Dogs: Now, and Then

I didn't mean to leave diane out of that... was busy off on my own, but diane is big girl in sally and pacco's lives.

True.

I have a long day to go to the doc on Thursday. I just know Dys and Di will take Pacco. Later.

Jake was our boy for 3 years, a mastiff mix, big and drooly and shedding and the epitome of dogginess. You would give him a chewie and he'd usually just chew it right up, but sometimes he'd decide to save it for later. He didn't just dig in the yard; he would also leave chewies all over the house. Months after his death, we were still finding rawhides in the couch cushions. He's been gone since 1998 and we still miss him, but all of our memories are fond ones.

{{[osso}}} {{{Pacco}}}

Still laughing about Cinnamon, the lap dog....

Looking back over the posts, and littleK's mention of holding Pacco's legs up with a towel, I'll try that. (So far, I've towels on the uncarpeted floors to give him a better grip. He tends to sloppy-sprint from towel island to towel island.

When our irish setter died, it was in the week after we got home from our first trip to Italy - our first long vacation together. He had stayed in the yard while we were away, and the neighbors came over and fed him and played with him. (We had left him in a kennel once before and he lost weight and pined away there, and that was only for a few days; since then we'd left him in the yard with the neighbors' help, and that had worked fine.) Anyway, we were so glad it happened when we were home instead of off galavanting.

Kelly, the irish setter, liked to roam. Well, what could we expect, he'd been found in a lumber yard, skin and bones. The folks at the lumber yard told my husband he was a stray just hanging out. So, when my husband pulled up his truck full of lumber, there was another item in the cab, a young skinny irish setter, very quiet and gentle. Hah, once we got him eating normal doggie meals, he became much less quiet, quite the frolicker.

We couldn't keep him in the front yard, though, because he could get over the fence and go for a long run. He had this tendency to follow joggers, blond joggers as it happened. One day he followed one to Redondo Beach. That happens to be a loooooooooog way from Venice. Once the jogger got home he called us, since Kelly's tags had our phone number. That was one tired pooch, who thence became Backyard Dog.

Well, backyard when he wasn't in the house. Our house was a california bungalow with what turned out to be a plan that made it easy to chase the dog in a circle since the bathroom, between two bedrooms, had two doors. Round and round my husband and the dog went, dog nails making scurrying sounds, and husband occasionally hiding behind the drapes. Very funny.

I swear, all my stories revolve around Zoe's butt ending up on my head some time in the middle of the night or me waking up to a brown eye staring me in the face (if you know what I mean) She has a thing for sleeping the opposite as we do on the bed.

We need to create some new memories. :wink:

Zoe sends Pacco her love and wet doggie kisses.

And, being a boxer, she no doubt farts while sleeping bottom's up.

Finn, the dog to the left. I taught her useless and amusing things. Like fetching my slippers. Yes, I would get my slippers but I'd have to pull them away from her and sometimes would get my feet nipped and slobbered on (when said slippered feet would have a mind of their own, while on my feet, and poke at her...)

Well, one night I asked her to get the slippers and she bounded away only to return with a pair of socks. No, no, slippers! Off she went again.... After the third time or so, I realized I had left the sock drawer open and she was looking at me, all pant-y like, What? Socks go on your feet!

Another time, I was upstairs, across the hall from the bedroom (where the slippers usually ended up) I asked Finn for my slippers and she started out the door, I saw she was heading to the bedroom, and remembering that I last saw the slippers in the bathroom, I said They are in the bathroom! She was in the middle of the hallway and immediately spun left to go into the bathroom! I was amazed that she knew the word Bathroom. I knew she had a large vocabulary, but that one was a surprise.

She's still alive. But she's my X's dog and he got custody. I get her when he goes on vacation, but I'm thinking it's been a year since I saw her last. He needs more vacations!
She's a ham. and cuddly too.

Awwww! what a smart Finn! fantastic..


I got to see Sally dog today. Dys and Diane and I went to the Model Drug Store, a favorite place for lunch, and then uptown to a local nursery. Sort of down an alley and then into a set of greenhouses and thrown-up buildings on a shoestring. I'd give it's name since I liked it a whole lot, but am not clear on that. I came home with a bunch of herbs and tomato plants in 2 or 3" containers (and one sedum Autumn Joy) and they came home with even more tomato plants and a scad of other items including... hollyhocks!! What fun. Anyway, we got back to their house and my car, and refreshed ourselves with some limeade, delicious, out on the back patio, where... Sally was queen. She is so funny... It was a scene for a video camera, Sally presenting the toy to Dys to throw but not letting him have it, then him wresting it from her, tossing, as she sprung full bore to retrieve it, and so on. An old story, lots of dogs do this, but it still charms me.


Sally is the non-corgi in my avatar... she is Ms. Coiled Energy...

Smiles about Jake and Zoe...

I've given in and let Pacco sleep on my bed now. 'Tis a comfort. He gets to continue his job of herd protection at a closer perimeter...

