It was a beautiful winter evening. Can you tell I’m *really* cold?

Helping Cynthia With Her Book

I decided Cynthia needed a dog fix so I wandered over. I can never get too many pats or too much attention. Cynthia kept on reading but people always make time for me.

My mom Cathy showed me this video of a dog who’s getting ready for Santa. Well, around here my Aunt Sara is my own Santa Claus. She takes me to the park and brings me toys. She makes me wear my muzzle and sit for treats, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

I suppose I could decorate my crate if my mom would let me have some milk and cookies. But she pointed out that I’d eat all the cookies, drink the milk and run up a HUGE vet bill.

Alas, she’s right. I bet we spend the holidays in the downtown dog park.

Pamela with Kaylee

And I am her muse and source of inspiration.

Now my mom has yet another reason to believe dogs are good for business. Her business friend Pamela Bruner just wrote a blog post about dogs as motivators.

It seems that Pamela’s dog Kaylee needed surgery to alleviate a painful knee. (You didn’t know dogs have knees? Now you know.) Pamela realized she had a motivation to keep earning higher levels of income, so she would always be able to say “yes” when a vet asked if she could afford the surgery.

Dog surgery doesn’t come cheap. In fact, my mom sighs, there’s nothing cheap about a dog. Walking. Boarding. Feeding. And more.

“If I didn’t have a dog, my life would be simpler,” she says.

My mom’s New York friend Bill always laughs when she says this. He knows she’d have less fun and “you’d be a little old lady who lives with cats.”

Good grief. Imagine life with Ophelia as the main pet. Be thankful for me, mom!

Is this scene getting old? I think so, but the mom remains enthusiastic.

“Gracie, you and Ophelia are getting along so well!” she exclaims. “We need to capture this moment.”

Fine, mom. You just interrupted our nap. Ophelia may be a spoiled fluffball, but she knows exactly how to hook our mom. She’s mastered “cute.”

“Hard to believe Ophelia was once a miserable kitty in a small cage,” my mom says. “When she first came she waged war on Creampuff. Her fur was a mess. And now…”

Right. After hundreds of dollars of vet bills and top quality food, we have a fat, furry housemate who clearly enjoys her life with us. She jumps up in my mom’s lap. She inherited Tiger’s position as dominant cat. Luckily Creampuff is too ditzy to care.

And I don’t care who runs the household, as long as Cathy’s schedule gets dictated by my treats, walks and naps.

My mom’s been reading an interesting book, Choke by Sian Beilock. Well, she says  it’s interesting. I may write my blog but I don’t read books.

This book explains why people freeze when they’re under intense pressure. It’s why top students get low scores on big exams, like SATs.

As a dog, I rarely experience this pressure. I passed my temperament test at the Barking Lounge with flying colors. Fortunately they did not evaluate my mom’s temperament, but that’s another post.

So where do I come in?

Well, it seems that one proven strategy involves taking a break. When you feel totally pressured and stressed, give yourself some distance.

When you have a dog, you have no choice. Here’s how I earn my crunchies. Most of the time I’m lying on my cushion, watching my mom work in her office. It’s pretty boring. Luckily I get enough exercise so I am usually sleepy.

But when I sense that my mom is getting intensely frustrated, or it’s just long past time for a walk, I rise from my cushion and flap my ears.

“Uh oh,” my mom sighs. “I’ll have to take you out, won’t I? Just let me finish this one thing…”

So then I come up and rest my head on her knee. I look at her imploringly. We have to take a break.

“Okay, Gracie,” she says. “Let me just set down a plate of cat food for Ophelia. She can’t jump to the kitchen counter the way Creampuff does. She can’t eat while you’re loose around here. The poor thing is hungry.”

Yeah, right. All 15 pounds of furry feline.

Once she’s up and moving, my mom doesn’t waste any time. Now that we live in Belltown we take a fast walk to the dog park. Sometimes we run into the park regulars and hang out awhile.

By the time we’re home. Cathy is feeling refreshed and ready to hit the computer again. I am feeling good because most park regulars (and a lot of strangers) make a big fuss over me.

See? Pressure is lifted. Mom thinks more clearly. And it’s all because of me, the resident dog.

Dog park regulars on a cold December night

My mom has gotten carried away with her cell phone. She loves taking pictures because, she says, it’s so easy to transfer them to her computer. With the camera, she has to hook up a cable…and we all know how I feel about cables. Delicious!

Sue is one of the park stewards and regulars. She looked so cold and cute my om said, “I just have to get this picture.”

Here’s Sue saying “Enough!” while Mary Alice, another park regular, enjoys the scene. Do you see where I am? As usual, I know the best person to ask for a butt rub. You can take my picture anytime.

As the resident dog, one of my official roles is driving my owner nuts. I excel in this area.

Since we moved I have demonstrated a new skill that dogs are not supposed to have. When we go for walks, I sometimes stop on the way back. I refuse to budge.

Peo0ple laugh at my mom. “Dog doesn’t want to move,” they say.

My mom gets so embarrassed. “Keesha never did this,” she sighs.Never mind that Keesha was 10 pounds heavier, three times as fuzzy and a different breed altogether.

My mom noticed that I tend to do this when we’re coming back after a walk just before she goes out. I am destined for some serious crate time and there’s no reason to rush back.

“How do you know?” my mom asks. “Maybe I change my clothes just before we walk. Or I fill your water dish.” So she doesn’t change her clothes or fill my water dish till we return. No dice. I still know.

My mom’s pretty smart about most things. She keeps trying to figure out how I know what’s happening.

I am not going to tell. A lady needs to keep her secrets.

Well, I guess my mom can relax a little more when I go out. The folks at dog.com sent us a new door for my crate, with a latch that closes nice and tight. I can feel secure!

My mom managed to unwrap the package. Then she looked at the old door.

“How the [blank] do I get this thing off?” she wondered. “Maybe I can bribe your Aunt Sara to help. And your Uncle Lance may be stopping by too.”

Fortunately my mom was out this morning when my Aunt Sara came to pick me up. When Cathy returned, she first thought I had escaped. The door was open and I was gone. Then she realized Aunt Sara had come a little early..and the new door was on the crate!

“I guess you know by now,” Mom said ruefully when Aunt Sara dropped me off this afternoon. “I’m totally challenged mechanically.”

“I figured I might as well get that door on,” Aunt Sara said tactfully.

My mom wants you to know it’s not age. Just the opposite. She’s much more dexterous now than she ever was. Now she knows what a Phillips screwdriver is, although I’m not sure I’d want to watch her try to use one.

Hey, let’s try this on Ophelia! The “explosion” was added after we posted. We didn’t look as we don’t think those things are funny. Even me.