Harbor Life, Journey of a Dog

Winners of my Birthday Drawing

2010-05-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

Guess what? Last night was my 6 month birthday dinner and I announced the winners of my birthday drawing during dessert. Because it was a special occasion, I got to sit at the head of the table (for a few minutes) and I tried really hard to be still and behave myself. It was considered a grand success because I didn't break the Tiffany candlesticks or taste any of the antique hemstitch linens. To start we had Kir Royales in very very tall champagne flutes that are normally kept in a velvet box with tiny silver latch. The Lady likes drinks that taste like candy and slip down easy, so she added extra Chambord and stuffed the glasses with way too many raspberries. She let me have some of the fresh raspberries because she said they were the same texture as my lips. They were interesting, but I just squished them up and spit them on the clean floor. For dinner The Lady made a tasty Raspberry Chicken. (Are you beginning to sense a theme?) She kept proclaiming in a loud voice how it was a Lo-Cal dish as she stood over the stove and furiously whisked in another quart of heavy cream for the sauce, cackling maniacally like a mad scientist. (I think several Kir Royales had slipped down by this time.) She also made some grilled asparagus and leeks with carmelized scallions, and a bunch of other stuff that wasn't very interesting. I got a little piece of plain chicken and gnawed on some asparagus stems while she was still in her lemon yellow apron, throwing everything together. At the end of the evening Miss Eileen, one of the guests, snuggled into one of the squishy chairs, wrapped herself in the edges of the slipcover, borrowed some lime green socks and announced she was nodding off in a food coma.

Ok, so if you couldn't make it to my birthday dinner, you didn't hear the announcement about the winners of the drawing. Remember, if you are one of the lucky winners, you have to send your land address to my very own e-mail address HarborLifeDog@yahoo.com so The Lady can send your present. I was only supposed to select 6 winners, but when I picked the last one, two slips of paper stuck to my tongue, so we had to be fair and give away seven presents.

Here are the winners:
Carina Guinane, Dozer Dottie & Cooper, Bijntji, Darlene & Samantha, Laurie, Princess AnnieBella, and Mario da Cat.

Happy Birthday Contest! Win Animal Planet Dogs Rule Cahooties!

2010-04-09T11:55:00.000-07:00

Guess what!?! Today I am 24 weeks old. That means today is my Six Month Birthday!!! Because it's my birthday, I want to give all my friends presents. When I mentioned this, The Lady stuttered a bit and looked at the floor and told me we don't have enough presents for everyone, so I suggested a contest, or more of a drawing really. So guess what? We're going to do it! Since I am the guest of honor, I'll let The Lady explain the contest.

Greetings everyone, The Lady speaking here. I do wish we had gifts for the whole party, but I think Harbor's idea for a drawing is a good one. Such a generous little nonpartisan pooch. (At first Harbor didn't like the word "drawing." I had to explain the difference between my art lessons where I sketch nudes, and the concept of having a drawing for a prize. Now that he understands, he's ok with the word.)

Here's how the contest works:

Vote for your favorite picture of Harbor! He is getting all kind of e-mails and messages about his adorable little self, so let’s take it public.

1. If you aren't already a follower, sign up to be a follower of Harbor’s blog at http://harborlifedog.blogspot.com. (Yes, here. Look up. Yes, you.) At the very top of the page, youll see the word FOLLOW in blue. Click FOLLOW. Then follow the directions, and become an official follower. Follow, follow, follow. Follow is a strange word, isn’t it?

2. Pick your favorite picture of Harbor. Don’t forget to look at the OLDER POSTS, especially the posts from December 2009. Awww…! Leave a comment on the blog entry featuring your favorite photo of Harbor by pressing the (0)COMMENT(S) button at the bottom of the post. Follow the directions. (Follow… there’s that word again.)

3. Somewhere in the body of your clever comment please include the contest code #PHOTO. Yes, just like that… #PHOTO. If you don’t include this code, you won’t get to be in the contest. Bummer.

4. Harbor will do a random drawing with his big sticky tongue on April 30^th and we’ll announce the winner in the blog post on May 1^st.

5. If you are the winner, we’ll ask you to send your land address to Harbor’s personal e-mail and we’ll ship your prize right away. Simple!

Now let’s hear a word from my friends at Cahooties, the way cool peeps providing your prizes….

Animal Planet Dogs Rule! Cahootie

Dogs Rule! But of course you already know that…if you are simply nuts for your pup or any pooch you meet, then you will have a blast playing Dogs Rule Cahootie, the iconic folded paper game reinvented to deliver crazy canine fun with loads of entertaining questions, fortunes and challenges for dog lovers of all ages!

Little Green Men

2010-04-07T17:34:00.000-07:00

Here is the little green man I had stuck in my teeth! More than a few readers had questions about that particular tweet, so here you go, yes you especially Princess AnnieBella. I actually have two of them, one at home in my dynamite box and one in my toy drawer at Auntie Cynthia's. He doesn't scream very loud when I bite him, but when I shake my head with death-roll zeal, his little arms and legs smack around in a very satisfying way that I enjoy very much. Very much. Since I am still a bit scanty in the teeth department, sometimes he gets hung up on the snaggly bits and The Lady has to pick him out like an errant piece of popcorn. I don't like it when she sticks her fingers in my mouth, and she is forever shoving her hands down my throat to pull out the garden rocks and slimy chewed up paper towels from the trash bin in the kitchen. Now she's developed this habit of pulling my rather generous lips over my head so she can examine the disappearance and progress of my teeth. Sometimes I feel like a horse, but I exhibit maturity beyond my months and never bite her when she feels the need to play doctor. So really, can you blame me for needing to execute a Little Green Man every once in a while?

With A Fervor

2010-04-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

I just found out something really twisted. These delicious chewy bones that I have been gnawing on continuously for the last... oh….three months, are not what they seem. No no no. (I feel faint.) I thought the smelly brown baton was some kind of flavoricious factory-manufactured particleboard chew toy, a candy cane for dogs if you will. However, this stinky six-inch shaft that I have been sucking on with a fervor is not some kind of Slim Jim Jerky for canines, NO. These roots, these stems, these stinky sticks that cause me to create a vicious stench of my own are actually dried up old bull penises. What!?! I’ve been devouring penii? Bovine, mastodon, buffalo, bronco, bull, whatever …. One after the other? Yes I know they are called "Bully Sticks" but I’m sorry, I just didn’t make the connection. I feel sick. For a number of reasons.

Because of the Sand

2010-03-20T18:54:00.000-07:00

Guess What?! This morning we went for a marvelously long walk by the ocean and I met about, oh I don’t know, a THOUSAND other dogs. I think everyone in Laguna Beach has at least two or three dogs and they are all out walking or playing on the beach at 7:30 in the morning. Most of them are big dogs, like me, or like I’m going to be when I grow up. It was a beautiful thing and I have so many new friends. Anyhoo… right when I had resolved that I could maybe learn to like living here, only a little, because of the sand, and the other dogs, and Auntie Cynthia’s squealy noises, right when I came to grips with the fact that somewhere along the line I must have been really bad and My People were giving me away, guess what?! They packed up (almost) all my belongings, put everything into the truck, and PUT ME INTO THE TRUCK TOO, and we drove home. Home! HOME! Yes, it seems it was just a test to see how I would do staying away from home overnight, and they aren’t giving me away after all. What a relief. All the way home in the car they talked about what a “little traveler” I was becoming, and how they had left a few toys and extra bowls at Auntie Cynthia’s for the next visit. They made a list of all the places we are going to go, all together. Ummm… they also mentioned that I need to stop peeing on the floor when I get so excited to see Cynthia or she’ll never let me near her fancy rugs, but I don’t even care because I am with My People and I am HOME!

Leave Me Forever

2010-03-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

As soon as I had finished gobbling my lunch The Lady, The Man, Auntie Cynthia and I all went down to the beach to play. I’ve never been to the beach before! Sand is the most wonderful substance in the world. When we get home I’m going to convince The Man to dig up the front yard and fill it with sand. (Oh wait, for a moment I forgot they gave me to Auntie Cynthia and I’m never going home again. Never mind.) At first it was a little scary, since the rest of the world is experiencing tsunamis and earthquakes, making the waves quite loud and rather large. Oh, but the smells! Do you realize that all kinds of nasty old stuff washes up on the shore and gets buried in the sand? Decomposing junk, rotting and festering, sometimes for years? Dead fish, rubber boots, broken plastic crap, disgusting slimy old rope, and even some disappointingly clean dentures. No one else was doing anything about it so I figured it was my job to dig it up. They kept talking about my webbed toes, and how I should be such a swimmer, but they don’t realize how having webbed feet provides me with excellent shovels for digging. There was a rock I liked in particular, and I tried to dig it up, but it was too big and I got tired. Besides, my Auntie Cynthia started running down the beach and I had to stop digging to chase her. Do you know the wind felt so good in my fur that I didn’t even realize I had sand crammed up my nose!

You know, when bedtime rolled around, I slept in my house (CAGE!) in a lovely suite of rooms, (just remodeled so I was firmly informed not to eat the smelly grasscloth wallpaper) and My People slept in the big bed next to me, just like at home. I figured they would say goodbye and leave me forever when it got dark, and then I would sleep in the room with Auntie Cynthia. But here they are… still. I’m glad, but I didn’t sleep too well, worrying and wondering.

The Way I Like My Ears Rubbed

2010-03-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

Guess what?!? When the car jolted to a stop and I woke up, we weren’t at Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda’s House of Pain at all. We were at Auntie Cynthia’s! My superb sense of direction must have gotten confused or perhaps I went to sleep for a moment longer than I thought when they made a few unauthorized turns and random lane changes. (The LA traffic seems to make them do irrational things behind the wheel.) I was really off because Auntie Cynthia lives in a dazzling house on the beach in Laguna and not anywhere at all near the coven of the Terror Twins. Since The Lady and The Man packed up all my worldly possessions, I guess I’m going to live with Auntie Cynthia now, which is OK. I’ll miss My People, but Auntie Cynthia is lots of fun and makes really spectacular squeaky noises. I hope My People tell her how I like my dry kibble mixed up with a few spoonfuls Puppy Plate, and how I like to jump all over the furniture when I play with my Rakunk. (Hummm… she has an awful lot of white furniture.) I guess she’ll eventually figure out that I need one delicious freeze dried dehydrated Chicken Drop at bedtime to convince me to get into my crate (CAGE!) and go to sleep. As soon as we opened the door, The Man set up my fence near the front steps and put down my pink blanky to cover the stone floor, which is nice since it was kind of cold on my puppy feet. It’s a good spot for me to hang out because I can bark at whomever is coming and going at the front door, I can see what is going on in the living room, and I can walk around the corner into the kitchen for a drink of water when ever I want. The Lady put my toys inside the fence with me, but mostly I just nap and wonder how long before they leave me forever. Do you think they will explain to Auntie Cynthia the way I like to have my ears rubbed? I am wondering if anyone will call me Bunny Rabbit anymore?

