The perfect spot

Every so often there’s a perfect harmony between dog and furniture. The people who designed this dog bed knew what they were doing. It’s perfect for a medium sized dog like me.

Okay, to be honest, I would rather have my spot on the couch. But Ophelia took over when we were out for a walk and she won’t give it up. Well, I have a perfect spot to set my chin and contemplate the action. Fortunately Ophelia hasn’t shown an interest in this bed and Creampuff doesn’t put up much resistance. Life is good.

Dog Park Civilized Greeting

And what have we here? It looks like a very small, very spoiled dog. A pug, to be exact.

Pugs are very popular in Seattle, my mom says. We once met a pug when we were out walking. The owner told my mom, “I knew someone who worked in the shelter. They called when this pug came in. I had to get down there in an hour because so many people wanted a rescue pug.”

Hmm. Not many people were seeking a royal mixed breed like me. My foster home actually gave my mom a sales pitch. “Great dog. I’d keep her myself if I didn’t already have three dogs. She looked so cute playing with the puppies. She sits on the couch and chews on her chew toys.”

Uh-oh. My mom got suspicious. “Chews on her chew toys? And what else?”

“No way,” they lied. “Just her toys.”

By the time my mom found out about my Power Teeth, it was way too late.

This pug seems fairly useless. He just sits on his blankie and waits for people to come worship him. Even Ophelia moves around more than that. But you can tell he’s a sweet dog in his own way. I tried to get him to play, since I love small dogs. No dice.

Here we are exchanging pleasantries about our respective owners. My mom is much stricter than his mom. His mom has left him in the care of Lindsay, the dog park steward, so he will continue to be spoiled rotten.

Dog park steward with dogs

Lindsay is the steward of the Regrade Dog Park. She’s a dog lover and an awesome Steward. Everybody behaves when Lindsay’s in the park, even me.

“Lindsay is a natural executive,” says my mom, who definitely isn’t.

Here’s Lindsay watching over a pug dog, whose name we forgot, and her own dog, Jasper. Jasper is a legally registered service dog so he gets to go everywhere. He’s very laid-back except when he doesn’t like someone who’s walking by the park. Then Lindsay has to tell him to be quiet. After all, she gets out the official Regrade Park Squirt Gun when other dogs bark. The uppity Belltown neighbors get upset.

Back in the Dog House

Uh oh. I did it again. My mom went to upload some photos from her camera. She found the cord. The USB end was just fine. The end that goes into the camera was gone.

“Look at this, Gracie!” my mom exclaimed. “Teeth marks!”

Time for me to leave the room.

“Do you know what these cords cost?” my mom exclaimed. “How many boxes of treats could I buy with this money?”

Maybe I can get Creampuff to give me an alibi. Thank goodness my mom has her new phone camera. Otherwise this blog would be blank.

I hadn’t thought of that. The cord was so delicious.

Cat holding position

dog and catHere’s Ophelia firmly holding on to her spot on the couch.

She got here first and notice how she’s expanded to take up the whole space. Not hard to do when you’re a queen-sized feline. Notice how there’s no way I can possibly squeeze in.

Cats control their world even when they’re asleep…or pretending. Ophelia’s got one eye squinting out at us.

My mom doesn’t really care who’s on the couch as long as somebody joins her. She says, “I pay all this money for crunchies. The least I can expect is some company while I work.”

And she’s happy to see Ophelia emerge from her hiding places and join the family. She will never forget how Ophelia arrived as a timid stray cat who promptly stopped eating and got sick with liver disease.

Ophelia’s left her past behind. Better than some humans, my mom says. She’s totally at home, as you can see. And I don’t think she belongs in the “finicky eater” department anymore. My mom just put out an SOS call to the vet, asking how much to feed Ophelia every day. I suggested we send Ophelia out to catch some mice in the park but nobody paid any attention.

Dogs in the Courthouse? What next?

My mom came across this website about dogs who work in the justice system: http://www.courthousedogs.com

Here’s a quote:
“The use of courthouse dogs can help bring about a major change in how we meet the emotional needs of all involved in the criminal justice system. The dog’s calming presence creates a more humane and efficient system that enables judges, lawyers, and staff to accomplish their work in a more positive and constructive manner.”

My mom is rather cynical about the justice system, to say the least, so she snorted at the words “humane and efficient.” As a dog, I’d say we’d have fewer people in prison if society broadened the application of dog training. The idea with dogs is “correction,” not “punishment.” Good trainers stop us before we get a chance to do something we’re not supposed to do. We get rewarded and encouraged.

Of course, stubborn dogs like me are always testing the limits. But I’m never destructive unless the perfect sock crosses my path. And I’m never, ever mean.

