Dog Owner at Internet Marketing Conference

My mom admires Connie Green, an Internet empire builder. So when Connie organized a pre-conference get-together, Mom flew in to join them. She left on a 6 AM flight and arrived on time in Las Vegas.

The group posed for a photo. Connie’s in back, wearing pink, with a big warm smile. Mom’s the one on the far right, wearing a hat. She’s crouching down just a little so people can see the folks behind her. Nobody dresses up because they all work from home on the Internet .Some of them don’t even have suits anymore.

“Do I look OK, Gracie?” she asked, showing me the photo. “Not too old or too fat?”

What do I know? I am a dog, remember? I think she looks fabulous when she’s got a hand out to give me my treats.

Back to work (sigh…)

My mom went out of town last week and I got to spend 5 days in the Downtown Dog Lounge. Yaay! It was like a vacation. I played with my Big Sister Summer and got a nice spa treatment on Sunday: bath, mani and pedi. They even did my ears.

Aunt Sara picked me up on Monday because Mom doesn’t have a car. When Sara dropped me off, she said, “Gracie needs a new leash and collar.”

Finally!

“I was going to give her a Christmas gift,” my mom said.

“Nope. You need it now,” said Aunt Sara.

My mom is well-intentioned but a little clueless sometimes. What happened to my birthday?”

But I knew I was back at work this evening. Mom was feeling a little tired. “With all the flu going around,” she said, “I am not taking any chances.” She headed off to bed and pressed me into service as a heating pad.

“It’s cold out there,” she said.

Other people would turn the heat up. Not my mom. She’s into ecology and healthy living. She opens the window, piles on the quilts and grabs her dog. If dogs had a union, we would modify the contract. Dogs go on walks. They don’t do heating pads. I should get overtime pay.

Smart Dogs? Hah. I could do that.

The New York Times ran a story today about a Labradoodle who serves as combination service dog and psychiatric aide. They said the Veterans Admin will spend $300 to study the impact of service dogs.

Save your money, Dogs are natural psychiatrists. I personally keep my owner, Cathy Goodwin, sane and motivated. Without me, who knows how she’d spend her time? Would she get out of the house and do things if she didn’t have to walk me? Would she go to bed early if I weren’t waiting for her?

I am a natural social worker. I go up to strangers on buses. I snuggle up to strangers sitting on benches on the street. People pat me when they want a dog fix.

And while I may be a princess, I’m not a high-priced breed by any means. The government can save its money. There are dozens of wonderful mutts like me. If I can keep my owner in line, any dog can do anything.

Seattle Public Library to Mom: “One book is just like another”

My mom Cathy is an avid reader (as if you couldn’t tell). She’s also a dedicated library user. I’m not allowed in most library branches and I have no desire to go to the Central Library. Dogs are not made for revolving doors.

But my mom was infuriated by the new policy on holding books. She realizes the Seattle Public Library needs to cut back but she can’t understand their logic.

I don’t read, of course, and logic isn’t much of a dog’s specialty. But even I couldn’t miss the idiocy of a comment sent by the librarian to my mom. “We have trained librarians,” the librarian said, “who will help patrons find alternatives to the most popular books.”

In other words, this goes beyond, “Let ’em eat cake.” It’s like saying, “When you go to the library, you want a book. Any book.”

So you say, “I want a book about dogs.”

Will the librarian say, “Well, Malcolm Gladwell’s book, What The Dog Saw, is already up to over 100 holds. But what about The Art of Racing In The Rain? That’s a great dog book.”

Fall is coming to Seattle and dogs are getting colder

Here I’m standng on a street corner, waiting for my mom Cathy to lead me across the street. Notice I’m surrounded by wet leaves and I’ve got leaves caught between my two hind feet. Wet and slippery. Yuk.

I’m always alert to protect my mom from weird strangers. The problem is, I can’t share my definition of “weird” with my mom. Sometimes I’ll bark at a person who seems perfectly nice and respectable.

Recently we walked past a woman who looked like a street person. I barked assertively. But the woman stopped and politely asked permission fto pat me. “I used to train dogs,” she said. “This is a good one.”

She gave me a complete butt massage..aahh, that felt good. I snuggled up to show my appreciation. Then my mom reminded me, “Gracie, we are out here so you can do your business.” Oops…almost forgot. With a friendly wave (mom) and tail wag (me), we were on our way. What a great way to have a morning walk.

The Dog Park: City Dogs In Heaven (Video)

The closest a City Dog like me can ever get to heaven is to play in the dog park. My mom likes to say, “City dogs actually get more exercise than country dogs. After all, what dog plays in the yard? They certainly don’t play in the house!”

True. Who’s got a yard as big as this dog park?