Not Even One Tear

2010-03-15T23:48:00.000-07:00

Well I knew it couldn’t last. Today My People packed up all my belongings and put me in the car. And I mean EVERYTHING. My dishes, my crate (CAGE!), my pink blanky, my fence, my blue towel, my pillows, my Gulpy, my leash, even my food and my treats. The worst was when The Lady gathered up all my beloved toys. I thought she’d at least want to keep my Blue Lizard or my Rakunk or my Skin Crab to remember me by, but nothin’ doing. She put every last toy into a suitcase and zipped it up, very efficient and businesslike, not a tear, not a frown, not even a furrowed brow. At first I ran frantic circles around their feet and tried to stop them, especially when The Man heaved my 42” crate (CAGE!) into the back of the truck, but they didn’t even notice me. Finally I just gave up and sat on my little rug in the bedroom under the drapes, wallowing in complete despair. I’m surprised they didn’t snatch the rug right out from under me and get rid of that too. The truck was positively exploding with my stuff. I did notice a few other bags in the car, but they were tiny compared to the girth of my belongings. As usual, I sat on The Lady’s lap for the car ride, but this time I tried to spread out across both of them, putting my paws on The Man’s legs and wedging my head between his belly and the steering wheel. I figured maybe if I were extra pitiful they would change their mind. (I have a nasty feeling this might have something to do the mouth sized purple bruise I put on the Lady’s arm the other night when we got into a little tussle over the stupid doormat. Hummm… I still say she should have let me eat it.) They seem to forget about my keen sense of direction, chatting with each other in cheery tones, while I was sick with certainty that we were headed toward Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda’s Horrible House of Badness. About halfway down the jammed 5 freeway, I got the idea that if both The Lady and The Man passed out while we were driving then we wouldn’t make it all the way and they couldn’t give me back. I did my best to manufacture and squeeze out as many of the worst nasty bad smells as possible, one after the other, but My People just gagged and pulled their shirts over their noses like robbers and rolled down the windows. Short of chewing through the dashboard to ignite the airbags, it seemed nothing was going to stop them from returning me to the Siblings of Satan, so I just sat in the middle of The Lady’s squishy thighs and hung my enormous head into the foot well and willed myself to sleep. I wished I could just sleep forever so I wouldn’t have to wake up on the dark side to Evil Steve’s felonious ways and Wicked Wanda’s parade of so-called boyfriends.

The Leash

2010-03-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

Please tell her to unhook my leash. PLEASE.

Helpful Around the House

2010-03-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

Quite mistakenly, because I am a puppy it is assumed that all I do with my time is play and sleep and eat rocks. Au contraire! I am very helpful around the house. It’s a toss-up as to whether I like to Make the Bed or Sweep the Floor the best. When we make the bed, she throws the covers off the end of the bed and over my body. It’s very much like playing parachute during a rainy day recess. The bed is a California King and she really likes to pile on the comforters in the frigid Los Angeles winter, so we’re talking about some significant textilian real estate. (My guess is that she wouldn’t last long sleeping outside in the yard, but The Man doesn’t like being pinned down by so many covers, so he has a pretty good chance. His internal thermostat is set to roast, like me, so he might do better should we ever need to show off our survival skills.) Anyhoo, sometimes when we make the bed The Lady rolls around on the floor with me under the mountains of covers, making dens and burrows, growling and snorting something awful. She drools more than me and I’m half Saint Bernard. Her hair gets very messy and she looks like she escaped from Bedlam. Or needs a prescription filled.

Now, Sweeping the Floor is an equally pleasing activity, but I don’t think The Lady fully understands her part in the procedure. I mean really, I cooperate with enthusiasm from the moment she pulls the broomstick out of the closet. I get positively giddy with excitement at the presentation of the dustpan. Sometimes she tries to be sneaky and opens the closet when I’m downstairs, but who does she think she is fooling? I hear that door squeak a mile a way and come running as fast as I can, sliding all arms and legs into the dustpiles. It’s an activity we do together, a real bonding experience, so I can’t imagine why she would want to deprive me of such enjoyment. Besides, I think she is only testing my reflexes or she would have the sense to squirt some WD40 on the hinges. Regardless, as soon as I hear that delightful “whisk whisk whisk” across the linoleum, I understand my mission and jump into action. I am SO there. Now, for my part I understand it is my duty to ensure there are no long sweeping motions that might clear the floor completely of any delicious dinner crumbs. We’re simply trying to retrieve the crunchy goodness from those hard to reach areas. Unfortunately, she is not very clear about this. She continually gets out of control and makes grand movements all over the floor with the broom, hollering LEAVE IT! LEAVE IT! LEAVE IT! Such a spazz. But so much fun! And so, I persevere. I am fully committed to the task and do my best to make sure the crumbly little taste treats are pulled from the far-reaching corners of the kitchen and into the center of the floor. It is at this juncture that she pretty much blows it all to hell. Right when we’ve gotten everything organized into convenient little piles for easy snacking access she shovels it all up with the dustpan, in some kind of frenzy with even more shouting and clumsy maneuvering. WHAT is she doing, I ask you? I am licking up the snack piles of crumbs and dust bunnies as quickly as I can, and with practice I will learn to be faster. I’m sure I will improve with maturity, and perhaps the addition of some teeth. I just need some help explaining the rules of the game to The Lady.

Living Under the Bed

2010-03-13T19:02:00.000-08:00

Guess what!?! I found a whole stash of socks under the bed. There were about 15 single white socks in a basket, just sitting there! I was sooooo helpful and pulled them all out on the floor so The Lady could sort them. She is forever complaining about how there is something living in the back of the dryer that snitches socks, but that isn’t true! There is something LIVING UNDER THE BED that steals the socks.

PS- You should see what other stuff is under the bed.

The Most Awful Face

2010-03-13T18:52:00.000-08:00

Remember I told you about the cat named Menu? Well here is her picture. See what I mean? When I stopped to visit Grandpa this time, Menu wasn’t imprisoned in the laundry room like a criminal. Instead she was sulking under the dining room table. I found her in, like two seconds, and was so excited to meet her, but it seems the feeling wasn’t mutual. She made the most awful face at me! See? And she hissed! Chairs made a fort around her so I couldn’t get too close, like I’d even WANT to get anywhere near her. I just wanted to ask her if she had any more of those tasty little fake mice. Sheesh.

Captain Corn Nuts

2010-03-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

After we’ve been for a walk in the rain, The Lady dries me off with my big blue towel. While she struggles to reach the curly bits, it is my job to try to bite the end of it and run through the house like Superman. When she catches me, she gives me a kiss and tells me I smell like Corn Nuts.

Fast, Easy, Gentle

2010-02-25T21:46:00.000-08:00

Well.
I just hope she kept the receipt.

Injury to Insult

2010-02-23T12:13:00.000-08:00

I seem to be missing something. Almost all of my front baby teeth, top and bottom, have fallen out over the last couple of days. You can see in the picture that my front teeth are gone. GONE. It hurts something awful, and I am cranky. If I chew, it hurts, if I don’t chew it hurts worse. With nothing to hold it in, the end of my enormous tongue hangs out of my mouth a little bit, and The Lady says I look like I have boiled ham stuck to my chin. And, to add injury to insult, yes in that order, I keep biting my tongue with the few remaining teeth I’ve got left. Ice cubes sound great, but how am I supposed to crunch up an ice cube with my gums? Huh? The Lady keeps expressing disappointment that she can’t find any of my lost teeth. Apparently she has a little box of Oliver’s teeth and The Boy's teeth, and wants a few of mine for her voodoo headdress or shillelagh stick whatever she’s got going on. (Keep in mind this is a woman who kept her tonsils in a jar in her closet from age 7 until she finished college and moved to California. Morbid child.) And my legs are growing. And my puppy fuzz is falling out and being replaced with big boy dog hairs, but only in patches. And I have the hiccups. Everything is out of alignment.

Arava

2010-02-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

Today The Man invented a new game for me to play. We went into the garage, which is a regular carnival of smells, and moved a few things around. The most significant item was a long plastic thing that looks like a banana, almost as long as the truck. The Man placed it the middle of the floor and put a very serious look on his face and stared me down for a few seconds. He put a treat under my nose, my favorite flavor, and shouted, "Kayak" in the most determined way. I had no idea what he wanted but I tried to look as alert as possible and wag the dickens out of my tail, providing an excellent cleaning service for the floor, just in case that was the intention. I assumed the treat would be forthcoming at that point, but apparently there was more to this exercise. The Man helped me climb over the side of the yellow thing and arranged me in an indentation near the front. This was no easy task since the inside of the yellow thing had enormous ridges, scupper holes, and footholds that make it difficult to find my footing. Do you think that is the thrilling moment when I got my treat? No. Of course not. The Man could barely contain himself with glee, but in a (pretend) stern voice told me to SIT, then DOWN, then STAY. By this time I assumed there was no treat coming, ever, but guess what? That's when I got my delicious freeze-dried chicken drop! We repeated this three or four times before he hauled me back into the house to find the lady. She was playing with her pink laptop and I made her stop by leaping on top of her on the sofa. We brought her into the garage and I assumed she was going to get into the yellow thing with me, which meant I'd have to share my delicious chicken drops. Instead, The Man asked me go through the routine again, which made The Lady clap her hands and squeal. This game really doesn't seem that difficult, but I did have trouble following the conversation that followed. Something about practicing in the pool, which seems ridiculous since I don't see how they are going to move the entire garage into the pool, but Hey, it's their house. Then they examined my feet again, just to confirm, one more time, that I really do have webbed toes, which lead to more squealing from The Lady, since she thinks that is another feature that adds to my extreme cuteness. Then there was something about a PFD for dogs which I gather is some sort of fancy jacket. The weirdest part of the conversation was that the big yellow thing has a name, and it isn't Banana. It is Arava, which is also the name of the bungalow where they lived on a deserted island in Tahiti, and it means Lemon Shark. Shark? From watching discovery channel I do believe sharks have more teeth than me, certainly at this point in my life when I have mostly gums. How do sharks fit into this picture? I'll have to learn the specifics, but I think I have come to my decision about about the pool and I wanted to let you know. After discovering that the pool most likely contains sharks, I'll not be getting into the water, ever.

