And my only vacation, I might add, since That Person never takes a vacation. No, I went with The Daughter and the beautiful Matt who totally loves me and lets me do anything! Anyway, we went away into the woods and I ran, played--there were other dogs-- and skulked around (see me skulking in the photo) all day We stayed in a cabin. Oh golly it was great. Got some good scraps too. The Daughter, who's called Fionna, is way more fun than That Person who you cannot believe is Her Mother! I was so completely exhaused that Fionna says she stepped on my ear--accidentally--in the night and I never woke up. Then they went and brought me home so I could be cooped up all day with YOU KNOW WHO!
Me & Tosh I think his name is
I do have loads of fun with my dog park friends. below are a couple of pics. There are more dog park friends coming up in future blogs. And oh, That Person finally got around to making me business cards for this blog.
Here she is: my friend Sally from the dog park. If ever there was a dog that was not me, here's that dog. Sally is pictured actually taking a nap at the dog park. (Love the amazing mosaic of pawprints surrounding Sally) If you were to see a picture of me taking a nap at the dog park you could assume I was dead, or at least unconscious. But Sally, my friend Sally, is such a laid back character that it's hard for That Person to believe. Now this does not mean that Sally has no 'person'altiy. Not at all. She's a real queen and a dog you can set your stars by. I know I will never achieve Sally's equinimity, and perhaps that's not what I was bred for. But Sally, oh how she glides like an enormous and gallant ship. Me? I can hop like a bunny rabbit all over the park and over the other dogs. Recently I befriended a couple of dogs that needed a befriendment or two. The owners of these dogs thanked That Person, and were grateful that their dogs had a good experience at the park. This was after these dogs were maybe a bit roughed up by some alpha dogs earlier. I'm always looking to get roughed up a bit, and to doing a bit of roughing up myself. But my code of Extreme Playfulness does not include making another dog less happy than when they walked in. Okay, sometimes I make a mistake.
That Person was grateful to hear any words of praise for me. Perhaps She was starting to think I was a bad hat. That's when all that other stuff (described earlier in the blog) began to get to her. Dogs, praise be, aren't gotten to. People, yes.
I don't like to give That Person too much credit for fear it might go to Her head. But the training about the sitting and staying and how we enter the park has been somewhat helpful to me. Dogs know structure. The right kind can set us on the correct course of action. But let me tell you, it's tough. In my next post I will explain more about that.
Sail on, Sally, sail on
Betcha didn't know I was an artist. It's kinds of like cave art, or, well, something so modern that it hasn't been named by people yet. I just call it art. My tools? My fine teeth and my aesthetic sense.
Now this first picture is an example of my work in the fiber arts. Notice the scalloping around the edges of the rug near the back door sliders. The beauty is in the inexact edges. I am so proud of this. I created this piece while barricaded in the kitchen while That Person had to go back to bed this morning because of her neurological issues acting up last night and Her not getting enough sleep by half and how She had to make Herself stay in bed last night, but decided to read up on some idea in Photoshop about optimizing graphics for the web. What a crock!
This other piece is how I decided to view my brand new tiger toy, how to exceptionalize it into a statement all about our modern world combined with traditional Buddhist concepts about the impermanence of all things. That Person just stood there look down at it since She had just given it to me today. I might add that She gave it to me to shut me up for a while, which it did. Artists work alone and in silence. Gotta run, I think it's MoMA calling on the cell.
Let me just start off with this complaint: That Person claimed she would make me up some business cards for this blog. So where are they. They are nowhere, which isn't even a place. So I chewed up one of Her bookmarks, and the book it was stuck in. This book, by the way, was written by a dog. She didn't think She was going to like it at first and then She did. It's called Dog on It. Supposed to be written by Chet--just plain Chet, he says. But does a dog ever get credit? The book claims that someone called Spencer Quinn wrote it. Like this blog, in case you didn't notice, says that these posts are from That Person. Just you wait until I get my own Google I.D.
Well, back to one of my favorite topics: chewing. I have had to work so hard on my leash-walking skills and my going-into-the-dog-park skills that something had to give. Chewing is a great tension reliever. People know this. They are always chewing something or other. But just you let a dog do a little therapeutic chewing and, oh boy! I try to ignore all the hullabaloo. Here is a fine list of things chewed this week:
1 lipstick and gloss combo case
1 padded coat hanger
1 tube of watercolor paint
1 plastic bottle of Vicodin
the aforementioned bookmark
the book, mainly the spine which is the most succulent part
I didn't make much headway on the lipstick case. Not interesting enough.
The coat hanger was a success. That Person thought, from a distance, that I'd destroyed some small ground animal. The watercolor paint--wow--quinacridone burnt orange. And did that ever look good all over the rug and floor. I got my paws all in it and was able to track it up and down the hall and on the kitchen floor. The Vicodin: That Person heard me tossing and catching it all up and down the hardwood hallway. She thought it sounded like I was having too much fun for it to be a piece of old chew thing. This gives you an idea of how much fun That Person is. NOT! She's telling everyone that if I'd busted through the container and ate the 4 pills--30 mg of vicodin--Her problems would have been over. Not even funny.
She has to take this stuff all the time for some bizarre neurological condition. What with the Vicodin and the cane She thinks She's like that guy House on the television. She is so not that guy.