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.

The Role of Food in Our Household

For the last few years, we’ve been pretty calm about food in our household. Mom is an omnivore. I’m famous for eating unmentionable garbage and stealing my mom’s food. The cats chewed on their crunchies.

Then everything changed. Cathy adopted Ophelia, who’s a food fuss. Ophelia insisted on eating canned food, which was supposed to be an occasional treat. My mom doesn’t want to mess with cans. After all, I eat crunchies. Why shouldn’t the cats? Who’s the superior species here?

So my mom finally got firm. At night she put down two plates of yummy Avoderm crunchies, one for each cat. Ophelia ran to her dish. Alas, she seemed to say, “no crunches.”

She gave Mom her best pathetic stare. Mom was unmoved. She had just rinsed out 3 cans for recycling. Enough!

So she ran to the other dish and sniffed. No crunchies.

Ophelia ran back and forth a couple of times before accepting the inevitable. She stalked away, fat plumy tail held high.

My mom was worried. “What if she won’t eat? What if she gets hepatic lipidosis? A big vet bill…”

Later that night we awoke to the sound of crunching. Sure enough, there was Ophelia, caught in the act. Ophelia looked at my mom and dashed away, muttering, “I was not eating. Don’t get any ideas.”

Could a cat be this smart? my mom wondered. She asked a couple of her human friends, by phone.

“Cats can be very manipulative,” said Mom’s friend Pat. “Don’t give in.”

Mom’s pretty stubborn herself. After all, I did serious crate time my first few months, till I convinced everyone I could be trusted to stay on the bed all night. I know the drill.

Anyway, I’ve had slim pickings around here myself. Mom downloaded a diet from the Internet and there’s not much for me to steal. No self-respecting dog would eat a cucumber and tomato salad. Whole grain bread? Not for me.

And that ditzy Creampuff keeps eating my food. I’d like to have a word with that adoption agency…if I knew how to use a phone.

Dog Owner fights the cordless phone battle

Since she discovered the joy of laptops, my mom Cathy likes to sit on her couch and work. She still works mostly from her cool home office, tucked away into an alcove.

When she works in her office, I have to sit on a cushion on the floor. But when she works on her couch, I curl up on the other end. That way I can keep Cathy out of trouble and make sure she stays more or less focused on her business. All part of my underpaid, underrated job.

Since Cathy works on the phone, she likes having a cordless phone so she can sit on her couch and talk. And she can jump up and pull socks away from me, while holding a conversation with someone halfway around the world.

So when her 8-year-old cordless phone started dying, and she couldn’t push the buttons to dial numbers, she said, “I will go purchase a cordless phone. No big deal.”


I heard her talking to someone from her cell phone. “Why can’t I get a cordless phone that works? I’ve been through two phones already. I can’t hear the person on the other end, although I can hear operators. Ridiculous! What happened to the days when you could just walk into a store and point to a box and say, ‘I’ll take that one.'”

After she hung up, she used a few words that are not suited to my innocent canine ears. Then she vowed to use her old cordless phone, which works beautifully. “I just can’t dial out but people usually call me anyway,” she explained. “At least I can hear them.”

Cathy called half a dozen people on her cell phone to see if anyone could help. They said, “Who uses a land line anymore? Just a cell phone, thank you very much.” Or they said, “I hate my cordless phone too.”

Frankly, I don’t care. Dogs don’t talk on phones. And I’m sleeping on a ten-year-old dog bed, so I’m hardly in a …um…position to advocate for change.

I just hope Cathy doesn’t go over her cell phone minutes because then she’ll mutter about wasting money. And she’ll think twice before buying me another toy, let alone a bag of those delicious treats from Downtown Dog Lounge.