Questions

Lorenza tagged me with these questions:

1. Where is your favorite place to sleep?
At night I like to sleep halfway under the bed. Sometimes the back half—my tail. Sometimes the front half—my head. I jump in bed in the morning. By day, I can be anywhere.

2. Is there a specific trick your humans make you do to get treats?
I had them trained to give me treats when I sat low, put my nose on the floor and looked up with sad eyes. Now I just sit and I get a treat. They try to get me to do tricks, but the longer I pretend not to understand, the more treats.



3. If you could spend an entire day doing anything at all with anyone what would do and with whom?
I’d run around the dog park with Avalanche. We chase each other in and out of the water and growl a lot.



4. What is your favorite toy?
I really like my buffalo bone. But my dirty ducky is a close second. And I like the measuring cup. It’s too hard to pick one.


5. If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?
I’d change the time when I had no home. I ran around outside, and then I lived with some other dogs, but not in a house. But I guess if I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be here in Denver, where the streets are paved with chicken bones.

I'm tagging Dobby

Temper

I must control my temper. I must control my temper. I am not a good a big brother to Arrow. I attack him if he comes near some good food on the street. Yesterday I attacked him when we were both sitting together under my owner mom’s chair because he was a little too close. I was so wound up that later I growled at a perfectly nice big black poodle with a pink collar. She didn’t put up with it and attacked me!

Arrow scooted out the door yesterday, running all the way to the park. He ran across the street. We ran out to find him. At first it was a great game racing around without leashes. Then it was scary.

Fortunately, Arrow was very friendly, even on the run, and stopped to greet everyone he passed. One lady pointed out which way he headed. Then a man on a bench told us where he turned. A little farther, Arrow was standing with a dog and some people. A man had gotten him a bowl of water. One lady said she was thinking of bringing him home to her kids. Another was going to take him to the animal shelter.

He was so tired, he only wanted to sit in the shade. My bearded owner carried Arrow most of the way home. I think he ran away because I was mean. I must control my temper.

Arrow's Return

Arrow’s back. He went to the vet. Had the same operation I had last year, where they cut things off boy dogs. Poor guy.

He came in the house and went to sleep instantly, right inside the door. When he woke up, he ate all his food and some treats. We went for a little walk, and he went back to sleep.

But he was very brave. He didn’t cry.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Strange day. Arrow and I went for a walk. Got home and no breakfast as usual. Instead my owner mom took Arrow out again. Then she came back without him! She gave me breakfast (which I didn’t feel like eating without Arrow slurping along next to me) and took me for a nice long walk.

He's a pushy dog. He tries to follow people into the bathroom. Nosy too. Always looking out the window and making weird sounds. He even stood with his front paws on the tub when I had a bath. A little too friendly. He likes everybody—dogs, people—everyone he meets. He doesn’t know where to draw the line, who needs a little growl.

I know I’ve been hiding bones and complaining, but now I miss the little guy. Never thought I’d say that. This morning, he chased me around the house and on and off the couch. It’s kind of quiet without him and I can’t remember where I hid my big bone.

The Taming of the Arrow

I’m not sure this house is big enough for two dogs. I have things all worked out. I get my ears scratched and my belly rubbed almost on demand—especially from certain people. I've got my favorite sleeping places on the bed, on the couch, under the bed, under the table, under the blue thing, and on feet.

I know all the places to look for food-related things when everyone has gone to sleep. Popsicle sticks near the TV. Tasty napkins on the table. Arrow has no appreciation of the finer things. He’s too busy carrying toys and shoes up and down the stairs.

Today, as my owner mom came in, Arrow ran out the door. I know he’s new and had to pee, but he seriously cut into my greeting time. My owners are well trained to do a lot of rubbing and petting—and even hand out treats—when they come in. Instead, my owner mom ran out to the street with a couple of leashes, yelling for Arrow, who conveniently forgot his name. I followed. While she was screaming at a man to grab Arrow, I found some regurgitated pizza, with just a hint of pepperoni, laying right in the grass. Our neighborhood is just an All-You-Can-Eat Buffet in the summer. Of course, I didn’t get much before I was busted, leashed, and practically dragged down the sidewalk. Arrow didn’t even notice. He was searching for the perfect tree to pee
on.

