Tag: dog’s life

Finally caught up on our sleep…

“Moving is exhausting,” the mom said. But finally last night we all got caught up on our sleep. My mom inherited a big new queen-size bed from the people who used to live here. It’s SO comfortable and there’s lots of room for everyone. Of course I take up most of the space. Ophelia takes up a lot of room too but my mom Cathy said, “No more snide remarks about Ophelia’s weight The poor thing just had dental surgery.”

That was a week ago. Mom. Ophelia’s eating everything in sight and then some.

My mom also made a startling discovery when she unpacked her clothes. “So many dress suits! I used to wear suits all the time. Might as well give them away, especially since I can’t wear shoes except running shoes and Birkenstocks.”

Then she counted up her t-shirts. We’ve said this before. If whoever dies with the most t-shirts wins, my mom is the Grand Champion. She put some in the box for Goodwill. I’m nudging her to add a few more.

But I’m not exactly home free. We counted up my bandannas. “Maybe you can share with some other dogs?” the mom said.

Fine with me. I don’t wear a coat in winter. I ride the bus naked – just the required collar and tags. Nobody notices.

A new twist on Sleepless in Seattle

We are all tired today. My mom has been selling or giving away most of her possessions. She says, “As long as I’m buying a condo I will have a nice place to live. And the sellers left me a bunch of beautiful furniture to get started.”

So yesterday she sold the bed to a very nice man who drove all the way up from Olympia. His brother is coming to visit for a month and they need a bed. The mom was ready. Last time she showed the bed, two cats were sitting on it and then I jumped up to snuggle when the new buyer tried out the bed. So this time she shut the door and she got lucky: I was out with my Aunt Sara, playing happily in the dog park.

As the man was taking out the box springs, a cat’s head poked out the bottom.

“Creampuff!” my mom exclaimed, trying to act surprised. “What are you doing under there?”

Luckily the man had a sense of humor and was probably desperate. “Is the cat included? Good thing I took my allergy pills this morning,” he said.

My mom admits she was ready to say, “Sure – take the cat too!” Alas, Creampuff jumped out as he was leaving. Cats will always be part of our lives. .

I heard about all this when I got home and saw a big empty space where our bed used to be. Where are we supposed to sleep tonight? I asked in my own nonverbal way.

Well, I found out. The mom took over the couch, which we are still trying to give away. She didn’t have much room because I had to sleep at the other end.

“Tonight we are going to sleep in the new place,” my mom said firmly, as she creaked her way out of bed. “Two dance classes in a row and now this…I’m exhausted.”

Our wonderful painter, Mark, says he’s just about finished. My mom said she’d rather deal with a few paint fumes than another night on the couch. And hopefully by tonight there won’t be any couch. She just re-posted her giveaway notice on Craigslist.

Getting ready to move: Surrounded by boxes

My mom Cathy decided, “This move will be organized. I will start early.”

So she did. Lots of packing has been accomplished. But she’s going nuts: she can’t find anything. “I think I packed the bills I was supposed to pay yesterday,” she said.

Fotunately, we both got a good rest yesterday. I was finally allowed to return to the park for an outing with my Aunt Sara.

My mom has been throwing out lots of things. She’s determined to move with less than what we had when she moved here from New Mexico.

Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s lose one cat. We could pack Ophelia in a box and…

Relax, Mom. Just kidding. I know: Ophelia’s a family member, along with the ditzy Creampuff. I’m just trying to help you think outside the box…moving boxes, that is.

Ouch…we all go to the vet

City dog weighing in at the veterinarian's office “This week is going to be hellish,” my mom said. “So we might as well do everything we all dread.” So she decided to take our feline housemates to get their teeth cleaned. And since I am getting better, we decided I’d get a rabies shot update too.

As usual, I had a good time at the vet’s office. While we were waiting our turn, several other owners commented on what a great dog I am. “So beautiful,” they said. “So well-behaved.” Chloe the receptionist came over to give me a quick massage and tell me , “Gracie, you are such a wonderful dog.”

My mom put me on the scale. I’m down a few pounds. Well, no wonder. If you had to eat that awful bland diet, you’d be a poster child for weight loss too.

Creampuff’s anesthesiaq-free dentistry went swiftly. Ophelia of course was the Drama Queen of the day. She yowled all the way in the cab and made her feelings known in the reception room. Then the vet discovered she has a cavity so she has to come back and get anesthetized. Dr. Clare drew blood while Ophelia loudly proclaimed that she was on her last paws and not long for this world.

Luckily we had no trouble getting cabs each way. My mom gave the drivers big tips. She was so grateful that they took the whole family.

As soon as we got home, Ophelia headed under my mom’s bed. I must admit I couldn’t resist teasing her a litlte. She was waddling around anxiously, as if to say, “Don’t make me do that again!”

“For wahat I pay in vet bills,” the mom said, “I could have a long vacation on a Caribbean beach.”

As Tony Soprano would say, “Fuhgeddaboutit.” Cathy hates beaches. She’s an urban person. She’s happy in Seattle. She needs us.

But just in case, I’m on good behavior the rest of the day….well at leaset an hour.

Zumba for the mom, crate for the dog

Yesterday my mom Cathy was operating in frazzle mode. She was trying to make a recording for her blog and the system wasn’t cooperating. She wasn’t hearing from the guy who promised to paint our new condo. “We need to paint before we move, if at all possible,” she said.

A normal dog owner would pour a tall cool drink and collapse on the sofa with her dog. Not the mom. She looked at her watch, shoved me unceremoniously into my crate, and changed into her workout clothes.

“George’s zumba class starts in twenty minutes!” she said, as she tossed down some crunchies for the cats. (They eat only when I am out or in my crate. Otherwise I eat their food. Frankly, I don’t see why that’s a problem.) “If the bus doesn’t come right away I’m calling a cab. I need a workout!”

