Category: city dog

City dogs should be spoiled. Totally.

My mom came across an article, Ten Ways To Spoil Your Dog. Naturally I sat up and listened when she read it to me. Let’s see how she rates on the “Spoil Your Dog” scale.

(1) Take your dog for walks. The article says we like to go to new places. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m always thrilled to go to Magnuson Park with my Aunt Sara and I enjoy my mom’s walks to Upper Queen Anne. I walk everywhere. And my mom is really good about taking me along. I’ll give her a “10” on this one.

(2) Go for a drive. Forget it. Mom doesn’t have a car. We love the buses. I sit on her lap and get tons of attention. “Very well-behaved.” “Beautiful dog.” “Seems like a nice dog.” Music to my floppy ears.

(3) Treats. Uh-oh. Mom’s a little weak in that department. She forgets to bring treats in her pockets when we walk. She’s gotten a little spooked because the vet warned her about my expanding waist line. Gotta work on this one.

(4) Time for playtime. Well, we don’t do much playing at home. That’s for the dog park. I do get to chase our feline hosemates around, but mostly I’m too tired to do anything but sleep…which brings us to:

(5) Naps. Yes. Say no more! The article suggests a “napping haven,” but give me mom’s bed anytime.

(6) Grooming. Yes: we go to the groomers regularly. I love my baths! Mom just had my teeth cleaned. She hasn’t been as good as she should have been about brushing my teeth. Maybe that’s because I resist so strongly.

(7) Fine dining. Well, I can’t complain about the quality of the food. Mom says, “Quality food will save on vet bills.” But thanks to the vet, she really rations the quantity…and my food bowl is older than I am. Of course, if I bring this up, mom will remind me how much she spends on dog walks. Okay: who need a new bowl? I haven’t worn out the old one.

(8) Time with Owner. Dogs hate to be alone. You bet! My mom is the best when it comes to time with me. She works at home and usually I’m just a few feet away. True, I do have some crate time, but my mom points out that she needs a life too. I have a big comfy crate with all the amenities…and I can catch up on my sleep. See “naps” above.

(9) The article refers to “doggy media experience.” I guess we could buy me some DVDs to watch when mom’s not home. I think my mom would put this in the same category as “doggy raincoat” and “doggy sweater:” over the top.

So all in all, my life isn’t bad. My mom’s a good dog owner and dog spoiler. But she has a LONG way to go. Her friend Bill in New York treats his dogs like royalty. I may be a princess, but around here, my mom says, I need to remember I am a CANINE Urban Princess. “Canine” and “Urban” come first.

Am I really spoiled? Please comment here.

After all this pottery work, we get…a cylinder?!

My mom says, “Pottery is wonderful because it makes no sense at all.”

True.

She goes on, “I have no talent for pottery. I am not buildng on strengths. I’ll never be an accomplished potter. The world doesn’t need any more pots. It’s purely for its own sake.”

Really? That’s the way dogs operate. We just do what we enjoy. Humans make things complicated.

My mom was so excited. “I made a cylinder!” she exclaimed. “It’s practically even!” She showed it to Megan, an accomplished potter, who pretended to be impressed.

For this we had to come up all the way to the pottery studio? I could have chased a dozen tennis balls by now…about as useful as mom’s quest for a perfect cylinder.

“I’m getting fussy,” she said. “If it’s not even, I don’t keep it.”

Well, I’m pretty fussy about who and what I play with, too. Same thing.

Pottery Studio: Dog gets a break (all too short)

Mom asked her classmate Megan to take a picture of us. She’s wearing a pottery smock thing (they keep some hanging on the door and she just grabbed one). There’s where Mom was working.

“It’s a pottery wheel, Gracie,” Mom explained.

“It’s noisy,” I wanted to say. “This place is not fun for a dog. There’s a big thing that roars and gives off heat. There are all these shiny floors. Nothing for a dog to do.”

“Keesha, my first dog, used to sleep while I worked,” Mom said wistfully.

“Keesha was older,” I wanted to remind her. “Anyway, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m Gracie, your dog du jour.” Dogs get a little sarcastic when we’re bored.

“Isn’t this better than being home in your crate?” Mom said. “Look at all the attention you get.”

Maybe a tie vote.

City Dog’s Boring Day, continued: Watching My Owner

Well, after my mom picked up a few books from the library, we walked over to the Queen Anne Community Center. I had been in here briefly, when we went to the Farmers Market. But now we went into a room I’d never seen. It was horrible. I hate shiny, slick floors. Mom had to pull me along.

“We just want to see how the pottery turned out,” my mom said.

We ran into one of Mom’s classmates, who was really friendly. She said, “What a wonderful dog! Why don’t you stay and throw something?”

“Because Gracie could break something and I’d be responsible.”

“Just tie her up.”

Great. Just what I’ve always wanted. So here I am, waiting again. This is the part of a Dog’s Life that nobody wants.

Ahh, Fridays…

My mom and I agree on one thing. We LOVE Friday afternoons.

I go off with my Aunt Sara for yet another adventure in Magnuson Park. There’s something magical about these outings. Even total strangers say, “That dog really enjoys being here.” I have my pack of dog friends and keep running into people who know me. They don’t know my mom. Every so often we’re in Regrade Park and someone says, “Oh Gracie, it’s you!”