And here I've been thinking that I'm the only pet in this family.

Olympics

2010-02-19T23:20:00.000-08:00

Since My People can't go out much these days because of me, they are holed up at home watching the Olympics. I make it impossible to leave the house for any length of time and apparently I also make it difficult to watch an entire movie from start to finish. Movies are awfully long and tedious, don't you think? Anyhooo.... I just love the Olympics. When we are watching, I lounge around on the floor and chew something, anything I can find, preferably one of The Lady's excessively stinky shoes, and I stare at the large television set. My favorite is Shaun White because he makes $10 million dollars a year rolling around in the snow like a puppy, Lindsay Vonn is tall perfection and looks like The Lady's friend Wendy,and that little Mancuso girl with the sparkly crown is pretty cute. Bode Miller is a madman, which is what The Man calls me on a regular basis. I've heard Bode was raised by wolves, so I'm wondering if he is a relation somehow? OK, and I have to admit that even though I am a US citizen, I catch my Saint Bernard DNA cheering for Simon Ammann. He flies like a bird and wore that fetching silver coat when he first showed up at the Olympics a few years ago. But as far as that clear-eyed KGB assassin on ice skates goes, I don't like him at all. He is scary. And skinny. The competition is very exciting, and I try to participate the best I can. I can't go to Vancouver by myself so I have to use what is available in the den. If I leap between the ottoman and the sofa, twisting in the air and howling a little, I can (sorta) get the effect of a half-pipe. The stairs covered with ancient worn down carpet make a fantastic down hill run or even a ski jump, especially since I always land on heavily waxed hardwood flooring and go flying. And speaking of the slippy hardwood floor, if I get a running start around the corner, I can transform the length of the room into quite a convincing short track, as long as I don't smack into the sliding glass door. So far, no medals have materialized, but with the effort I've put into the events, I'm sure at least one is forthcoming soon. Maybe at least a little extra dinner?

Bag Lady

2010-02-18T17:27:00.000-08:00

The Lady keeps forgetting to bring her reusable bags to Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. She went to the store today, and came back with paper bags containing the groceries. Has she not heard about global warming? Taking care of the environment? You know... Go Green? Hello? Anything? She owns a regular bouquet of reusable bags but forgets to bring them about two thirds of the time. She even has a pretty black one with butterflies on it. How do I know this? The bags are kept on the door handle in the laundry room, right next to the vault that holds my stash of dogfood. Can't miss them. Today I reached my limit and decided to do something about it. While The Man and The Lady were eating lunch I staged a protest by shredding the paper grocery bags in to little tiny bits all over the floor. The Lady thought it was funny! The Man was skeptical and raised his eyebrows, but even he didn't put it together. The harder I worked to make my point, the more she made cracks about me being part gerbil or hamster or guinea pig or some other creepy little rodent. She totally didn't get it at all. How can I make my opinion about the bags clear? I'll have to come up with another plan. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

A Perfect Random Wednesday

2010-02-17T14:55:00.000-08:00

My People cornered me in the kitchen after I'd had a delightful morning of random shoe snatching and playing keep-away with a decorative pillow. The little pillow is just lovely, made with green shantung silk and covered with teeny-tiny bells, each sewn on by the skinny eight year old hands of some unfortunate child in Calcutta. For a moment I thought perhaps I'd pushed it too far by running the pillow out into the yard and making The Lady scramble up the embankment after me to get it back. I thought it was pretty funny but she was swearing like a sailor as she dug her freshly manicured bare toes into the dirt and got tangled up under the prehistoric sized sego palm. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm having second thoughts. Later, when I believed it had blown over and I was in the clear, I was caught sniffling around the cupboard where they hide my snacks and treats. The Lady snuck up behind me on tippy-toes and clamped the leash to my collar. She said they had a big surprise for me and I had to come with them into the car. My heart sank into my empty stomach. What is a surprise? Does it have anything to do with Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda stir-frying me for a Saint Bernard dinner? I think I am in even bigger trouble about the pillow than I thought. It turns out, I'm not in trouble at all! (Well, maybe a little bit.) Instead of being deported, we drive only a little way down the road to an enclosed patch of dirt with a few trees and some benches. It is called a Dog Park and it is positively infested with dogs. I was so excited I almost jumped from The Lady's lap and straight through the windshield when I saw all of the different dogs. Big ones! Little ones! Barky ones! Old ones! Black ones! Brown ones! Fancy ones! Happy ones! The second we got out of the car and through the gates, I was off like a rocket, running at top speed from side to side, from dog to dog. It was the most fun I've ever had, even more fun than ice cubes or the Visitor Bell. I chased after the yellow lab, played with the big black lab, sniffed the chow chow, stepped over the little boston terrier. The only one who growled at me was the miniature pincher who was just all silliness and absolutely no real bite, and my favorite was Max the enormous doberman. Max played with me the most and it was so much fun. Every single person there said I was the cutest dog at the park and wanted to pet my fuzzy fur. Of course I let them. (You know.... I don't think I peed when I met any of the people at the dog park. How interesting...) We only stayed for about 45 minutes, but I was starting to get awfully tired and it was time to go home for my lunch. A perfect random Wednesday.

Valentine's Day, COMPLETELY NAKED

2010-02-14T17:01:00.000-08:00

Today is Valentine’s Day, and Oliver’s birthday. I’m getting lots of extra hugs but I think it has more to do with Oliver than with me. Last year they had a party for the occasion, but this year everyone was sad and the biggest event of the day was a bath. Well actually a shower. I was trying to avoid the tub and was hoping to hide in this big glass closet on the other side of the room, hoping The Lady would forgot about giving me a bath. Instead she looked over at me in the glass closet and said, "Well, Ok. If you're game, I'm game." Then she took off all of her clothes and got in the glass closet with me, COMPLETELY NAKED. I'm not a prude or anything, but it was MOST disconcerting, especially since she spends most of her time wearing LOTS of sweaters and socks and hats owing to the chilly February weather. But that was just the beginning of the weirdness. She twisted her naked hand around a few knobs and levers on the wall and water started pouring all over me, just like it did outside when I was potty training during the monsoon. Except this time it was hot water and I didn't get to stand under a patio umbrella. The glass closet was too small to escape. Believe me I tried, but I was locked inside. If that automatic rain feature wasn't bad enough, she poured fancy designer shampoo all over me and rubbed me until I was a giant ball of suds. The shampoo is called GoochiPoochi and it is made by her friend Alan, who used to be named Keith. He is a famous hair stylist who loves dogs and thinks they should have hair as pretty as his celebrity clients. The shampoo itself was nice, but I didn't like the shower at all, especially when she used a separate hand nozzle that sprayed me at close range. Water got in my ears and made me deaf for hours. The worst was that she made me sit there in a puddle with detangler and conditioner slathered all over my fur while she shampooed her own hair and then proceeded to shave her legs. Can you believe it? I puckered up my little lips and howled as loud as I could for as long as I could, but she just laughed at me and kept remarking on how many freckles I have. It was just awful.
I'm not even going to discuss the hair dryer. I'm exhausted.

To Come or Not To Come?

2010-02-10T16:45:00.000-08:00

I have decided I don’t like COME anymore. They stand at the door and holler COME at me, like fifty times in a row, right when I’m doing something fun. I totally ignore them, but it is annoying to have them barking at me, the same thing, over and over. I’m sure the neighbors find it bothersome and I’ll have to see what I can do to correct it. Certainly I’ll not be encouraging COME by participating in the activity anymore, even if they do offer treats. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make in order to keep harmony in the neighborhood and help My People become more peaceful.

Nasty Overdose

2010-02-09T16:47:00.000-08:00

I have picked out my favorite treat. Ice Cubes! They are just delicious. Currently there is a lot of frozen tuna in the freezer from The Man’s extremely successful trip to Baja Mexico so the ice cubes have a very subtle ocean flavor that only I can perceive. And most interesting is the effect they have on the inside of my mouth. First it feels cold, then if feels almost hot, then it just disappears with very little chewing. Ahh, but the chewing! Nothing, and I mean nothing, has such a satisfying crunch. Much more satisfying than crunching up a few of the smaller seashells I found in the potted plants. Even My People indulge in these treats regularly. The Man finds it very entertaining to say in a happy voice, “It’s time to make some more Dog Treats.” Everyone else thinks this is amusing too, and I can only believe that this because these particular dog treats bring such happiness to everyone. As a sidenote, I will admit there is a limit of how many of these treats one can enjoy in a session. After five or six of them, they seem to lose their effect, and I can’t even feel them in my mouth anymore, and tend to bite my own tongue. I’ll have to watch myself with this indulgence, as it might have addictive qualities and some sort of nasty overdose symptoms.

Thunder and Mudslides

2010-02-07T16:52:00.000-08:00

Because of starting off so terribly ill, with such nasty gastrointestinal distress, and My People suspecting I am younger than they were told (I am! I am! I am!) they set their alarms and faithfully took me outside to potty every single hour, every single night. Then they moved it to 1 hour and 15 minutes, then 1 hour and 30 minutes, and so on and so forth. Eventually it settled into a routine of The Man taking me out at midnight, The Lady taking me out sometime in the middle of the night around 4:00, and then The Man taking me for my first morning walk at 7:30. When this became the routine, I felt much better, was a few weeks older, and really didn’t like to be dragged out into the cold yard from my nice warm crate (CAGE!) right when I was hitting my REM cycle. It was bad enough that it was cold, but some sort of extreme weather monsoon had started in Los Angeles which made it particularly unpleasant. I went along with it for weeks, but I was starting to get angry. Instead of holding it in, I decided to express myself and started growling a little. It seemed to have some sort of effect, to I growled more. Eventually I got so loud I woke The Man up with my impressive vocal styling. I thought she would stop making me go outside, but she seems to think it was for my own good and persisted with the schedule. Finally, finally finally she agreed to let me sleep all night through, but the first night displayed gale force winds, sheets of pelting rain and hurricane conditions outside. I heard thunder for the first time, which was very scary, and some loud dripping noise was echoing from someplace outside that sounded like someone in high heels was walking down the hillside steps next to the bedroom door, and I imagined it was Wicked Wanda, coming to get me with Assassin and Accomplice. About 3:30 in the morning I heard a terrible roaring noise which turned out to be a violent mudslide in which most of the California hillside fell into the street. Three houses across the street have red tags and are condemned. My first night of sleeping all the way through wasn’t very successful and I spent much of the night growling and yipping and wiggling around in my house/cage. (I’m not much of a whiner.) I guess it wasn’t very nice for The Lady either, since she spent most of the night curled up on the floor outside my door in a pile of blankets and pillows so she could keep a few fingers in my fur for reassurance. We’ll do better tomorrow night.