Last Sunday I found a new friend – a cute little white dog who stole the show. He’s a young dog, filled with energy, and he wanted to wear me out. My mom and the dog’s owners were so pleased. “They found a friend!” my mom said happily. She asked the other dog’s name but she forgot. (Duh.) Well, in all fairness, she had other things on her mind. She had to get me home and get herself to the gym, which closes early on Sundays.

So now you get to watch me play and run! Please leave a comment so we know we are being watched.

Dog Judged on Circumstantial Evidence (“Blame The Cat,” She Says)

This morning my mom was awakened when I bumped into her bed. I was trying to jump up and return to my assigned cushion without waking her. After all, I got down, didn’t I?

So my mom gets up, suspicious from the get-go.

“Gracie, you’re off the bed. The cat food dishes are empty. Totally clean! The cats never finish every crumb of their food. So Gracie, I conclude that you were eating cat food! Now I can’t give you breakfast. You’ll get sick from overeating.”

Come on, Mom. You’re a softie when it comes to human justice. You don’t believe in convicting criminals based on circumstantial evidence. So why me?

Mom’s always saying the justice system picks one suspect and ignores other possibles. Well, let’s consider Ophelia as the Prime Suspect. Ophelia’s been getting MUCH larger. She eats fast and furiously. She looks like a plate-cleaner to me. And who knows? Maybe I just thought you were ready to wake up and leapt off the bed two seconds before you woke up.

“Forget it, Gracie,” Mom said. “The only consequence to you is a very slight cutback on your rations. Everybody’s been commenting that you look bigger, too.”

Busted…or falsely accused. What do YOU readers think?

Has Ophelia Morphed Into A Garfield? See for yourself…

Well, my birthday was a non-event. My mom decided I need a rest day in between my most active exercise days. So Wednesday we went for a walk, only to find the dog park was closed. Not to worry: we walked most of the way home, which was about a mile. Thursday was my rest day. Then Friday I was off to Magnuson again with my Aunt Sara.

When Aunt Sara came to get me, she got a look at our portly housemate, Ophelia. “That cat has just about tripled in size!” she exclaimed. “She is huge! Not good for her joints.”

“Guess I’d better put her on a diet,” my mom said, sheepishly.

I was thrilled. I won’t be the only deprived creature in this household.

But later my mom picked up Ophelia. “Not that heavy,” she said. “Maybe your fur has just gotten fluffier with all the healthy food?”

Yeah, right. Come on, Mom. You eat carefully. You measure my rations. Creampuff has a metabolism that keeps her skinny. Let’s get Ophelia into the loop.

So what do YOU think? Please add some comments below. My mom says I need more interaction on this blog.

Two Cats, One Household

It doesn’t take much to make my mom’s day. Yesterday she took me out for a walk, then came home to this cozy domestic scene.

“Just a year ago, I was ready to hire a cat shrink,” she said. “And now…a picture of domestic bliss.”

As a dog, I understand the dynamics of my housemates. Creampuff actually initiated this little get-together. She waited till Ophelia was settled on her favorite cat cushion, then jumped up to join her. Ophelia wasn’t about to give up her territory, not to mention her comfortable cushion.

The cats are almost exactly the same age, if we can believe what their animal shelters told my mom. They’re about ten years old. That’s senior citizenship in human terms.

Dog plans low-key birthday celebration

Today is my seventh birthday. My mom almost forgot: she’s got two teleseminars to deliver today plus she’s going out this evening. So we aren’t doing anything much to celebrate.

Besides, my mom said, “you’re going off to board at the Downtown Dog Lounge while I go out of town. You’ll be there 5 days. That’s plenty of time to celebrate with your buddies.”

And tomorrow I get to go to Magnuson Park with my Aunt Sara, just like every Friday.

Hey…I just figured it out. A city dog’s life means every day is like a birthday.

Turning seven isn’t a big deal. My mom thinks I’ve slowed down a little since she adopted me, almost four years ago.

“Thank goodness!” she says. “You aren’t chewing as much. And I don’t get all worn out trying to keep up.”

Earth to mom. When I was first adopted, I didn’t get twice a week excursions to Magnuson with my Aunt Sara. So of course I needed more exercise. Anyway, getting adopted can be very stressful for a dog, even someone as flexible as I am. Back then we had Tiger the cat, who totally ran the household. I had never seen a bus, let alone been a passenger.

“Graice, you’ve been with me longer than you’ve been wherever you were before,” my mom says. “You should totally have forgotten your pre-adoption life.”

Pre-adoption? What’s that? I can’t imagine life without my mom. Even that fat cat Ophelia has become part of my family. And I think I was born to be a CUPPIE.

Carry on, world. Being seven is pretty awesome.