Don’t tell anybody, but I think my mom is jealous of my celebrity. How do I know? She was telling someone on the bus, “Being Gracie’s mom is a little like living with Paris Hilton.”

But my mom has no problems in the self-esteem department, especially as she gets older. (Uh-oh, I wrote the “o” word.) She takes off every Friday afternoon for a workout and (every other week) a massage with the best massage therapist in Seattle, she tells me, and maybe the world. On alternate Fridays she goes off to prowl around bookstores, museums or coffee shops.

My mom used to be baffled by massage therapy. “What’s the big deal?” she would say. Now she started about a year ago and she’s addicted.

I could have told her, “Massage is great.” Total strangers come up and give me back rubs, belly rubs and butt rubs. I love it. My mom would say that’s not exactly what she had in mind, but she doesn’t know what she’s missing.

Anyway, my mom’s got her priorities in place. “No matter what,” she tells me, “your dog walks and my massages come first.”

City Dog Makes Friends In The Dog Park: A Video

I was born friendly. When my mom adopted me, she asked the foster mom, “What if Gracie doesn’t like me?” (I think she was having second thoughts about adopting a dog. After all, my Petfinder.com photo didn’t do anything for me.)

“Gracie loves everybody!” the foster mom said. Thank goodness! So here I am, proving once again…

City Dog and Dog Owner Enjoy a Seattle Moment

Mom says people want some pictures of her, not just me. But usually it’s just the two of us, and I don’t have fingers, let alone opposable thumbs. Besides, I’m a lot more photogenic than my mom.

On Wednesday my mom announced that we were going to walk up to Queen Anne. Going up is a LOT harder than going down. On the way back, my mom was so thrilled with the view she insisted we walk over and take a look. Personally, I could care less about views. I’d rather dig for something more interesting, which my mom won’t allow me to mention in this blog.

We saw some tourists taking pictures. My mom said, “If I take a picture of your family all together, can you get a picture of us?”

They said, “Sure.” Mom struck a pose and I’m looking at her, like, “What is going on here?”

It turned out they were a couple visiting their son, who is studying at University of Washington. My mom likes to give people information about Seattle because it makes her feel like an old-timer. Well, we have our fourth anniversary coming up. You’re not a newcomer, Mom. But it’s kind of cute when you play tourist.

My mom wants me to add that she hadn’t planned to have her picture taken, so she was wearing her old shorts and sweatshirt. Luckily she got her hair cut so she looks a little ore together than usual.

Please write a comment to reassure my mom that she doesn’t look as awful as she thinks. Tell her she doesn’t look old, even if you have to lie.

Aww……City Dog and City Dog Owner Enjoy the Dog Park

My mom just got her hair cut. She was so tired of fussing with the sides and dealing with frizz. So she marched into her hair stylist and said, “Cut it off! Cut it all off!”

I wasn’t there, of course. It’s illegal for dogs to hang out in hair salons. But that’s just fine. Why would I want to be there? They have cold shiny floors. There’s nothing to do. It smells funny.

My mom’s first dog, Keesha, was a guard dog. Actually she was a mix of two guard breeds – keeshond and chow – so she could be ferocious. She would rather be with Cathy on a cold cement floor than sit on a soft cushion in the next room.

Not me. Give me soft anytime.

But I like sitting on top of this ledge. Lindsay sits here, when she’s in the park, and occasionally she can be persuaded to give me a treat. She’s always good for a tummy rub or a good butt scratch.

Lindsay’s taking this picture. See how my mom’s smile looks more like a grimace? That’s because she’s within a mile of a camera, even if she reailzes she asked for it. She’s the least photogenic person on the planet.

I look like I’m bonding with my mom, don’t I? Don’t fool yourself. My nose is continuously on alert for treats and edible garbage. My mom and I disagree on the definitions of “edible” and “garbage,” but that’s another story.

Dog’s Life Gets Complicated By Endings and Beginnings

My mom was feeling a little sad yesterday because the Queen Anne Farmers Market is closing. Sure, we have Pike Place Market all year round, but the QA market is small and special. She’s got all her favorite vendors and she came home loaded with green leafy stuff.

She’s also got that gleam in her eye that says, “Back to my special diet!” I knew something was up because yesterday we walked all the way to the top of Queen Anne hill. “No bus for us, Gracie,” Mom said firmly. “We need the exercise.”

As usual, when Mom needs exercise, the dog has to go along. Even if the dog is tired and hardly in need of more exercise.

Alas, I didn’t get to go to the Farmers Market. I remained home in my crate. See, mom has taken up a new hobby.  As with all her interests, she dives in with lots of enthusiasm and little expertise. She goes to class Monday night. Then on Thursdays and Saturdays, she goes to the studio to practice. She’s determined to master the basics of throwing this term.

The truth is, my mom has less talent than just about anybody when it comes to pottery. She studied a year in Philadelphia and a year in New Mexico. She makes oddly shaped pots and passes them off as “original.” Her friends have to struggle to keep a straight face when she shares her misguided creations.

The good part is, it keeps my mom out of trouble. And she feels so guilty about leaving me that we get extra dog park time.  Life could be worse.

P.S. My mom says she wants more comments on this blog. Please say something! Just click on “comments below.”