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Monthly Archives: June 2013

"Baw"

I was wondering why that tennis ball kept getting bigger and bigger*, said Micron.  Then it hit me.

In A Big Little Life** author Dean Koontz tells a story about his neighborhood walks with Trixie, a golden retriever CCI retiree that he and his wife adopted.

Spoiler alert: this book is awesome. Something that which inspires one to awe. The entire, splendid thing.

In this particular walking-the-dog tale***, we get an understanding of the deep appreciation Trixie had for tennis balls.  After the usual passage of tennis courts along their stroll, one evening Trixie is disappointed to not have found an abandoned tennis ball or two this time. It is her daily joy to discover a fuzzy yellow ball to roll around in her mouth on her way back home.  But on this evening, something else is different too.

Trixie balks on the leash. She stops and turns to look back at the tennis courts. Dean Koontz’s wife, Gerda, is on the other end of the leash, wondering what is on her otherwise obedient dog’s mind.  In Dean Koontz’s words:

Looking up at her mom, she opened her mouth and thrust her muzzle forward as though straining to produce a sound — then spoke.”
 
“Baw.”
 
“This sound — pronounced like the word awe with a b in front, slightly attenuated — was so unlike anything that came from Trixie before, was delivered with such an earnest expression, and was accompanied by such tension in our girl’s entire body . . .

Turns out, she realized there was a ball hidden under a bush and she needed permission to go back and get it. She merely hesitated, because Trixie was a good girl and not the kind of dog that *cough micron cough* will forcibly drag their hapless person across three tennis courts to retrieve a high value treat. And so it seemed to Gerda that Trixie’s vocalization was an attempt to say exactly and simply what was on her mind.

Wow.

Ok folks, that story, and the golden butterfly one that opens A Big Little Life kinda gives me chills just a little.  Whether fact or the fanciful stuff written by a prolific writer of fiction, we Lovers of All Things Dog are well experienced in the magic of the human-canine bond, aren’t we?

Those of us so fortunate to spend our days with our dogs at our sides find ourselves somewhat bilingual with at least a basic level of Dog Speak.  We know to watch body language to determine if that yawn indicates a sleepy dog or a stressed one.  Or listen to specific vocalization as a clue to what our furry friend is thinking.

While lying around like a shedding carpet, a softly uttered moan indicates the mighty Micron is exhausted, but low groan is passive-aggressive communication that the big guy needs to use the lawn facilities. The latter requires him to actually get up and move, which I suspect is where the groaning comes in.  There ain’t nobody as skilled in the art of Relaxation as the mighty Micron, you know.

Oh, but outside play time is a whole ‘nuther animal, so to speak. Being a retriever, our Micron is hard-wired in the noggin to carry things about in his maw.  Of course, one should never expect this fellow to articulate a “Baw” to express his infatuation of tennis balls. But it is indeed clear when a game of Ball is on his mind. Micron keeps it easy for us.  He simply finds one of the dozens of tennis balls strewn about the house like little fuzzy landmines to roll an ankle on — and brings it to you.

With a wide doggy smile and plumed tail waving like a flag, he drops the slightly damp ball upon a lap and takes a step back.  His thoughts are radio waves with one simple repeating message: throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball . . . .

And we do.  We throw the ball — over and over. 

Noting the photo on the right, a ball in the mouth and second one to chase just might cause a short-circuit the canine neurons.  This situation, says Micron, blows my mind a little. I love them both so much.

Speaking of love, a friend with a new puppy was asking for advice the other day.  She has so much energy, says my good friend. And she chews on everything, even the furniture. What should I do?

Um, I say. Lookit, we all know I’m merely a Lover of Dog, not some kind of obedience expert. I have no more business giving this kind of advice than I do talking about tax laws. But in the Hippocratic spirit of “First, Do No Harm”, I give it a shot.

Well, I say. Sounds to me like she’s acting just like a normal puppy.  Good luck to ya. 

Ok, I realize that’s helpful not at all. So I follow-up with the benefits of crate training, Bitter Apple, and professional obedience classes.

