A Dog’s Life – Page 23

Mom Gets to Have Friends, too!

Last Saturday my mom Cathy dropped me off in the Dog Lounge around noon. “I’m meeting a friend later,” she told my Big Sister Summer. “And I don’t want to leave Gracie locked in her crate in a hot apartment.”

Summer was thrilled to see me of course. She gave me a huge hug. A few of my favorite dog buddies were hanging out and I got to catch up with everybody.

Meanwhile my mom took off to meet her friend and business associate Christina Merkley. They had a late lunch out by Pier 69, where Christina’s ferry came in from Canada. “No trouble finding her,” Mom said. “The Canadian flag was flying outside.”

My mom came by to get me right at 5, as the Dog Lounge was closing. I tried to tell my mom I was a poor, starving neglected dog, but she wasn’t fooled.

“How many treats did they give you?” she asked as we headed off to the bus stop.

Busted.

Ophelia making herself completely at home

Look who’s relaxing on top of *my* couch. Ophelia looks so relaxed up there. She’s come a long way from he early days of hiding out in the laundry room.

My mom Cathy likes Ophelia up htere, out of the way. “When she sits on the end table,” Mom says, “she drinks my water. She even drinks my iced coffee. Who wants cat hair in their coffee? Yuk.”

Who wants cat anywhere on the couch? That’s what I ask. But my mom ignores me.

“I wonder if Ophelia remembers her month in the cage at the Seattle Animal Shelter?” Mom mused, as she prepared to help me upload this photo.

Mom says her biggest accomplishment was saving Ophelia. I think her biggest accomplishment in life was adopting ME. Who wants to argue?

Mom talks to me about basketball, life and crime

My mom likes to talk to me about basketball and what she reads in the papers. We don’t watch television so fortunately I’m spared some of her stronger language.

As an avid basketball fan, my mom was stunned to learn that one of her favorite players, Diana Taurasi, was stopped on suspicion of driving under the influence of alcohol. But she’s furious with all the self-righteous columnists who are rushing to attack Diana.

“She’s innocent till proven guilty!” my mom exclaimed. “OK, she used very bad judgment when she got into a car after having a few drinks. But all these columnists want her to acknowledge her guilt and apologize. What do they think her lawyer would say?”

Apparently in the human world, you shouldn’t admit guilt. You don’t say anything that can be used against you.

Well, what’s so different in my world? When my mom hears the sound of crunchies being chewed in our kitchen, she immediately yells, “Gracie, stop!” Then she looks over and sees me, innocently napping in my bed. She realizes I’m not the guilty party. After all, Creampuff can attack a plate of cat food with great gusto, all out of proportion to her eight or nine pound self. Why assume I’m the one?

See, around here I get blamed for everything. When my mom realizes I’m innocent, does she apologize for disturbing my nap? No way. She just goes back to her computer. And I must admit the truth: one minute later I’m back to dreaming of my latest run in the park with my Aunt Sara.

Canine Princess Gets Pawdicure At the Dog Lounge

My mom left me at the Downtown Dog Lounge while she went off to the gym today.

“Gracie needs a bath!” she said.

Summer and Sue were thrilled to see me. I played on the couch until time for my bath. Then after my bath, Smmer brushed me…and brushed me. There was enough fur left over to make another dog. (Yeah, it’s an old joke, but I like it.)

Summer knows how to brush me. I just leaned back and enjoyed every minute.

But that’s not all. I got a pawdicure. If you look closely at this photo, you will see my toe nails are painted bright red. I am finally looking like the Canine Urban Princess (CUPPIE) I am.

My mom was amazed. “What if Gracie chews off her nail polish and runs up a big vet bill?” My mom’s mind runs in that direction.

“It’s doggie nail polish,” Summer explained. “Totally harmless.”

“They make nail polish for dogs?”

My mom can be so clueless sometimes.

Maybe my mom will take the hint. She needs to make her own hair appointmet and she hasn’t had a manicure in ages. “I hate that stuff,” she says. “I like my massage therapist, Larry Swanson, but the nails? forget it. And I’ll never have a pedicure. Too ticklsh.”

