OK, so I’m a certified snow dog! I love walking through the snow. My fur is thick so my mom hasn’t bought me a coat and so far I’m doing just fine. I love walking on snow. In the city everything piles up on the sidewalks.
My mom, on the other hand, is not a fan of snow. She finally broke down and bought some big ugly boots this year. They’re keeping us safe on snow but she hates wearing them. “They comes with long laces and they’re so clunky,” she says. “And it’s hard to tie them nice and tight.”
I made an offer. I could chew those boots. They’re nice and leathery, just the kind I like.
My mom freaked. “No way, Gracie,” she said. “If you chew them I’ll have to buy another pair. They’re expensive and even worse, I hate to go shopping for boots, shoes, sneakers … anything.”
What an ungrateful mom. I’m just trying to help.
But I should be grateful, as my mom reminds me every day. As soon as the sidewalks clear, we go on nice long walks. I’m tired. My mom’s tired. Life is good.
Well, I’ve seen my last grain of rice for what I hope will be a LONG time. Since I kept my food down all weekend, my mom started easing me back to my regular diet. It’s not the diet I dream of, but it’s high quality dog food and my mom says, “Millions of dogs would be thrilled to eat this stuff.”
Yeah, right. What’s wrong with steak and peanut butter?
Our vet called to see how we were doing. That is SO nice. My mom’s doctor never called when she injured her arm last summer.
The vet, Laura, said, “Only Gracie’s body knows what happened.”
My mom signed, “Yeah, and Gracie’s not telling.”
Nope. Just keep bringing on the treats and we’ll get along just fine.
Please add a comment if you’re reading. I answer each one.
Yesterday my mom found evidence that I had tossed up some of my recent meals. The first sign was a messy spot on the bedroom carpet but the second time happened on tile in the hallway. My mom was SO grateful but she also freaked out.
She dashed to the phone and called our nearby vet. She soon learned the difference between vomiting and regurgitation, something she said she’d be just as happy not knowing. What I just did falls into the latter category. It comes from my esophagus and is potentially more serious.
Neither my mom nor I know much about my esophagus but my mom knows the meaning of “serious” and “x-rays.” Luckily our vet suggested giving me a bland diet (can you say “rice?”) all weekend and then we will see what happens.
My mom also made a mad dash to a pharmacy to get me some Pepcid. The store clerk, she said, got confused and tried to suggest a generic with a different ingredient. My mom knows “famotidine” from my previous tummy upsets. She is a pro.
So last night I was subjected to a small bowl of rice, with more of the same this morning. My mom was thrilled to see that I have no other symptoms. I’m alert and playful. There is nothing wrong with my appetite (although that rice thing will get old pretty fast) and I even did my business this morning. (That’s probably a LOT more than you wanted to know.)
My mom said she didn’t realize being a dog owner meant taking a minor in gastroenterology, whatever that is.
She also pointed out that she’s embarrassed to buy all those stomach medicines so she makes a point of telling everyone in the drug store that they’re for me. Like, who cares? She even wants to label the products in the medicine cabinet so people won’t think she’s got all those ailments as she gets older.
My mom is keeping her fingers crossed that I’ll be better by Monday. She said she just recovered from Ophelia’s departure, Pumpkin’s skin infection and Pumpkin’s cold. She wants healthy animals for at least six months.
As an indoor city dog, one of my great virtues is that I don’t take up a lot of room. I keep thinking, “If I curl up like a cat, maybe Pumpkin will share her food? Or I can get spoiled like the cats?”
“You’re already spoiled,” my mom said firmly. “You get to eat good food, enjoy treats and walks, and sleep on the couch and the bed. What more do you want?”
Well, for one thing, Pumpkin the cat has taken over my fuzzy bed.
A comforter cave, that is! Creampuff, our ditziest housemate, is very smart when it comes to finding warm, comfortable places to curl up. She made herself a cave among the comforters of my mom’s bed.
As I wrote awhile back, my mom Cathy rarely turns on the heat. She loves to crawl into a warm bed with her heavy comforters. When it’s cold the whole family joins her.
I have been pressed into service as a heating pad, although I’d rather curl up at the foot of the bed and get some serious sleep time. Keeping the mom warm is, in my opinion, the job of the cats. Creampuff might as well do something to earn her expensive crunchies.
One sunny day we were walking in the local park when we ran into our dog walker, Jaime. Can you tell that I’ve bonded with Jaime?
My mom was nervous when she flew me here. We had the most amazing dog walker in Seattle – Sara Kimmel from walkaboutpets.com.
So she was relieved to meet Jaime Bennett who specializes in dogs from our neighborhood. Her company is “Happy Tails.”
We both adore Jaime. My mom enjoys talking with Jaime, who’s sensible and smart like Sara. I love walking with Jaime because she recognizes my royal status and treats me accordingly.
I get to walk with Jaime when my mom takes classes that go late into the evening. She doesn’t like to leave me alone for five or six hours and I don’t like to be alone with the cats.
So now when my mom takes off for her improv class, I get to improv a walk with Jaime around the neighborhood. She takes me to cool places. She leaves fun notes, which my mom reads to me: “Gracie was wonderful tonight.” She goes into detail about what I did on the walk but my mom censors those details for my blog.
We’re enjoying the tail (!) end of fall leaves and fall weather.
My mom says $600 is a lot for a couch when you’ve got 3 pets. From my vantage point on the couch, I say, “No comment.”
Here’s a charming shop with lots of beautiful objects, guarded by one of the toughest cats on the block. This cat is not afraid of anything, even dogs. She tried to take a swipe at my nose when we stopped in.
We do have an exceptionally good pet store and a wonderful cafe where I get a biscuit while my mom orders take-out. Otherwise, I’ll stick to the parks, thank you very much. This history is wasted on a dog whose a mixed breed princess without a past.
This is a brand new CAT bed from the Amazon Vine program, where my mom is a reviewer. She is supposed to review this product so she put it down next to my own big fluffy dog bed (on the right). She bought that bed in December 1998, when she adopted Keesha at the Humane Society in Broward County.
I can’t resist trying it out. My mom says I’m more like a cat than a dog. Who cares? This is SO comfortable.
It comes with an electric cord but my mom doesn’t like electric blankets. When she was teaching, she says, one of her students was a fire fighter. He told her he wouldn’t use an electric blanket or extension cord in his home. He’s seen too many of them catch fire.
Anyway, it’s not that cold. So I’m enjoying this bed for now. The cats will have to wait.
“You’d be half way to New Jersey in no time,” she says.
New Jersey? Come on, Mom. I’m a city dog but Jersey scares me, too.
This park is close to where we live. We meet nice dogs there. My mom likes looking at the old houses nearby. And I enjoy sniffing … and sniffing. One thing about Philadelphia: people here don’t toss food around the way they did in Seattle. This park is too clean for my taste. A crust of pizza here and there … an old chicken bone … nope, not here.
Notice my newly svelte figure. My mom’s really proud. She was less than thrilled when I arrived with a few extra pounds here and there. I could say I’m less than thrilled with our diet and exercise regime, but it wouldn’t do any good. A Mom On A Mission is not to be trifled with.