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.

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

Bruno

I have to admit it.  Bruno, the Boxer puppy who recently moved in next door, is a rather cool dude.  Sure, I was a bit skeptical at first--remember when I was way more interested in playing with his squeaky toys than with him? --and I may have snickered a little that weekend he showed up at the fence wearing the cone of shame, but since then, he's grown up to be not only a good guy, but a great accomplice.

But before I describe our shenanigans, allow me first to describe how we got to be such good friends. 

After our backyard play date a few months ago, the only interactions I had with Bruno were barking matches; we'd either stand face to face barking or we'd run up and down the fence barking.  This troubled my family.  We were very loud and there was a fear that one or both of us might get hurt while we chased each other up and down the fence (Bruno was running between bushes while I had to dodge trees and vole holes).

But then one day, Pa declared that he had had enough; he was going to end our barking and running for good.  First, he waited for Bruno's barking howl.  After confirming that Bruno was indeed barking from his usual spot at the fence and not screaming from inside the house, Pa opened the back door and released me into the yard.  Goaded by the barking, I made a bee line for the fence shouting out my own comments and Bruno and I immediately started running up and down the fence in our customary fashion.  All of a sudden, however, we both stopped dead in our tracks.  Pa was standing by the fence and he had a handful of cookies in his hand. 

Both Bruno and I scurried over to Pa.  First, he made us sit (well, I, being a well-trained dog, sat...Bruno kind of bounced around in a puppy like fashion), then he alternated between feeding us cookies and scratching our heads. 

And that was it.  Pa had successfully established a pack--a food driven pack.  Bruno and I haven't had a full out barking match since then.  Sure, if Bruno calls from the fence and I'm inside, I'll bark out a hello, but now we are able to bunk noses through the fence without incident.

Which leads to our alliance. 

Now that we're buds, Bruno and I work together to coerce cookies out of our humans.  After all, two sets of sad brown eyes begging for a treat are harder to deny a cookie to than one pair.  Our success rate depends on who we're working with.  Pa is always good for a cookie while Sister is hit or miss.  Ma, on the other paw, is much stingier. 

We also cover for each other.  A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that there was a strange odor coming from the tall dense bushes underneath the dining room windows.  Every time I went to investigate, however, I was shooed away by my humans who were always warning me about bugs, killer turtles, and the dangers of coming across that big fat cat that lives across the street.  Needless to say, I was frustrated.  How can I be Head of Security when I'm not allowed to do a thorough check of my own property?  And that's when Bruno stepped in.  One day, while Ma and I were hanging out in the backyard, Bruno approached the fence and gave Ma his cutest puppy-dog look.  Unable to resist, Ma was drawn to him and began showering him with attention.  That's when I made my move.  Across the yard I scurried, making a bee line for the dense bushes.  Before I plunged in, I looked back toward Ma.  She was still petting Bruno. This was my chance.  With my nose furiously sniffing, I rushed headlong into the bushes.

By the time Ma realized that she had been duped, the only part of me that was visible from outside the bushes was my wagging tail.  Shouting my name, Ma rushed over, grabbed me by my collar, and dragged me out of the bushes.

I never did find out what it was that I smelled, but I did get to sniff through some smelly decomposing leaves which was nice.  As Ma escorted me back in the house, I looked toward Bruno and wagged my tail in thanks.

When the Dog's Away...

Last weekend, I spend a couple of stress-free days out east.  I barked at Bruno (the Boxer puppy next door), searched for deer, and lounged for hours on my deck (a favorite activity of mine).

But while I relaxed, something dreadful, appalling, disgusting, and shocking was happening at home.  You see, Sister woke up on Sunday morning to find this just outside the door:

Revolting, isn't it?  A large orange cat brazenly drinking from a birdbath located in my back yard.  Talk about gall!  I mean, I barely tolerate the birds drinking from that fountain!

What is this world coming to?

Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to me!

Today is my 8th birthday.  Hard to believe, right?  Who would have thought that that nasty little puppy with a bad attitude would grow up to be such a handsome, fun loving, talented, loyal, and patient (as evident by my willingness to undergo yet another embarrassing photo-shoot) dog?

I can't wait to see what fun this day (and year) will bring!

Evolution

In the beginning, I slept on the cold, hard floor.  

That is until I discovered my pillow which was much softer.

Then I discovered the comforts of the human bed.  

Always looking for a better option, I tried out a hammock, but I don't think I was using it right.

And I tried Pa's chair, but I didn't have enough room to stretch out (plus he kept kicking me off).

So, I moved on to the couch (even though it was against the rules).

After months of negotiations, a compromise was made.  I could sleep on the couch, provided a sheet was put down to protect the upholstery (I was insulted, but I got over it quickly).  Ma would share the couch with me.  I had my end and she had her's.

But then one day, my end of the couch seemed a little less fluffy.  Kind of like the cushion was overused.  Taking into account all my previous experiments, I decided that there was only one logical thing to do:  I moved over to Ma's end of the couch.

It was much fluffier.

For Want of a Pocket

Humans take pockets for granted.  Think about it.  Whenever you want to temporarily free up your hands, you don't have to put down your property fearful that some other pup or human will swipe it.  No, you can just slip whatever you have in your pocket and continue on without a second thought.

Not me though.  No, I always have to be vigilant, ever concerned, that someone might swipe my toy when my attention is diverted.  That is, I used to be.  I recently discovered a technique which allows me to keep an eye on a possession while going about my day, specifically, getting a drink of water.

It happened a couple of days ago.  Sister had just come home from work and was showering me with all the ear rubs and neck scratches I wanted (Sister recently started a new job in a town far enough away that she isn't able to come home at lunch time to rub my ears.  As a result, she must provide me with an entire day's worth of attention as soon as she gets home).  In my mouth was my orange bally-ball, a toy Sister bought me at a store near her new job that I absolutely adore (I have actually delayed going to sleep at night in order to keep playing with it).

Anyway, I was hanging with Sister and my orange bally-ball when, out of the blue, I suddenly felt very thirsty.  Bally-ball still clenched firmly in my mouth, I hot footed my way over to my water bowl and looked in.  Staring up at me was my reflection--handsome as ever and obviously just as obsessed with the orange bally-ball as me.  But there was something else in that face, a sort of smugness.  It took me a minute to fully comprehend, but I eventually realized that that smugness was my reflection asking "so, how you gonna get a drink of water with that bally-ball in your mouth?"

Panic set in.  If I held onto my orange bally-ball, I wouldn't be able to get a drink of water.  If I put the ball down, say, beside me, then some nefarious person (Sister) might swoop in and steal it.  What was I to do? 

Suddenly, the solution came to me.

A Reenactment

With a "pththth" and a "splash," I spit my orange bally-ball into my water bowl and drank around it.  Sure, the floating obstruction made it a little difficult to drink from the bottom of the bowl up like I'm want to do, but I had ample room to get a drink and ensure that my chin sopped up enough water to flood the floor of my choice later on.

When I had drunk my fill, I fished my bally-ball out of the bowl and turned back to Sister.  She was doubled over laughing.  Let's just say that I had no other option but to wipe my sopping wet chin on her pant leg.