But in the meantime, I add, here’s what will really help to bond you two. Simple things, really. Always be in the same room when your pup is eating and interact with her. Make sure she knows this wonderful experience comes from you. Give her a lot of positive attention when she’s good, especially so during those rare quiet times.

And this is really important, I continue. Play with her. Exercise her. It will help her burn some of that destructive puppy energy and she’ll eventually link these good times to your presence. It’ll take time, but some day this dog will know you as the Best Thing Ever. And it will be her mission in life to please you. 

She’ll want to play ball with you because she sees it makes you happy, too.

I’m confident with this bit of advice. I am.  Because it goes both ways, this playtime with my own dog. 

See, every time that Micron drops a ball into my lap and I look up from my book to meet his smiling, root-beer brown eyes, well . . .

That’s the Best Thing Ever, says me.

  

 
 ________________________________________
*You see it, right?  The tennis ball?  Just follow Micron’s line of sight to see it hovering there in the top part of the photo.

**A Big Little Life, a memoir of a joyful dog named Trixie by Dean Koontz.  This tome is a wonderful introduction to Trixie and her life with Dean and Gerda Koontz.  And the glorious Trixie has told her own story in such treasures as Bliss to You: Trixie’s Guide to a Happy Life and I, Trixie, who is Dog.  There’s a whole feel-good series of these things. I recommend the lot of them.

***This story is found in Chapter XIV Freedom of Speech

Wordless Wednesday: We’re not fancy people

Jet skiing at Cedar Island. Sans the jet ski.

We’re not fancy people with fancy things.  Hey, it’s not like I completely reject the material life though.

We do so enjoy vacationing in a natural setting kinda venue and all. And I’d rather be in the quiet company of family and my beloved dogs than among throngs of tourists.

Micron says he can go either way. The big guy thrives on the attention of folk, because as he says, once someone rubs your belly they’re no longer a stranger.

But our mighty Micron is also an appreciator of what nature can offer up. On the first Saturday of summer, we Ohioans were not surprised to find ourselves in the midst of a hot, humid afternoon. The dogs had placed themselves strategically about the house next to the air conditioner vents.  Wouldn’t it be so nice if we lived near water, I said to the Husband. So Micron could go swimming again? Like he did on vacation last month?

But because we’re not fancy people with fancy things, we did what we could for our water lovin’ dog.

This, says Micron, is the best day ever!

Working like a . . . well, not really

Working like a . . . well, not really.

What do you mean by this word “irony”? asks Micron.  I’m a dog and this is how I spend the day in the office.  So yes, I actually am working like a dog, thank you.

‘Cuz if I were working like a human bean, he continues, I’d be walking around being all blah blah how was your weekend and yadda yada where do you want to go for lunch today. Hey, don’t think that it’s not like I’m not busy here and not just goofing off.  Because I totally am, doncha know.

What? I say.  Are we doing Bilbo Baggins-speak now?*  If I were a dog, my head would be tilting to the right trying to understand what you just said.  Lookit, you’re as flat a pork chop done on one side. Where’s my spatula? Just lift your head up, willya?

Naw, I don’t think so, says Micron. I already did that once today and I’m not into repeating myself again, because I already did that.

Well, at least his eyes are open for this photo. And to his credit, it does appear that Micron has the puppies under control.  He is sentinel of all that is yellow puppy.

Oh, you want to see a puppy, do you?  Well, you have to get past the mighty Micron. Wait. . . did I say get past? I meant trip over.

Friday was National Take Your Dog to Work Day, an event started in 1999 by Pet Sitters International.  Because my job in the pet food industry is really pretty freakin’ awesome, every work day is one I celebrate with a dog, or two, by my feet. I’m a lucky chick, I am.

To mark this national celebration however, I took the shot above on Friday.  Yeah, yeah, cute dogs and all. But let’s take a deeper look here, shall we?