Exercise in Tolerance

2010-02-06T17:02:00.000-08:00

Because I have had more shots, I can have a doggie visitor, so The Man invited Earl to come over for a play date and bring His Person, Elizabeth. Well, it wasn’t really a play date as much as it was an exercise in tolerance on the part of Earl. I LOVE Earl. He is an elderly Australian Shepherd mix (like me!) with cataracts and hip problems, and a luxurious plume of a swoopy tail. One day I hope to have a tail as beautiful as Earl’s. I was waiting for Earl on the front lawn while The Lady was cutting some camellia flowers for a bouquet. When he came around the hedge, I was so excited I couldn’t stand it and peed a little in the grass, but I don’t think anyone noticed. ("I noticed."-note from The Lady). We all went through the garden gate and shut the door behind us, making sure we were safe. For an old guy he was pretty happy about being let off leash in our yard, and roamed all over exploring everything, sniffing all the raccoons and skunks and possums that congregate by the watering hole (the pool) every night, sniffing all the pets that have lived here before me, sniffing the neighborhood stray cats that sleep in the planters because this yard is safe from the coyotes that will eat them, and of course Earl was sniffing all the smells that I have carefully placed all over the yard, to let everyone know I belong here. I danced circles around Earl as I showed him the side of the house where the spare flowerpots are kept to collect rainwater and leaves to make the most delicious soup. Then I persuaded him to examine the Badlands crawl space under The Lady’s pool house where nothing grows because that area has never seen the light of day. I think Earl especially liked the embankment over the pool deck where My People put lots of Mexican Feather Grass and big rocks with Lemon Thyme tucked in the corners to make it smell nice in the sun. Elizabeth was a little worried Earl might lose his footing on all the rocks and roots, especially since he can’t see very well anymore, but he did just fine. The only problem he encountered was getting stuck backwards between a bench and fence in a space too small to turn around to get out. The Lady helped him by lifting his front paws on the bench and rotating him around so he could walk out frontways. Earl gave her a grateful look with deep dark eyes framed by his Kabuki white eyebrows. Everyone said I was nice because I shared my enormous water dish and offered my toys, even the Fishing Game. After a while Earl had had about enough of me being so excited to finally have a friend, and everyone scolded me when I bit his tail a little. It is so hard to resist, so feathery and soft, and I only bit him a little. I hope Earl comes over to visit again soon. Next time I’ll show him how to rip up the grape fines and run as fast a possible with them through the yard.

Naked People Playing Statue

2010-02-01T17:04:00.000-08:00

Something is up today. Auntie Cynthia came to visit again last night and she’s still here. The Lady spent extra time dusting the furniture and there seems to be more activity in the Dining Room involving the good silver, the collection of mismatched monogrammed napkin rings, and some antique hemstitched linen napkins. Is it Christmas again? Auntie Cynthia has been receiving a lot of instructions about being less exciting so I don’t pee my pants in her presence. She so much fun I just can’t help it! She get me so wound up and crazy that my eyes swirl independently in their sockets and I just lose all control of everything, my mind, my sense, my arms and legs, and the on/off switch in bladder. When I heard that bell ring in the house, this time I knew what it meant… visitors! The Lady went to the front door first and was talking to the visitor, explaining something about my special way of greeting everyone and pointing to his lovely Prada shoes. He was nodding and telling her he understood. Just as they were about to enter the linoleum protected kitchen to meet me, Auntie Cynthia opened the kitchen door that I was hiding behind, holding my breath. Of course I ran out into the living room and of course I peed when I met the tall man named Brett. I missed his shoes but I managed to get the parquet floor and a couple of the fancy little rugs. Auntie Cynthia got in Big Trouble for letting me out because she was supposed to do this one little thing to help train me so I could go visit her someday and not sprinkle anything on the VERY VERY VERY VERY fancy new floors in her house. She explained to The Lady she thought I was asleep and The Lady rolled her eyes and called her a disobedient big sister. Well, I WAS napping before the Visitor Bell rang, but did anyone really think I was going to sleep through the opportunity to meet new people? Seriously. After I met Brett, all four of them had a lovely lunch of homemade butternut squash soup topped with walnuts, parsley and dried cranberries, a salad with chicken and raspberry dressing, and some crème brulee for desert. (The Lady was delighted that her attempt at the desert of creamy goodness turned out so well.) I got plain dogfood and napped in my playpen in the kitchen. After lunch we all went out to the backyard to watch me run around. I must have done a good job since Brett wants to come back and bring Rex. Rex is his wire-hair terrier who looks like Asta from The Thin Man movies, and I can’t wait to meet him. Rex is very worldly and has taken airplane rides to visit his 1834 country mansion on the Ohio River in West Virginia. When he is here in LA, he lives in a loft in downtown LA with a view of the city and a hot tub on the roof, but in West Virginia he has a big yard of 14 acres with horses and snow and everything. I bet he’ll run around the yard with me. Yay! He might even do some digging. I’ll have to show him how easy it is to rip up the agapanthus. Auntie Cynthia, Brett, The Man and The Lady were having a nice chat when suddenly The Lady bolted out the door saying she didn’t realize it was this late and that she had to get to her class where she sits for three hours and draws naked people playing statue in uncomfortable poses.

Cheap High Heels

2010-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

Even though it has been a month since I have been in their presence, I still have dreams of Evil Steve and his twin sister Wanda. In these dreams, the two Siblings of Satan are chasing me with giant forks and knives. They carry their cutlery like jousting knights, with Wanda’s long curly fingernails twisted around the handles while her cheap high heels click as she runs. I am trying my best to run away, but I’m still too little and keep getting cornered by them, their German Shepherd named Assassin (who once bit one of my sisters) and their popeyed chihuahua named Accomplice. I yip and bark and growl as loud as I can in my sleep, but it just does no good and I know I'm a goner. Eventually they morph into shiny pink and green street racing cars and attempt to mow me down in cold blood, chasing me through the dog park. Wicked Wanda's eyes glow red as she files her teeth in the rear view mirror, opening and closing her mouth like a python. Just as I am about to get run over by Evil Steve I wake up. Sometimes The Lady is petting me gently and whispering my name, but sometimes I just wake up by myself. I wish I could forget them, but I can’t seem to put them out of my mind entirely. I think the silverware part of the dream comes from overhearing My People talk about how some Asian country is importing Saint Bernards, my cousins on my father’s side, for FOOD. Look it up, I’m not lying.

Slap around in the wind

2010-01-26T17:00:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I’m starting to get the potty training thing. I’m supposed to pee and poop outside. Ok. Fine. I don’t see anyone else going outside in the middle of the night to poop in the bushes, but fine. What isn’t fine is that is hasn’t stopped pouring rain by the bucketful for at least a week. I know I shouldn’t complain since my house hasn’t washed away or filled up with mud like some other nearby homes, but seriously, there must be some other way to get this taken care of under these circumstances. I agree, it was very nice for The Man to rig up an impromptu cover over part of the grass using last summer’s shade umbrellas. And, I agree that it was nice of him not to get really mad now that one of the umbrellas has been beat to hell and back in the gale force winds. Now most of the wooden spokes have snapped into pieces leaving the canvas to slap around in the wind like abandoned laundry. Perhaps I could be taught to use the same facility as My People? Just a suggestion….

THEY bring sticks into the house

2010-01-24T17:03:00.000-08:00

If they are going to bring logs and sticks (my favorite!) into the house and stash them next to the fireplace, I don’t understand how they can expect me to leave them alone? They tell ME not to bring sticks into the house, but THEY bring sticks into the house. Yet another point of confusion I am supposed to sort out on my own. PS - Today is Auntie Shauna's Birthday!

Yet again, who is Oliver?

2010-01-21T16:58:00.000-08:00

When I ran from my CAGE to The Lady’s side of the bed to shower her with good morning kisses, she scooped me up into the bed for a quick cuddle. This is the first time I’ve been allowed on the bed and it was heavenly! I did see something curious though. Hanging from the lightswitch on her excessively tall bedside lamp is a chain with a little metal tag that says OLIVER. The mysterious Oliver, yet again. Who is Oliver?

Expectations

2010-01-20T16:44:00.000-08:00

I have noticed that sometimes I do not receive treats in exchange for behavioral requests, yet I’m expected to do what they ask every single time, regardless. I'm not sure I like this arrangement, so I'm not sure I'm going to do anything they ask anymore. I’ll let you know what I decide.

When I am very tired...

2010-01-19T16:45:00.000-08:00

When I am very tired, one of my eyes drifts a little off center. My People feel that it’s ok to discuss the freely. I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate it if I sat around and talked openly about all of their physical defects and shortcomings.

Race Relations

2010-01-18T16:43:00.000-08:00

The white part of my tail seems to be growing at a faster rate than the black part of my tail. Is this normal?

The Park

2010-01-17T17:01:00.000-08:00

The Man, The Lady, The Boy and I went to a park today. This was the most perfect Sunday morning. I was asked to get into the car, and of course I assumed I was going to the hospital or being returned to Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda, Siblings of Satan, but instead we went to Eagle Rock Recreation Center Park. The Man and The Boy brought a football and The Lady and I chased it back and forth between them. She was laughing, but I think this activity is new to her, as evidenced by her stumbling and general slowness. After a while of this silliness, The Man said I could remove my leash since no one was around and we were in a secluded area. It was wonderful! I ran back and forth in the soft grass between everyone and we had such fun. The Man brought the special little spongy frisbee with the hole in the center that I can pick up by myself and that was the best. The football is a little unwieldy and doen't fit very well in my mouth. I have a very big mouth, but not quite that large, at least not yet. Perhaps it will be easier when I get bigger teeth. We couldn’t have asked for better weather in January with a view of the ocean on one side, mountains covered with snow to our backs, and golden sunshine shining from above. Because it was so nice and warm outside we stayed for a long time. Eventually two enormous families showed up for a picnic, so out of respect for their food, we went home. There was some discussion about how I might knock down toddlers for their hot dogs. I was pretty tired anyway, so it was time to leave. What an excellent day!

