Category: dog lounge

Mom gets busy…

My mom has been busy all weekend, but she makes time for me to exercise. Yesterday we walked over a mile to a furniture store so she could buy a new bookcase. (She just gave away her old one on Craigslist. Too small, she said.)

“You need exercise,” she said. “I’m going out tonight.” And she did. She was off to the Symphony, humming the tune to the Idee Fixe of Berlioz’s Fantastique. (My mom is so proud of her new musical knowledge. She’s got a lot to learn, she says.)

Then today I played for two hours in the Dog Lounge with my best pal and adopted Big Sister, Summer. Summer wants to take Mom to the Ewetopia sheep-herding event next week.

Me? Herd sheep? My hair stands on end. I bet somewhere in my genes is a true sheep dog.

We’ll see. Mom says she’ll take off the time if we can work out the driving with Summer. I’m keeping my paws crossed. And very nice paws, too. Summer gave me a manicure. My mom says she’s long overdue for one herself.

“Just be glad I have so much work,” she said. “Somebody has to pay for your crunchies. And dog walks. And…” uh-oh, I know what’s coming… “your vet bills from eating JUNK.”

Time for a nap. And boy do I need one.

Another adopted dog becomes an author

Someone sent my mom a book to review: Bark Up The Right Tree. She read parts of the book to me while I pretended to take a nap. Frankly, there’s just too much competition these days. Everybody and his dog wants a piece of the action.

This dog, Jessie, had a hard life. A child abused her (she doesn’t say how) and then she ended up in a shelter. Wow! Compared to Jessie, my life was easy. Nobody abused me. I ended up in a foster home right away. The foster mom wanted to adopt me but her family said, “We have enough dogs now.” So I hung out with them a few weeks.

My foster mom was a real salesperson. “She looks so cute playing with the puppies.” And, “She’s sitting on the rug, chewing her chew toys.”

“Does she chew anything else?” Cathy asked suspiciously. She was spoiled. Keesha, her First Dog, was a barker, not a chewer.

“Oh no, just toys.” They lied. Or maybe I was on good behavior for a few weeks.

Anyway, Cathy asked a lot of questions about how I got along with the resident cats. When she found out I didn’t eat them, she was happy. (Why would I eat cats? Yuk.)

Back to the book. Ruth decided she wanted a dog named Jessie. By then the dog Jessie had been moved to a foster home, thanks to a private rescue group. Jessie had an upper respiratory infection but she was mellowing. The rescue group listed Jessie on Petfinder as a Lab mix aged seven. (Hey, that’s where Cathy found me! Maybe dogs need to take Internet Marketing courses.)

Ruth originally gave Jessie her own room. Gimme a break. What dog wants to sleep alone? I had to sleep in a crate after I arrived here, but Cathy was right in the next room. And that Jessie is smart like me. We both taught our owners where we want to sleep.

Jessie’s owners were loving and sensitive. Cathy as an owner is much tougher. “My way or the highway,” she likes to say.

But Cathy’s a sucker for stories about dogs who were rescued. When she tells my story, she likes to dress it up. She tells my story to everyone on the bus, in the dog park and on the street. She wants to teach people how wonderful a rescue dog can be.

“When I had Keesha,” she says, “people thought she was a purebred. They’d ask what I paid for her. But everybody knows Gracie’s a mutt.”

What an attitude. I’m keeping my eyes closed. We CUPPIES have to maintain our dignity. I bet Ruth doesn’t talk about Jessie like that.

P.S. My mom said to read her review before you buy the book or give it away. Just click on the book cover.

Creampuff the Cat, posing for “cute”

Creampuff tends to be the low cat on the totem pole. Ophelia took Tiger’s place as Top Cat and of course I take up a lot of space.

Creampuff doesn’t mind. She’s my ditziest housemate. If she were a human, she’d be Miss Congeniality in a beauty pageant.

Creampuff plays with everybody. She even sniffs at me when I walk by. She eats my food and takes over my dog bed. She’s determined to become friends with Ophelia. My mom thinks it’s gonna happen. Ophelia used to hiss at Creampuff but Ophelia’s running out of energy. She’s no kitten.

Here’s Creampuff looking absolutely adorable. That’s what Creampuff does best. She’s the most photogenic member of our household. She’s just taking a break in Cathy’s closet, getting white hair all over Cathy’s clothes.

“No point buying nice furniture or clothes,” Mom says. “Not with all these animals.”

I’ve been living with my mom for over three years and I understand what’s going on. Mom has no desire to buy nice clothes or furniture. We’re just an excuse.

Here’s Creampuff

So I’m a mutt…who cares?

Yesterday my mom wanted to take some time for R&R after her gym class. So I spent almost the entire day at the Downtown Dog Lounge with my adopted big sister, Summer, and the other folks who adore me.

“She played in the pen,” they reported when Mom came to pick me up.

“Where does she get the energy?” Mom wondered. I’m not telling.

Then everybody fussed over me on the bus trip home.

“Beautiful dog.”

“So mellow.”

“My dog would never sit like that.”

Of course, my mom has to spoil everything. She likes to tell the world, “Gracie is a rescue mutt. She thinks she’s a princess. Princesses don’t ride on the floor, so she sits on my lap.”

