River Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest

After my high flying escape over the gate of doom I was once again regulated to my crate.  What a gyp!  Perform a death defying stunt that impresses everyone and you get locked up like you’re James Miller.  (Google it.  Griffons don’t do footnotes.)

And not only have I been locked up but I have been put on drugs against my will.  

The drugs are something called Benadryl.  This concerned me greatly.  The only thing I knew about this drug was it was powerful enough to kill an immortal.  I learned that from Spalding who told it to Madame LaLaurie on American Horror Story Coven.  Well, if you are still with me after two obscure references I assume you’re going for the full ride so let’s get started

They got the drugs into me the dirtiest way possible.  They used cheese.  Drat the weakness us dogs have for cheese.  Then they corralled me and put me in my crate.  For the first 30 minutes I was nothing but pissed off and then:

Have you ever really looked at your paw?  Like, dude.  All your paws have these little dots on them, and they make patterns and sometimes the patterns spin, and it’s like wicked cool.  And your nails, they are like four little daggers man, and when you hold them up to the light, woo!

And have you ever watched your tail.  It just goes back and forth, back and forth.  And the more excited you get watching it the faster it goes.  It’s really cool.  Then, when you start getting tired, it slows down.  It’s awesome.

And have you ever stuck your tongue out so far that you can see it.  It’s red, and wet, and it moves in and out of your mouth, and these little bits of saliva fly off of it, and then just hang in the air like bubbles, and then just float to the ground like tiny butterflies.

The bar of my crates are silver, and they begin floating in front of me, like I can put my hand through them, and then the entire crate lifts off the ground and I begin to float over the house, but I am looking at myself in the crate, and then I’m up in the stars.  

And then I dozed off, woke up, and  it was 15 minutes after I first became fascinated with my paw.  I took a deep breath, and then went back to pushing on my crate door, panting, barking, and trying to escape.

But let me tell you, it was a great 15 minutes.

River Song: High Flying and Adored

I am what is known as a velcro dog.  I always want to be near my humans, preferably keeping in physical contact with them at all times.  I hate being left alone and I suffer from what they call separation anxiety.  I am put in my crate, and when Mommy and Daddy return, the crate is on the other side of the room, and sometimes, in it, is the most offensive boom boom, that has been stepped in, kicked, and, seemingly, deeply rubbed into my fur.

Then came the projects:  The Taking Stinky River Outside Project; The Washing The Stink Off Of River Project; The Trying To Keep River In The Tub Project; The Cleaning The Offensive Boom Boom Remnants From the Crate Project.  The whole thing became quite a project.

After a boom boom incident Daddy had to take the crate apart.  When he put it back together the door did not line up correctly.  The next time I needed to be crated Mommy put me inside, and let go of the latch.  She had assumed the door was secure, but, a soon as I was left alone, I tested her assumption, and, by pushing enough, was free.

I then ran around the house looking for Mommy but she was nowhere to be found.  I went over to the kitchen window.  The blinds kept hitting my in the head.  So I jumped up and grabbed them with my teeth, pulling them down with a great crash.

Now I could see out the window without getting hit in the head.  But while I was ducking as the blinds hit the floor how did I know Mommy wasn’t on the porch?  So I went to the kitchen door, jumped high in the air, grabbed a hold of the blinds and pulled them down too. No Mommy on the porch.   I spent the rest of the day running from one window to the next looking until I finally saw Mommy.

She was quite upset to see me out of the crate, and even more upset that the blinds were on the ground, but, like all good Moms, she was happiest that I was safe.    That night she talked with Daddy and they decided the crate may be causing more problems that it was solving.

Then Daddy suggested getting a gate and keeping me in the laundry room.   They agreed it would have to be a high gate because I am an excellent jumper.  The next night Daddy bought a three and a half foot gate.  Everyone agreed it was too high for a six inch dog to jump over  The biggest concern was me putting my head through the slats so Daddy used the gate from my crate to make it impossible for me to get my head stuck.

