Mom says today was the ultimate in urban living for a canine — and for her, too. She was behind schedule so we flagged down a Yellow Cab to take me to the Dog Lounge.

We CUPPIEs know how to ride in a cab. I sat straight on my mom’s lap, looking out the window, and didn’t budge. The driver likes dogs (otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped for us). I started to help him by licking the window, but my mom was horrified. “Gracie,” she said, “you don’t need to wash the windows.”

I spent a delightful morning being pampered with a workout in the Big Dog area, followed by a bath, pedicure and ear trim. Summer gave me a beautiful red and white bandanna to wear home. Everybody on the bus made a fuss over me. “Such a well-behaved dog,” they said. “So beautiful.” It was a community of urban bus riders. And all created by me.

“What’s her name?”

“Gracie. Amazing Gracie. Or Princess Gracie.”

“What’s her breed?”

“All American Mutt,” my mom says proudly.

Come on, Mom. You’re a copywriter. Can’t you come up with something more…regal?

Yeah, right.

My mom Cathy is still celebrating Ophelia’s recovery from liver disease. If you are just joining us on this blog, Ophelia’s the cat on the right – the fuzzball approximately the size and shape of an aircraft carrier, seen from above.

“After force feeding that wretched cat for 5 long weeks,” Cathy says, “at least Ophelia turned out to be really special. She’s loyal and loving.”

The cats are getting along with each other. Every so often we hear screams and cries, but Cathy says that’s a good sign. “At least they’re showing some interest in each other,” she says. “Nothing worse than a bored cat.”

Except a dog who’s getting bored with all the cat talk. Time for a walk, Mom.

My mom just read me a story about a banker who lost her job. She couldn’t find a corporate position so she started walking dogs. You can read the story here.

Here’s what she wrote: “…I get so much gratification from walking dogs. They’re so appreciative of the simplest things you do for them. No matter how bad my day may be going, when I walk into a home and the dog is so happy to see me and gives me kisses, it puts a different spin on the day.”

I know just what she means. When my Aunt Sara comes to take me for a trip to Magnuson Park, I jump up and  down. Aunt Sara tells me to sit so she can put my leash on but I am so excited! Dog walkers are saints in my book.

More people should be dog walkers. My mom says we need cat groomers even more than dog walkers. She was hoping to find a mobile unit to groom Ophelia. Finally she gave up and just ordered a new comb. She’s become quite the do-it-yourselfer these days.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/21/jobs/21pre.html?8dpc

With the cold and snow we aren’t going anywhere.

My mom wrote a poem about Christmas after she moved into her house in South Florida. She was overwhelmed with boxes. And it was just a few days before she got her first dog, so she had a lot more time. You can read it here.

“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, just the Mac and the mouse…”

Still true.

Go visit: http://www.copy-cat-copywriting.com/santasouthflorida.html

My mom Cathy used to travel a lot. She has spent Christmas holidays in London (England), Madrid, Edinburgh, Paris, New York and Chicago…and more. But since 9/11, she says, she hates to travel. She’s served her time on planes waiting to be de-iced at O’Hare. She’s driven (very nervously) on icy roads.

“There’s so much to do here,” she says. “Symphony. Ballet. Theatre. Movies.”

Dog parks? I give Mom a nudge with my very cold nose.

“And dog parks,” she says. Sometimes she reads my mind.

Yesterday my mom Cathy decided to seize the day.

“Tomorrow is supposed to be awful,” she said. “There’s a good class at the gym at noon. You, Gracie, need exercise.”

So we trooped out the door, leaving the cats to their own devices and big plates of crunchies. Ophelia complained but Mom ignored her. Thank goodness! Ophelia is taking over our household.

The streets were pretty good. “Dry, packed snow, almost like Alaska,” Mom said. “But Gracie, after this snow goes away, we are scheduling several sessions with a trainer. You are pulling on your leash. And it’s slippery.”

I ignored her. I was eating snow. Delicious.

Mom dropped me off at the Dog Lounge where I had a joyous reunion with Summer. My mom took off for the gym.

She was in a good mood when she picked me up a few hours later. The weather was so pleasant she decided to run a few errands and walk around enjoying the outdoors.

The downtown streets were nice and clear, she said. “But a young guy took my arm when I was crossing the street on Stewart and then on Fifth. I guess I look old. But these days I’m more into practicality than pride.

“So,” she continued proudly, “I let them help me scoot across the street, so I got to the gym in time for my Survivor class, where I proceeded to kick some butt. Everybody else in the class looks at least 20 years younger than I am. And I hold my own.”

Our fitness was tested on the way home. Two buses were too full to take us. We ended up walking…and walking. My mom’s feet got wet in the slush and she worried about frostbite. My paws were getting a little chilly, too.

But we both felt great: all that fresh air and exercise. We were so tired we could barely move. And we both went to bed early, dreaming of blue skies and winter sunlight on a city day.

Cathy took these photos of Lower Queen Anne, our “hood.”

It’s beautiful but Cathy is getting frustrated! She wants to run around downtown, go to the gym and take me to the Dog Lounge!

My mom Cathy took me out to play in the snow today. Seattle is buried under many inches and we’re stuck at home.

We spent about 40 minutes walking around the neighborhood. Can you tell I am starting to feel a little chilly?

Luckily Cathy was afraid my paws would get frostbitten. So soon afterward, we went back in. I headed straight for my bed. A cold dog is a a tired dog.

OK, it’s cold out there! Aunt Sara took me to the park yesterday and I came home exhausted. I’ve been sleeping…and sleeping. When Cathy takes me for walks, we’re both in a hurry.

Last night my mom was feeling really cold. It didn’t help that I managed to sit on one of her quilts and refused to budge. So finally Cathy grabbed me and said, “Gracie, time to earn your crunchies. You are now a heating pad.”

Good grief. That wasn’t in our adoption contract, was it? What about Ophelia? She should put her long hair to good use besides shedding all over the place.

But before I could protest, I found myself getting warm and drowsy. And then I was dreaming about running in the park with my buddies Bailey and Violet and that new puppy who just joined our pack. And getting hugs from Summer at the dog lounge. And walking out in the snow with my mom first thing in the morning. And then…

“Gracie! Ready for your walk?”

That’s not a dream. It’s for real. We go downstairs for our walk. Hey — the snow is all gone! Must be getting warmer.

No more heating pad. But I’m sure mom will come up with another ridiculous idea for me. Why should I have to earn my crunchies, anyway? Royal princesses aren’t supposed to work.

Yesterday evening my mom came home from the symphony, humming bits of Tchaikovsky’s 1st Symphony. Winter Dreams.

No, I didn’t recognize the tune. I am a dog, remember? She told me and the cats all about her latest musical adventure.

But then she took me out for my Late Night Walk. Winter Dreams? More like a Bad Dream. We were attacked by big fat wet snowflakes. And my mom was freezing, even in her parka with two sweaters. We walked half a block and Mom said, “Gracie, we aren’t going anywhere.”

OK, I have to admit it. I took care of business with haste and led the trek back to our apartment.

This morning all the buses were screwed up on account of snow. Mom was late getting to the gym and dropping me off at the Dog Lounge. She was irked.

I didn’t care. I spent an hour playing with the other dogs. Then I moved up front and helped my Big Sister Summer run the front desk. My job is to entertain everybody and pose for PR photos. It’s a tough life.

Summer sent my mom home with 2 sample packets of my favorite treats. Thank goodness. Since my mom went on her new diet, she’s been watching mine a little too enthusiastically.