On Sunday I’d rested from my trip to Magnuson with my Aunt Sara. Mom decided we needed exercise so she brought us to Regrade Dog Park. Some of my favorite dog buddies were there. Mom kept saying, “Gracie, go play!”
Sigh.
So I interrupted my friendly visits with the human park visitors and …
Our ceiling is leaking. It was leaking last winter. Mom reported it promptly. Then last week it REALLY came gushing down. The leak is just over the top of my crate in our living room.
“Luckily nothing valuable was harmed,” Mom told the building manager. “Gracie’s crate got wet. We had to move it because I can’t leave her in a crate with rain coming down and maybe getting inside.”
Yeah right. Now my crate is jammed up against a bookcase. I don’t have a view of the whole room. I get claustrophobia in there. And it’s farther from my window. And it’s my crate, for heaven’s sake. The most important piece of furniture we own.
No sympathy from Mom.
“It’s just for a little while,” she says. “You spend less time in your crate than most dogs. And let’s face it: you live a great life. We just went to the dog park yesterday. I have videos to prove it.”
Mom did have a moment of fantasy. Maybe we’ll move to Belltown.
But we won’t go unless we absolutely have to. I know my mom. She loves being near Metropolitan Market. We’re close to her pottery class. We have about 10 bus lines within a few blocks.
True, we’d like to be closer to her exercise class and one of the Downtown Dog Lounge locations. We could be closer to a dog park. But then we’d be farther from these other places. Belltown doesn’t have a decent place to buy food. There’s a great pet store but we get our dog and cat food delivered. Mom says she can’t carry those 25-pound bags any more.
Luckily they’re coming to look at our ceiling today. I’m keeping my paws crossed for a speedy resolution.
Being a dog in the Goodwin household can be tough. I have many responsibilities. It’s my job to keep the cats in line. When they focus on me, they don’t fight with each other. And I have to guard my mom while she’s sleeping. That means I have to lie on the end of her bed and can’t sneak off to steal the cat food.
Then it’s up to me to make sure my mom gets exercise. I keep her company on her walks. And twice a week I go off with my wonderful dog walker, Sara. That’s work too. I have to make sure my mom feels guilty about leaving me in my crate while she goes off to live her own life, so she’ll keep sending me out on dog walks with Sara.
I also have to keep my mom calm when she gets riled up about something she reads in the newspaper. I encourage her to keep working because she needs to make sure I get vet care and crunchies.
No wonder I’m tired. Here I’m sleeping off a tough day of dog-walking with my Aunt Sara. We went to the dog park on the lake. I had to run around and be sociable with all the other dogs. That’s what my mom expects me to do in a dog park.
And at the end of the day, I get to relax on my mom’s sofa, all curled up like a cat. My mom thinks I’m dreaming about my beautiful day on the lake. I’m not telling.
My mom arranged for the best dogwalker in the world to take me out twice a week. We go to a beautiful park with a lake. I go running and wading.
Sara, my dogwalker, is a lot more reasonable and sensible than my mom. She doesn’t worry that I’ll swallow something and choke or get sick or…well, leave it to my mom’s imagination.
My mom is currently on a video binge. Watch out, world! Here she made a video of me going out with Sara. Our hallway is actually pretty bright but it comes out looking dark. My mom was providing a voiceover which was probably driving Sara crazy. Then there’s my mom’s lack of mechanical skill, which extends to cameras…we won’t go there.
My mom is VERY generous when it comes to dog walks. Let’s keep it that way.
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…
You don’t think I’d do this, do you? No – this was my buddy General, whom you met in the last post. After General stopped yowling, my mom followed me around the park with her camera. She wanted me to do something creative. Gimme a break. I got my ears rubbed by a nice lady, for heaven’s sake.
Warning: TURN DOWN YOUR SPEAKERS! This is LOUD. The other videos aren’t mine. They were chosen by YouTube.
General is a HUGE German shepherd who lives in our neighborhood. We see him walking with his owners. I can always recognize General because each dog has a unique smell and aura. My mom, who goes by looks, sometimes doesn’ t recognize General.
Every so often we see General in the dog park with his co-owners. Mom can’t remember their names but she told them to look me up. She hopes they’ll write a comment with their names (if they want to be known). This is General’s dad. On the right you see General’s mom, who just finished her doctorate in child development psychology. My mom likes to talk about academic research so they chatted away after my mom Cathy snapped this picture.
General’s a nice friendly dog. My mom says, “You could walk around Pioneer Square or cross Kinnear Park at 3 AM and nobody would bother you.”
Come on, Mom. I can be pretty ferocious in my own way.
My mom has been following the WNBA finals from her computer, except for Sunday when she caught Game 3 at her gym. She’s been cheering for Phoenix and Diana Taurasi.
“I remember when Diana was a freshman at UConn,” she says. “Diana tossed a 3 and Geno Auriemma said she doesn’t know yet that she shouldn’t take those shots because her coach will yell at her.”
Actually I think Mom likes Diana because they’re both mavericks. Diana can be outrageous and over the top. She’s not someone you forget. Neither is my mom, on a smaller scale.
I’m glad Phoenix won. My mom will be in a good mood all weekend. And I can catch up on my sleep.
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.
My mom Cathy wanted to pick up some classical music CDs. She’s going to a concert in a few weeks and she wants to listen to the music first. I like that idea. Since dogs can’t go to concerts, I like hearing the music here.
But even though I can’t go to the concert, I am allowed in the music store. In fact, they keep a jar of treats. Whenever we go in there, they offer me treats. My mom Cathy says, “We go out of our way to patronize dog-friendly places. For once my mom’s values are in the right place.
My mom is very strict. I get half a treat for “sit.” Here I am in a “down,” ready to receive the second half of my treat.