Strange to think that our ditzy Creampuff is the only family member who knows her place.

Creampuff recognizes a cat cushion when she sees one. My mom bought this cushion years ago. She can’t even remember when she got it but she thinks it’s from one of those “cats only” stores. Might have been the one in Tennessee when she was on a business trip. She really liked that store in Green Hllls mall and she went there when she attended conferences in Nashville.

Now of course it’s faded and worn but Creampuff still likes it. Thank goodness! One less contender for my favorite spot on the crowded couch.

Good grief…I was napping away on my favorite spot on my mom’s couch. All of a sudden my mom was running around, grabbing her trusty camera and snapping one photo after another.

“Oh no…that shows too much of the rug,” she said. “And that’s probably blurred. Just one more…hold it!”

What was all the fuss about?

“Gracie and Ophelia, you’re friends!” my mom exclaimed happily as she dashed around capturing our images over and over again.

Sigh. As usual, my mom overreacts. And she doesn’t get dog language.

See, here’s what really happened. I was on the couch, enjoying my peaceful sleep, on my couch cushion. It’s actually one of my mom’s very old pillows that finally gave up. So mom pulled off the pillowcase and gave it to me to protect her couch. It’s my cushion. Before I entered this household, the cats had their own cushion, decorated with paw prints, on top of the couch. We’re very territorial around here.

Well, Ophelia decided she likes my pillow cushion. Ophelia has not caught on to the hierarchy of this household. She arrived in July of 2008. I arrived in January of 2006. I have seniority. This cushion was there for me.

So while I was sleeping, Ophelia crept up and sat near me. She’s not snuggling. See how she’s sitting up straight? She’s sending a message.

Who would’ve thought life would turn out this way? Ophelia was officially declared “skittish” by the cat shrink my mom hired to help her get adjusted. (For the record, my mom got her money back…as well she should.) There was talk of having her “re-homed,” a fancy term for giving up on the old gal.

Well, Ophelia doesn’t lack in self-esteem. My mom wrote an ebook called Bragging101, to help humans who need to get comfortable about selling themselves. Ophelia could have been her co-author.

My mom continues her quest to learn to make cylinders. Today we went to the Community Center where Mom made 2 more cylinders…She’s up to 10 and says she’ll try to do two more. Luckily she didn’t bring her camera. You can have only so many photos of cylinders in the making before you start to wonder what’s going on.

Today we met a new pottery student, Candace. Candace has been studying for ten years and she’s accomplished. She really encouraged my mom: “Just keep doing it. It’s all about practice.”

Candace was really nice to me, too. She said it’s not surprising I like to be inside. “Gracie is a girlie-girl dog,” she said.

“Girly.” I like that. It’s true: I love wearing my bandannas and getting my nails done. I’m not too keen on costumes but I do like the way my fur shines up after a bath. And I’m not crazy about getting wet. When we walk home, I hop onto a ledge out of the rain.

“Girly.” I like it.

Hopefully my mom will make her twelve cylinders and move on to something else. She says she wants to make a pitcher next. I’d suggest a new dog dish, but I don’t think I want to eat out of a crooked bowl. The cats eat off paper plates How about a cat food dish, Mom? Nice project for next term.

My mom Cathy interrupted my peaceful nap this morning. “Gracie, get over here!” she yelled. “I’ve been saying this for years.”

Okay, mom. I get off my mom’s bed and trot to the living room, wondering what could possibly be going on at this hour. After I assume my designated spot on the couch, my mom began to read this article from the New York Times

It seems that somewhere in Missouri, which I gather is far from Seattle where we live, a medical team conducted an experiment with 35 seniors in assisted living. Twenty-three were assigned human walking partners. Twelve lucky residents were assigned to walk dogs at a local animal shelter.

The human pairs didn’t do so well. They talked each other into quitting and staying home. Too hot. Too cold.

The dog walkers never faltered. They’d look forward to the outing at the animal shelter. They would leap off the bus, saying, “Where’s my dog?”

And here’s the good part (according to my mom). The dog walkers demonstrated increased fitness. Some were able to lose their canes and walkers. They increased their walking speed.

The good part according to me: More people recognize the value of dogs. Maybe we’ll see an end to those no-dog zones that keep me from accompanying my mom to coffee shops and libraries. We’re cleaner and better behaved than a lot of humans.

In Seattle Metro, where we can ride buses, the drivers always say, “That dog is a better passenger than most of the humans.”

True. I don’t have a cell phone. I’ve never done drugs. I just sit quietly on Cathy’s lap and collect pats and rubs from everybody who goes by. Most people smile when they see me.

Okay, legislators and rulers of the human world. It’s time to make a bigger place for dogs in everybody’s life and get more dogs out of that shelter. I bet if assisted living facilities offered dogs to the residents, their medical bills would go down.

Sometimes a city dog has to draw the line SOMEwhere. And when it comes to Santa hats, red coats and even little white beards… gimme a break!

My mom just saw some Twitter posts with dogs all decked out for the holidays. Fortunately, she thinks dogs are supposed to be naked and for once we are in agreement. I am not wearing anything but the fur I was born with (lovingly embellished by good quality food and regular baths).

