Category: dog owner

Smartest dog breed? Just look at my picture.

My mom Cathy was watching a video at Petzume, “10 Dumbest Dog Breeds.” She kept looking over at me, with a critical eye. Luckily I don’t look like any of those breeds.

Anyway, Cathy gave up on the list when she came to “Dumb Breed Number 7 (or was it 9?): the Chow Chow. Cathy’s first dog, the sainted Keesha, was part chow. True, Mom says, she had all the qualities listed. Fiercely loyal to her owner. Jealous. Likes to be the center of attention.

“But Keesha was so smart,” Cathy says. “When I said, ‘Want to go for a ride?’ she would go right to the car. When I said, ‘Walk?’ she would jump up and wag her tail, ignoring the car completely.”

Then Cathy looked up the 10 smartest breeds, defined as “easiest to train.” The smartest (according to this video) is…a Border Collie?

“Come on,” Mom said. “Border collies train their owners. One border collie in New Mexico taught its owner to throw frisbees for hours.”

Whew. What a relief. For awhile there I thought mom was going to administer an IQ test, although she thinks all those tests are hogwash.

Then she got distracted by a cool video on that site: How cats wake up their owners. “Just like Creampuff,” she nodded approvingly.

I went back to sleep, dreaming of my own video. How Owners Wake Up Their Dogs (and why they shouldn’t).

Dog and owner go shopping

My fashion-challenged mom shops with me at Peridot. My job is to tug my leash when we go past the store, so she’ll go in and look around. She’s getting inspired by all the new fashions.

Cathy is very proud of her parka, which she claims is at least 15 years old. She refuses to buy another winter coat.

Fortunately, she is looking into buying some new blue jeans, because she wants to show off her new body. If you’ve been following this blog, you know she went on a special diet and has been exercising 3 or 4 times a week at the gym. And we walk…and we walk. We’re both in great shape.

“Yes, maybe I could get more clothes,” she tells me. “But I have no place to wear them. I work at home and my only social events are held at the dog park. So I spend my clothing budget on you, your dog walker, your treats, and …oh yes, your vet bills when you eat junk.”

Time to change the subject. And now you see why I’m going naked. If Mom isn’t buying herself a new winter coat, you can bet I won’t get one either.

Another dog park

Las t Saturday my uncle Lance drove Cathy and me to the Woodland Dog Park in Seattle. That’s my mom’s favorite dog park. She says it reminds her of the forest primeval. It’s very Northwest — all those tall trees.

I like Woodland because so many nice dogs go there. There’s always someone for me to play with. Here I am playing with another dog who understands how dog parks work. You can tell we’re speaking the same language. I’m saying, “Let’s play.” He is saying, “Sounds good! What kind of game do you have in mind?”

My mom was disappointed because my Uncle Lance refused to be photographed. “I’m very camera shy,” he said.

More likely he’s ashamed to be seen in our company. I can’t say I blame him. I mean, everybody wants to be seen with me, but my Mom isn’t exactly a fashion model. You’ll see more in future posts.

We were all very cold so we didn’t stay long. Thank goodness! I went home and slept for 12 hours straight.

Exhausted Dog Welcomes New Year With Festive Sleep

My mom Cathy finally caught on. I hate fireworks and loud noises. Last year I was shaking so hard she had to pick me up.

Well, I’m not quite the slender Princess I was a year ago. At midlife, my figure has become more Queenly, even though my mom watches my diet and I get tons of exercise. My mom isn’t getting any younger either (but don’t tell her – it’s a sensitive topic). So she said, “If I pick you up, Gracie, I might pull my back. So we are staying home.”

Mom goes out Saturday to hear Beethoven’s First and Ninth Symphonies at Benaroya Hall. So she played them for me, loud enough to drown out the firecrackers. I slept. And slept. After all, I went out with Aunt Sara on Tuesday and spent a few hours in the Dog Lounge on Wednesday. I’m wiped.

Mom is too but she was so excited about her updated blog she was up till 3 AM. Who cares what time she goes to bed? When I’m sleepy, I sleep. My bed is anywhere in this apartment.

Why We’re Home For The Holidays

My mom Cathy used to travel a lot. She has spent Christmas holidays in London (England), Madrid, Edinburgh, Paris, New York and Chicago…and more. But since 9/11, she says, she hates to travel. She’s served her time on planes waiting to be de-iced at O’Hare. She’s driven (very nervously) on icy roads. airport in snow

“There’s so much to do here,” she says. “Symphony. Ballet. Theatre. Movies.”

Dog parks? I give Mom a nudge with my very cold nose.

“And dog parks,” she says. Sometimes she reads my mind.

Thanksgiving from a Dog’s Perspective

My mom has a guilty secret. She hates Thanksgiving. She’s not exactly warm and fuzzy (duh – have you noticed?) so she doesn’t Get It. Why do people want to hang around, eat too much and pretend to be having fun? OK, maybe some people really have fun.
thanksgiving with dog

Not my mom. Cathy hates small talk. She actually detests parties.
“I’d rather stay home and read a good murder mystery. Or maybe watch a video and take Gracie to the dog park.”

