Category: A Dog’s Life

My foster dad sent this photo (and some others) to my mom so she’d know I’m okay. He wrote, “Gracie has chosen our new sofa for her throne instead of our beds.” See, he recognize a princess when he sees one.

My mom Cathy decided to take a year off. She’s going back to the East Coast, where she is from originally. She wants to cross off some items on her bucket list, reconnect with people from her earlier life and get a new direction for the time that remains to her.

I can relate. Some things on my bucket list are napping all day, finally getting even with the cat, and eating treats … and more treats.

My mom did not abandon me. She arranged for me to stay with a very nice young man who adores me and treats me like the royal princess I am.

He wrote to my mom, “Gracie likes to sleep on our beds. Sometimes she won’t get off no matter how what we do. She loves the park nearby.”

My mom thinks I will be totally spoiled. She said she misses me but has pointed out that I am not especially attached to her. I am more of a follow-the-biscuit type dog.

She’s right.

Hey, time for another snuggle! Mom is starting a blog about her adventures. Reply to this message if you’d like to get the info.

My mom was trying to decide if she should keep this winter hat. In my opinion it’s a no-brainer. It’s ugly. The color is all wrong for her but it matches her jacket. It’s old and wasn’t expensive to begin with.

So it’s the dog to the rescue! No more decisions, mom. This hat is going…going … gone.

She didn’t even pretend to scold me. I think she was relieved to have an excuse to toss it out.

Look, my job is to take care of my mom. I am supposed to guard her physical and mental health. For mental health I keep her from getting bored. I make sure she’s constantly vigilant and never lets her guard down. That’s easy.

For her physical health, I demand regular walks so we get lots of fresh air and sunshine. I also make sure my mom eats properly.

Yesterday she came home from a lunch meeting with half a chocolate cookie. She knows she is not supposed to eat cookies. She planned to enjoy this one as an afternoon snack.

That’s where I saw my role. When she left her bag within reach, I moved fast. The cookie was gone in two bites. It was a big sacrifice. Dogs aren’t supposed to eat cookies either. But hey, anything for the mom.

But was she grateful? Did she thank me for being such a thoughtful dog who looks after her owner?

No way.

“Gracie,” she scolded, “you know better. You have a perfectly good dinner waiting. And when I forgot to pick up the cat food as soon as I came in, what did you do? Yes – you ate the whole thing. No wonder we keep running out of cat food.”

I plead innocent. Ophelia keeps getting fatter and at this rate she will soon explode. I’m the only slim, responsible member of this household. (Creampuff is slim but no one would call her responsible.) I do my best. And what do I get?

Sigh. A dog’s life is not always easy. Time for a nap to recover from all this trauma.

Chef Scott Carsberg of Bisato adores me. My mom adores the restaurant and she goes there whenever she can find a special occasion. They serve nouvelle cuisine – very healthy and delicious. In summer I am allowed to sit outside at one of the small tables in front of the restaurant.

Sometimes my job is to give people a dog fix. That’s what I’m doing now. See, mom? I earn my keep. When she goes to the restaurant I bet she gets great service because of me.

Since we moved we are just next door to my mom’s bank. My mom always takes me along. She likes to combine her errands with lots of dog walks.
“So you get exercise, Gracie,” she says, “and I get everything done.”

So while she deposits her checks, I get to scarf some treats from the Relationship Manager, Jessica. Hey – we’re relating, right?

We don’t have a television so we don’t watch commercials. However, my mom was watching a show on Hulu.com when she caught a flash of a Subaru commercial, where dogs drive the car.

“You didn’t know my first dog, Keesha,” she told Ophelia and me. Creampuff knew Keesha of course but she was off hiding and being ditzy as usual.

“Keesha used to wait for me in my car,” she said, sounding a little sad. “I’d come back from the store or the gym and she’d be sitting behind the steering wheel. People would make jokes like, ‘That dog wants to drive.'”

Uh… mom, you had a car?! Ophelia and I have been strictly buses and cabs.

“And,” she continued, “I would say, ‘Keesha, you know better! Get in back.’ And Keesha would give me that look – ‘You caught me!’ – and jump to the back seat.”

That’s a trick? My mom was clearly besotted.

She went off to Youtube to look up more videos of dogs driving Subarus. Her favorite is (naturally) the parking commercial where the dogs get beat out by a large fuzzy cat.

I have to watch over Mom’s shoulder because my paws don’t fit the keys. You can just click the play button.