Dog proclaims, “Not guilty!”

Mom took a picture of me where she claims I’m looking guilty. Fortunately the camera cable is gone so she can’t publish it anywhere. See the previous post.

I am an innocent, misunderstood dog. My mom takes too many pictures, especially featuring me in compromising positions. She needs to get a life.

My Uncle Lance has the right idea. He won’t allow her to take his picture. He won’t even let us use his real name. I don’t always want to be seen in public with my mom either, especially since she keeps forgetting to call for a hair appointment.  Now she is wait-listed for another month.

So I am not guilty of destroying property by chewing. I am actually helping my mom by protecting her from her own devices.

Uh oh…I chewed up my blog posts.

My mom Cathy is not amused. She took a whole bunch of photos on Monday, when we went on our walk to Upper Queen Anne. When she went to upload them to her laptop, one end of the cable was missing. It was frayed as if someone had (pardon the expression) chewed it up.

I am in the dog house. I don’t usually chew cords and cables and I have no idea how this happened. Maybe another dog got in here while no one was looking. Maybe Ophelia got bored. She is  a high maintenance furball.

“I hope you just chewed,” Mom said. “If I get another vet bill, you will be toast.”

Toast? Sounds delicious. I love toast. Okay, no time for jokes.

Mom called the Sony people and they are sending her a new cable by Friday. She told them what happened. They do not have a sense of humor but they do have a cable.  Why would a mom try to embarrass her own dog by sharing this story with total strangers? Good  thing my mom never had human children.

It could be worse. Some dogs would chew the whole camera.  We have to keep things in perspective.

Dog and cat becoming friends.

A few days ago, Cathy saw Ophelia and me sharing space peacefully. She grabbed her camera and took this picture. I’m just getting around to posting it.

Notice how graciously I’m offering to share m space with Ophelia. Cats have their own cushions. Ophelia doesn’t get it. She just plopped her rather large self on the bed, just a few inches from where I was taking my pre-bedtime nap.

The picture’s a little fuzzy because the lights weren’t on. My mom touched it up in Photoshop.

Now she’s working on getting the cats to share space. Good luck, Mom. Ophelia’s got issues.

Mom’s a dog-gone fitness fanatic

My mom is truly a fitness fanatic. She works out three or four times a week at the gym. When the weather’s decent, she takes me for walks.

In fact, that’s why she adopted me. When she took me for my first check-up at the vet, she wasn’t there for my health. She was there for her own benefit. “Will Gracie be able to go on long walks with me?” she asked the vet. “That’s why I want a dog.”

From the beginning, I was set up to be an accessory. I’m not loved for my self and my scintillating personality.

As if that weren’t enough. Cathy worries that I don’t get enough exercise. So every Sunday, while she works out at the gym, I’m in the Downtown Dog Lounge of Seattle. Fortunately the staff is not nearly as fanatical. They sneak me treats and let me snooze on the couch while Cathy thinks I’m running around chasing other dogs. I play with my special group of friends. I help out at the reception desk. They use me for temperament-testing when new dogs apply to join our pack.

This morning Cathy warned me, “Gracie, I’m off to the ballet this evening. I want to see my favorite female dancer, Kaori Nakamura, perform the lead in Swan Lake and this will be my last chance. So you’ll be crated up for at least for hours. Better be tired.”

No problem, Mom. I am zonked. I slept all afternoon. We’re both getting older. I don’t need to run marathons anymore. And a few more treats won’t wreck my midlife figure.

Good thing Mom didn’t have human kids. They’d be ready for boot camp by the time they reached college.

“

“When herding sheep, keep your cool.”

Here I’m striding across the field, getting ready to do some serious sheep herding. It’s a rare picture of me walking. People keep telling my mom, “Gracie looks so much more confident since you adopted her.”

True. I am feeling more and more at home as I assume my rightful role as a Canine Urban Princess. If you look carefully, you’ll see that I’m not crazy about getting my paws deep in the Big Muddy Area of the sheep herding ring. My mom and I both think the Magnuson Dog Park is about as wild as we want to get. I’m thinking of my cozy couch and the treats waiting for me when I get to come in out of the cold.

