Tag: dog’s life

Michelle Obama walks her dog too.

My mom woke me up from my morning nap to share the story of Bo Obama, the new White House Dog. Here’s just one story.

Apparently Michelle Obama has not been wildly successful at getting her daughters to walk Bo. So she’s up at 5:15 AM walking the dog and she’s assumed dog training duties.

I have to congratulate Michelle on stepping up. Too many parents adopt a dog and then give it away when the kids get bored.  My mom wonders if that’s what happened to me, but I’m not saying. I believe in burying the past. I only dig up things at the dog park.

Adopting a dog is a commitment for life. And that’s a good thing.  I hope Michelle Obama realizes that she’s actually getting a great deal when she walks Bo early in the morning. There’s something about getting out in the fresh air and bonding with your owner, from my point of view. And my own mom Cathy says she loves waking up and looking forward to a walk with me.

Even when I go out to the dog park with my Aunt Sara twice a week, there’s something special about my walks with my mom. That’s our bonding time, even when I pull on the leash and most of our conversation is mom yelling, “No! Down! Stop eating things!”

Michelle Obama has a lot to look forward to.

How much water does a dog need?

My mom just got a sales pitch for one of those water fountains for dogs. She said she’d consider it but she tries to avoid purchasing anything that has moving parts. She just a new DVD player (following the long-awaited demise of the old one) from Amazon. Her neighbor came over to help her hook it up.

Yep, my mom is the most mechanically challenged person I’ve ever met. Fortunately for me, my needs involve food dishes, dog beds, leashes and dog crates. She’s safe.

But that got her wondering. How much water does a dog need?

One site said 1 cup for every 5 pounds for dogs under 20 lbs. My new queen-sized figure doesn’t qualify. The rest of the notices give amounts in milliliters and my mom is clueless.

“Just to be sure,” my mom said, “I’ll just make sure your water dish is always clean and filled with fresh water. Like I’ve always done.”

At least she admits I’m the easy member of the household. The cats don’t like to drink water from a dish. They insist on drinking from cups or glasses. Naturally, those cups are easy to knock over. Our kitchen floor gets wet. Mom walks in and starts using some words that are not fit for my innocent canine ears.

See, mom, cats are useless. I’ve been telling you that for years.

Dog park on a busy day

My mom tells me people spend a lot of time and money learning to focus their energies. Dogs do this naturally.

For example, it’s a gorgeous day. Humans are trying to decide if they should go get coffee, go to the Farmers Market, or maybe visit the Sculpture Garden.

As a dog, I face no such decisions. I vote for the Dog Park every time. What could be better?

Here’s a scene from a couple of weeks ago. I’m behind the shaggy guy getting a bath.

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.

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 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.”

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.”

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.

“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..