First Dog Is Portuguese Water Dog

President Obama finally made the most important decision of his Presidency. The family adopted a Portuguese Water Dog newly named Bo. He is six months old and he’s a gift from Senator Ted Kennedy, no less. Apparently the dog had a home but the family couldn’t take care of him. My mom read the story to me while I was enjoying my Morning Nap.

My Morning Nap, in case you’re wondering, starts after my night time sleep gets interrupted by the Morning Walk. I wanted to sleep in but Mom said, “I don’t want to interrupt my breakfast because you need to go out. Off the bed – now!”

Hey,  I’m conserving my energy for my weekly visit to the Downtown Dog Lounge. Hopefully the First Family will adapt their lives to their new dog’s schedule a little more successfully.

Join the club, Bo. All 3 of us in this household are adoptees. Presumably our original families couldn’t care for us because we ended up in rescue. We’re mixed breeds.

Purebred dogs who don’t make it the first time often get new homes by word of mouth, without ever going to shelters. They’re lucky.

We’re lucky too. Especially me. I couldn’t have gotten a better home anywhere. Well, I wouldn’t mind a few kids to play with but I get the dog park instead. Life could be worse.

My mom is so proud of giving us all a good home. It’s her only sign of domesticity. She still misses her own First Dog. But she’s getting used to me. And to be honest, I don’t remember my first homes. Seems like I’ve been here forever

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Good grief…another cat picture

Here’s a rear view of Ophelia. Although my mom insists she’s a normal weight (“It’s all fur!”) there’s no denying she’s a Big Kitty. She weighed in at 15 pounds when Mom adopted her from the shelter.

Not to worry about the sofa. Ophelia was adopted as a senior, fixed, declawed cat, from a municipal animal shelter. You can’t get more politically correct than that. As my mom keeps reminding me, Ophelia spent 30 days in a small cage before we took her home.

“I refuse to get her any diet food,” says my Mom. “Half a dozen vets told me Tiger was too fat. They predicted she’d die young. Well, Tiger finally headed off to the Great Sandbox in the Sky last July. She must have been twenty years old.”

Yeah, right. So how come every time that nice Dr. Kira looks at me and says, “Gracie is getting fat!” my rations get cut? Life is not fair. I’m a solid, muscular, queen-sized canine. Ophelia is squishy and fuzzy.

Speaking of being in shape, isn’t it about time for our walk?

Cat takes over the sofa

So Creampuff has invaded my crate. And now look who’s  perched on the edge of the sofa: Ophelia, our neweset housemate, posing like a model.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” my mom exclaims.

“Isn’t she useless?” I reply back.

But Cathy ignores me.

“She’s so healthy! After her trauma of moving and her battle with liver disease…I’m so proud of her.”

Earth to mom. Ophelia moved in here about 8 months ago. Lots of time to recover from her trauma. And as for liver disease, it’s more about force feeding and milk thistle than Ophelia’s own character.

But life could be worse. Mom needs her illusions.  Ophelia’s pretty mellow, for a cat. As long as nobody eats my food, I’m happy.

Cats are taking over my territory…

Would you look at this? I turn away for one moment and look who’s in my crate. My sacred castle. My territory.

Yep…it’s Creampuff, our ditzy housemate. She’s got her own water dish in the kitchen, but she likes mine better. I could assert my authority over that cat but that would be undignified. As a Canine Urban Princess, I have to be concerned with my image.

It’s just water anyway. My mom always brings more.

Creampuff does nibble my food, too, but it’s rarely around more than 5 minutes. I’m eating a lot faster these days. After the vet told Cathy to cut back on my serving size, mealtime goes by in a flash. Sigh.

Dog too tired to pay attention to cat

So here I am, enjoying my dog bed. It’s been a tough weekend. Mom dragged me to the dog park on Saturday. Sunday I played in the dog lounge for hours. This bed feels so soft and comfortable.

Someone’s trying to sneak by me but who cares? I’m down for the count. Yes, I saw that calico tail on my left (your right). But my priorities are firmly fixed. Sleep first. Cats later.

