Yesterday my mom took off for a few hours. She wanted to go a few places where I am not allowed. I don’t mind being left in my crate. For one thing, I have my favorite kong toy. I’m near a window so I catch a breeze. Best of all, my mom feels so guilty after leaving me, she takes me on a long walk when she comes home.

Sure enough, yesterday afternoon, we walked over a mile to the dog park. By evening, the weather was cool and we both enjoyed the breeze from the sea. I ran around the park for awhile, until Mom realized a big parade was happening a block away.

I hate parades. All that buzzing and honking and shouting. Last year at Seafair they shot off a cannon and I almost shot through the roof. (Back then, I was still allowed in coffee shops. Another story.)

So I sat on my furry little butt and refused to budge.

We tried one block. Even Mom decided: “Too crowded! OK, Gracie, I’ve seen a high school band before.”

She began to have second thoughts, but I won that round.

We came to a bus stop. “Good! Now we can ride home,” I said, settling down to wait.

“Oh no,” Mom said. “The schedules are all screwed up with parade. We’ll get home faster if we walk.”

“Rrr.” No way.

Some nice people came by and said, “Oh look…The dog wants to wait for a bus! Isn’t that cute? The poor dog…”

I tried to look sad and pathetic. Such a mean owner! But it was hard to look sad when my fur is all shiny and fluffy from my professional bath (not to mention the gourmet food my mom orders).

We walked. And we walked. We were exhausted. But I still had energy to chase the cats around Cathy’s living room… especially that fat tabby who thinks she owns the place. If she were human, she would be old enough to vote. And she never lets us forget.

Arf! Gracie here.

Seattle Weekly published an article about bad passengers….the kind who drive bus drivers crazy.

My mom was delighted. She’s tired of all those articles complaining about bus drivers. Most, she says, are saints to put up with everything.

And, she said as she pointed to the article, “you’ll notice there isn’t one complaint here about dogs on buses!”

My mom and I have a little game. When we get to the bus stop on Bell Street, near the park, we go to the front door so we’ll be ready to leave as soon as the bus stops. We wait behind the yellow line and my mom says, “Sit!”

Of course I make a big production of sitting proudly on command. Everybody oohs and ahs.

Did you know that dogs who can do a good “sit” have higher self-esteem than those who don’t? Well, my self-esteem is over the top.

My mom has many issues (from the canine perspective) but self-esteem isn’t one of them. She always says to the driver (and anyone in hearing distance): “Now, isn’t this a well-behaved dog?”

Nobody argues.

My mom loves to take me to the dog park. It’s not too beautiful for humans. No grass, trees or flowers. But for us dogs…paradise!My favorite activity is jumping over walls. I make flying leaps and twists. I prance around like a little pony. Some people say I’m the most athletic dog in the park.

My mom wonders where I learned to do all this. She keeps trying to figure out what breed made the difference. She wonders if I spent time as a circus dog.

I know. But I’ll never tell.

Arf! Gracie here.

Everybody kept telling my mom, “Get some good photos taken. You don’t look like your pictures.”

Finally, she gave in. She found a photographer on craigslist who seemed good.

We went to his studio. Naturally, we had rain that day so mom looked a little frizzy. I looked fabulous as usual.

The photographer wasn’t sure he wanted me. “Dogs make more work,” he said.

But I am a natural.

When Mom said, “Stand here,” I did. When the photographer said, “Can the dog move a little to the right,” Mom nudged me over.

We all agreed I could be a model.

Mom was not as fortunate. She just got an email from the photographer: “You’re a great client. You’re very brave and you are a good sport.”

She’s terrified of what the photos might look like.