Anyway, why spend money on doggie costumes? Lots of hungry dogs out there need food. I need my walks…and my food, toys and grooming.

My mom has never decorated for anything. She’s afraid the lights will electrocute somebody or set off a fire. She’s aware that poinsettias and pine needles can be deadly to cats.

“Holidays are about doing, not dressing,” she says firmly.

And a strong “Arf” to that, I  would add.

My mom takes pottery at a local Community Center. She likes the ambience of friendly people and a high-quality pottery class.

I like the fact that dogs are welcome here…at least I am.

Mom was quite impressed with the holiday decorations. She made this video as we were leaving.

My mom came across an article, Ten Ways To Spoil Your Dog. Naturally I sat up and listened when she read it to me. Let’s see how she rates on the “Spoil Your Dog” scale.

(1) Take your dog for walks. The article says we like to go to new places. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m always thrilled to go to Magnuson Park with my Aunt Sara and I enjoy my mom’s walks to Upper Queen Anne. I walk everywhere. And my mom is really good about taking me along. I’ll give her a “10″ on this one.

(2) Go for a drive. Forget it. Mom doesn’t have a car. We love the buses. I sit on her lap and get tons of attention. “Very well-behaved.” “Beautiful dog.” “Seems like a nice dog.” Music to my floppy ears.

(3) Treats. Uh-oh. Mom’s a little weak in that department. She forgets to bring treats in her pockets when we walk. She’s gotten a little spooked because the vet warned her about my expanding waist line. Gotta work on this one.

(4) Time for playtime. Well, we don’t do much playing at home. That’s for the dog park. I do get to chase our feline hosemates around, but mostly I’m too tired to do anything but sleep…which brings us to:

(5) Naps. Yes. Say no more! The article suggests a “napping haven,” but give me mom’s bed anytime.

(6) Grooming. Yes: we go to the groomers regularly. I love my baths! Mom just had my teeth cleaned. She hasn’t been as good as she should have been about brushing my teeth. Maybe that’s because I resist so strongly.

(7) Fine dining. Well, I can’t complain about the quality of the food. Mom says, “Quality food will save on vet bills.” But thanks to the vet, she really rations the quantity…and my food bowl is older than I am. Of course, if I bring this up, mom will remind me how much she spends on dog walks. Okay: who need a new bowl? I haven’t worn out the old one.

(8) Time with Owner. Dogs hate to be alone. You bet! My mom is the best when it comes to time with me. She works at home and usually I’m just a few feet away. True, I do have some crate time, but my mom points out that she needs a life too. I have a big comfy crate with all the amenities…and I can catch up on my sleep. See “naps” above.

(9) The article refers to “doggy media experience.” I guess we could buy me some DVDs to watch when mom’s not home. I think my mom would put this in the same category as “doggy raincoat” and “doggy sweater:” over the top.

So all in all, my life isn’t bad. My mom’s a good dog owner and dog spoiler. But she has a LONG way to go. Her friend Bill in New York treats his dogs like royalty. I may be a princess, but around here, my mom says, I need to remember I am a CANINE Urban Princess. “Canine” and “Urban” come first.

Am I really spoiled? Please comment here.

My mom says, “Pottery is wonderful because it makes no sense at all.”

True.

She goes on, “I have no talent for pottery. I am not buildng on strengths. I’ll never be an accomplished potter. The world doesn’t need any more pots. It’s purely for its own sake.”

Really? That’s the way dogs operate. We just do what we enjoy. Humans make things complicated.

My mom was so excited. “I made a cylinder!” she exclaimed. “It’s practically even!” She showed it to Megan, an accomplished potter, who pretended to be impressed.

For this we had to come up all the way to the pottery studio? I could have chased a dozen tennis balls by now…about as useful as mom’s quest for a perfect cylinder.

“I’m getting fussy,” she said. “If it’s not even, I don’t keep it.”

Well, I’m pretty fussy about who and what I play with, too. Same thing.

Mom asked her classmate Megan to take a picture of us. She’s wearing a pottery smock thing (they keep some hanging on the door and she just grabbed one). There’s where Mom was working.

“It’s a pottery wheel, Gracie,” Mom explained.

“It’s noisy,” I wanted to say. “This place is not fun for a dog. There’s a big thing that roars and gives off heat. There are all these shiny floors. Nothing for a dog to do.”

“Keesha, my first dog, used to sleep while I worked,” Mom said wistfully.

“Keesha was older,” I wanted to remind her. “Anyway, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m Gracie, your dog du jour.” Dogs get a little sarcastic when we’re bored.

“Isn’t this better than being home in your crate?” Mom said. “Look at all the attention you get.”

Maybe a tie vote.

Well, after my mom picked up a few books from the library, we walked over to the Queen Anne Community Center. I had been in here briefly, when we went to the Farmers Market. But now we went into a room I’d never seen. It was horrible. I hate shiny, slick floors. Mom had to pull me along.

“We just want to see how the pottery turned out,” my mom said.

We ran into one of Mom’s classmates, who was really friendly. She said, “What a wonderful dog! Why don’t you stay and throw something?”

“Because Gracie could break something and I’d be responsible.”

“Just tie her up.”

Great. Just what I’ve always wanted. So here I am, waiting again. This is the part of a Dog’s Life that nobody wants.