In the park, I have my friends. I chase them around or just relax. I know where to find chicken bones and leftovers under benches and around the trash by the picnic tables. Arrow, on the other paw, could care less about licking gourmet garbage. He’d rather race around, greeting everything that moves. And when I grab him by the ear to get him back, my owner mom thinks I’m being cruel. There’s a difference between herding and hurting.

Sad News on the Radio

Riding in the car, I listen to the radio. It changes a lot. Music. Talking. Blah blah blah. News. Blah blah blah. Learning Spanish. Blah del blah del blah. Then, the other day, I hear blah blah blah dog, so I perk up my ears, figuratively speaking in my case since I am the floppy-eared type. They are saying horrible things about humans who make dogs fight and kill each other. Awful stories about dogs. My owner had to turn it down because we were both upset.

I think it’s good for dogs to get a new home, like I did. And even my new little brother Arrow, as annoying as he can be some days. I thought not having a home was bad, but this is much sadder.

This is a website my owner used to send a message about people being mean to dogs.

Dogs

Rides

I love riding in the car. A trip to the dog park. A visit to a friend. A weekend out of Denver. New smells. Sometimes just doing errands. I prefer to sit in the driver’s lap. That way I can really see where we’re going. Better for kisses and pats too. I can only do that when the bearded one is driving. My other owner’s driving motto is: “In the back!”

From the back I can get in between the front seats and rest there. Good for getting rubbed on the ears. Good visibility too. But sometimes I look out the side windows in the back. If one is open, I like the feel of the wind in my ears. I think my owners are always afraid I’ll leap out. That’s silly. I’m not suicidal.

Avalanche goes right to sleep in the car. Looking out is more important. And jumping around while the car is moving. Sleeping all day is good, but the car is always an adventure.

Dog Park

Took a trip to the dog park with the Arrow yesterday. It was his first time so he had to spend hours smelling everything. With all the dogs that go there, the smells are amazing. Everything from coyote to Great Dane. And some horses nearby who leave poop treats on the paths. (My owners get very upset about this, God knows why.) Then Arrow had to say hello to every other dog. He likes everyone. One white Jack Russell Terrier, with a cute pink collar, he liked a little too much if you know what I mean.

He swam in the muddy pond and we chased each other around. The only problem he has is forgetting who he came with and then forgetting his name. He runs off in one direction and when I try to find him, he appears magically from the other direction. Maybe there are really two Arrows. A scary thought.

I have been nice to him, except when he has my favorite bone for a long time. I give him a little growl just to remind him that I’m being generous. Also, I’m trying to drop a hint to the humans around here that maybe we need another bone.

Sharing the Blame

Guess whose bone Arrow is gnawing on? I am learning to be magnanimous.

Maybe another dog isn’t so bad. If something gets chewed up, like the delicious napkin that was on the table, who can say I did it? It might be that new dog, Arrow. If the floor is wet, papers are ripped to bits, some knitting gets tangled up—blame Arrow. Maybe.

Today the paper towels (from cleaning up something yucky on the carpet) were on the bed. Now who would get up on the bed just to make a shredded paper mess? Stupid way to pass the afternoon when you could be napping. Maybe.

I only had to beat him up once yesterday. (For sitting in my spot behind the couch on purpose) He might be fun if they ever let him off the leash.

Arrow!

Something strange happened. I went on a long, long drive the other day. The place was a little familiar. No fences. Just a lot of grass and stuff in front of the house. And horses in back. While I was sniffing and peeing, out came another doggie. He was a little hyper, running around sniffing and peeing. Nice visit, I thought, but a kind of hot out here. About a million degrees with no shade. I was ready to get back in the air conditioned car.

Surprise. We got back in the car WITH the little guy. I didn’t pay much attention to him, except when he tried to eat some crumbs of zucchini bread on the front seat. It is my car. A visit? No, he’s still here!!!

I am not sure I like this. He looks like he can be fun. Kind of fast and frisky. Now he gets the C word at the park— “Isn’t he cute,” in the baby voice that is usually for me. Being cute to humans gets me belly rubs and treats. I am the king of cute.