Mom, you don’t know what you are missing.

Dog Wins Big At the Pride Parade

Yesterday my mom dragged me to the Pride festival parade. She just loves parades and she was hoping to see some really outrageous floats. This year, she said, it was pretty banal. Nothing really new.

I, on the other hand, had a marvelous time. So many people would ask, “Can I pat your dog?” Of course Cathy always said yes. One guy gave me a really nice butt scratch for about fifteen minutes while he sat on a curb and watched the floats go by. Some nice woman didn’t get upset when I leaned up against her and got golden hairs on her nice black sweater. “No big deal,” she said, as I snuggled closer. Who wouldn’t want to cuddle with a princess?

After the parade we walked around the booths at Seattle Center. Cathy’s always hoping to learn about some new service she’ll want to try. Of course several people wanted to pat me. One of the people at Pacific Health Center’s booth insisted on rubbing my ears.

Cathy spent some time at the PAWS rescue booth, telling the volunteer all about how she rescued Ophelia from the Seattle Animal Shelter. How boring is that? She talked about Ophelia’s eye infection and how she saved Ophelia who was all yellow with liver disease. Even the volunteer had to stifle a yawn.

As far as I’m concerned, our day was a HUGE success. Cathy found a booth for Smiley Dog…a service she’s been hoping to get since she adopted me. “I can’t carry big bags of dog food,” she said. “We need delivery!” Smiley Dog delivers all over Seattle without charge. We just pay for my food, which, of course, is not cheap. Princesses must feast on royal fare.

Today Cathy told me we won a five-pound bag of dog food! I’m so excited. Maybe she’ll be motivated to increase my portion size?

A dog can dream. And that’s exactly what I’m doing today as I recover from our long day in the outdoors, under the coffee table where the cats leave me alone.

Enough dog food for at least six months!

My mom Cathy refuwses to drive in Seattle. As a result, she gets LOTS of deliveries. I can always tell when someone is coming to deliver something good for us. I stand by the door and wait to greet them in my own special way.

“No jumping!” Mom says firmly. “Sit!”

It’s SO much fun to jump. Why does she have to spoil my fun?

A few days ago the Safeway people brought us water, cat litter and more heavy stuff. Who cares? I drink whatever water is in my dish. My fave water is the muddy version from the dog park, whenever I can sneak past my mom’s eagle eye.

Today was wonderful. My mom asked the people at All The Best pet food in Upper Queen Anne if they could deliver a couple of 30-pound bags of dog food. “I like to buy locally,” she said. “Up to now I’ve been buying from Amazon.”

Sure enough, this morning a nice person showed up with the dog food my mom deems appropriate for a Canine Urban Princess. I eat California Natural and Avoderm. Since the vet cut back my rations, I figure that’s good for…six months? Maybe more. Who’s complaining?

Which dog to adopt? Go with your feelings…

My mom Cathy likes to read books about decision making. She has always been fascinated by career decisions and suspicious of guided decisions, such as juries.

Most recently she was reading a book called How We Decide by Jonah Lehrer. Lehrer cites all kinds of research showing that emotions make sense in some kinds of decisions while rational thinking works best at other times. When decisions are complex (such as buying a house), emotional decisions often have better outcomes, my mom says. (Can you tell she’s helping me with this paragraph)

My mom figures that’s how she’s made good decisions about adopting her animals. She cuts past the clutter. All three of us – me, Creampuff and Ophelia – were adopted by default.

Creampuff had been in a cage for three months in New Mexico. The shelter volunteers really pushed for her adoption. “We can’t keep her forever,” they said. Creampuff really wanted to be an indoor-outdoor cat and she’s been a little frustrated by Cathy’s firm belief that cats belong indoors. But she purrs a lot and she’s healthy.

