Christmas 2009 . . . when puppy Micron smelled like snickerdoodles and we learned to decorate the tree halfway up.
Here my favorite kid introduces Micron to his puppet doppelganger. The thing barks out three Holiday songs, which was pretty funny. For about five minutes.
bark Bark bark barkbarkbarkbark . . . (we wish you a merry Christmas . . . ) Ok, that can stop now.
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| I love the taste of newsprint in the morning |
Oh, Mr. Micron, you silly yellow dog. Every day is a reminder of why he is our pet . . . and that he’s just not made of assistance dog stuff.
Another roundtable meeting at the office this week and we start with the obligatory autobiographical introductions.
Hi, I’m Donna from Finance. I’ve been with the R&D Pet Care group for just about eighteen years. And here under the table is assistance dog in training, Yaxley. This handsome fella belongs to Canine Companions for Independence [pause while everyone peeks under the table at the yeller feller curled up like a fox and resting quietly].
And this guy? [all eyes move to Micron who’s resting his smiling noggin on the conference table with his tongue lolling out]. This is Micron. He was in training with CCI as well, but he was released from the program and is now my beloved pet.
He didn’t pass? I’m asked. But why?
He, um. Well you see, Micron just didn’t want to do that kind of work, I confess this to all in the conference room, Mike’s kinda lacking a little in the work ethic department. Micron rolls his soft brown eyes over to me and produces a big doggie smile.
Ah, it’s true. After Micron came home from Advanced Training (what we otherwise refer to as three months at CCI summer camp), we’ve been giving him chores to do around the house. Because it’s so annoying to come home to a warm TV and Cheetos dust on the sofa.
I have to tell you though, I am totally blessed to be in a dog friendly office and will bring Micron in whenever I can. Some days, though, it just can’t be helped and the mighty Micron needs to spend the day in the comfort of our humble home.
So, what did you do today while I was at work, Micron? I cleaned the breakfast dishes with Soap & Water!, he says.
Which is, of course, his clever nicknames for Yaxley and Jager – Soap & Water. Ugh, alrighty then. I think I’ll just load the dishwasher and run a sanitizing rinse if that doesn’t offend your canine sensibilities too terribly much.
What to do with this beautiful and intelligent dog to keep him from the distractions of the willingly unemployed? You know what they say – every hour of daytime TV is another brain cell sacrificed to the talk show gods. Right, for one thing, we’ve tasked Micron to retrieve the newspaper every morning. The Husband likes to review the latest world happenings along with his Life cereal. It keeps the Tums folk in business, it does.
And this fluffy dog just loves the taste of newsprint. He walks to the end of the driveway to pick the thing up, and carries it back in his maw along with a proud doggie strut. Lookit me y’all! he says. I gotcher paper!
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| That’s right. I am the Master of News Retrieval. |
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| So there, Yax! |
And this job works out pretty well. Sure, for the most part anyway. There are the occasional mornings when Micron has determined the paper has developed a self-awareness and needs to be summarily destroyed before it can take action on its evil plans to take over the world.
But fortunately, that’s not every day. Some days I even have enough left to do the crossword.
Another job that Micron has shown an interest in is helping to carry in the groceries. Groceries is rather a broad term and what I really mean is that Micron likes to carry in the paper towels. And that’s it, really. Just the paper towels.
So on grocery days, we’re met at the door of the Toyota by the mighty Micron. Need help? he asks, smacking his lips, so, which bag has the paper towels? And so, like idiots, we hand him a roll.
In a well-intentioned, but disastrous, attempt to demonstrate this feat, here’s a photo recreation of what happens after our weekly grocery trip.
Yeah, so the play bow is not a good sign that he’s taking this recreation seriously. If I had any sense, we would give up any hope at this point for a happy ending. At least for the Bounty. But I continue to optimistically click the shutter.
But things take an even darker turn.
Ok, so I’d really like to say that it doesn’t happen just like this every week, but I’d be lyin’ to you. Because it does. Pretty much just like you see here. The only twist is when he takes the paper towel roll into the house to show Yaxley (Look what I got and you don’t, Yax!I). I don’t have photos of that. And I wouldn’t show you if I did. It’s too embarrassing.
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| No dogs were harmed in this photo recreation. The Bounty roll, however, suffered a bit. |
And speaking of embarrasing, don’t tell Micron I showed you these next shots. As we’re going back into the house after my ill fated photo shoot, Mike spies the paper towels on the railing where I had left them. In a fit of impulsiveness (every day is a reminder) he jumps up to grab them, but knocks them off instead.
And here he is trying to get them back.
Ah, hindsight is 20:20, isn’t it? All he had to do was walk around the railing, instead of giving it the old college try pulling the ten inch roll through the four inch space. But hey, maybe he was just trying to show me he does indeed have a work ethic after all. He is trying really, really hard, you see.
That work ethic stuff. It’s . . . well, it’s hard work, it is.
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| Whaja mean there’s another newspaper out there again? You want me to do this every day? |
Blogger’s note: Today’s Wordless Wednesday does indeed have more words than usual. This is a copy of a post from my photography blog from earlier this year. Originally published in February 2011, this is Micron when he was still a CCI pup in training.
The grammar witch in me is wondering why Kids is plural and Baby is not. Sure, Kids isn’t a possessive, so no need for an apostrophe, so we’re good there. And why-o-why, no dogs for sale when there’s one on display.
Filling a need to get out of the house on a gray winter’s day, we put the cape on Micron and head to the mall. We stop at Old Navy for a photo op with the supermodelquins. I didn’t make that word up, by the way. These ersatz people with the toothy grins actually have names, including the dog, Barker. To the left of Barker is Rita and Christopher, with Kimmy gazing into space behind them like she sees a double rainbow or something. It’s true; I looked this stuff up on the Internet.
