This is Oliver. I think we are cousins (maybe twice removed or something). Yesterday was his second birthday and I believe he got that bear as a gift from his mama and dadders. He seems to like it but, at the same time, he appears to be sticking his tongue out at them. Doesn’t he? It’s as if he expected something bigger. Something better! Perhaps Puppy Paws?
I hope I’m not speaking out of school here, cause, he’s huge! And cousins or not, I don’t want to be on his bad side. I’ve never met him and I want to be in good standing when I do. But, that tongue thing is looking a little like ‘giving the finger’ by someone without fingers. I hope I’m wrong. He’s only two and so cute in the picture otherwise. Maybe he really is happy with that toy and I’m just projecting my desire for Puppy Paws onto him. Yes, that’s probably it.
Ehrlich was here last Monday for their scheduled visit. 100 years ago I saw a thousand-legger in the basement and, well, it is worth every penny I pay for the service. It wasn’t my regular guy so I didn’t know if he liked dogs or not. Once he said he was fine I let Ruby free and she greeted him like he was her long lost friend. She didn’t jump up because she knows she doesn’t get greeted if she does. She was all over his feet trying to get as close as she could. He was very nice to her and eventually she went and laid down so he could work. When he came up from the basement the whole greeting ritual started over. Then again when he came in from the garage. Of course, now she was very excited because she had three visits in a very short time. That is truly grounds for her to celebrate and perhaps show off a little bit!
And she did. We were standing in the kitchen and I was signing the Ehrlich paperwork so he could leave and Ruby comes flying into the room with a little something she had found in my laundry basket! Seriously, she had dug out a pair of my underware and was trying to show them to her guest. I swear they were clean but he didn’t know that! I can’t remember when I saw anyone laugh so hard. He was slapping his knee and bending over with a side ache. I was not doing either of those things. I was desperately trying to get them from her. Fortunately she let me have them when I told her they were mine.
Ehrlich comes back for their next service in May. Hopefully it’s my regular guy.
What is it with humans and their need to give us a soft warm bedof our own? AGAIN, we’re dogs.
This is my brother Murphy’s new bed and he obviously hates it! The door mat seems perfect but now there’s all this fuss about why he’s not using the new bed. Is it too soft? Is it too puffy? Does it smell too new? OMG, let the old boy lay where he wants (I can say old because I am 4 years younger. And he is gray).
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. The only bed we’re ever going to love is yours.
As you remember, Ruby “fluffed” her bed several days ago. I tried to salvage it and she seemed to be OK with that. Look how comfortable she is, sleeping like a lady with her paws crossed! At the time, I decided she just needed to get the cushion to the right firmness so, I overlooked it. But yesterday…
I came home to this little beauty! She annihilated it and now I refuse to give the bed back to her. The whole thing is going out in the trash and, as I’m collecting the scraps, I’m telling her that it won’t be replaced, she did it to herself. It’s nobody’s fault but her own. I’m muttering away and she’s looking at me, wagging her tail, and generally pleased with the attention I’m giving her. She has no shame. No remorse. In fact, I’m quite certain she’d do it again.
So here’s her bed now. She doesn’t seem to miss the cushion. Me neither.
I’ve been spending a lot of time in the basement doing some redecorating after having it waterproofed in the spring. Ruby can’t be down there with me because, well, if you’ve read any of these posts, you know why. Anyway, I guess she’s feeling a little left out and bored spending so much time alone.
And she had to take it out on something. I’m just glad it wasn’t my sofa or dining room chair or another tablecloth!
Today is Ruby’s third birthday! In celebration of it, her crate came down and she got a new raised food and water bowl. She’s afraid of it! Why not? She was afraid of her lounger/bed when she first got that too but she has learned to love it. I think she’ll grow to use this if she gets hungry enough.
“My uncle sent this picture of my brother Murphy to Mary. They were blah, blah, blahing about digging and some drain made in France. I mean, I’m looking at how gray he is and how fabulous that toy is and how great that hole looks for burying his treasures.”
“Any who, I guess he got in trouble. IDK, it’s what we do. I just don’t understand the draaama every time we make a new hole. Maybe, if there were some ground rules (ha ha, get it? I crack myself up), we could stop some of the draaama. Like, only dig in the gardens, not the grass. Or, never dig in the same place twice so the grass can grow. Or, never dig in the back yard where the kids play, only dig in the front. There are enough other rules you expect us to obey, so why not some pertaining to this? We’re smart. I am anyway. I could learn them and then decide for myself if they are worth following.”
“Poor Murph, he looks contrite. I don’t get that either. I mean, we dig. Get over it!”
While I was making this delicious appetizer this afternoon:
Ruby was making this:
You might remember earlier this spring she was trying to get her own pool by digging several large holes in the back yard. Well, here it is September and there is no pool so, it’s time to plant grass. I’ve got top soil and seed down and the sprinkler is on. Ruby is frolicking out there. Alone. It’s quiet so I decide to check on her. She has managed to flip the sprinkler over and create a huge mud hole for herself- right where I’m trying to grow grass.
So now the new grass is gone, the hole is back and I’ve got a dog covered in mud. At this point, I don’t care if I’ve got jalapeno juice on my fingers, she’s getting cleaned off. There will be no battle with the towel. She will sit nicely while I do it. She will not get mud on me. She will play outside quietly while she dries. She will stay away from the hole until the grass fills in. She will learn to do her own laundry.
Ruby needed to go for a spa day but her appointment had gotten canceled. She was starting to smell a little like “dog” but luckily there was an opening yesterday at 10 am. That would be perfect since I could sleep in and not miss the Labor Day picnic later in the day. She got dropped off and her friend (the groomer) said he would need about 2 1/2 hours. He’d call when she was done.
She got picked up at 12:30 and she looked fabulous: nails ground shorter, a shampoo with some perfume, a perfect trim with all the knots removed, and a nice shiny coat! She even looked a little thinner! It was worth the $52. AND they hadn’t shaved her whiskers even though that’s supposedly standard grooming for Goldens (?). That was what I was told the first time it happened with Nicki and I was horrified. She didn’t even look like herself so I asked them to put a note in our file so they would never do it again.
Anyway, we’re home about 30 minutes and she’s rolling around in the yard trying to undo all the work I had just paid for. Once she’s satisfied, she scratched to come in and her new odor hit me like a garbage truck. She had rolled in poop and it was all over her collar, her neck, her ear, her everything. I try hard to be good at picking it up but she keeps leaving new ones, often right after I put the shovel away.
I guess she didn’t like the perfume and wanted to smell a little more like “dog” again. I did not want that so she got her second bath of the day- this time at home. And for free.