After all, I’m always treated with respect, although we have some issues about rushing through a walk in ten minutes when my mom gets behind schedule. I eat high quality food. I have a nice home, good medical and dental care, and a comfortable bed. I am never allowed to hang out with dogs or people who would be a bad influence; my mom regulates treats and won’t let me jump up to greet people, even when they say, “Oh that’s so cute…”

Treat humans this way and prisons would be empty. Then we could use the money to spoil even more dogs.

Since we’re not there yet, we are glad to see dogs in court rooms where they calm everybody down. The courthousedog.com site recommends assistance dogs, rather than therapy dogs. Apparently assistance dogs are good around children, wheelchairs and other impediments.

My mom would like to put me to work. She’s looked into the visiting dogs program, where we could go into hospitals and nursing homes. Unfortunately, she says, I won’t qualify. I’m terrified of shiny floors and when I meet another dog, my reactions are not predictable. Very sad, she says, as I’d be perfect for this kind of work.

I’ve already got a full-time job, as we pointed out recently. So i’d just as soon get extra nap time.

Dog Park Gets Boring So I Wander Around

Here’s where I am driving my mom completely nuts. When I get bored, I wander around, looking for something to nibble on. Usually it’s something unmentionable.

My mom freaks every time.

“Gracie, stop eating that!” she yells, clear across the park. Sometimes she squirts water in my direction. If I’m chomping on something good, I ignore her. These tidbits are more delicious than any of the stuff that comes in big bags, which (my mom points out) are very expensive.

I’m grazing. This is just what my mom does too. Instead of the ground, she goes to the refrigerator.

“That’s different,” my mom would say, if I dared to point this out. “I eat totally healthy food. Organic. No junk.”

We won’t comment on what I’m eating. My mom would censor the entry and some readers would start to feel a little ill.

Dog Forced Into Mom’s Exercise Program

Last Sunday mom started reading a book called Spark, by John Ratey. It’s all about how exercise helps the brain.  She read about high school kids who started an exercise program early in the morning, before the school day began. They had more energy the rest of the day and they got better grades.

That was enough for my mom, who’s an exercise fanatic anyway. She dragged us out the door before breakfast, stopping only to make sure the cats had food in their dishes (naturally). We walked;..and we walked.

“This is so good for us, Gracie,” my mom said. “When I had Keesha in New Mexico, we always got up early and went for a long walk. It was so beautiful.”

Great idea, Mom. I’m a different dog, remember? And you’re in Seattle now, right?

To add insult to injury, my mom decided that this is the year I will stop pulling on my leash and learn to heel. Isn’t that a miserable idea? Fortunately for me, she lost her squirt bottle so I don’t get splashed when I pull. Instead she carries treats and distracts me with, “Gracie! Treat!” Usually I fall for the treat everytime…except when I see a squirrel or an exciting new dog coming our way.

“We’ll work on this, Gracie,” my mom promised firmly. “And Andy promised some training sessions, too. Won’t that be fun?”

Yeah, right. I can’t wait. Luckily after our exciting Sunday walk, all the way to Kinnear Park and back, I was ready for a nap. My brain works just fine, thank you very much. Dog logic raises this important question: “If the mom wants exercise, why does the dog have to get involved?”

I’m sure our readers will agree. Just follow the arrow and write me a comment.

Training in the Dog Park (Whether I Want It Or Not)

Here I am in Regrade Dog park, same as the last post. Andy is offering me a treat. Being a dog trainer, he insistts that I sit politely. There’s another dog watching but I’m the focus of attention, as is appropriate for a Canine Urban Princess like me.

Well, why wouldn’t I? My mom read somewhere that obedient dogs have higher self-esteem. “A good sit,” she says, “gives you pride and self-confidence.”

If that’s true, I’d say, I have got to be the most confident dog on the planet. Well, okay, I’ve got a way to go. But who gets all those compliments when I ride on the bus on my mom’s lap? And who’s better at “sit for treats” than I am?

Andy’s one of my best friends and he wants to call his training service Dog Buddies. My mom’s not so sure. She was muttering about keywords and being unique, whatever that is. I think Andy’s unique.  He’s definitely one of my buddies.  I’m a dog. What’s to discuss?

Negotiating with dog trainer for treats in Regrade Dog Park

Here I am in Regrade Dog Park, along with a bunch of other dogs. As you can see, we are all negotiating for treats. I’m more enthusiastic than anyone else.

Andy is a dog trainer who’s just opening up his dog training  and dog sitting business in Seattle’s Belltown. I adore Andy. When he comes to the park with his two large chow mixes, I drop everything and rush over to say hello. (I mean that literally. Usually I have something in my mouth. The most mentionable is a tennis ball.)

Andy’s dogs are totally obedient. My mom sees them everywhere, unleashed, always obeying Andy. He can say, “Wait over here,” and they wait. I don’t think I’ll ever reach that level. My mom is negotiating with Andy for some training sessions, though. Just what i’ve always wanted.