They put me in the laundry room, behind the gate, with a bed, some water, and some toys.  I was not happy to be there.  I pushed, prodded and poked the gate before they left but could not escape.  Mommy and Daddy left confident that when they returned I would be still be in the laundry room, and, if I had boom boomed, I would not have trampled in it.

After they were gone I grew very excited.  I had to look out of the now blind free window and see where they were.  I stood on my back legs and jumped.  My paws touched the top of the gate.  I readied myself again, bent my back legs, and jumped again.  My paws touched the top of the gate.  I paced around and thought.  Then I got into position again.  I jumped, my paws hit the top of the gate, and then I pushed off my front paws, jumped the gate, and stuck the landing!

Once again I was free.  I bounced from the couch to the vibrating recliner to the table with the orchards, then back into the kitchen and up on the table.  There were no blinds now so I could look out the window, and jump on the couch and look out the back window,  Then the heat came on.  For some reason I became fascinated with it, and began to paw at the grates, lifting them off the floor.  Then I remembered Mommy and began to run from window to window.

And it was about that time that Mommy got home.  I was jumping up and down looking out the kitchen window.  Daddy said to Mommy “look in the window.”  and she turned to see my excited, smiling face.  She hurried inside (as much as Mommy can hurry) figuring that she would see that gate tipped over, but it stayed upright, leaving Mommy and Daddy flummoxed about my flying.

So now I am back in the crate.  I haven’t got out of it yet, but I keep banging my head against it and moving it across the room trying to get free.  There has been some talk about medication but I laugh at it  There isn’t a crate or gate that can hold me.  Next time you pass by my window, take a glance, and you will see me hopping.

Here’s a picture of little old me before I cleared the gate.  

I am high, flying and adored.

Pocket is a trembler and proud of it

From the desk of Pocket Dog:

I am a trembler and I am not afraid to admit it.  When it appears that Mommy and Daddy will be going out I start to tremble.  One of them will see me, and sometimes they will pick me up, whisper to me, and try to calm me, but it does no good, I continue to tremble.  Even Foley tells me not to worry, they always come back to us, but even wise Foley, behind those dark brown eyes, betrays her worries. 

Shortly over a week ago, in Arizona, a Mom or Dad picked up their trembling dog and told him or her they would be home soon, they were just going down the street to see their Congresswoman speak at the supermarket, and they'd be right home.  That pup is still waiting for the parent to return.

So I understand that Moms and Dads want to come back home to us.  But they can't control what happens to them when they go out that door.  And that scares me.  A lot.

Recently Hobo's Mom wrote an article about how Moms and Dads should make sure they provide for us in their wills.  I didn't want to read it.  I knew what it was about.  I know I have so many wonderful friends who would never let Foley or me be without a good home, and I so appreciate that.  But I don't know if I could ever really be happy again without Mommy and Daddy.

I don't mind when Daddy is out of the house.  I am certain Mommy knows how to take care of us.  I'm not crazy about being left alone with Daddy.  Mommy is in charge of so much.  Making us food.  Snuggling with us.  Well that's about it.  But it meets our needs.  Daddy is fun.  He seems to have the need to play ball a lot so I play with him even if I am tired.  And he walks us.  But I prefer to be snuggled up with Mom in a chair wondering where Daddy is then being home with Daddy wondering where Mommy is and why he spends so much time looking at the computer screen.

But I mind very much when they go out together.  Why must they go out together?  There have been two Presidents in my lifetime and neither has gone on a plane with the Vice-President so they both wouldn't be hurt (although I believe Bush did not want to fly with Chaney because he did not wants to be shot in the face mid flight and nobody wants to sit next to Joe Biden on a nine hour flight to the Sudan.)

I have seen on the computer where some parents set up a web cam so they can watch us pups when we are home alone.  Well this is just about the silliest darn thing I have ever heard.  We're home.  Why do they need to know what we are doing?  What humans should do is, where ever they go, hold a web cam in front of them so we can see what they are doing.  We know what we're doing. We're sitting at home worrying about them.  I have no idea why anyone finds this compelling television.