After the photo shoot (grand total of three photos), I turn around to see a crowd behind me. There are people with their kids lining up to pet Micron. Wow. He granted an audience with his usual graciousness, while I’m encouraging to keep a Sit and stop asking for belly rubs.
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| Sugar cookies made with love by volunteer puppy raiser, Esther. |
It’s a rather gorgeous fall morning and we can’t think of anything else we’d rather do this fine day than spend it at Aullwood Farm. Time for the annual Aullwood Apple Fest where the crisp autumn air is heavy with the aromas of apple butter in copper kettles and lamb chili simmering over an open campfire.
Puppy raisers Jerry and Jerri, along with Bud and Esther, have scored some prime real estate right at the entrance of the day’s events for our CCI Meet & Greet booth.
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| Jorja, Juley and Yaxley on duty and ready to schmooze. |
And it’s the yeller dog patrol reporting for duty. Now Yax and Juley have worked a CCI booth before and they’ve got this stuff down cold. Indeed, so much so, that they’ve taken it upon their fuzzy selves to mentor young Jorja on the fine art of working the crowds.
Okey dokey, Jorja, says Yaxley, just watch Juley and me. There’s really nothing to it. You’ll wanna start with letting the little kids pat you on the head. See, kiddo? Easy nuff.
That’s right, continues Juley, but remember that there’s some young folk out there that aren’t very comfortable with the business end of a dog, so they may start with your fluffy behind. And that’s ok, too. Just don’t release a blossom, if you know what I mean. And actually, I’m talking to you, Little Lord Yaxley. You just about knocked out that last kid, you know.
Ha ha, sez Yax, good one, Juley. You’re so funny I forgot to laugh. Besides, I didn’t think that particular one was so bad. Heh, you should have been there yesterday at work when the Food Lady was in a budget meeting and . . .
Gross!, Juley says, ugh, boy dogs! You’d walk around nothing but a cow patty on your head and a smile on your face!
Would not! counters Yax, well, maybe. But anyway we’re outside, so I get special dispensation.
What?!, Juley cries, Dispensation my yellow . . . hey Jorja, wait! Where are you going? We’re almost done with the lesson. Pay attention, girl, you need to know this stuff if you wanna be all professional like us.
Now kid, the very last step, Yax says, getting all serious again, is to wait until your puppy raiser is talking to a parental unit, then you very slowly just kinda roll over to your side. Close your eyes, gently lift up your legs and . . .
Next thing you know, sighs Juley, is you’ve got cotton-candy scented hands rubbing your belly and you are golden. A special kind of nirvana, it is. The kids love it. Um, yeah, because we’re doing this for the kids. To make them happy and all.
Meanwhile, Micron is watching this exchange from the sidelines and rolling his brown eyes. Of course, Mr. Mike has worked many a CCI booth in his eighteen months of puppy training. He knows all the ins and outs of conning folk into a belly rub and making them feel like he’s the one doing the favor.
But now being a change of career dog (actually a no-career dog, I say), he can no longer represent CCI at the booth. Instead we leave the professionals to do their work and the two of us take a stroll through the farm for old times’ sake.
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| A stop at the herb garden |
So, the usual farm & barn stuff. We visit horses, sheep, pigs and . . . holy cow!
What is this fresh nightmare?, Micron wants to know.
Ah, this is indeed a new sight for the mighty Micron. In our earlier puppy time together, we may have missed the turkey socialization opportunity.
Here’s a rather personal question for y’all. You ever been stalked by a turkey? No?
Well, lemme share what it looks like.
Hmm, this little red-waddled mastermind is thinking, if I walk sideways real slow, then they won’t see me coming.
Right. Here’s another little known factoid about my previous life that you’re likely to find as compelling as the last tidbits I’ve tossed at you. In my long ago youth, I was indeed a simple farm girl and had spent enough time around smelly feathered fowl to know poultry are about as clever in the head as sheep. No offense to sheep.
I mean, just take a moment to study the head on that bird. Three quarters of the noggin is committed to the beak, with the remaining quarter used up for the eye socket. So, where do you suppose the brain could be? That’s right, the bird ain’t got one. Instead it survives on some primitive neurological packet located like a ziploc baggie somewhere around the poultry by-product section. No, it’s true, I looked it up on Wikipedia and everything.
So, I tell Micron, heed this advise from someone who knows. Whatever you do, kiddo, just don’t look the thing in the eye.
Well, that’s just great. Now you’re a turkey zombie, Micron. Ah, no matter, the effects usually wear off rather quickly. Let’s get back to the booth to check on the pups.
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| Collectively, they share one brain. |
But even turkey brains can’t turn off the Micron charm, it seems. We meet a few families on the way back to the CCI booth that want to give the big yellow dog a pat on the head.
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| Check this out, newbie pups. Let a master show you how things are done. |
And a bonus dose of lovin’ from a rather young appreciator of fuzzy yellow dogs. That Micron accepted this big wet kiss without reciprocating with that happy tongue of his, well, maybe the big guy is maturing just a little.
You know, I like this next shot so much, that I did some fancy-pants photoshopping with the levels and color. Micron’s gaze upon the toddler, those pudgy little digits gripping all that fluffy goodness, it just makes me smile.
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| Mmmwah! |
My no-career dog has a calling and we both know it. Now we just need to figure out what he’s meant to be doing.
Next post: Four paws away from being an animal hoarder. Or maybe not.
Go. Do. Be Dog. 