When she returned home two hours later she was humming a little tune and shaking her booty in time to mysterious Latin rhythms. I averted my eyes and focused on communicating an urgent, “We need a walk” message.

“Not only did I get a great workout,” Cathy told me, “I found a place where I can take my box to be shredded. We have way too much for a home office shredder. One less worry.”

We all went to bed early. Sure enough, today we’re getting names of other painters. I’m feeling strong and feisty after weeks of being under the weather.

And a one and a two and a cha-cha-cha….

Animal Cruelty: Not Just About Animals

My mom has begun to enjoy the New York TImes, especially on Sundays, especially in hard copy. But yesterday’s Magazine left both of us feeling sad. My mom read me an article about how animal cruelty is related to human cruelty. You can read it online here.

We were all feeling sad. Apparently kids who feel angry want to take things out on animals. Cats really suffer because they tend to be less obedient.

“Okay,” my mom says, “you guys can be exasperating. It is easy to forget that you don’t think logically. Especially when you – Gracie – eat all kinds of things after I spend a fortune on vet bills and special food.”

Me? I’m the one who should complain about bland tasteless food, not to mention sharing a household with two selfish, self-centered cats.

But I’m glad to hear that law enforcement people are cracking down on animal abuse because, my mom says, people who are mean to animals are just as mean to people. I could have told them that, if I could talk.

The article also said that kids can turn around fast if they learn to care for an animal in a positive way. Yes! Every family should adopt a pet from a shelter. The whole world would be a better place.

Of course, the world would also be better if we all took more naps. I’m off to set a good example.

We move in 2 weeks…if all goes well.

My mom is trying to line u some movers so we can be on our way in two weeks. First, she says, she wants to get some rooms painted. Then she wants to get the rugs treated. Not for me, of course. I have perfect manners. But Ophelia likes to toss up a hairball now and then.

I’m feeling better and totally tired of this bland diet. The vet suggested adding some vegetable broth to my food. Like that really makes a difference.

The canned food is delicious but my mom refuses to allow a diet of 100% canned food. Lots of hassle, she says. Environmentally unfriendly. And not as good for my teeth.

Luckily I can still go for walks. I sleep a lot. My mom thinks I’m recovering. I think so too…but who knows? I just hope we’re done with needles for a long, long time. And I can’t wait to go back to the park with my Aunt Sara. It[‘s been way too long. I miss my buddies.

Finally…some good news for all of us

Friday Mom’s purchase was scheduled to close. At the last minute, she got an urgent message.

“The sellers are out of town! We have to wait till Monday.”

So today Mom was relieved to get a message saying that all is well and she is now the proud owner of a condo in Belltown, a dream she had cherished since moving to Seattle.

“I’m still nervous about the whole condo idea,” she says. “But our ceiling is leaking and we will have to move sooner or later. At least we got a good interest rate and we are in a nice place.”

Even better: that nice Dr. Clare said my pancreatitis is better. However, she wants me to eat the bland diet for another two weeks. Yuk. Bland is not beautiful. I never thought I’d miss my ordinary food but this stuff is tasteless.

Worst of all, I can’t go to the park with my Aunt Sara. Too many tempting things for me to eat, mostly unmentionable in a blog censored by the mom. So I”m totally bored and forced to eat tasteless food. What a life.

“It’s your own fault, Gracie,” the mom says unsympathetically. “You get your pointy little nose into everything.”

Uh oh. Time for another pain pill. I need a nap.

Finally…there’s a condo in our future

After wrestling with our first mortgage company, the mom finally iistened to our stellar real estate agent, Sarah Odegaard. Her paperwork landed on the desk of Jeff Bell at Cobalt Mortgage. That was just two weeks ago, to the day.

Today, the mom shoved me into my crate right after we went to the vet for more pills for me. “I’m off to sign the loan papers, Gracie,” she said, clicking the door into place. “You just had a pain pill and you’ll be so sleepy you won’t notice I’m gone.”

True. That nice Dr. Clare gave me some powerful stuff that knocks me out.

My mom came back humming a funny little tune. She showed me a big stack of papers she had signed. She took off to go see a movie to celebrate. “Who can concentrate on work?” she asked me.

She’s asking the wrong person…er, dog. Work is not a word I use often. I’m definitely feeling better, though. And I need to get on my paws fast so I can supervise this move. Mom was on the phone with her friend Pam Ellis, who will be choosing colors for her living room. But so far I have heard no discussion of where my crate will be.

“Probably the bedroom,” my mom said. “Right next to my bed.”

We have to check this out. Don’t I get to approve the decorating scheme as it applies to dogs?

Dog is under the weather…

…and very nasty weather it is too. We’ve had about 5 days of rain without interruption. My mom misses the desert.

On Monday the vet was open (although there was a holiday) so my mom took me to the vet. Dr. Clare said, “Gracie is not as bright as she was last Thursday.”

True. I was feeling like the world should be one big nap.

After poking and prodding, they stuck needles into me. The diagnosis: It seems I have something called pancreatitis. Expensive but ultimately curable. As a dog, I don’t get into the dollars and cents. But I want to get better and go back to running around, driving the mom nuts and walking with my Aunt Sara. Instead, I am lying on the bed or my mom’s counch. Creampuff just ran over to comfort me. Ophelia has ignored me. No surprise there.

My mom shoves nasty-tasting things down my throat all day long. “I have to give Gracie 5 pills a day,” she told soeone one the phone. “Dogs are worse patients than cats.”

Really? At least I don’t have to be force fed. I nibble at my food and eventually eat it. I like to go for walks. I even try to play with other dogs we meet.

My mom hates being sick. For once, we agree on something.