At least we’re finally getting some sun.  Back to my nap as soon as mom puts away that darn camera.

Celebrity Apprentice: Should have got a cat (spoilers)

My mom was watching Celebrity Apprentice on hulu.com. She told me their task of the week was to make a YouTube episode for All Detergent. It was supposed to be viral and funny.

“They fired the wrong people,” Cathy told me, shaking her head at the computer. “But hey, it’s show biz! We like watching Clint and Melissa. The people they fired were…well, background. And sometimes that Boardroom is more like a Celebrity Therapy Group. Good for the ratings.”

Well, c’mon, guys. I may not be a celebrity (except on the Seattle Metro buses and in the dog park). But I could give these folks some lessons.

Team #1 made a raunchy soft porn video, where “doing the laundry” stands for…well, something I no longer do, now that I am fixed. Team #2 did something with midgets.

Midgets? Little people?

Here’s a short quiz. What stops everybody dead in their tracks? When videos get posted on yahoo, what do they feature?

A cat.

If I were making a video that’s what I’d do. We could have a cat playing with the laundry. A dog works too, but cats work with the female demographic. (I’ve been listening to my mom the copywriting strategist.) And yes, I have an ulterior motive…

If my techno-challenged mom ever gets the hang of her Flip video camera, we’ll have videos up the wazoo. Hopefully that will happen in my lifetime. I am not optimistic. My mom bribes the building manager to change her light bulbs and smoke detector batteries.

Meanwhile, if those Celebrity Apprentices want a cat who’s perfect for the leading role, we will lend them Ophelia. Ophelia looks very funny when she waddles across the room. She’s hilarious when she dives into her hiding place, one step ahead of Creampuff. (I think Creampuff lets her win.) My mom adores Ophelia and she wouldn’t give her up. But Ophelia would have a great life on the set, eating treats and sardines instead of crunchies.

Who knows? Maybe Donald Trump would adopt her. A dog can dream, right?

Oh well, back to my normal role. In my non-celebrity life, there’s always time for one more nap.

Dog likes baths? Yes…this one does!

Today my mom took me to to the Downtown Dog Lounge for playtime and a bath. She went off to the gym and a concert and…who knows what else? I don’t care. I want her to enjoy her life so I can enjoy mine.

When Mom came to pick me up, I was just getting the final touches on my coat.

“Gracie, you look beautiful!” my mom exclaimed. I wagged my tail. But not too hard. I knew what was coming.

“Was Gracie good today?”

Yep. She always asks that.

“Of course! you always ask.”

This moment is practically scripted.

“Gracie doesn’t mind her bath,” they added. “She holds up her paw so we can cut her nails.”

Well, of course. I’m a CUPPIE …a Canine Urban Princess. Of course I get my nails done. And I get a bath and blow dry. It’s what I deserve.

Rain…and more…

My mom isn’t handling the rain very well. She was going to take me to the Downtown Dog Lounge for a bath. After a busy Saturday of herding sheep and then a trip to Magnuson with my Aunt Sara, I could use one.

Mom said, “I’m not even going to the gym. I went yesterday anyway and I’m still feelilng the effects. This rain and cold make me sneeze.”

Don’t get a cold, Mom. You’ve got too much work to do. I’ll wait. After all, I’m exhausted.

I’m a sheep dog!

On Saturday I went off to Ewetopia with my best big sister, Summer from the Downtown Dog Lounge. My mom was supposed to go too, but she took one step outside and just about froze. She doesn’t do too well in the cold, especially cold and rain.

Just as well. I wanted some quality time with Summer.

Summer told Cathy that I am a natural. “Gracie knew what to do with the sheep,” she said. “She herded them into a circle.”

True. I don’t know how I knew this, but I did. Somewhere in my mix is a sheepherding breed.

My mom refuses to pay for DNA tests. “I’d rather spend the money on treats and extra time at the Dog Lounge,” she says. “Or extra walks with Aunt Sara.”

For once, Mom’s got her priorities straight. But I’m still getting over the day. Time for another nap.