But when you herd sheep, you have to show them who’s in charge. And when you see me coming, you’ll recognize my regal bearing. The sheep will be so stunned they’ll obey me unquestioningly..

Rescue mutt turns sheep dog

Would you look at this? When Cathy adopted me, I figured we’d stay in our nice, clean city apartment. I’d sleep on the couch and rarely get my paws dirty. Okay, I go to Magnuson twice a week with my Aunt Sara. But we stay on the paths and on the beach.

Herding sheep: dont I look like a pro?
Herding sheep: don't I look like a pro?

But Summer from the Downtown Dog Lounge took me out for a day of sheep herding. We went to Ewetopia, a place that specializes in uniting dogs and sheep.  Summer took a whole set of pictures of me working sheep.. Although I am a Canine Urban Princess (CUPPIE), it seems I may have descended from some common shepherd dogs.

I don’t know what came over me when I saw those sheep. Don’t I look like I know what I’m doing?

Now my mom wants to go out there. Personally, I think I’m getting a little old for this herding. I slept for 3 days afterward. It’s tougher than it looks.

Spring is here…

and we celebrated with a walk around the top of Queen Anne Hill. My mom enjoyed the cherry blossoms and the flowers. I sniffed around the grass.

On the downside, my mom has thrown herself into spring cleaning. She has been going through everything she owns and throwing things out. Her socks are hidden away where I can’t reach them.

Then she hired a cleaning team that made a frightful racket for over an hour. Mom took me out for a walk for part of the time. Thank goodness. My ears were not made for vacuum cleaners. Ophelia was totally stressed. She thought they were going to invade her hiding place.

No such luck. Tonight we’re all relaxing in our clean and tidy home…for awhile, anyway.

“Play hard, sleep hard…”

You’ve heard of work hard play hard? I don’t work that hard but I play a lot. After a day at the Dog Lounge on Sunday, I was zonked.

Dog strikes pose even while sleeping
Dog strikes pose even while sleeping

My mom likes to take pictures of me when I’m asleep. She points out that I can’t move and ruin her photo. And she thinks I’m “cute” when I sleep.

In reality, I think she’s jealous. I get to nap all day. She has to stay awake and work.

Downtown Dog Lounge: they appreciate me

On Sunday mornings my mom goes off to the gym for her workout. She used to do sculpt class and now she tells me she does Elliptical, machines and Pilates. As a dog, I have no idea what she’s doing. It all sounds so weird. Why can’t humans just chase tennis balls for exercise?

Getting a tummy rub from Big Sister Summer at the Dog Lounge
Getting a tummy rub from Big Sister Summer at the Dog Lounge

But I don’t care. While she works out I get to chill out at the Downtown Dog Lounge with Summer, who’s like my Big Sister. See,  I’m getting a family: my Mom, the pack leader; my mysterious Uncle Lance, who refuses to have his picture taken with us; my Aunt Sara, who takes me to the dog park twice a week; and Summer, my Big Sister.

Summer is looking up at the camera and I’m telling her, “Ignore the camera. Mom’s going to exercise class. I want a tummy rub.” My mom Cathy took several pictures but only this one came out. In the other ones, I was wriggling with joy and all you can see is a blurry brown shape.

First Dog gets First Bowl? Gimme a break…

My mom was checking  Twitter when she found this story about the Dog Bowl, tweeted by @Teriss.

Apparently the Czech president gave the dog some dishes so Bo can eat with pride from special china with the White House seal.

Here’s what I get. I have a plastic two-sided bowl, with water and food served together. I guess I should be grateful to have a bowl at all. The cats eat off paper plates.

What will the First Toy be? Forget politics, Bo. Train your owners to get you a kong toy. Maybe ex-Prez Jimmy Carter will donate some peanut butter. That’s the way to my heart, anyway. I only get the good stuff when I’m in my crate, out of the way while Mom talks on the phone. She talks a lot and it gets so boring I chew socks, pencils and even ball point pens.

“I hate interrupting my calls to yell, ‘No! Put that @&#@!  down,” Mom says. “And you know how I feel about swearing around my clients. So…into the crate you go.”

Apparently loud slurping sounds don’t bother anybody. Yum!