Ophelia was the only spayed, declawed cat in the Seattle Animal Shelter when Cathy went to look. Personally, I think we should have checked out a few more shelters but Ophelia and my mom have bonded. Ophelia’s here to stay.

And then there’s me. My mom saw me on Petfinder, she says. She chose me mainly because I am a female dog who’s not too big. She asked a lot of questions but she took me sight unseen. Thank goodness she didn’t know about my chewing or pulling tendencies.

Luck? Maybe. My mom likes to think she’s just a great owner. Who cares? I just made a big decision to take another nap. That was easy.

Friends over for dinner? No way…

My mom was skimming through a library book, Life Is Friends: A Complete Guide to the Lost Art of Connecting in Person, by Jeanne Martinet.

She isn’t crazy about the author’s idea: Invite people over for dinner. My mom would have to bring food from the deli section of Metropolitan Market. Her guests would have to sit on the floor.

“And we would have to schedule dinner for the day the cleaning service comes.” Alas, so true! The book says don’t bother to clean for guests. I think they need to make an exception for my mom.

“This book is so filled with detailed instructions,” Mom said, leafing through the pages. “Look at this, Gracie. All these details about houseguests, househosts, challenging situations like drunken brawls…

“Oh no!”

My ears perked up.

“If you’re single, you are supposed to invite two couples over to avoid the dreaded triangle…and preferably a single friend for yourself.”

Mom tossed the book ainto the “return immediately” pile. She got up from our couch and headed off to find her shoes.

“Come on, Gracie. Let’s go for a walk. We need to go by the pet store and order you some food.”

Yes! She just said the magic words. They usually have a treat for me, too. Dogs have friends everywhere.

Michelle Obama Sets Good Dog Walking Example, But…

My mom just pointed to a computer picture of Michelle Obama walking Bo on the White House lawn. The headline blared, “Michelle Obama Walks Bo in Madras Shorts.” Story and photo here.

Oh come on. Who cares what Michelle Obama is wearing? What I noticed is the way the First Lady holds Bo’s leash. Bo is walking on the right, the leash loosely held in the First Lady’s hand, behind her back.

My mom likes me to walk on the left. She keeps working with me. Keesha, my saintly predecessor, was well trained to walk on the left. But here in the city, my mom sometimes gives in and lets me walk on her right. For instance, if the patch of grass is on our right, that’s where I go.

“The important thing is consistency,” she says. Show dogs have to walk on the left. Recreational dogs like me can go either way.

Who cares what Obama eats? I care what I eat.

My mom Cathy was frowning over her computer. “Maureen Dowd of the New York Times is desperate for some satiric wit,” she said. Mom is rarely sarcastic so I looked up from my nap to see what was going on.

“Maureen Dowd says President Obama preaches healthy eating but makes a big show of eating burgers and fries to show he’s a normal guy. Big deal. Why should we care what the President eats? Why do we have to eat greasy stuff to prove we’re normal?”

Mom was on a rant. She read parts of the story to me. Seems the president stopped at a burger joint, ordered a burger and fries and took back a bag of cheesburgers to the White House.

I might as well go back to my nap. I know what’s coming. Mom has very strong views on food. “Why do we forbid people to smoke marijuana,” she asks, “when we let them commit suicide by frosted cereal?” She thinks Cocoa Puffs should be outlawed.

Every time she reads a health column, I slink off to the bedroom and jump on my cushion on her bed. Out of sight, out of hearing range. I know what’s coming. “If everybody would meditate at least once a day for 15 minutes, exercise, and stop eating processed food, the health care crisis would go away. In fact, most doctors would go away. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Don’t get the wrong idea. Mom’s drink of choice is bottled water (she’s partial to Crystal Springs but she likes the Safeway brands too). Her drug of choice is caffeine, preferably French roast, preferably iced. The cats are allowed to get high on catnip. Me? I get to eat healthy food. Mom swears by Avoderm. She even makes me eat Avoderm treats.

Well, when she’s not looking, I’ve been known to…uh oh. If I want to keep this blog going, I’d better retur to my retreat in the bedroom.