Category: A Dog’s Life

Uh oh. I did it again. My mom went to upload some photos from her camera. She found the cord. The USB end was just fine. The end that goes into the camera was gone.

“Look at this, Gracie!” my mom exclaimed. “Teeth marks!”

Time for me to leave the room.

“Do you know what these cords cost?” my mom exclaimed. “How many boxes of treats could I buy with this money?”

Maybe I can get Creampuff to give me an alibi. Thank goodness my mom has her new phone camera. Otherwise this blog would be blank.

I hadn’t thought of that. The cord was so delicious.

My mom came across this website about dogs who work in the justice system: http://www.courthousedogs.com

Here’s a quote:
“The use of courthouse dogs can help bring about a major change in how we meet the emotional needs of all involved in the criminal justice system. The dog’s calming presence creates a more humane and efficient system that enables judges, lawyers, and staff to accomplish their work in a more positive and constructive manner.”

My mom is rather cynical about the justice system, to say the least, so she snorted at the words “humane and efficient.” As a dog, I’d say we’d have fewer people in prison if society broadened the application of dog training. The idea with dogs is “correction,” not “punishment.” Good trainers stop us before we get a chance to do something we’re not supposed to do. We get rewarded and encouraged.

Of course, stubborn dogs like me are always testing the limits. But I’m never destructive unless the perfect sock crosses my path. And I’m never, ever mean.

After all, I’m always treated with respect, although we have some issues about rushing through a walk in ten minutes when my mom gets behind schedule. I eat high quality food. I have a nice home, good medical and dental care, and a comfortable bed. I am never allowed to hang out with dogs or people who would be a bad influence; my mom regulates treats and won’t let me jump up to greet people, even when they say, “Oh that’s so cute…”

Treat humans this way and prisons would be empty. Then we could use the money to spoil even more dogs.

Since we’re not there yet, we are glad to see dogs in court rooms where they calm everybody down. The courthousedog.com site recommends assistance dogs, rather than therapy dogs. Apparently assistance dogs are good around children, wheelchairs and other impediments.

My mom would like to put me to work. She’s looked into the visiting dogs program, where we could go into hospitals and nursing homes. Unfortunately, she says, I won’t qualify. I’m terrified of shiny floors and when I meet another dog, my reactions are not predictable. Very sad, she says, as I’d be perfect for this kind of work.

I’ve already got a full-time job, as we pointed out recently. So i’d just as soon get extra nap time.

Last Sunday mom started reading a book called Spark, by John Ratey. It’s all about how exercise helps the brain.  She read about high school kids who started an exercise program early in the morning, before the school day began. They had more energy the rest of the day and they got better grades.

That was enough for my mom, who’s an exercise fanatic anyway. She dragged us out the door before breakfast, stopping only to make sure the cats had food in their dishes (naturally). We walked;..and we walked.

“This is so good for us, Gracie,” my mom said. “When I had Keesha in New Mexico, we always got up early and went for a long walk. It was so beautiful.”

Great idea, Mom. I’m a different dog, remember? And you’re in Seattle now, right?

To add insult to injury, my mom decided that this is the year I will stop pulling on my leash and learn to heel. Isn’t that a miserable idea? Fortunately for me, she lost her squirt bottle so I don’t get splashed when I pull. Instead she carries treats and distracts me with, “Gracie! Treat!” Usually I fall for the treat everytime…except when I see a squirrel or an exciting new dog coming our way.

“We’ll work on this, Gracie,” my mom promised firmly. “And Andy promised some training sessions, too. Won’t that be fun?”

Yeah, right. I can’t wait. Luckily after our exciting Sunday walk, all the way to Kinnear Park and back, I was ready for a nap. My brain works just fine, thank you very much. Dog logic raises this important question: “If the mom wants exercise, why does the dog have to get involved?”

I’m sure our readers will agree. Just follow the arrow and write me a comment.

Here I am in Regrade Dog park, same as the last post. Andy is offering me a treat. Being a dog trainer, he insistts that I sit politely. There’s another dog watching but I’m the focus of attention, as is appropriate for a Canine Urban Princess like me.

Well, why wouldn’t I? My mom read somewhere that obedient dogs have higher self-esteem. “A good sit,” she says, “gives you pride and self-confidence.”

If that’s true, I’d say, I have got to be the most confident dog on the planet. Well, okay, I’ve got a way to go. But who gets all those compliments when I ride on the bus on my mom’s lap? And who’s better at “sit for treats” than I am?

Andy’s one of my best friends and he wants to call his training service Dog Buddies. My mom’s not so sure. She was muttering about keywords and being unique, whatever that is. I think Andy’s unique.  He’s definitely one of my buddies.  I’m a dog. What’s to discuss?

Sometimes I get displaced from my own blog. Here’s what happened.

“Gracie, here’s a really lucky dog,” my mom said. “This is Rocket. I was walking up Virginia from First Avenue on my way to the gym. As I walked by a store, I did a double take. Was that a dog on a cushion? In the window? A live dog?”

My mom was behind schedule. She had to go to the gym and the massage therapist, but she stopped and went inside. Sure, it was a live dog. She asked if she could take a picture. Now that she’s got one of those phones with a camera, there’s no stopping her.

Rocket is one lucky dog. He gets a soft cushion on his own chair. Unlike me, he’s not competing with a cat for the same small space. See the previous post and you’ll understand what I mean.

Nobody bothers Rocket. Not a cat in sight. He gets to look out the window in between naps. All kinds of people walk by and walk in. He has a real job greeting all the customers.

“You’ve got a job too,” my mom says. “I work at home. You make me take breaks and go outside every single day. You make people smile on the bus. You give me a conversation piece. As your Uncle Lance likes to say, you’re an accessory.”

Yeah, yeah. I have a good life. But I still say that Rocket is one lucky dog.

My mom’s apartment isn’t huge. But we have lots of room. We have

2 dog beds

1 fuzzy cat bed that I like to use myself

1 kitty condo with room for two cats

2 cat cushions: one on the sofa and one on my mom’s bed

1 dog cushion on my mom’s bed

1 dog crate

Do you get the idea? We have lots of room to spread out.

So why does Ophelia have to demand my spot on the couch? Earlier you saw her sitting next to me, on my turf. Now I’ve taken up all the available space so she’s just hovering nearby. She’s a smart cat. She knows eventually I will leave to go for a walk. Then she takes over.

Notice our body language. When you’re a dog or a cat, that’s all you have. See how I’ve occupied the entire end of the couch? My paws even hang over the edge.

Ophelia’s sitting up very straight with her tail wrapped around her ample self. She’s not asleep. She’s fully awake and aware.

“Any minute now,” she seems to be saying, “this couch will be mine.”