Gobble Gobble Gobble

2010-01-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

Apparently I’m not supposed to gobble my food. At first I was so happy to have my very own bowl of food, just for me and me alone, that I couldn’t believe it and tried to eat everything as fast as possible, just in case a hungry someone was sneaking up behind me, planning to steal my lunch. From the reaction of My People, especially The Man, I am not supposed to eat with such enthusiasm. The Lady keeps telling me to chew my food, but I don’t listen because if I waste the time to chew it, then someone might steal it. Duh! Besides, I still don’t have much by way of teeth. To slow me down she tried feeding me on a cookie tray, but I discovered I have an extra-large size tongue that is covered with excess sticky material, being that i am half Saint Bernard, and I am able to just whisk my tongue over the cookie tray and it works like flypaper. Instead of congratulating me on my talent and ingenuity and efficiency, she was not pleased, saying something about how I was going to choke to death. She also added that it was possible I might slurp up the bowl and all on accident and they’d have to have it surgically removed from my gizzard. The Man is now concocting elaborate games involving holding my bowl of food over my head then making me LOOK him in the eye, SIT still without trembling, LEAVE IT alone, even though my dish is positively HOWLING my name, and WAIT FOREVER until he tells me it is OK to start eating, FINALLY. This is very difficult for me and really takes the enjoyment out of mealtime. I’ve noticed no one hold his dish over his head and makes such ridiculous demands at his dinnertime. He gets a nicely pressed linen napkin.

For one so little...

2010-01-12T16:45:00.000-08:00

I’ve learned to growl and find it quite useful. Apparently I have quite an impressive growl for one so little. I will have to practice this a lot, as I can see advantages, particularly when I am sleeping and The Lady makes me wake up to go outside.

Interesting Sauce

2010-01-11T16:42:00.000-08:00

My new favorite taste treat is old leaves steeped in rainwater, preferably in a flowerpot thick with mulch. The rainwater creates such an interesting sauce with these ingredients! O The aroma! Apparently I am not supposed to enjoy anything not found in my official dish located inside the house, so I have to be sneaky about indulging. Fortunately for me, we have very lazy gardeners who just Mow, Blow, and Go, and are particularly careless in the side yard where The Lady stores her extra planting supplies. This remote and infrequently visited quadrant of the yard has quite a buildup of ancient and exotically seasoned leaves, offering a regular smorgasbord of this menu item. i just have to plan my visits to the buffet when they aren't paying attention, which isn't very often. Occasionally I can slip around the side of the house in the dark when they think I've gone out to use the grass and have a quick slurp. Do you think they would believe me if I told them I'm stepping out for a moment to smoke?
No, probably not.

Buzzy Bits

2010-01-10T16:43:00.000-08:00

What is a bee? My People make tisking noises with their tongue when ever I watch the little buzzy bits that hover around the purple flowers on the rosemary plants. They tell me to be careful of the bees or I’ll be very sorry. I can identify my purple plush Lizard, my red rubber Chicken, my blue Duckie, but what is a bee?

Sticks and Leaves

2010-01-09T16:33:00.000-08:00

Sticks and Leaves. My greatest joys in life are sticks and leaves. Rocks too, but every time I try to eat a rock some one pries it out of my mouth. Sticks come in so many different flavors for the adventurous palate. Some are bendy and green, quite tangy in flavor, with a soothing effect on my tender gums. Other have a lovely aged taste with more of a snap to them. Leaves offer the perfect compliment to other menu items to be found both indoors and outside. I wonder why they aren’t served in the house with my Puppy Plate? I’d just love a side order of toasted elm leaves with my lunch, kind of like chips. Everytime I bring these treats into the house like take-out Thai, The Lady gets the vacuum and sucks them up, or throws them into the fireplace for the nighttime fire-lighting activity. Ahh well. I’ll just have to forage for my own snack foods in the side yard when no one is looking.

He pretends to be annoyed

2010-01-08T16:51:00.000-08:00

While it is lots of fun to chase the fluorescent ball across the yard and bring it back for My People to throw it once again, over and over, it seems unfair to hog all the enjoyment for myself. Just so the merrymaking is a little more evenly distributed, I have discovered something fun for The Man to do too. After he throws the ball and I fetch it, to mix thing up a little I nudge it with my nose into the pool, instead of bringing it right back to him. The Man has to trudge across the yard and stick his hands into the freezing January pool water to get the ball before he can throw it for me again. This way, I’m not the only one chasing after the ball and I share the fun with him. He pretends to be annoyed, but he keeps fishing it out of the pool, and I keep pushing it over the edge. The Lady has made it clear she does not classify this as entertainment, but I am certain the man is enjoying himself immensely. Over and over and over and over and over….

Yawning Hungry Animal

2010-01-06T16:32:00.000-08:00

The garage door is a very hungry animal with a huge mouth that growls in the most terrifying way. I don’t like it at all.

Dining Al Fresco

2010-01-05T16:50:00.000-08:00

Finally I got to ride in the car with a destination somewhere other than the Vet! Ummmmm..... the problem is that I’m not all that sure I like to ride in the car at all. I know I’m supposed to just positively love it since I’m a dog, but frankly it makes me a little nervous and I pant in an anxious way. I do like that I can sit on The Lady’s lap, but I’m really not all that fond of looking out the window and watching everything go by so fast like Space Mountain. My People keep talking about all the places we are going to go in the car, and I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. I think I'd prefer an RV but I’ll let you know. Something called a Boat keeps working it's way into the conversation too. What is a boat?

Today, we went to Newport Beach to visit Grandpa and his girlfriend Jo, and then we went to Auntie Cynthia’s house in Laguna Beach. Jo had a bad stroke and has to stay in bed all day and all night so I climbed up on top of her and gave her lots of kisses and wallowed around on her body. I peed a little bit on her blanket, but not much. She said she didn’t care because she was so happy to meet me. Visiting makes me awfully tired so I rested my eyes for a few minutes with my chin on Grandpa’ s feet. (He wasn't in bed. He was in a chair.) He is very nice and thinks I’m cute, you can just tell. On the way out the door, I snitched a fake mouse that belongs to Jo’s cat. (It sounds like everyone is calling the cat Menu. How very curious! Can you believe the cat is named for edibles? I will take note of this for future visits when the cat isn't sequestered in the laundry facility) Nothing against Menu of course, I just liked the little mouse and wanted to take it home with me. I didn't think anyone noticed and I thought I could get away with it, but The Lady pried my mouth open at the door and pulled it out. Soon my jaws will be strong enough that I will get to keep what I find, but for now The Lady has no problem sticking her entire fist down into my gullet to fish out my souvenirs. I mean, it's not like I have a backpack or a shopping bag. Where else am I supposed to put my belongings? Grandpa thought my attempt at thievery was hilarious and talked about it for weeks. (I'm not certain how he and the cat feel about each other.) I’m glad I could make him happy. It started to rain, so we decided to go visit Auntie Cynthia before it got much worse.

Since Auntie Cynthia has such an exciting energy and her switch is always turned up to eleven, The Lady made her meet us outside in the rain first to try and prevent me from peeing gallons on her floor. (Not very many people can make Auntie Cynthia do anything, but The Lady can because she is her little sister.) Even so, since she just a a b’zillion dollar remodel job performed on her beach house, I wasn't allowed to set my paws on the floor inside and was carried straight out to her little yard. When I’m older I’ll be able to run around free, but I’m still too young. There is a slight overhand on her patio so we all squeezed under it to stay out of the cold and rain. Everyone had lunch and I ate out of my new travel bowl that I got for Christmas. They had delicious turkey sandwiches and I had dry dogfood. After dining al fresco, I ran around in the rain and showed off all the commands I know so far and licked Cynthia's face like crazy. She tastes very good and squeals and wiggles in the most appealing way. The Lady called her in advance and reminded her to wear clothes that she doesn’t like anymore, and to put her hair up and remove all her tantalizing jewelry. Even i think that was a good idea since it was quite muddy in her garden and she was positively encrusted with dirty paw prints when it was time to say goodbye. I slept all the way home on The Lady’s lap. You know, I’d been so good all day, just the perfect dog, that I went a little nuts when I got home. I peed a little on the floor in The Boy’s room (for only the second time, ever) and then got rough when My People were playing with me. My baby teeth are tiny but sarrated, so when I bit The Lady’s I guess I made her bleed. I guess it would have been a perfect day except for that. I try, but sometimes I just can’t help it, especially when I am tired and cranky.

Robert The Mailman

2010-01-04T16:49:00.000-08:00

This afternoon, I had a very formal meeting with Robert the Mailman. What is the big deal? He just seems like another regular guy to me, with a fancy truck and a funny hat. The Lady even slipped him a treat to give me, which I course I accepted. (I wouldn't want to be rude.) She doesn’t do that with everyone. What is so special about Robert the Mailman?

Taste the man with the leafblower

2010-01-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

Finally, I have had enough shots and the Vet said I could have some little walks around my block. Still no touching other dogs (or anything they leave behind) but at least I can get out and see something new. I have a large back yard with a pool and everything, but I have already been there, smelled that. This is my first time out the Front Door on all four feet. What fun! The sun was shining, it was about 70 degrees outside, and what a fantastic jamboree of smells. I saw two pit bulls, one Akita mix, and a fat beagle, and I could smell about 30 other dogs. I can’t wait to meet them all in person. By the way, I still don’t like the leash. It would have been much more fun if I could have run like a mad thing down my hill and through the canyon, but the lady hung on tight so I couldn’t escape. She wouldn’t even let me taste the man with the leafblower.

Pure Heaven

2010-01-02T16:47:00.000-08:00

This morning, The Lady pulled me up into the big bed and cuddled with me for a few minutes and it was pure heaven. We were both very disappointed when The Man said she shouldn’t do that anymore or I’ll be confused about who gets the bed, which could be difficult when I weigh 240 pounds. Do they really think I’m going to weigh 240 pounds? I am half Australian Shepherd, you know. Perhaps I should stop eating my dinner so I can always snuggle in the big bed with the lady.

Scoring Treats

2010-01-01T16:32:00.000-08:00

I’ve discovered the easiest way to score treats throughout the day. So simple. They tell me to do something very easy, I do it, and I get a treat. It isn’t like they are asking me to do calculus or anything special, just things I normally do anyway. I get treats if I SIT on the floor, lie DOWN for a little rest, LOOK at them expectantly, STAY in one spot for a few seconds which is admittedly hard for me, COME running which is fun only if I go at top speed and act like I am going to knock them down only to come to a screeching sit at their feet. The Man taught me to leave something alone when he tells me to LEAVE IT, I open my mouth and say Ahhh! When The Lady says RELEASE, and I spit out whatever is in my mouth when they say DROP IT.
I get bigger treats when The Lady asks me to lean on my elbows on some little benches in the back yard or walk through one of her enormous hoola hoops. I guess the treats are more substantial for that since those activities are definitely not part of my normal routine.

