Dog takes over cat’s bed: victory at last!

My mom rarely buys a dog bed or cat cushion. But a couple of years ago, she wandered over to the Cat Show at McCaw Hall. She admired the purebred cats and found someone who was selling handmade cat beds.

“The cats need their own space,” she said.

Huh? There are two cat condos in this apartment, plus two cat cushions. Mom didn’t buy the cat condos. She’s much too cheap. She inherited them from cat owners who were upgrading.

But Mom brought home this wonderful cushion. I immediately took it over. See? Purr-fect fit. After all, if you look at previous entries in this blog, you’ll see our ditzy housemate Creampuff in my bed and my crate. Stand back, calico cat! It’s MY turn.

Dog to mom: Time to go home!

Hey, I’m just a dog. I get tired. We walked 20 minutes to get here. I played, didn’t I? Now I’m ready to go home.

When it’s time to leave, I go straight to the gate. I like this gate because it’s near a bus stop and there’s always some action. If my mom doesn’t move fast enough, I might even scarf some food. Once I got a whole cheeseburger. Just what a dog needs to eat. My mom pulled it out of my mouth.

Today we have slim pickings and a very alert mom. We’re outta here.

Finally…dog park in spring!

As a Canine Urban Princess (a CUPPIE), I need access to the great outdoors. Here in the city we are SO luck to have this pocket park, right near downtown. It’s just over a mile from where we live, my mom says. That’s just enough distance for my paws to feel they’re getting a workout.

We have gravel and grass chips instead of grass but we have flowers and sculpture. But who cares? I’m the kind of dog who’s into sniffing the landscape, not admiring it from afar.

Dog becomes caregiver

My mom’s had some serious health issues this week. She’s strong and healthy but parts of her body (which she won’t let me disclose) have developed conditions that need repair. It sounds minor but she’s been in pain.

My job is to snuggle up to my mom when she’s in bed. I keep the cats in line. And I’m a model dog when one of Cathy’s friends takes me for a walk.

But hey, having a sick owner works for me. I spent three days in the Downtown Dog Lounge last week, getting spoiled rotten by Summer and the crew. Friday I went off with Aunt Sara while Mom went off for an MRI. “It doesn’t seem fair,” my mom was mutterng.

Today my Mom gritted her teeth and dropped me off at the Dog Lounge. “I won’t be able to take you for a long walk,” she said. “Go play.”

Before she was out the door, Summer was guiding me over to the sofa and rubbing my tummy. The day passed blissfully till our neighbor Valerie came to pick me up. Now I’m zonked. But I’m hanging out near Cathy while she works.

Dogs make great caretakers.

Dog deserves to ride in style.

My mom and I took a long walk today. We walked all the way to Belltown’s Regrade Park. That’s about a mile and a half. On the way home, we usually stop at a certain bus stop on 1st Avenue & Broad, because my mom says we can get 5 buses from there: 1, 2, 13, 15 and 18. So we shouldn’t have to wait long and the last 10 minutes of our walk is uphill and less exciting.

Well, today Seattle finally had magnificent weather. We walked, as I said, to the dog park. I ran around for a few minutes but hey, I’m still tired from yesterday’s trip with Aunt Sara. And my mom said, “Let’s walk all the way home. We might as well enjoy this sunshine.”

As usual, I had other ideas. When we came to this bus stop I sat down and refused to budge.

“Come on, Gracie,” my mom said. “It’s just ten more minutes. We have to wait almost that long for a bus.”

No dice.

“Gracie, walking is good for us.”

“We walked to the park and we’re about 1/4 mile from home…maybe 1/2 mile. I’m beat.”

“Gracie, people are looking at us! They think I am a cruel, mean owner”

“You are. Nice owners don’t make dogs walk. They ride buses and cabs.”

“People think it’s funny that you want to ride the bus. You know we’re at a bus stop!”

“Of course I do. Dogs aren’t dumb. Hey mom, I’m giving you a tug on my leash. Look up…there’s a 15 closely followed by an 18. They always bunch up. All aboard!”

My mom sighs as she hands over the fare. “All this to ride just a few blocks. Gracie, you can be a high-maintenance dog.”

“I am a Canine Urban Princess, remember? A CUPPIE. Besides, I am taking lessons from Ophelia.”

Mother’s Day? What next?

When Cathy adopted me, she said nothing about Mother’s Day obligations. As the resident dog, my job is to keep my mom’s life in perspective. When she gets too involved in work, it’s up to me to say, “Let’s go for a walk.” I even escalate my demands to, “I need a walk NOW. The computer will have to wait.”

So my mom came home from the gym and the massage therapist, all relaxed and ready to join me in a nap. “My fitness instructor reminded us that Sunday is Mother’s Day,” she said. “Are you planning a surprise for me?”

Good grief. What will these humans do next? As a dog, I can’t order flowers online. I guess it’s business as usual. Mom goes to the gym. I go to the Downtown Dog Lounge for a party with Summer and the rest of the staff.

The cats have their own style of gift-giving. Ophelia plans to toss up a perfect hairball.

If I were you, Mom, I’d drop the H-word “holiday” altogether. When you have a dog, every day’s a great one.

A Dog Book that Deserves to be Rescued

My mom just read a book by Lisa Duffy, Tales From a Dog Catcher. Lisa spent four years as an Animal Control Officer in a small town in Westchester, New York, right on the Hudson River. She took the job to earn money for college. She worked closely with the police department to enforce the law and protect the animals.

My mom loves this book. She read some stories to me while I pretended to engage in my favorite activity, taking naps on my own corner of the couch. I would start to drift off and then I’d be riveted by what my mom was reading. A few times I even opened my eyes. (Today I’m sleeping extra to make up. A dog’s life, after all.)

Ophelia took up her spot on the arm rest of Cathy’s sofa. She spent 30 days in a cage in a shelter. She keeps reminding me that I had it easy in a foster home. Well, look who’s royalty…but I digress.

Some stories were heart-warming. The police officers in Lisa’s station sometimes adopted the animals that seemed hopeless.  A stray kitten was invited to join a litter of purebreds, like a guest invited for dinner.  A long haired kitten, no less. Hopefully not as high-maintenance as our own Ophelia.

A couple of times my mom started reading a story and then stopped. “Not for your tender royal ears,” she said to me. “And definitely not for Ophelia. That cat would have nightmares.”

People didn’t necessarily abuse their animals in this book, Cathy explained to us. They just thought their dogs and cats were disposable property.

My mom felt sad that this book is so good, but faces obstacles getting known to the world. “It’s not fair,” she said. “I’m reviewing boring, badly written books from big name publishers. I couldn’t put this book dodwn. And I am so fussy.”

This is true. Our coffee table is piled high with books she couldn’t bear to finish. “Life is too short,” she says.

“I know people don’t buy a lot of books tbese days,” my mom said. “But just put in a Purchase Suggestion to your local library. Go to the Amazon listing and get all the info. At least 50% of the time your library will buy the book. And you’ll have a happy evening for reading.

“And it’s also a good book to give your hard-to-please friends for birthdays and holidays.”