First, my mom wants you all to know, she does NOT watch a lot of television. She does have a television but she also has a DVR. So she skips through everything: she goes through Good Morning America in about 15 minutes, watching just the segments she likes: skip the music and the weather, she says, and the ridiculous shots of millionaire anchor staff shivering on the plaza.

She actually told Comcast, “Take back the Cable!” But they offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

That’s why she’s sitting on the edge of the couch today, watching the WNBA Finals and keeping her fingers crossed for the Phooenix Mercury. My mom Cathy has been a fan of Diana Taurasi ever since she saw Taurasi as a college freshman take her first 3-point shot. My mom likes people who color outside the lines. I can’t imagine why.

But I digress…Mom was watching book reviews on CSPAN-2 when she heard a totally moving story by Heidi Kraft, author of Rule Number Two: Lessons I Learned in an Iraq Combat Hospital.

Kraft, a Navy psychologist, served in a Marine hospital. She befriended an Army veterinarian who was assigned to treat the K-9 Corps. He would invite Kraft to visit the sociable dogs as a stress relief break.

One of Kraft’s human patients was a female Marine Sergeant. This woman was the only female in an all-male unit, she was in a war zone and she was clinically depressed. Working with the MDs, Kraft arranged for medication as well as counseling. Then for two months, the sergeant was too busy to come by.

Then one day, the sergeant showed up in Kraft’s office, looking much happier. She even wore make-up!

What happened? This sergeant’s unit had adopted a stray dog. She bonded with the dog. She arranged to send the dog home, where her family will keep the dog till she can arrive in her next duty station, San Diego.

Now, said the sergeant, she has something to look forward to. That dog needs her! And the sergeant has applied for a transfer to the US Marine Corps K-9 unit.

When my mom Cathy says (for the ninetieth time), “Gracie, you are driving me nuts!” or even, “Gracie, you are a nuisance!” I just give her The Look. She needs me.

Arf! Gracie here.

So Mom and I are walking around Upper Queen Anne(as opposed to Lower Queen Anne, where we live). We’re walking through  Kerry Park, which has one of the best views of the skyline
and Sound in all Seattle.

A professional guide is sharing the skyline with a limo full of eager tourists. I’m more interested in getting a drink of water. Just as I take a sip, the guide says, “Seattle is a city of dogs. In many of our parks you’ll see a water fountain, and just underneath you’ll see a bowl of water.”

My mom pipes up, “And here’s an example.” She points to me.

My mom can be such a ham. (Did you know she’s thinking of auditioning for some stand-up comedy? As if she didn’t embarrass me already.)

She goes on to tell everyone about how she rescued me  through a group in Bellingham, Washington. She uses the 4-letter “M” word but she explains that I’m really a princess (actually, she says, “Gracie thinks she’s a princess” but who should know better than me?).

The guide says, “Yes indeed.” He looks to be in his sixties or even older and very experienced. “Can she have a treat?”

“If she sits,” my mom says firmly.

We go into our act. I know the drill.

I graciously accept the treat. The crowd goes, “Awwww…”

As we stroll down the hill, my mom says, “You know, Gracie, that guide was really smart. He created a great moment for the crowd and signaled to us that we need to move on. We should have hung around and listened to his spiel about the skyline.”

Nope. That treat really hit the spot after a long walk on warm day. I’ll hit the cushion as soon as we get home.

Yesterday we went for a long walk to the top of Queen Anne Hill. After I got 2 visits to Magnuson Park over Labor Day, my mom decided we would skip the park and just walk.

My mom Cathy had to drop off a few books in the library. When we got to the door, a friendly-looking woman was just leaving. “Oh what a wonderful dog!” she exclaimed. She offered to watch me when my mom went inside for a few minutes. I kept looking at the door for my mom but I have to admit, that woman gave me a great massage.

When my mom came back,the woman said, “Thank you for letting me keep her for a few minutes.”

“Everybody needs a dog moment, right?” said my mom, taking back my leash.

I must remind my mom how lucky she is, next time she yells, “Gracie! What are you getting into right now?!”

I was enjoying a peaceful (pardon the expression) cat nap, when my Mom Cathy woke me up.  She was swearing at an article in the New York Times. You can read it here.

Apparently some people are up in arms over baggy jeans that sag down and show the guy’s boxer shorts. Virginia and Louisiana have considered making this fashion a crime.

“Don’t these people have enough to do?” my mom wondered. “Can’t they find another way to use our tax money?”

I agree. With all the dogs out there who need walks and more…but I digress. Those folks should come here if they want to see something really gross.

Yesterday my mom said, “Enough running around, Gracie! You’re scheduled for 2 trips to the park this weekend. Let’s just walk over to Seattle Center.”

So we did. Boh-ring. The place was filled with trucks unloading for Bumpershoot, a fall festival my mom avoids. (“Pay to get into a place to buy the usual festival fare? I’d rather go see a ballet,” she says. Of course I don’t get to go to the ballet, but that’s another story.)

So we turned to go home when my ears were flattened by whistles, yells, and (pardon the expression) cat-calls. A herd of bicycle riders were headed our way, right in the middle of traffic. Mom put me into a “sit” so I wouldn’t run after them. They were yelling and waving.

Saggy jeans? One guy was riding his bike wearing no jeans…and nothing else either. Stark naked riding a bike? Yuk. I poke around in unmentionable piles at the dog park and even I had to avert my eyes.

“It’s a monthly protest on the last Friday of the month,” a young guy explained to my mom, as he parked his bike nearby. “They’re protesting the way cars create traffic.”

“We don’t even have a car,” my mom said virtuously. “But why ride…um…nude?”

“This is Seattle!” the young man said, waving his hands to encompass the city around us.

So get over it, baggy jeans people. At least they keep their shorts on.