In the far back and to the left is Kel, a CCI release and beloved pet. He is not a fan of puppies. Nope, not at all. This is as close as he was willing to come to the front, lest he get puppy cooties on him and require a hazmat decontamination.  Also, he’s also not willing to stray far from his one true love, Mary Ann (not pictured, but she’s right there).

And that’s our E pups in front. Ever contrary, Euka has one paw outside the dog gate. Hey, Food Lady, says Euka with a smile. I’m on the other side [snicker]. 

Everett is in the middle and showing off his good-boy behavior. Who’s a Good Boy?, asks Everett.  That’s me!  I’m a Good Boy.  Euka looks at him with squinty eyes.  When Food Lady says Release, says Euka. I am so pouncing on your good boy noggin.

And on the right is Ella, who understands where her bread is buttered, so to speak.  She’s expecting a cookie from me when this is done. I’m good for it and so she’s lasered in with those come hither with a cookie eyes. Ella is a smart, obedient girl and how wonderful it would be, I think, that some of that goodness might rub off on Miss Euka.  But just like kids, it seems to be the bad influences that win out too much of the time. Poor, kind Everett should be anticipating to be a yellow puppy samwich when these two stinkers pounce him.

Oh, and that sign posted on the dog gate?  What does that say, you ask?  Well, it’s there to remind folk to reward our CCI pups with positive attention only when they can show some self-control.** “Please don’t pet us until we are sitting”, says the sign. 

Ok, so we do have on tap more than yellow CCI dogs in some stage of early career development – or forced early retirement, like Kel and Micron.  Other co-workers have . . . what’s the right word here?  Normal dogs? Pet dogs? Rescue dogs? Dogs not on a career path? I dunno, but Nahla is here to show you her ethereal beauty.  Nahla, just a young thing, isn’t to the stay-here-while-I-take-your-picture stage of life yet.  It took me so long to set up this shot that even Micron got bored and left. 

However, I do want to draw your attention to Euka, who is still sticking that paw out of the gated area. With dead on eye contact, the little tart.

Why do you keep calling me Stay? My name’s Nahla.

Micron’s still waiting for a movie role

So if, as they say, everyone gets fifteen minutes of fame, we still have fourteen minutes and some change left.

The List, a program aired in the Cincinnati area, was in the office last week to get some footage of our pet-friendly workplace.  Before you watch the two-minute clip below, I want to you to know one thing.

I don’t usually wear flip-flops to the office.

Even I, never a slave to fashion, have some thread-bare scraps of a value system regarding office attire. It’s just that, well, before I left the house I kinda forgot to change out of my oh-so-comfy sandals and into the oppressive things I wear to look all respectable. And you know what else?  I had no idea about this filming until about thirty minutes before they showed up at my humble cube***.  I may, or may not, have reconsidered that blouse that is so colorful it appears to be shouting at you. [sigh]

But it’s not about me, is it? This is, of course, a story about the dogs.  It’s our friendly office canines that get the warmth of the spotlight in first minute of this video.

Watch for the mighty Micron, Euka II, Scarlet and Rhoda here.  Scarlet is the lovely pooch catching a treat from mid-air, Rhoda is the black lab getting some good air time with one of my co-workers.

As the camera pans from my obnoxious blouse to Euka in a Bed command under my desk, hit the pause to catch those rockin’ Labrador flip flops. My only saving grace here is the pedicure is fresh (color: Paint My Moji-toes Red).

When the reporter is walking with a dog on leash, that’s our Micron.  No, watch that again. I really need you to see this. Because he’s walking on a loose leash with a person he just met. Micron is. Heh, who knew he could do that?  My sweet, impulsive Hodor dog.  I was right behind the camera guy lest my dog saw a favorite person**** and wanted to say Hi! because he would surely drag that slip of a nice lady down the aisle with him.  Oh, whoops, see his attention shift there for a second?  Yep, he sees Scarlet, who has the best toys ever.  But check it out, y’all. Micron holds that Heel position like a pro.  It’s like he was trained to do this. For the last three years.

And do feel free to look away when Micron tries to slip tongue during that excited greeting with one of his favorites.***  That’s a rather intimate moment, y’all.