New Year's Eve

2009-12-31T23:59:00.000-08:00

I’ve finally been determined well enough to have my first vaccination and take a wormy pill hidden in a cookie. Yay! It is December 31st, and the Vet has his office open for doggies like me who are eager to get shots. (What is a shot? My People are still mad because Evil Steve and his twin Wicked Wanda should have at least taken me for a check up and a wormy pill but were too lazy and mean.) Everyone at the Vet was really happy to see me, speaking freely about how I was “on death’s door” and how they “didn’t think I was going to make it.” I got lots of cookies and saw kindly Doctor Martin and Doctor Boudreaux, and Amber and the rest of the girls. When I peed on the floor here, they all giggled and said “Oops! He’s a leaker!” Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing?
Ok, I learned I don’t like shots. It isn’t so much the shot itself, but how it makes me feel later. I went crazy and asked to go outside about three hundred and fifty times, and dug up part of the yard in frenzy I just couldn’t control. Right before midnight I had a very nasty poopy incident on the patio. That was a big no-no since I’m supposed to go on the grass or behind a bush, but I couldn’t make it that far. This must have been extra bad this time because all the neighbors started yelling and hollering a couple of minutes later and fireworks and everything. The Lady and The Man were very worried and stayed up most of the night watching me, and kept offering to take me outside. On top of that, The Boy had his friend Rafe spend the night and they kept confusing me and calling me T-Bone and Little Rafe even though my name is Harbor, at least I think it is, for this week.

They Noticed

2009-12-30T16:34:00.000-08:00

There is a room I’m not allowed to enter and today the door was open. Just standing there like a big yawning invitation. Normaly they shadow me like a criminal, but for these precious two seconds I was unsupervised. Of course I went in, wouldn’t you? The floor is covered in very old blue carpet. It still looks OK, but my goodness the smells. They just had it cleaned and think it is like new, but I can still smell three teenage boys, a regular harem of girlfriends, all the various guests, five cats, four dogs, two gerbils, a few handfuls of hamsters and wild lizards, two snakes, and one rabbit. The whole time in the room I was sniffing all around the guitar cables strewn across the floor, making sure they weren’t leftover snakes. I tried really hard to be careful and not pee my pants, so to speak, and I did a really good job on that front. Unfortunately, I was so excited to be in The Man’s music studio that I pooped a little. Rats! My only poopy accident. It wasn’t very much, just a little marble, but I figured I’d better run out of there as fast as I could and just hope no one would notice.

They noticed.

Who is Oliver?

2009-12-29T16:28:00.000-08:00

Who is Oliver? I have learned that The Man’s name is Craig (NOT Greg) and The Lady’s name is Katurah (I can’t even touch that one), The Boy is Cameron, but I can’t figure out who is Oliver in the list of characters. Usually some mention of Oliver, or Ollie, is accompanied by someone saying something somber or terribly intimidating. The Lady told me, “You have some awfully big paws to fill.” And then, on my first night home, The Man said, “I know you are missing your brother and sisters. We’ve lost an important part of our family too, so maybe we can help each other feel better.”
What does all this mean? Who is Oliver? I have so much to learn.

Indignity around the pool deck

2009-12-28T16:56:00.000-08:00

For some unknown reason, The Lady has fastened a long heavy string to my head. It makes a most disturbing clanking noise right by my head, and tends to pinch and pull my fuzzy puppy hairs. I don’t like it. First they made me wear the scratchy uncomfortable necklace, and now this. Why? I was having a perfectly nice time running around in the back yard, and now this indignity. And, she expects me to walk around the pool deck a zillion times while she holds the other end of the string, saying “Good Boy” and “Heel.” What is heel? It was much nicer when I was free. I’ll be sure to make putting on the necklace and the accompanying string as difficult as possible to express my distaste for this game. My People should work on inventing better games to keep me amused.

Max and Earl

2009-12-27T16:55:00.000-08:00

Apparently, because Evil Steve didn’t start my shots when he should have, I am confined to the back yard and house when I should be starting to socialize with other dogs. There are plenty of potential dog friends in my neighborhood, on my block even, but I am not allowed to get close to them yet. The Vet says I have to be 100% well to start my shots and they are all giving me a wide berth to do so, and until I start my shots, no pals for me. For the moment, I am content in my backyard, but I do miss my sisters and brother and would like a few dog friends. I did get to see Max and Earl through the fence, and they look interesting. Max lives across the street and Earl lives three houses down. These two couldn’t be more opposite. Max is a mini dachshund, and Earl is an Australian Shepherd mix. Max is the smallest dog in the area and feels he has to make up for it by having the biggest personality, the loudest voice, and the sharpest teeth. He likes My People very much and has even been inside my house on several occasions for visits. The Lady parks her car in front of his window and he’ll pound o the glass with his paw and shout for her attention, even though she is waving at him and saying, “Hi Max!” His Person, Janice, is very afraid he is going to rip someone to shreds and I believe this is a possibility. Earl is the elder statesman of the pack, and he was either a Supreme Court Judge or a Senator before his retirement. His Person is Elizabeth and she is an artist and a cancer survivor. Earl’s predecessor was Bailey, a full Australian Shepherd, who was a “complete sweetheart” according to The Lady. When Bailey died, Elizabeth went to the pound to donate his belongings, and instead came home with Earl, who was 12 years old at the time, and without a home. Elizabeth is a major softy. Earl has only barked twice in a year that we know of, and is completely zen about everything, even the gardeners and the meter-reader. Everyone says Earl will be good for me, like a Grandpa, and teach me the ropes. I can’t wait to meet them properly.

Jacuzzi and Imitation Crocs

2009-12-26T16:27:00.000-08:00

It’s only my third night sleeping in my new home and I fell into the Jacuzzi. I know I know I know. I’m supposed to be more careful, but it was dark and I was having such fun chasing The Lady around the pool in her nightgown and parka and imitation Crocs and woolly hat with a chinstrap. She had the five o’clock a.m. watch to take me to the potty and I didn’t really have to go. But when she opened the crate and carried me outside, I was so happy to see her I just wanted to play for a while. She doesn’t like morning much, but always perks up if I lick her face and pee on the grass, even if it is just a little bit. My People discovered that when playtime coincided with the middle of the night, if we made a couple of brisk rounds circling the pool usually that activity was enough to wear me out enough to go back to sleep. Tonight was no exception, or at least it shouldn’t have been. However, on the last lap around the pool deck, I cut the corner short and stumbled, falling into the Jacuzzi. I don’t think I was actually in the water for an entire whole second but it sure was cold. The Lady was only about 15 inches away from me, and reached down and scooped me up before I even knew what happened. She tucked me sopping wet into her nightgown and wrapped her big puffy coat around me, and flew into the house leaving the sliding glass door wide open and a sloppy trail of pool water on their new bedroom carpet. As she ran by, The Man was asking from the bed in a groggy voice, “Is everything all right? Are you OK? Is the dog OK?” She didn’t even answer and flew up the stairs four at a time into the kitchen. She plopped me into the kitchen sink and immediately ran warm water all over me for a few minutes before she started rubbing me with towels, one after the other, throwing the wet ones on the floor in a pile. The whole time she kept telling me, “You are going to be fine. You are going to be fine. You will not die of pneumonia. After all this, I did not kill you. Oh my god please get warm. I will make you warm. You are fine.”
I really was very very cold and started shivering pretty bad, which made The Lady’s voice get wavery while she was talking to me, but the whole thing was pretty exciting. My time spent in the Jacuzzi wasn’t even enough to scare me, but the vigorous rubbing was a little much. By the time she was done with my violent massage, my skin was quite pink and I was stylin’ an impressive afro. Finally she put me down, but only long enough to rip her own clothes off and toss them on the kitchen floor in a puddle. She ran naked into the laundry room and assembled a strange costume of a winter scarf, red socks, work-out pants and her husband’s dress sweater, and brought me into the family den wrapped up in my pink blanket. We sat together on the white shag rug very close to a space heater until The Man woke up.
Everything worked out just fine, but I’ll have to let you know how I really feel about the pool and the Jacuzzi later. I think The Lady was more traumatized by this incident than me but we’ll see if I have suffered any lasting effects.

Christmas Day

2009-12-25T16:30:00.000-08:00

The next morning after Uncle Jeffy Do-Do, Auntie Octavia, and Miss Tiffany came to visit was Christmas. This is a very nice day when My People sit around a pine tree that they’ve placed inside the house. Festive but strange, made even weirder by it’s thick coating of sparkly stuff owing to The Lady’s penchant for all things that glitter. Because it is a special occasion My People didn’t put me in my kitchen playpen and allowed me to run around in this fancy room which is usually off limits. While they open boxes decorated with toys, they hang out in their pajamas in front of the toasty fire eating warm cinnamon rolls and drinking steaming hot tea. I sat on The Lady’s lap while she opened a tiny yet significant little blue box with a shiny necklace inside that she found quite thrilling, and then I bit the little USC hats The Man got for his golf clubs. Every five minutes they asked me if I wanted to go outside, particularly when I found something fun to snuffle in the corners. Some things are very confusing to me… yesterday I was told a firm “No!” when I tried to snitch the ribbons and bows, and today they get out the camera and giggle as they snap my picture. I don’t get it. I did notice an extra stocking hanging by the fire. It is the biggest one, just enormous, and made of hairy grey monster fur. It is so big I could easily fit inside for a nice little nap, with room left over. I think it is for Oliver.

Guess WhatI got presents of my very own! I got the stocking of new toys from Buddy and Fritzy, delivered by Princess Fran. I also got a Gulpy water bottle and a travel bowl, and lots of little blue bags that everyone found funny.

But the best present, the very best in the world, is my new name, for certain.
My name is Harbor. Harbor H. Rogers.

