My mom Cathy finally caught on. I hate fireworks and loud noises. Last year I was shaking so hard she had to pick me up.

Well, I’m not quite the slender Princess I was a year ago. At midlife, my figure has become more Queenly, even though my mom watches my diet and I get tons of exercise. My mom isn’t getting any younger either (but don’t tell her - it’s a sensitive topic). So she said, “If I pick you up, Gracie, I might pull my back. So we are staying home.”

Mom goes out Saturday to hear Beethoven’s First and Ninth Symphonies at Benaroya Hall. So she played them for me, loud enough to drown out the firecrackers. I slept. And slept. After all, I went out with Aunt Sara on Tuesday and spent a few hours in the Dog Lounge on Wednesday. I’m wiped.

Mom is too but she was so excited about her updated blog she was up till 3 AM. Who cares what time she goes to bed? When I’m sleepy, I sleep. My bed is anywhere in this apartment.

Ellen is a party entertainer who works with tarot cards and astrology. My mom scoffs but she’s always eager to get Ellen’s celestial advice. She says Ellen is more businesswoman than reader. Ellen has amazing intuition, she says. She’s more like a natural psychic.

So she asked Ellen to “read” the cats. And she was thrilled when Ellen said, “Ophelia wants affection. She needs more cuddling and patting.”

So Mom took Ophelia into her lap immediately. Sure enough, Ophelia purred so loudly we could hear her clear across the room.

But what about me? Ellen said I am a “spoiled canine.” Just because I tried to eat the tarot cards. Big deal.

So much for psychic powers. I’m not spoiled. I just know a good dog mom when I see one.

My mom Cathy isn’t exactly hip (as you’ve probably gathered by now). She actually likes classical music, although she feels a little behind the curve because she’s never played a musical instrument. Learning about music is one of Cathy’s Life Goals.

She signed up for yesterday’s concert because she wanted to hear violinist Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg. Cathy had watched the moving documentary about Nadja’s life, Speaking in Strings. When she discovered Nadja was caring for an elderly tabby cat, not unlike the one who shares our household, she became a fan.

Cathy also loved Nadja’s sense of humor and she treasured the moment when a stranger asks the world-class soloist, “Do you play the fiddle? And can you play Orange Blossom Special?” Nadja answered politely, “With my eyes closed.”

So she knew she had to see the live performance.

My mom is still learning about music, so she listened to the pieces ahead of time. She loved the piece Nadja played (Bruch’s Concerto No. 1 for Violin).

But as we were going out for our walk afterward, she ran into James, one of our fellow tenants. James happens to be one of my biggest fans, so she had to stop and say hello.  I heard her saying, “I loved the way this artist challenged the dress code of the female performer. She was wearing blue and white trousers - a bit odd, but she probably got them in New York - and a simple top. She stood athletically on the stage.”

“Yeah,” said Cathy’s neighbor James. “Not one of those prom dress things. Like she’s here to play music as a professional.”

“Right,” Cathy said, warming up to one of her favorite subjects. “These days women are flying combat missions. They’re cops and airline pilots. It’s ridiculous to have men in suits and women in those revealing gowns. Distracting.”

She stopped long enough to hear her neighbor’s account of his night at the ballet, which she had already seen. They agreed it was a beautiful production. Cathy doesn’t mind ballet costumes, although she thinks it’s ridiculous for female skaters to wear those ditzy outfits. She refuses to watch skating because, she says, they look ridiculous.

Luckily, the subject never came up.

Then (at last!) we headed out. After 4 hours in my crate, I needed this break.

My mom Cathy just signed up for a training program on info products. For her first assignment, she is supposed to ask 10 people (family, friends and colleagues) to answer three questions to uncover her core gift

Cathy hates this stuff. She’d rather write 3 info products in a weekend than ask people to help her answer these questions. Most people she knows would rather be boiled in oil than do this. And it’s just south of woo-woo land.

But since I fit into the “family” category, I thought I’d (pardon the expression) dig into these questions.

Q1: In your opinion, what do you think I’m naturally good at doing?

A: From where I sit (currently under the coffee table), I think you’re naturally good at selecting dogs. First you chose Keesha from the Broward County Humane Society and then — seven years later at the opposite end of the country — you chose me on Petfinder.