Enjoy . . .

Every day is take your dog to work day

http://www.thelistshow.tv/html/video-assets/swf/EndPlayVideoPlayer_v1_3_FP10_2.swf?v=041613_0&env=39840

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The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001).  Bilbo Baggins: I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

**An awkward and ambiguous sentence, that one. Exactly whose self-control am I referring to here – the dog’s or the person’s? [heh]

***You know what they say . . . clutter is a sign of genius.  I forgot who said that originally. I had it printed out somewhere, but lost it.

***You know who you are.

Wordless Wednesday: Caption This #10

Oh, Pool Boy, calls Euka. I’m still waiting for that Mojito.


Our sassy diva has that look of practiced impatience. Peering over the top of her stylin’ shades, she is using her wiles to get others to do her bidding.

Or so it appears to me, anyway.

What d’ya think? Any photo caption ideas?  Drop your inspired thoughts in the comments, won’t you?  And if you’re a fellow blogger, be sure to put a link to your site in your comment.

Salty sea dogs

That is not our dog.

Nice doggie, I say, hoping that it’s true. Then to the kid, let’s put Euka back in the car.

Just a precautionary measure.  She seems docile enough though, this yellow dog.  She greeted us by barking an alert while we’re outside the White Point Take Out awaiting on another awesome lunch by this humble little place. Our second visit to choose noshables at the take out on Cedar Island because once is not enough. We must have more of the local seafood goodness offered here.

But this is our first encounter with the big yellow lab, a gal who came over from a neighboring yard just to keep things honest.  A salty sea dog, she is.  No collar and, funny enough, no further interest in us once she planted herself by the take-out window.

This local eatery is no fast food joint, by the way.  It’s the closest place to grab lunch within a fifteen mile radius on the island, but really we’d drive past any old Mickey Dee’s just to score more crab cakes.  There’s a wait once the order is in, so most folk we see just hang in their trucks until the deep fryer gives up the goods.  So we park ourselves and try to look less touristy by doing as the locals do.

Like the nice fisherman pictured here.  When he left his truck to pick up his lunch at the window, there was no yellow dog on the deck. While his back was turned, the golden girl moseyed up the steps and planted herself in a position of self-entitled comfort. Fishermen can have some quick reactions, it turns out. He turns to rush back to his truck, deftly stepping over the dog with seasoned sea legs. It was like a ballet. Kind of. But still pretty darn impressive. A lesser person *cough* me *cough* would result in 1. a face plant, 2. a broken something that’s critical for gainful employment and 3. got free ride to the nearest medical facility.



She’s between bath times, too. Once a year, whether she needs one or not.

While on the subject of salty dogs, y’all may be relieved to know that Micron finally got his beach time as promised.  Sure, it wasn’t really planned since we just intended to let him out for a potty break, but the big goober just tossed his furry self into the briny deep and then pranced about in spasms of joy.  But once he was kinda wet, we figured that’s the same as full canine saturation.

Might as well just let him have his way with the water. The dog that we nearly have to use a spatula to get off the floor, has found his passion.

He’s like a flippin’ canine jet ski out there.

Yep, that’s a rooster tail.

 

Rising from the sea like he’s Poseidon or something.

Anyone with a golden retriever knows full well what a dog smile looks like. For the rest of you, here ya go.

I ruvs you so much, Food Lady.

He’s so ridiculously happy, it makes me feel bad about what’s coming next. But at the same time, why is salt water the best thing ever, yet fresh water from the hose is boiling acid from the depths of hell itself? 

A complex combination of bribes and threats are the only thing keeping the big guy from bolting here. Lookit, I tested it myself.  The water pressure is fine and the water is actually warmer than the fish pee water in the bay.  It’s like he doesn’t want to smell clean or something. Huh.  Dogs.

It gets the hose again.*

An album with more photos of the Three Dog Vacation adventures are on the Raising a Super Dog Facebook page.  Feel free to drop a comment when you visit!

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*The Silence of the Lambs (1991)