Christmas Eve

2009-12-24T23:30:00.000-08:00

All afternoon, delicious smells were coming from the kitchen and extra activity swirled in the air. As soon as it was dark, that magical bell rang throughout the house and more visitors arrived at the door. This time it was Uncle Jeffy-Do-Do, Auntie Octavia, and Miss Tiffany. They came for Christmas Eve dinner and ate in the dining room, a place I am still not allowed to go, so I just stayed in the warm kitchen with my playpen fence tucked around my big bed for most of the night, sleeping.
Guess what! Auntie Octavia brought me a present. It is a little stuffed fat man in a red velvet suit with lots of curly white hair that feels funny in my mouth. I like it very much and plan to rip it to shreds by tomorrow morning. I gave her a present in return, a little box that I had helped wrap that looked pretty nice if you look past the bite marks on the corners.
If dogs had signs indicating where they could find food and shelter there would be a such a sign over Auntie Octavia’s head, reminiscent of the carved hobo signs during The Great Depression. I think there was one for Kind-Hearted –Woman, and that would be appropriate. She catches all the neighborhood stray cats with her bare hand and takes them to the vet, no matter how nasty their disposition, clawing, hissing and screaming, to have their ills tended and their wounds mended. She sets them free again when they get home, but when it rains they all end up together on her porch to weather the storms, even if they are sworn feline enemies. Of all the available houses on that modest little street, for some mysterious reason the Rottweiler with a broken leg that had been hit and tossed by a runaway car finds it’s way into her backyard. Even though it is in great pain, poor guy, somehow the dog allows her to read his collar and notify his People. His Man came right away and drooled and slobbered and cried in the driveway, filled to overflowing with such gratitude that his beloved dog been found alive. Auntie Octavia really likes animals, and the animals really like her back.

Unfortunately, the only down side to the evening was that I peed on the floor again in the foyer. I’m doing so well with the house training, but there is just something about meeting new people that sends me over the edge. I don’t know why, and it really bothers me. I was so excited to greet my new friends, but I am still so little I ended up sleeping through the entire fancy dinner and didn’t get to play with them very much, so I don’t even know what the big deal was anyway.

Carpet

2009-12-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

I relieved myself in The Boy’s room today, and I gather that wasn’t a good idea. I’ve had a few accidents in the kitchen these first few days, but no one seemed to get that upset about the linoleum. The stuff called carpet has such an interesting texture under my paws, and there is a dark and loamy smell to the room that was so compelling I couldn’t control myself. The flavor of the boy is similar to mine and I know he is young like me. He just turned sixteen last week and I know I’ll catch up soon.

“I just knew we should have replaced the carpet in this room too,” said The Lady. “Good thing we didn’t!” replied The Man. Apparently carpet isn’t the same as grass, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist. My biggest concern is that I won’t be able to tell the difference between carpet and grass. There are so very many different varieties of each. Do they know how confusing this is for me? After all, I just got my eyesight a few weeks ago.

Guess what? The lady that smelled like flowers named Princess Fran came back today for another visit. This time she brought a present for me! It is a stocking for Christmas, and filled to the brim with toys! It is from my cousins Buddy and Fritzy, two Shih-Tzus that will soon be my playmates, as soon as I can have my shots, but I can’t even start having vaccines until I am completely out of the woods.. Well, maybe just Buddy since Fritzy tends to get a little snarly with other dogs. (Maybe he'll make an exception with me since I just love EVERYBODY) I did practice wearing my little blue collar today in anticipation of my first walk.

It''s a CAGE!

2009-12-23T16:26:00.000-08:00

I got my crate today. I now know what a crate is… it’s a CAGE! They keep discussing what to call it, in front of me like I'm not even here. One of them said, “How about den? Let’s call it his Den.” Then the other one said, “Maybe we should call it his House? Kind of like doghouse?” Let me tell you both, I don’t care what you call it, it is a CAGE. Regardless, it is kind of tempting to enter since it seems to manufacture treats which I can’t seem to resist. My favorite treats just keep appearing in the cage like magic while My People say in the most enthusiastic way, “Harbor, go into your house!”
What do they take me for? As if I’m going to fall for that one. The lure of the treat is too strong, though, so I just figure I’ll slip in quickly to get the treat. But can you believe it? Almost every single time I cross the threshold they shut me in and the metal door makes a really disturbing squeaking noise that is quite off-putting. You’d think I’d learn not to go inside all the way, but sometimes the treats appear ever-so-slightly out of reach and I absolutely have to put my back legs inside as well as my front legs. I’ll have to figure out how to solve this problem. In the mean time, The Lady filled the CAGE with pillows, and blankets, and my stuffed Winnie-the Pooh who is awfully nice to snuggle with when I’m feeling drowsy. I guess I’ll just have to sleep on it for a while and I’m sure the answer will come to me. I’ll keep you posted on that one.

Auntie Shauna

2009-12-23T16:18:00.000-08:00

I learned I have another Auntie! Her name is Auntie Shauna, and I have to be especially nice to her when I get to meet her. My People were supposed to fly to Houston to visit her for Christmas, but canceled because of taking care of me, rather unexpectedly I gather. I hope I can win her over. She used to have a very special dog named Paddington that everyone loved very much, particularly The Lady. Paddington was half Saint Bernard (like me!) and half German Shepherd. Because Paddington was such a good dog, The Lady was happy for me to be her pet since I might turn out to be good too, or at least half good because of the Saint Bernard part. Auntie Shauna has LuLu who is half Pekinese and half King Charles who is quite the Olympic sprinter. She came to live at Shauna’s house when she was a year and a half old after being found on the freeway in Houston outrunning the speeding cars. Sheba is the most recent addition to Auntie Shauna’s family, a big black cat that keeps LuLu in line. I can’t wait to meet my cousins and I hope Auntie Shauna likes me.

Auntie Cynthia

2009-12-23T16:08:00.000-08:00

Auntie Cynthia got the pictures we sent her and was insanely jealous that Princess Fran and Princess Cynthia (different Cynthia) got to meet me first. Auntie Cynthia has been friends with Miss Fran for a long time, BUT she is also The Lady’s sister, so she is part of my family. She drove here the very next day from Laguna Beach in her zippy little Mercedes, breaking every rule of the road going at least 100 miles an hour, just to meet me. She is wonderful! So sophisticated and clean! So electrifying! She brought me a present, my big Kong Wubba. It is bright red, covered in slippery canvas stuff, and makes the most delightful slappy noises when The Lady flicks it around on the floor. It is a little too big for me right now, but I LOVE my Kong Wubba. Auntie Cynthia has golden hair and even though she wears impossibly high heels (not bad ones like wicked Wanda, but lovely ones from Neiman's with red on the bottom) she is lots of fun and makes good noises too, mostly squealing and cooing and squeaking, just like a rubber chew toy. The more I hop around, the more she squeaks and hugs me and tells me she can tell I am going to be a sweet doggie. She is the most exciting person in the whole world and I’m glad she is my real Auntie.

I saw her eye and it was HUGE

2009-12-22T16:28:00.000-08:00

Most fun toy in the whole world....wrapping paper tubes! We decorated presents for Christmas and I got to play with the empty cardboard tubes the paper comes spiraled around. The Lady whispered in one end, and her voice came out the other! It was just amazing. Then I saw her eye inside the tube and it was HUGE. After that she swatted the tubes around the floor like she was in need of an exorcist and I got to rip them to shreds. It was almost as fun as chasing the ribbons. I was doing a pretty good job keeping them straightened out, especially the red ones, but My People kept trying to tie big knots with them on top of the boxes, undoing all my work.

My First Visitors!

2009-12-22T16:06:00.000-08:00

A curious thing happened today. A bell sounded throughout the house and two nice ladies, sisters actually, appeared at the door straight from magic fairies. My First Visitors! They were a vision in long colorful dresses with tiny pointy shoes dipped in beads and sequins. They had sparkly crowns on their heads, glossy smiles, kind eyes, and satiny coats that covered what might be wings and long fluffy tails. They opened an enormous basket decorated with vines and ribbons and showed that they had brought red velvet cake in the shape of the castle where they lived, delicious cookies, and beautiful holiday decorations in just the perfect colors. The goodies and decorations weren’t for me, but were gifts to cheer up The Lady and The Man since they might be having a sad Christmas because of someone named Oliver. Princess Fran picked me up and said she was in love, and Princess Cynthia gave me a little squeeze and said she was taking me with her when she left. She didn’t really take me, but I liked them both very much. They smelled like sugar and flowers. We took pictures and everything and sent them to my Auntie Cynthia, a different Cynthia than Princess Cynthia. That visitor bell is magical and I look forward to hearing it ring again soon if it means sweet smelling ladies are coming to give me hugs and tell me I am the cutest puppy in the whole world.

Something distressing did happen that put a bit of a damper on the occasion. I discovered that when I am happy to see people, even if I’ve never met them before, I tend to pee a little bit on the floor. How embarrassing! I hope that doesn’t happen every time I have visitors.

Home For Good!

2009-12-22T15:42:00.000-08:00

I am home for good. Finally. My People have been very gentle with me and we’ve had a lot of quiet time. When it got dark outside and it was time for me to settle down for the night, they decided not to leave me in my enormous bed by myself in the kitchen. There is some discussion about moving my bed into their room for the night, or coming up with a makeshift solution until they choose an appropriate crate. (What is a crate? I have heard a lot about this thing called a crate.) It seems I am going to spend the night in an empty storage bin normally used for Christmas decorations, with the lid off, of course, lined with bath mats and my pink blanket. It’s tall enough that I can’t get out by myself, as I gather I’m not to have much freedom for a long time. They think the idea of me sleeping in a red and green holiday bin is silly, but I don’t care. The Lady gives me an extra fuzzy blanket and pulls it up over my body to keep me warm. Because I am still a bit shaky, and certainly not potty trained, they set their alarm for every hour on the hour and take turns escorting me outside to the grass all night long. They carry me in their arms and stumble outside into the cold dark night, wearing their pajamas and parkas, yawning, hitting their heads on low hanging branches, swearing, and kissing me on the head.

The Boy texted that he does not like the name Jupiter. He is being influenced by his friend Rafe who believes the best name for me should be…Little Rafe. The Boy suggests T-Bone. T-Bone is rejected by The Lady and The Man, thank heavens, since I do not wish to be named after a steak. The idea of naming me Little Rafe doesn't even rate a conversation.

The Man and The Lady have remembered they talked about naming me Harbor when they were driving me home from Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda's house. I really like Harbor and I hope that becomes my name.

My name is Jupiter!

2009-12-21T15:41:00.000-08:00

Jupiter! My name is Jupiter! The Lady likes the name Jupiter because it’s the name of one of her favorite pieces of music and she says I’m going to grow to be the size of a planet. They told the Vet my name is Jupiter when they came to check on me this morning and they put it in the paperwork.