He’s not bad. Might be fun. I’m just not sure I want him living here. I’m not always good at sharing.

Pee Mail

As far as peeing goes, I have my favorite spots. Certain trees and poles are irresistible. A good spot has to have a special smell, a special feel. I’m not like my girl dog friends who just get it over with all at once. I have to let the other dogs know Deefor was here.

Then there are people. I usually don’t pee on people. Not in the house or at parties. But when they are sitting around in the park with their dogs, I can’t resist. Just a friendly way of leaving a message for their pooches.

Sometimes my owners start screaming Nooo, but I am fast. Mostly, only the dogs see me. My owners were admiring this tiny Chihuahua puppy. When they took its picture, there I was in the background. At the time no one noticed but the little pup. Nice shirt.

Clicken

Clicker training is going very well. My owner takes out a whole lot of little chicken treats which are very tasty. As soon as I do something, she clicks and she gives me one. I do it and then CLICK- chicken. Sit. CLICK- chicken. OK. Come here. CLICK- chicken. Easy stuff. Up. CLICK- chicken. I keep going until I get all the chicken. I think the treats would be fine without all the clicking, but I can’t seem to break her of the habit. In fact, when she lost the clicker (under a loaf of bread on the counter) I didn’t get any treats for a whole day.

Before clicken, I used to get one treat at a time. Maybe two if one fell on the floor. Now it’s click. click, click-- chicken. I try not to do anything interesting when there’s no clicking.

Yards

Yards are overrated. I came from a place in Colorado that was mostly farms. No fenced in yard. I just ran around everywhere. But I didn’t have a home then. When I was put into a shelter, they had a little fenced yard. Not bad, but I didn’t get to use it much. Then I got my home.

My house has no yard. It has a balcony that feels like sidewalk and has too much stuff on it. But we walk down the garbage ally to the park. That’s where I meet lots of dogs.

I can look over the fence at three dogs in the yard next door. They don’t go anywhere. I never see them on the street or at the park, but I hear them barking. In the alley, two dogs bark and growl and leap up to the top of the fence in their yard. I see their noses sometimes and I wish I could take them to the park. These are some neurotic dogs.

I have no yard. I walk around Denver meeting other dogs and looking for things to pee on and to eat. If I was stuck on my balcony, I’d be neurotic too.

My pal Pica has both. A great yard with bones and toys. I visit and we run around with no worries. And she gets lots of walks to find chicken bones and chase squirrels.

I guess if I had to chose, no yard is better than a jail yard. My owners have to take me for a walk. They’re kind of lazy so a yard might not be the best option for me.

Training People

Tonight I was playing with the bearded one when my other owner came home with a strange plastic thing. I never got to taste it. It made this clicking sound and, every time it clicked, she gave me a treat. Very strange. I think I am training her to give me a goodie whenever she uses the plastic thing. People are so easy to train.

They always like it when I sit down before we go out, so I do that a lot. What they don’t seem to realize is that, on the leash, I can’t get anywhere without them. I have to wait so why not sit down? It’s a good way to train them to pet me. Also rolling over on my back makes them rub my tummy.

Life is Grrreat

The grass was freshly cut in the park this weekend. I spent a lot of time rolling in it. Then at home, the magic box was filled with goodies. My bearded owner gave me a real food treat almost every time he opened it. Cheese. Ham. And some crispy chip things that fell on the floor. Truly a glorious weekend. And on Monday morning the park was filled with leftovers. Someone even set out a paper plate with potato salad and some leftover hot dog on it!

Avalanche is coming to visit again and we can run around growling together. She is very good at chasing squirrels. Almost caught one last time she visited, but it was across the road. She never got off the leash again after that. Except in the dog park where she is the Alpha Female. She runs in and out of the water and everyone follows—unless she growls at them.

Boy Dogs...

I consider myself a good looking dog. That flag of a tail, the interesting combination of grays, tans, and white. I’m a regular calico dog. Long eyelashes and white teeth. But even though most of my best pals are females, it’s the other male dogs that are most attracted to me if you know what I mean.