Thanks to sneaky human parents worried about their human children phones are made with GPS in them.  They can go on the computer and find out where their children are.  I could tell them where their children were if they would listen.  Somewhere they shouldn't be.  Us pups should have GPS access to know where our humans are all the time.  "Hey Foley where's Daddy?"  Foley could look at the Internet and find out that he is at the Red Star Hotel.   Not only would our minds be at ease because we knew where Daddy was, but we could blackmail him for extra kibble over a period of months because he is not supposed to be at the Red Star Hotel.

Some parents like to call home because they believe us pups want to hear their voice on the answering machine:  "Hi girls, how are you?  It's Mommy.  I miss you.  Are you being good girls?  OK.  Mommy loves you.  I will see you soon.  Bye-bye,"  I imagine that Mommies think us left alone pups will be soothed by hearing our Mommy's voice.  In actuality it causes us run around in a panic going "I heard her, did you hear her?  I heard her.  She's somewhere in the house.  Did you hear her?  I heard her!"  Yes, there is nothing more soothing than the disembodied voice of Mommy suddenly appearing out of thin air.  (And don't tell us we should have heard the phone ring.  We don't pay attention to the phone.  Do you want to know why?  Because it has never once been for us.)

What would be nice is if Mommy could leave a message that says "Hello dogs.  This is Mommy.  I am talking to you from work so don't go look for me.   I will be here until 5:00.  I should be home by 5:30 so don't worry.  I may have to drive by the Red Star Hotel and emasculate Daddy so don't be worried if I am late."

That way we would be informed.  But they don't do that.  Part of it is because anti-canites find it silly that humans talk to their dogs on the phone.  This is exactly the type of person we worry about our parents falling under the influence of when they leave the house.  But it is the polite thing to do.  Not knowing where you are is why we eat things we shouldn't, like couches, pee where we shouldn't, which is why I am crated, and raise general havoc.

This is what the human professors of dogology call "Separation Anxiety."  It's not "Separation Anxiety" it's "Oh my gosh I don't know where Mommy is I don't know if she is ever coming home, I don't know when I am going to get fed, I don't know if I am going to end up living on the street anxiety."  We don't so much mind being separated from our humans.  That's why sometimes we get off your laps and go lie in the sun for awhile.  Occasionally we need our space.

Some foolish dogolists think that, to combat separation anxiety you should leave on the television or radio.  Let me tell you parents something.  Fox News and AM talk radio do not make soothing noise.  We do not hear the voices and think it's our parents berating a first time caller long time listener from Kansas.  And no ESPN doesn't do any good either.  They yell a lot too.  And if you're worried about us don't leave on classical music.  If you play classical music you should be worried about us.  After a half hour of that we are trying to climb the curtains, willing to take our chances with the window and the fall to the ground.

Part of the problem is that us dogs can't really get a grasp on time.  You leave us, the parting is so difficult, honestly, it's exhausting, and we fall asleep.  Then we wake up and we don't know how long we have been napping for.  Ten minutes?  Ten days?  Who knows.  All we know is that we woke up and there is no Mommy.  Some humans say we can tell time from the sun in sky.  Sun in the sky?  We can't even make fire and you want us to use our tail as a sun dial.

Then, when you finally get home, you act like it's no big deal and you don't know why we are so excited.  Why are we excited?  We thought you were never coming home.  We're like the families of the survivors on the Titanic waiting for them at the dock in New York.  Did you expect those people just to give them a slight peck on the cheek and ask them if they had a nice trip?   No they rejoice that their loved ones are still alive, and that's what us dogs do when you come home.

Of course when you come home we have to pee a river.  Have you ever met a worried person who doesn't have to pee?  It is a dogology fact that when you are left alone more than 75% of pee is worry juice.

So remember, when you're going out the door, just to go to work, or go to the store, that there are lots of bad people out there, and lots of bad things happening, and there are no guarantees that anyone is coming home.  So, when you do walk in the door, and we dance and jump, dance and jump for joy with us.  Rejoice, bark and sing that we're all alive. 

And don't take a second of it for granted.