I have to stay here for the rest of the day hooked up to various drips and liquids, but I might get to go home this afternoon if I keep getting better. I can’t wait, even though I don’t really know what home means. All the girls at the Vet’s office are really nice and call me Pumpkin in high pitched squealy voices and shower me with kisses, which I don’t mind at all. They keep calling me a miracle, but I really don’t want to stay here. I liked it when the leaves fell all around me in the back yard at home, just like magic snow, and want to see it again.

Johnny Drama

2009-12-21T15:38:00.000-08:00

The Boy doesn’t like the name Atticus. He wants to name me “something normal” like Rex or Max. Rex and Max are fine names, but I know they are looking for something special. Why is it so hard to find a name for me? The Man and The Lady made a joke about calling me Johnny Drama because of my dramatic entrance, but since it is a character from Entourage, they decided not to, even though the show makes them laugh like crazy people. My Auntie Cynthia LOVES the name Johnny Drama as says she’s going to call me that forever anyway.

But really, I still have no name.

Sad little smile

2009-12-20T23:00:00.000-08:00

My People were very worried and called the Emergency Hospital in the middle of the night, and asked for the truth. I was trying to get better, but it just wasn’t working, and I was so tired. The Vet on duty, Doctor Boudreaux, was very nice, but said the prognosis wasn’t very good. She added with a sad little smile that there was still a faint possibility I might pull through. The Lady was trying not to cry, and said, “I don’t think I can go through this again so soon.” I wonder what she meant? Whatever it was, Dr. Boudreaux and Z and the rest of the staff worked extra hard to take care of me that night. My People went home and talked about how they were the only family I had left (not that Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda had ever amounted to much) and it was up to them to make me well, and that I just HAD to get better because I was part of their family now.

I didn’t know it yet, but my people were coming closer to a name for me. The Man and the Lady both want to call me Atticus. It’s the name of a beautiful moth the same colors as me, and Atticus is the name of Gregory Peck in Harper Lee’s book TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. I think this is my new name. Atticus. I sound very important. And smart.

She calls me Bunny Rabbit

2009-12-19T22:00:00.000-08:00

My people decided to name me Boulder Dash Rogers. The Man and The Boy like the name Boulder and the lady said it was OK as long as she could give me the middle name of Dash. Boulder Dash. Do you like it?

Sometime in the middle of the night, the vets at the hospital shaved my arms and legs and put IVs in my little veins with more medicine. My arms are really sore, and my throat hurts from so much vomiting. This morning when Z came to get me out of bed, I knew My People would be waiting for me, and they were! They looked like they hadn’t gotten much sleep or had baths, but they were right there waiting for me. It felt so nice to feel The Man’s big hands warm against my head and then snuggle against The Lady for the ride home. She calls me Bunny Rabbit, even though that isn’t my real name.

But this time they didn’t carry me to the house. Instead they took me straight to another vet. The hospital had called ahead and they were expecting me at the door. At this office I was so drowsy and out of it, I didn’t even realize what was going on, but the kindly Doctor Martin was looking very somber while I lay on the table in a little furry heap, not moving. He spoke softly and told my people I’d have to stay there for the day while ran some tests and then I’d have to go back to the emergency hospital for the night again.

My people kissed me and left me there without much hope.

They changed their mind about calling me Boulder Dash and I still have no name.

At First Light

2009-12-18T17:00:00.000-08:00

All night long at the hospital, the Vet kept giving me more and more medicine until I woke up. My head still pained, but not quite as bad. I was so disappointed that I’d lost My People; they had seemed nice. I started to feel a little sicker when I thought I might have to go back to Evil Steve and Wicked Wanda and dreaded being returned to the Gangsta House. I am soooo not gangster material. This was a source of restless worry for the rest of the night, slipping in and out of consciousness with a fever of 106 spiking up and down.

At first light, a nice woman named Z removed me from my hospital bed. She smelled like hand sanitizer and cinnamon sticks and had a long braid that felt comforting to chew as she carried me along. I thought perhaps she was taking me home with her, but guess what?! We went through a big swinging door and My People were waiting for me with the stupid pink blanket! I love my pink blanket now. As I smiled and licked The Lady’s face and chewed her ears, Z told them I had been gravely ill. I seemed much better now and they were letting me go home, but I was to come back if anything happened. I did not have Parvo, which was a very good thing, but nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. There was some animated discussion about Evil Steve and how The Lady had called him at 1:30 in the morning from the hospital parking lot to tell him I was very sick and that she was worried about my brother and sisters. In return, Evil Steve screamed through the phone at her that it wasn’t his fault and I didn’t need to go to the Vet at all and that they should have just called him first and he would have come to get me and take me back. He insisted I was fine and there was nothing wrong with me. He was lying again because he knew I had really bad diarrhea when I was still with him. He had told My People that my tummy was a little upset because I had just switched to puppy food instead of my mother’s milk. That was another lie, since it had only been one or two days since I’d seen my mother. I know I was sick when I left that bad place, and I knew my sisters were even sicker. Z said they did the right thing by bringing me to the hospital.

Back at the house with My People, I felt OK for a while, I really did. Once inside, The Man held me close to his body and walked around telling me what everything was called. “These are called stairs. This is the den. This is the sofa. This is the piano. This is a lamp. This is the door to the outside.” After each item, he gave me a little kiss on the head and put his cheek against my fur. He feels so safe.

It was a nice day so they put me down in the back yard where I wobbled around, unsteady on my chubby little legs, and rested in the grass. A warm breeze tickled the wind chimes that hung from the pear tree and I cocked my head from side to side to hear such interesting sounds. Another gust of wind blew the remaining leaves from the branches and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I sat down on a big flat stone in the path and looked up in wonder as a million golden colored leaves fluttered from the sky all around me like butterflies or snow. It was so beautiful I ran to The Lady and licked her ankles. They kept trying to feed me, but it still felt like I had hamsters scurrying around in my intestines, so I refused. Every time I stood up, they cheered and said, “Good Boy,” so I tried to move around as much as possible to make them happy, but then I started to feel tired and funny again. Finally I just couldn’t do it anymore and scooted under a big azalea bush. I didn’t get up again by myself.

The Man called the hospital while The Lady lifted me out from under the plant. She sat on the brick steps and held me in her lap. My head fell back against her chest and into a patch of sunshine. Slowly I blinked and then made a big sigh because it and felt nice on my fur. She just squeezed me tighter and stroked my face and told me everything would be all right.

I was only home for a few hours before I went back to the hospital for another overnight stay.

I learned the name for the piano, but still I did not have a name of my own.

I am not a Rescue Dog, but I have been Rescued

2009-12-17T23:30:00.000-08:00

Tonight my new family came to get me from the gangster called Evil Steve. As soon as they walked in the door, I knew they belonged to me, and nobody else. The Lady told Evil Steve they had decided to take one of the “little girls” but I am so much cuter than my sisters. Even though I didn’t feel very well, I did my best to put on a good show, hopping all over their feet and standing on my brothers and sisters to get the people to pick me up so I could lick their face as vigorously as possible, and chew on The Lady’s cotton candy hair. The Man kept saying to The Lady, “Look at his face. Just look at his face.” Whenever they were holding my considerably less cute sisters, I stared at them intently from the floor, hypnotizing them, persuading them to change their minds.

This is a bad place and I was desperate to get away. My parents both live with Wicked Wanda, Evil Steve’s twin sister. My father is a big strapping Saint Bernard, and my mother is very pretty black and tan Australian Shepherd. Wanda was too interested in painting her eyes to look like a cat’s and teasing her slippery long hair to take care of us. She was disappointed when we were born and just wanted to drown us in the river in a burlap bag. Evil Steve said "Don't be stupid." He decided to put an ad on Craigslist and sell us to pay for new rims for his stupid souped-up Honda he uses for street racing, something he does instead of having a real job. Wicked Wanda just examined the tiny charms dangling from the ends of her hot pink fingernails and said, “Whatever.” Evil Steve didn’t want to actually take care of us either , just sell us, so he made us sleep outside on cement in December, never cuddled us, or played with us, or brushed us, or cleaned up after us, and never took us to the vet to make sure we were all ok.

And the truth was, we weren’t ok. Evil Steve took us away from our mother too soon, and gave us low-grade puppy food that endorses cannibalism, long before we were ready to eat such nasty rough stuff. His ad on CraigsList said we were eight weeks old, but he lied. He wanted the money right away and was trying to speed things along. Really we were just barely six weeks old, but nobody could know that for sure except Evil Steve and Wanda. But you know, that wasn’t even the start of it.

So of course I melted the Lady’s heart like butter in July, and I went home with the family I picked out. My very own People! I was so happy to be carried across the yard and away from that terrible place. I knew I’d miss my brothers and sisters, but I had a sense of foreboding about them anyway. Technically I am not a rescue dog, but I knew for certain that I had just been rescued.

My first car ride was kind of fun, sitting in the back seat (on a humiliating pink blanket) next to the Boy. He petted me a lot, which was a new sensation, and whispered that I was his new Best Friend. I think the blanket was supposed to be for one of my sisters, but I didn’t care. It was so soft and smelled nice. I, on the other hand, didn’t smell so good. Quite stinky actually. I succeeded in making such bad smells, one after the other, each worse than the last, that the Man said he was going to have to reupholster his truck. They were all chuckling, but every time I’d make another Stinky, they started howling in the most interesting way. Even though it was December, we had to ride down the Los Angeles freeway with the windows wide open so my People didn’t gag and asphyxiate.

As exciting as I found my first car ride, by the time we got home, I just wanted to lie down, I felt so bad. At first, My People thought I was just tired, but my head ached in the worst way, and my innards were twisting and cramping like a hamster was trying to find it’s way out. I could barely keep my head up, and had an accident of the very worst messiest kind in my new bed, and then another all over the kitchen floor, vomiting at the same time, over and over. Finally I just wedged myself under a cabinet with my face to the wall and waited for it to be over.

At 11:45 pm, my first night at my new home, I was put back into the car taken to the Emergency Room. The Man made a phone call, described what was happening, and My People were told to rush me to the hospital right away. I rode on The Lady’s lap, wrapped up in the pink blanket, while she stroked my head and whispered to me. I wasn’t really conscious, and was slipping away to a place where my head didn’t ache so bad.

Soon it was bright lights that hurt my eyes when the Vet pulled them open, a steel table that was too cold, and something pointy inserted into my bottom. The Vet’s voice was very serious and she said I had to spend the night at the hospital. My People kissed me on the head and that’s the last thing I remember.

I don’t even have a name.