).   I showed her how to shake the toy while running, I showed her how to roll on her back and chew on the squeaker, and finally I showed her how to let other people check out the toy without actually letting them touch it (you look with your eyes not with your hands after all).  After some time, and much consideration, I determined that Ma wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility of playing with such a cool toy so I decided to hold onto it for the rest of the day.

Later, Pa started making dinner.  At first, nothing seemed special; he started the barbeque and took some stuff out of the refrigerator.   Then he took a strange shaped package from the fridge.  It smelled really good and looked really weird.  It kind of looked like a giant hand but it smelled like fish.  Pa told me that it was crab or the fish half of fishsteak (known to the humans as surf ‘n turf).  I followed that crab everywhere:  I lay on the floor by the kitchen counter and glared lovingly up at it, I followed it and Pa to the grill where it cooked and I drooled, and I took my place on the floor next to Ma’s chair when the cooked crab was placed on the table.  And then I waited.  As the minutes passed I became more and more depressed.  How could my humans eat such tasty smelling food and not share it with the cute little dog with big brown eyes—especially after I devoted so much of my time to teaching Ma how to play with that really cool rabbit toy?  “Come on,” I thought, “what’s one little leg?”  Just as I was about to give up all hope, Pa leaned down and gave me a piece of crab.  It was so tasty and that was even without butter!

Ahh…what a holiday!