Snow in Seattle for Thanksgiving


Here’s our neighborhood. Mom took this picture Tuesday afternoon, November 23, as we went for our walk. That sign read “23 degrees,” my mom says.  It was mid-afternoon and usually the streets would be filled with cars. Today it was blissfully empty.

I wanted to keep going, but she reminded me, “Gracie, you’ve had your walk with your Aunt Sara. And it’s slippery. No pulling today!”

Last night I moved really fast for our final evening walk. I knew my mom absolutely did not want to walk in the cold and the sidewalks were getting icy.

“Thank you, Gracie,” my mom said. “You’ve almost made up for stealing two helpings of cat food. I hope we can walk to the Mud Bay store tomorrow.”

An “Only In Seattle” Moment

My mom was wandering around downtown without me, which means she’s liable to stumble across things she won’t notice when I’m there. I demand complete attention. Otherwise I nibble whatever’s on the sidewalk, jump on friendly people walking by and fulfill my mission to rid the world of motorcycles and skateboards.

My mom took a photo of this sign. She says she can relate as tourists are always getting lost. It’s an indie coffee shop called Monorail Espresso. So naturally tourists ask directions to Starbucks.

We’re not surprised. From my vantage point on my mom’s lap, I’ve watched tourists ask bus drivers for all sorts of things while we natives wait patiently to get where we’re going.

Our Dog Park Gets Artistic

Before my mom moved to Seattle, and well before I was born, our Regrade Park was a bad place. Bad people would go there and do drugs, my mom says.

The only drugs we have are my prescribed medicines and some catnip for our feline housemates. I like a little catnip myself but I am  a sensible creature. I eat it. The  cats go nuts: they’re rolling on the floor in all sorts of undignified positions. So if that’s what humans do, count me out.

This wall originally was supposed to be a handball court and once someone had a basketball hoop. That was a long time ago.

When the park became a dog park, my mom learned, all the crime vanished. As she points out, “If you’re up to no good, you don’t want to walk through a park with large German shepherds and Rottweilers.” Frankly, I avoid the large boys myself.

Recently the park’s residents donated funds for a mural to celebrate the park. So far we’ve got the background – Seattle, what else? – and eventually dogs will be added. My name will be there somewhere because Cathy donated in my name. She didn’t ask if I’d rather have a doggie coat, an extra walk or a new toy.

I guess the mural’s okay. Today my mom heard that the artists may draw dog pictures, including a poodle. A poodle? This is a dog park for mixed breed royalty, like me. We run the gamut from purebreds to … well, dogs like me who have several breeds integrated into a pleasing, perfect mix. Words like “mongrel” and “mutt” are not allowed in my presence.

Friends Should Let Friends Ride Buses

My mom gets all knotted up around this time of year, which means I get to earn my keep as Official Stress Relief source. It’s not a role I chose when I got adopted.

Here’s what happens. My mom Cathy hates to drive. That’s why she moved to a city. She rents out her garage space.

Okay, she’s weird. She actually loves riding buses. She would rather ride buses than cabs. “The drivers gab on their cell phones,” she says,”or I have to talk to them and listen to their political views. On a bus I get to read or sleep. We help the environment. What’s not to like?”

I like buses in Seattle too. I get to sit on my mom’s lap and look out the window. The bus drivers like me. Other passengers fuss over me.

But then we go visit her friends. When it’s time to go home, my mom wants to take the bus. “It’s safe,” she says. “It’s free because I have a pass. It’s very comfortable and I can sleep or catch up on my email via cell phone. And it’s usually faster than driving because buses barrel through the lights and barge past the cars. What’s the problem?”

The problem is, her friends get upset. “It’s dark. It’s a holiday. We can’t let you take the bus.”

My mom won’t let them drive her. “If anything happened on a dark holiday night,” she says, “I’d never forgive myself. Anyway, why should they make a long car trip? The bus is 2 blocks away.”

So she ends up either refusing the invitation (even though she likes going and the friends enjoy having her over) or calling a cab that costs almost $40 (plus listening to the driver’s cell phone chatter and having to explain that “the dog is friendly and doesn’t shed much”) and resenting the whole thing.

Today she was discussing the problem with my Aunt Sara, the dogwalker, while I waited patiently to get going. Aunt Sara is usually on her side, but this time she said, “No way. I won’t let friends take a bus, especially on a holiday.”

Aargh. My mom hates it when she can’t change people’s minds. See, if I’d waited long enough, I’d have been adopted by a rich owner with a couple of Mercedes who really liked to drive…

More Cat Facts We Don’t Need

My mom just read me this article from the New York Times. Apparently some scientists studied how cats drink water. “Much classier than dogs,” was the conclusion.

Do we need to know? Do we care?

The real question is, why do cats drink water from glasses and cups, turning up their little pink noses when mom pours water into their official water dishes? Now that would be useful.

My mom keeps two full glasses of water on the coffee table at all times. “Does nothing for the living room decor,” she sighs, “but otherwise Ophelia’s whiskers would be digging into my water.”

Do moms develop ESP?

My mom Cathy says she can tell when I am Up To Something. She’ll hear a rustle or a crunch and she leaps up from her desk: “Gracie? What are you doing? Stop it! Now!!!”