Still thinking of Roberta and Pearl. Reminds me of a calendar a friend sent me, one of early twentieth century black and white photos of France, I thnk it was. Anyway, an old gent walking down a lane amidst forested acres, corgi trundling beside him...

There's something about seeing dogs from behind that gets me..
I also feel that way about dog necks. Hmmm. What I mean is, do you ever see dogs sitting up in the front seat of cars or trucks, looking forward, viewed from behind them? I find them very vulnerable looking doing that.

And that reminds me of my business partner's doberman...

I drove to meet her at the barn where she had to do some stall cleaning or something with her horse, before we drove to a project we were designing. I left my car in the parking lot and climbed into her truck to wait for her to finish with the horse stuff. It was early, I was barely awake, got in the passenger seat and started reading a book I'd had in my bag. Sometime later I heard a noise. It was the dobie, sitting upright in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead. I hadn't seen him (I've poor peripheral vision, and it was darkish in the truck, dark being another problem for me). Luckily I was already pals with the dog....
But his rigid waiting for Momma posture was soooo sweet..

when I was still in the ranching business I had this dog- Misha- who was a Samoyed/Chow cross. I raised cattle/hogs/sheep but Misha was kinda unusual. On year some wild Mallard ducks arrived at the farm and decided to stay as long as I fed them, one winter morning when the snow came as it is wont to do in colorado I looked out the kitchen window to see Misha curled up under the cottonwood tree in about a foot of snow, sound asleep with the pair of Mallards asleep on her back with their heads under their wings. When my sow hog had piglets Misha would climb into the sty with the mama sow and clean up the piglets as they birthed (I would never get into the sty with that sow, she would have eaten me alive) Misha knew the property lines and never crossed them. She had bad hips and lots of pain as she got older and began to have extreme difficulty just getting up to eat so one day I carried her out behind the barn and shot her. I owed her that. I'll never forget that dog.

Ouch. But fast. Must have been hard.

The thing that makes me nervous about Sally dog is her dependence on meself and lady Diane. If we are in different rooms she runs back and forth and if we are both in our telly chairs watching some inane broadcast she sits in one of our laps unless Dante cat comes around to climb into the vacant lap. Sally goes ape. On the other hand, both Diane and meself can go away for hours at a time and Sally dog just takes a nap.
Now the odd thing is Sally usually sleeps in her dog bed until around 2 or 3 a.m. when Dante cat shows up in our bed and then Sally dog and Dante cat curl up to together (usually between my legs) and sleep the rest of the night together.

Complex psychology...

This here is our Krispin in 1994. He was one year old then. Still alive now.



Can't say that he's still as shiny, and his step ain't full of spring either. He had a mild stroke, which left half of his mouth kinda wrinkled...but it goes great with his grumpy nature. He's his own master, always was. He walks himself when he feels like it (luckily we live in a quite suburb and people know him), he understands whatever's convenient. He's perfectly deaf for a few years now, but my mother still talks to him. She claims he can hear just right, just pretends. Nah. When I call him in from the garden, I have to tap him on his shoulder. He does like humming right into his ear though, probably feels the vibration. Gets all excited, shoving his head on my shoulder.

He's always had a habbit of sitting smack in the middle of the street. He must have luck from hell, because he never got hit. When a car is coming, he sits. The driver slams on the breaks. He waits an extra second and walks off with his head raised high. Idiot.
Still does that, bloody old fool. Just last week my mother wrote me an email how she witnessed it in the morning. She met him when she was catching the trolley to work in the morning, few blocks away. He sat in the middle of the street right in front of her. Screeching brakes, curses.... Embarassed she had to go get him by his long ear (thankgod for those) to pull him off the friggin intersection. Then she had to walk him home.
It's my father's fault, really. He treats him like an equal, like a partner. He said, early on, either the dog is smart enough, or he won't survive. They go to get the paper every morning. He hasn't used the leash once. Then the dog decides whether he wants to go home with dad, or go off on his own for a bit. Sometimes there's trouble, when the love calls. He was gone for two days, finally we picked him up at the pound. Apparently, he sat in front of his love object's door (in an apartment building) and howled all night. They couldn't get rid of him, so they called the pound people. Old fools, both of them. My father and the dog.

Now that was a good tale.
hugs to Krispin...
and I'm saving the photo. Reminds me of Kelly taking John's sock out the door...

that dog, i tell ya... he swam in mississipi, in atlantic and pacific ocean, in the Red Sea, in the Black Sea, and in every puddle deep enough to swim in in Slovakia and environs. Whether it's hot or cold. He can dive, too! Who taught him? The other old fool.

Now there's a dog for the ages...

Caribou, thanks for the clue about paying attention to the words dogs know.

Pacco for sure knows "do you wanna go out?, do you wanna go out?"

I'll watch for more vocabulary...

Osso--

Live is full of difficult choices. My heart aches for you.

Iffy is getting older and older. She has daily pills for her sluggish thyroid and more pills to control an unreliable bladder. Yesterday when the lot next door was being cleared she slept through most of the chain saw noise.

She's still Mr. Noddy's baby darling. He spoils her--and she's smart enough to know that men and women are very different in the spoiling line.