I admit I enjoy visiting families on holidays. Everybody makes a big fuss over me. If the host has a dog, I can usually find a dish of dog food that’s tastier than what I get at home. By the end of the day, I am exhausted.

But my mom is less than thrilled. When I eat strange food, my tummy starts doing the tango. So I wake my mom at 3 AM to Go Out — Immediately — to Do My Business.

My mom gets very upset. “Why did I ever adopt another dog?” she asks me. At 3 AM, I must admit, I don’t have a very good answer.

So in the end, I guess I am better off when we just stay home. My mom sticks to her diet and I stick to mine. My mom buried her nose in a new mystery by an author she just discovered – Roberta Isleib – where the heroine is a clinical psychologist. My mom loves to second-guess therapists and she lives for a good mystery novel. She even approves of the author’s website (except for the W-word: Welcome, but let’s not go there. This is my blog, okay?)

Anyway, I have a lot to be thankful for. My dog beds. My dog walks. Food. Treats. The Dog Lounge for daycare. My raving fans all over Seattle. Our wonderful bus system, Seattle Metro, where I get to ride on my mom’s lap and get tons of attention from total strangers.

My mom’s birthday

My mom celebrated her birthday this weekend. She discovered she was eligible for a free concert on her birthday so off she went to Benaroya Hall. They featured Sibelius’s 2nd (which she enjoyed immensely, she said, much better thanmusic notes the other Sibelius symphonies). Of course she also went to her exercise class. And we stopped by the dog park on our way home.

Unlike me, my mom did not get a treat for her birthday. She stuck to her lifetime eating plan. I’m so proud of her. I want her to stick around till I get old and cross the bridge. After that, she’s on her own.

My birthday was last month. I got to spend the day in the lounge, which was much more fun than going to a concert. And I got to spend my mom’s birthday there too. I played hard all day and I’m still tired. Gotta rest up: tomorrow’s my day to go to the park with Aunt Sara.

Cathy was hoping our fuzzy housemate Ophelia would give her the ultimate present: eating by herself. But no…Ophelia sniffs at food and says, “No thanks.” How can she turn up her nose at chicken and tuna? Meanwhile, the ditzy Creampuff is in heaven. She’s getting everything Ophelia won’t eat.

Me? I get my usual dry, boring crunchies. No big deal. I’d still rather be a dog.

The REAL issue for the White House: Get a mixed breed dog

New President-Elect Barack Obama has shown good sense already. He promised his daughters a puppy. My mom read this article aloud to me.

Frankly, I think Obama should forget about getting a puppy. The White House is no place for house training, crying and mess. He should do what my mom Cathy does: get a nice full-grown, mixed-breed dog from a shelter.

At least he’s not getting a cat, like the Ford administration. There’s hope for the country.

Visitor from Philadelphia

Last night we were honored with a visit from Mom’s friend and copywriting client, Ellen. Mom wrote the copy for Ellen’s website, Faces and Fortunes, back when she was charging about half of what she does now. Ellen’s site was very successful and they became phone friends. They met for the first time on Sunday. I went along to the Marqueen, where Ellen was staying. They wouldn’t let me go upstairs but the desk people fussed over me in the lobby.

Mom took advantage of the gift certificate she won at the Dog Park party last August (how appropriate!). She took Ellen to dinner at The Waterfront, an upscale seafood place in Seattle.

The waiter took thisdog park gift certificate was used photo. After Mom downloaded it to Photoshop, she said she should have left a smaller tip. It was all blurry. She touched it up to get the photo. That’s my mom Cathy on the right. See, she does own some Real Clothes.

Did they bring home a treat for me? Hah. Such gratitude. I mean, if she didn’t own me, she wouldn’t have been at the dog park for the party. She’d have taken Ellen to the little Thai place around the corner.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ellen said. “I like Thai food.”

Maybe next time.

Dog park attracts weird people

Yesterday we went to the dog park. The weather was nice and my mom wanted a break. So I got to take one too.

I was kind of roaming around, looking for trouble and collecting lots of butt scratches from the humans. Not much was happening when we were there.

Then a man came with a nice dog, just about the right size and temperament for me. I went over, following dog etiquette, and introduced myself with a friendly sniff. I said hello. I went into play posture. The other dog did too. We were on the same wavelength.

Soon we were happily chasing each other. My mom walked over and told the dog’s owner, “They’re playing so well together. Isn’t that great?”

To her amazemenet, the other dog’s owner wasn’t happy. “Keep your dog away from my dog,” he snarled, snapping on a leash.

“Huh?” my mom said. “This is a dog park. If you bring your dog here, other dogs will play.”

The man huffily took his dog out of the park.

“Weird,” was the consensus among the humans…and me too. We were having fun! That poor dog needs some playtime.

“Some people shouldn’t own dogs,” said the owner of a brown dog of unknown breed.

“I agree,” my mom shuddered.

Me too. Sometimes I wonder:  If I’d waited longer, would I have had a better owner? Maybe Bill Gates would have come along and adopted me.

But on days like today, I realize things ccould be a lot worse. Almost every day I get to visit the dog park or the dog lounge. I get to play with anybody I want.

I bet that dog would trade places with me anytime.