Usually she’s right. I’m chewing up a delicious camera cord (my favorite) or a paper plate or a brush with a plastic handle.

But sometimes she’ll find Creampuff happily chewing away on her food. Creampuff can leap to the kitchen counter for casual between-meal snacks. She eats heartily and never gains an ounce. Ophelia, whose short fat legs won’t give her the momentum for a Big Leap Forward, eats only a few times a day and tips the scale at fifteen pounds.

I love it when that happens. A clear Not Guilty verdict for the dog.

Mom’s home again (I think that’s a good thing)

My mom Cathy just got back from her conference this morning. My Aunt Sara dropped me off at home this afternoon via her “pet taxi” service. Mom told Aunt Sara, “I took a couple of days to relax and have a mini-vacation. I need to do that more often.”

Yes! I absolutely agree. I came home with a note from the Barking Lounge, reporting what I’d done. I don’t fetch. But I did cuddle with everyone and I got some serious nap time and exercise. If that’s a vacation, give me more.

Best of all I got to escape our feline housemates. Ophelia was very upset with Cathy. She’s strutting around the apartment, emitting yowls of discontent. Creampuff of course is so ditzy she didn’t even notice anybody was gone.

Now I’ll get to hear Ophelia’s story. Just what I don’t need. Time for another nap. I guess life could be worse and anyway I need to spend the next week or two acting Very Grateful For My Owner. Cathy just saw the boarding bill. “Might as well send you to the Four Seasons,” she said.

I have no idea what that means. But I sat up when she reminded all of us, “You are lucky to have a good home. These days the shelters don’t have room for all the abandoned animals.”

Yes. Definitely not a week to press the mom for extra treats, let alone a winter coat and those cute little booties. If the mom won’t wear high heels, and she loves her ancient parka, we know who’s not getting a new wardrobe this year.

Dog goes on vacation…sort of

My mom Cathy absolutely, positively hates to travel. But the other day she forced herself to pack and make a plane reservation to attend an Internet marketing conference, whatever that is.

While she’s off talking seriously about copywriting and marketing, I get to be a lucky dog. We used to go to the Downtown Dog Lounge on Bell Street, which we both loved. But the Dog Lounge closed so the mom took me to the Barking Lounge.

I was looking forward to a few days of vacation. Playing with the smaller dogs. Helping the receptionist greet visitors and administer temperament tests.

And of course I love getting away from my owner and having some fun. Mom is a good owner but she tends to be a little overzealous when it comes to my welfare. She eats right and exercises so she thinks I should too.

When we checked into the Barking Lounge, she told the desk person, “Gracie loves to chew. Don’t put anything in her crate that she could chew up. She chewed up a whole towel last week. And she’s an escape artist. Worse than a cat.”

Gee, thanks mom. There goes my fun. Fortunately the nice attendant came to escort me to my temporary den. I’m supposed to get a whole cot of my very own.

Anyway, my mom was starting to embarrass me. They gave us a list of stuff to bring (“just like summer camp,” mom said) and of course Cathy was taking it out of her bag. “See, this is her food, here are her treats, and her toy…” Then she realized they could figure this out for themselves.

“Do you think I brought enough food?” she asked.

“I think you’re good to go,” the guy at the desk said.

“Oh…as in I should go, right?” Mom said.

They didn’t disagree. Good thing Cathy never had human kids. It’s bad enough that I’m seen with her in public.

Naked Dog Ignores Doggie Fashion Show In Dog Park

dogs wearing raincoats in dog parkToday we’re back to a cold rainy winter in Seattle. My mom took me here for a few minutes in hopes I’ll Do My Business fast so she can go off to the gym.

As you can see, I’m getting a little distracted. And I’m ignoring the dogs dressed in green raincoats that match their owner’s.

“Ooh, they are so adorable,” my mom gushed. “I just have to take their pictures.”

Who cares? While she’s busy with the camera phone, she doesn’t notice I’m jumping…something I am strictly forbidden to do.

Do you notice I’m naked? Will I get a cute raincoat?

“Gracie, you’ll notice I’ve been wearing this coat for years,” my mom says. “I know I’m fashion-challenged. I can’t have a dog that looks more glamorous than I do.”

Why not? I already steal the show.

Doing what I do best: dog seeks treats

Accepting a treat from Lindsay.
Accepting a treat from Lindsay.
Lindsay came back to the park today after a week away, wearing a new jacket and bearing a bag of treats. Naturally I had to stick my nose in, literally.

My mom said, “Gracie, if you don’t want to play, we’re going home. Anyway, you look tired.”

Well, I should be. Yesterday I played with a charming miniature Schnauzer from New York. I enjoyed meeting a fellow urban dog while my mom got caught up with the schnauzer’s owner on what’s happening in New York, where she’s from originally. I ran all over the park.

“Stop fussing over her,” Lindsay said. “Can I give her a treat?”

Well, does it rain in Seattle? I’m ready. Someone snapped this photo and my mom immediately said, “Can you send it to me for Gracie’s blog?”

Shortly afterward we headed for home, where I zonked out immediately. I need to get rested for tomorrow’s jaunt to the big park with my Aunt Sara. A dog’s life, right?