My mom tells me people spend a lot of time and money learning to focus their energies. Dogs do this naturally.
For example, it’s a gorgeous day. Humans are trying to decide if they should go get coffee, go to the Farmers Market, or maybe visit the Sculpture Garden.
As a dog, I face no such decisions. I vote for the Dog Park every time. What could be better?
Here’s a scene from a couple of weeks ago. I’m behind the shaggy guy getting a bath.
Okay, I fell asleep and I’m all stretched out. But those *#*! cats are not going anywhere near this dog bed. 
Hey, I’m just a dog. I get tired. We walked 20 minutes to get here. I played, didn’t I? Now I’m ready to go home.
When it’s time to leave, I go straight to the gate. I like this gate because it’s near a bus stop and there’s always some action. If my mom doesn’t move fast enough, I might even scarf some food. Once I got a whole cheeseburger. Just what a dog needs to eat. My mom pulled it out of my mouth.
Today we have slim pickings and a very alert mom. We’re outta here.
Hmm…there are two tennis balls here. They’re perfect – just the right consistency for a dog to chew.
Where do I start?
C’mon, Mom. Stop taking pictures of me and come throw one of these balls for me to chase.
My mom’s had some serious health issues this week. She’s strong and healthy but parts of her body (which she won’t let me disclose) have developed conditions that need repair. It sounds minor but she’s been in pain.
My job is to snuggle up to my mom when she’s in bed. I keep the cats in line. And I’m a model dog when one of Cathy’s friends takes me for a walk.
But hey, having a sick owner works for me. I spent three days in the Downtown Dog Lounge last week, getting spoiled rotten by Summer and the crew. Friday I went off with Aunt Sara while Mom went off for an MRI. “It doesn’t seem fair,” my mom was mutterng.
Today my Mom gritted her teeth and dropped me off at the Dog Lounge. “I won’t be able to take you for a long walk,” she said. “Go play.”
Before she was out the door, Summer was guiding me over to the sofa and rubbing my tummy. The day passed blissfully till our neighbor Valerie came to pick me up. Now I’m zonked. But I’m hanging out near Cathy while she works.
Dogs make great caretakers.
My mom and I took a long walk today. We walked all the way to Belltown’s Regrade Park. That’s about a mile and a half. On the way home, we usually stop at a certain bus stop on 1st Avenue & Broad, because my mom says we can get 5 buses from there: 1, 2, 13, 15 and 18. So we shouldn’t have to wait long and the last 10 minutes of our walk is uphill and less exciting.
Well, today Seattle finally had magnificent weather. We walked, as I said, to the dog park. I ran around for a few minutes but hey, I’m still tired from yesterday’s trip with Aunt Sara. And my mom said, “Let’s walk all the way home. We might as well enjoy this sunshine.”
As usual, I had other ideas. When we came to this bus stop I sat down and refused to budge.
“Come on, Gracie,” my mom said. “It’s just ten more minutes. We have to wait almost that long for a bus.”
No dice.
“Gracie, walking is good for us.”
“We walked to the park and we’re about 1/4 mile from home…maybe 1/2 mile. I’m beat.”
“Gracie, people are looking at us! They think I am a cruel, mean owner”
“You are. Nice owners don’t make dogs walk. They ride buses and cabs.”
“People think it’s funny that you want to ride the bus. You know we’re at a bus stop!”
“Of course I do. Dogs aren’t dumb. Hey mom, I’m giving you a tug on my leash. Look up…there’s a 15 closely followed by an 18. They always bunch up. All aboard!”
My mom sighs as she hands over the fare. “All this to ride just a few blocks. Gracie, you can be a high-maintenance dog.”
“I am a Canine Urban Princess, remember? A CUPPIE. Besides, I am taking lessons from Ophelia.”
When Cathy adopted me, she said nothing about Mother’s Day obligations. As the resident dog, my job is to keep my mom’s life in perspective. When she gets too involved in work, it’s up to me to say, “Let’s go for a walk.” I even escalate my demands to, “I need a walk NOW. The computer will have to wait.”