Well, would you want to ride on the floor? Who knows what else has been there? And how would you like being called a mutt?

Actually, my mom Cathy doesn’t mind at all. She hates the idea of classifying people by nationality or ethnic group. “I’m a mutt myself,” she says. “I don’t know anything about my ancestors either.”

My mom is like me in other ways, too.  She resists training and she likes treats. But nobody’s ever, ever complimented her on being well-behaved.

I’m working on it…after my nap.

Dog Gets Royal Treatment at Dog Lounge

Just about every Sunday my mom takes me to the Downtown Dog Lounge. She works out in her gym while I get a good workout with all the other dogs. It’s nice being around my own species. Cats just don’t play well with others.

I like the name, Dog Lounge better than “doggie day care.” Much more fitting for a Canine Urban Princess – a CUPPIE – like me. And let’s face it. Half the time I’m lounging around on the couch when my mom comes to pick me up.

“Did Gracie play? Was she good?” My mom asks these questions every time.

“She’s always good,” they say.

Now, those folks know how to treat a dog. Here’s my adopted Big Sister Summer. We adore each other.

“Gracie, you’ve come a long way for an adopted rescue mutt,” my mom said when she took this picture.

Hah. I’m just achieving my destiny.

Dog tired …

Yesterday I went to the Dog Lounge while Mom worked out at the gym. Summer was so happy to see me! She went back to the pen area and we played…and played.

When Mom came to pick me up, Summer said, “So soon? Does she have to go now?”

“Summer,” said Mom, “I will leave Gracie to you in my will.”

I like that idea, although Mom’s not ready to croak yet.

That night I was totally wiped. Thursday my Uncle Bob filled in for Aunt Sara. He believes in long runs in the park. Then Sunday…so I curled up in a tight ball and fell asleep on my Mom’s bed.

Mom woke up and noticed I hadn’t moved. She reached over to pat me. “Hmm… Gracie, you feel cold. Are you still alive?”

I didn’t budge. Here’s an opportunity to shake up my mom. She’ll get all worried. She’ll be so relieved to realize I’m alive, she’ll grab a handful of treats for me. Yum. I can just taste that peanut butter.

Alas, Mom has become tough.

“Gracie, I can’t do anything tonight. Hope you’re around tomorrow morning.”

Then she went back to sleep and I did too. Sure enough, this morning I bounced off the bed, all ready to begin our morning walk and eat my breakfast. Then it was time for another nap. Another busy day in the life of a CUPPIE.

Canine Urban Princess Gets The Ultimate Day in the City

Mom says today was the ultimate in urban living for a canine — and for her, too. She was behind schedule so we flagged down a Yellow Cab to take me to the Dog Lounge.

We CUPPIEs know how to ride in a cab. I sat straight on my mom’s lap, looking out the window, and didn’t budge. The driver likes dogs (otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped for us). I started to help him by licking the window, but my mom was horrified. “Gracie,” she said, “you don’t need to wash the windows.”

I spent a delightful morning being pampered with a workout in the Big Dog area, followed by a bath, pedicure and ear trim. Summer gave me a beautiful red and white bandanna to wear home. Everybody on the bus made a fuss over me. “Such a well-behaved dog,” they said. “So beautiful.” It was a community of urban bus riders. And all created by me.

“What’s her name?”

“Gracie. Amazing Gracie. Or Princess Gracie.”

“What’s her breed?”

“All American Mutt,” my mom says proudly.

Come on, Mom. You’re a copywriter. Can’t you come up with something more…regal?

Yeah, right.

A wonderful winter day…

Yesterday my mom Cathy decided to seize the day.

“Tomorrow is supposed to be awful,” she said. “There’s a good class at the gym at noon. You, Gracie, need exercise.”

So we trooped out the door, leaving the cats to their own devices and big plates of crunchies. Ophelia complained but Mom ignored her. Thank goodness! Ophelia is taking over our household.

The streets were pretty good. “Dry, packed snow, almost like Alaska,” Mom said. “But Gracie, after this snow goes away, we are scheduling several sessions with a trainer. You are pulling on your leash. And it’s slippery.”

I ignored her. I was eating snow. Delicious.

Mom dropped me off at the Dog Lounge where I had a joyous reunion with Summer. My mom took off for the gym.

She was in a good mood when she picked me up a few hours later. The weather was so pleasant she decided to run a few errands and walk around enjoying the outdoors.

The downtown streets were nice and clear, she said. “But a young guy took my arm when I was crossing the street on Stewart and then on Fifth. I guess I look old. But these days I’m more into practicality than pride.

“So,” she continued proudly, “I let them help me scoot across the street, so I got to the gym in time for my Survivor class, where I proceeded to kick some butt. Everybody else in the class looks at least 20 years younger than I am. And I hold my own.”

Our fitness was tested on the way home. Two buses were too full to take us. We ended up walking…and walking. My mom’s feet got wet in the slush and she worried about frostbite. My paws were getting a little chilly, too.

But we both felt great: all that fresh air and exercise. We were so tired we could barely move. And we both went to bed early, dreaming of blue skies and winter sunlight on a city day.