Some days I’m like a guy dog magnet in the park. The first time it was big white puli with dreadlocks. We were in a store and he just tackled me like a giant ball of yarn and wouldn’t leave me alone. Finally my owner tied me up outside and he howled at me from the glass door.

Now I’ve learned how to handle these delicate situations. When some boy dog seems to be madly in love with me, I just growl and shove him off with my nose, and run off if he still doesn’t get the hint. Guess I’m not a ladies’ dog.

The Giant Chicken Bone

If I had a doghouse I’d be in it. Instead I just crawled under the bed. I was out cavorting on my stretchy leash this morning, going after the squirrels and anything else that moved, when I faced a tough decision.

Since I found long smelly balloons and some other yucky stuff under the big pine trees, I’ve been staying on the path tethered to a human. There, right in the center of the walkway, was the biggest chicken bone I’ve ever seen. Of course I grabbed it. About four inches of it was sticking out of my mouth when my owner’s hand came swooping down. What to do? I can’t run. I can’t hide. As her fingers got dangerously close to the enormous bone, I defended it with a nip. I forgot that I had to open my mouth to do that so I lost the bone and made a serious enemy for the day. She kicked the bone away, reeled me in, and gave me a tug. A tug, not a hug.

I felt her icy look as we turned and headed home. She was getting blood on the handle of my stretchy leash. The bearded one defended me, arguing that no one should try to take chicken bones from a dog’s mouth. Then she brought up that old cat’s tale that chicken bones will splinter and kill me. A long day on the short leash. No chicken bone. No affection.

Good Cop/Bad Cop

In my house it’s pretty much good cop/bad cop. Bad cop feeds me (dog food) and takes me for long walks. She brushes me with a variety of tortuous instruments. She pets me sometimes, but I am always nervous because as soon as I relax for a decadent belly rub, she can pull out one of her many brushes. Who wants their belly brushed?

Good cop doesn’t ever brush me. He is afraid to hurt my feelings. Good cop feeds me real food. He worries about me being too small and feeds me cheese and lets me lick his plate (when bad cop isn’t looking). He makes mix-ins with dry food and bits of leftovers. He holds me on his lap and asks for kisses and lets me lick his beard. I can always relax with good cop because I know he is not being nice because he has some evil ulterior motive (like guess who).

I was suspicious yesterday when bad cop was petting me a little too sweetly and giving me treats without even demanding that I sit. Then she whipped out a brush. She was being very gentle and nice when she slipped off my collar and picked me up. Now laps are fine. Bed cuddling is fine. But I don’t like being carried around.

As you’ve probably guessed, I found myself locked in the bathroom with water running in the tub. I have been working very hard rolling in mud and sand and smelly places in the grass to get just the right combination of scent and grit. In fact, I’ve been noticed by more than one dog on my walks lately. I left all that good stuff behind in the tub. Now I smell like Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.

Next time bad cop is really nice to me, I’m going to hide under the bed.

Dog Show

It's been a busy weekend. Avalanche visited which is always fun. Yesterday we were running around growling when some dogs misunderstood. I think they were just too sensitive and overprotective. I don't know what happened first but, all of a sudden, Avalanche and a few other dogs were fighting. When that was over, we didn't get to play any more, and all the humans were very serious. Especially my bearded one who is more sensitive and overprotective than the dogs.

That's why Avalanche didn't get to go to the Dog Show in the park. Very unfair if you ask me. This was a special dog show by Tuffy's parents for dogs in our park. Invitations by woof of mouth only. The marble was very cool and good to pee on. I saw a lot of friends there and Pica even won a chew bone.

Then we all (all including Avalanche) went to the dog park and got wonderfully dirty. Avie and I were growling at all the dogs and I got the feeling my bearded one was very unhappy. Again, humans, why take us off the leash and let us run around in a park if you want us to behave? Now my owners are talking about military school for me. That conversation started about Agility Training which Pica said was fun, and now is more about Come When Called (a depressing thought).

Pictures: Avalanche on top. A good picture of my tail at the show. Hopefully a link below to more pictures. (Blogging isn't always easy for a dog.)