So my mom came home from the gym and the massage therapist, all relaxed and ready to join me in a nap. “My fitness instructor reminded us that Sunday is Mother’s Day,” she said. “Are you planning a surprise for me?”
Good grief. What will these humans do next? As a dog, I can’t order flowers online. I guess it’s business as usual. Mom goes to the gym. I go to the Downtown Dog Lounge for a party with Summer and the rest of the staff.
The cats have their own style of gift-giving. Ophelia plans to toss up a perfect hairball.
If I were you, Mom, I’d drop the H-word “holiday” altogether. When you have a dog, every day’s a great one.
My mom just read a book by Lisa Duffy, Tales From a Dog Catcher. Lisa spent four years as an Animal 
Control Officer in a small town in Westchester, New York, right on the Hudson River. She took the job to earn money for college. She worked closely with the police department to enforce the law and protect the animals.
My mom loves this book. She read some stories to me while I pretended to engage in my favorite activity, taking naps on my own corner of the couch. I would start to drift off and then I’d be riveted by what my mom was reading. A few times I even opened my eyes. (Today I’m sleeping extra to make up. A dog’s life, after all.)
Ophelia took up her spot on the arm rest of Cathy’s sofa. She spent 30 days in a cage in a shelter. She keeps reminding me that I had it easy in a foster home. Well, look who’s royalty…but I digress.
Some stories were heart-warming. The police officers in Lisa’s station sometimes adopted the animals that seemed hopeless. A stray kitten was invited to join a litter of purebreds, like a guest invited for dinner. A long haired kitten, no less. Hopefully not as high-maintenance as our own Ophelia.
A couple of times my mom started reading a story and then stopped. “Not for your tender royal ears,” she said to me. “And definitely not for Ophelia. That cat would have nightmares.”
People didn’t necessarily abuse their animals in this book, Cathy explained to us. They just thought their dogs and cats were disposable property.
My mom felt sad that this book is so good, but faces obstacles getting known to the world. “It’s not fair,” she said. “I’m reviewing boring, badly written books from big name publishers. I couldn’t put this book dodwn. And I am so fussy.”
This is true. Our coffee table is piled high with books she couldn’t bear to finish. “Life is too short,” she says.
“I know people don’t buy a lot of books tbese days,” my mom said. “But just put in a Purchase Suggestion to your local library. Go to the Amazon listing and get all the info. At least 50% of the time your library will buy the book. And you’ll have a happy evening for reading.
“And it’s also a good book to give your hard-to-please friends for birthdays and holidays.”
Even my wonderful Aunt Sara has taken up the cause. When she came to take me for my walk today, she said, “You know, Cathy, I’ve been noticing something with Gracie…”
My beautiful coat? My shiny eyes? Impeccable manners?
“Gracie,” continued Aunt Sara, “is getting a little chunky around the middle.”
“Yeah,” my mom said ruefully. “The vet said the same thing.”
“All those treats!” Aunt Sara sad.
“Hmm…I bet the Downtown Dog Lounge gives you lots of treats,” my mom said, giving me The Look.
I’m not saying a word.
“Maybe Gracie’s getting older,” my mom said. “She’ll be seven soon.”
True. I am a midlife, mid-career dog.
And I want to enjoy my life and my treats in peace. Just because my mom doesn’t eat ice cream anymore (her fave was Haaen-Dasz jamocha almond fudge), why should I watch my diet?
There’s a city pocket park with amazing view of the city skyline and the water. My mom loves to look out and take pictures. In summer we see busloads of tourists spilling out, eager to take pictures of the skyline.
Once a tour guide pointed to the bowl of water beneath the water fountain. “People in Seattle leave water dishes for dogs,” he told the crowd. 
While my mom admires the view, I get to concentrate on what’s really important. Drinkng water or sniffing grass. In my opinion, the best view is an old chicken bone someone dropped in the grass. In my mom’s opinion, that same chicken bone is a potential threat to my health and a humongous vet bill.
When it comes to views, we don’t have the same (pardon the expression) view. That’s because I’m built low to the ground and have a much firmer grasp on priorities.