OK, you didn’t really choose me. I chose you. And yeah, I know you thought about sending me back. But who’s kidding who? Once I started sitting in your lap on the bus, I knew: we were a team.

Q2. In the past, what have you been able to rely on me for?

Food. Dog beds (one in each room…and I’ll take the sofa anytime, thank you very much). More food. Walks. Excursions to the dog park. Food. Visits to the vet. Training (we could skip this one if you get busy). A kong to chew when I’m alone in my crate. Two cats to entertain me and keep me humble. My own corner of your sofa. My big bag of chewies.

Oh yeah, did I say food?

Q3. What do you feel are my top 3 strengths and talents?

Well, I hope you’re a good copywriter, because you couldn’t make a living with your domestic skills, like housekeeping or cooking. I do my best to help by nibbling stray crumbs here and there, but you’re a challenge.

OK, here goes:

Talent #1: You learn fast. When I first got here, you said, “No dogs on the furniture..and never on my bed!” So I slept in my crate for the first few months, slurping on my peanut butter kong.

But soon you caught on to the deal I offered: no chewing your socks if I could sit on the couch. And I wouldn’t eat the cat food if I could sleep on the foot of your bed.

Hey, a deal’s a deal. You immediately saw the win-win possibilities. I knew your MBA would count for something.

Talent #2: You’re highly intuitive.

When I sit next to the door, looking pathetic, you know I need to go out…right away. When I put my head in your lap and look soulfully into your eyes, you slam the laptop closed and grab the leash. You easily predict the future of your rug if you don’t get us out to the street.

Talent #3: You’re a shameless self-promoter.

Every time we ride the bus, you tell everyone in earshot our story. All it takes is one question: “What’s her name? How old? What kind?”

You don’t hesitate. “Gracie. Five. All-American Mutt but she thinks she’s a princess. Rescued from a humane society in Bellingham. No, not a shelter - foster home. Isn’t she well-behaved? I am so proud of her…”

It gets better. We walk to the Queen Anne branch of the library. Almost always some nice person is sitting on the steps. “What a good dog,” they say.

This is my cue. I turn my Cuteness level up to Maximum Strength, snuggling and prancing around.

After the unsuspecting victim has been totally won over, you say, “Gee, do you think you could keep an eye on her for just a minute while I run in and return a book? She doesn’t like to be tied up outside and she tries to run away…”

When you come back, everybody’s smiling. The mark even thanks you for the privilege of spending time with me. You may be a great salesperson, but I’m the champ when it comes to delivering customer service.

OK, I did my part with the questions. If you’re reading this blog and you know Cathy, please volunteer to answer the questions. She won’t want to ask. I just hope she keeps writing stuff that sells. Urban dogs don’t come cheap.

Contact info here: http://www.copy-cat-copywriting.com/contact.html
OR mailto:seattlecathy@gmail.com

Every so often my mom thinks of buying a condo. She qualifies for what sh thought was a nice chunk of change.

“I’m trying to decide if I want a condo,” she said to someone at my networking lunch.

“I can recommend a mortgage broker. She’ll tell you if you can buy…”

“No, I’ve got a broker. I’m trying to decide if it’s a good investment with the Seattle market still high.”

“A real estate agent specializing in condos…”

“No. What I need is an economic forecast.”

I accompanied my mom as we  looked at 3 condos. We would have looked at 4 but Cathy rejected one before we got to the stairs…no elevator. Looks like a remodeled Motel 6.

One condo had bright yellow walls, just the color of a ready-to-eat tangerine. It also had the ugliest carpet I’ve seen in a long, long time.  A dog ie me could A northern exposure and a few small windows.

Another had a bizarre floor plan. Two mid-size bedrooms. Kitchen set up near the window…blocking off the living area.

Then Cathy brought the agent back our apartment. It’s not that big — it’s just got a fantastic layout with well-used space. It’s on the 3d floor, southern exposure, sliver of a view of the Sound if you look out the window at an angle. Fantastic location. Soundproofed.

All her optimism faded. “You’ll have trouble finding a place this nice,” she said.

See, Cathy’s apartment building was built to be a condo unit.
She’s not that young (don’t tell her). We might both be gone before the place goes condo. I sure hope so.

Or maybe I’ll move to a city where the real estate values are declining.