Previously posted in 2013
I had a confetti-filled homecoming last night; my house was TP’ed with a mega roll of Charmin Ultra Soft toilet paper. I know this because I bought the paper myself. You see, the scene of the crime took place inside my home.
Upon walking through the door, I spotted the evidence strewn about like mounds of paper snow. I immediately suspected the culprit was my border collie mix, Callie. She’s a chewer and she bores easily – two rather unfortunate traits in a canine. Continue reading
I’m a terrible animal guardian and I’m going straight to hell. I’ll tell you why…
My animals have their routine down-pat before calling it a night. I say, “Okay, time to go night-night.” The word ‘okay’ prompts all 4 mutts to jump from their coveted positions. I open the patio door and they file outside to do their business one last time. Fortunately it stopped raining last night so I didn’t have to coax anyone out. And by anyone I mean Wally. As you now know, he’s my problem child.
I block the French doors with my foot so my cats don’t make a beeline outside. Nellie heads for the top of the property looking for fresh poop to eat. No doubt she was out of luck last night since it rained for days, so my guess is her nightly snack was inedible mush. I apologize for the gross description, but remember, I have it worse. I’m the one forced to watch Nellie attempt to dislodge the poop stuck on her back molars. It’s hideous.
My poop eater
Many moons ago, Jim, my ex-hubby and I had an old TV antenna on our roof, left by the previous homeowners. It was a huge metal eyesore, not connected to anything but the chimney, I suppose for support. Why it was still there? What purpose did it serve? Here’s my theory…
I believe that antenna’s sole purpose was to emit some sort of vibration recognized only by the dogs of Marin County. When they heard this silent emission, I envisioned German Shepherds jumping their backyard fences and Beagles leaping out open windows all in search of our front porch. I tell ya, if there was a stray dog within a mile, it seemed to end up at our house.
Now don’t get me wrong; not only did strays wander into our yard but I also spotted them (and still do) while driving about town. Knowing I’m an animal lover, Jim was convinced I enticed them with treats hidden in my car trunk or some such nonsense. I would never do that. I prefer to keep all treats in the glove compartment. Continue reading
So my friend Annette and I decided to take our mutts to the beach for a day of frolicking in the sand, surf and sun. I only took 2 of my 4 monsters because Nellie’s old and might not make it out of the car before needing a nap and Callie is fear aggressive, an affliction which doesn’t translate well around people. Or other dogs. Or pretty much anything that moves. So Skip, Wally and I joined Annette and her perfectly behaved German Shepard, Tess.
Let me just say there must be something wrong with me because my mutts have issues. I prefer to think they’re just flawed little creatures who zeroed in on my inclination for adopting not-so-perfect beings. Either that or I’m a crappy guardian.
Nellie, however, is nearly perfect. Emphasis on nearly. She does have a tendency to use table corners as appetizers so that’s a check in the flawed box. Good luck finding a piece of wooden furniture in my home lacking her teeth impressions.
Nellie’s favorite pastime
After a recommendation, I watched a movie called Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. It’s based on a true story of an Akita living in Japan in 1923. Hachiko (Hachi) was so devoted to his guardian, Professor Ueno, that for two years he walked him to the train station each morning then waited there for his return from work. Sadly, Professor Ueno died at work, never to return home on the train where Hachi still waited at the station.
But that’s not the end of the story; it’s really just the beginning. Death couldn’t break the depth of loyalty Hachi felt for his guardian. In fact, he continued his daily vigil for the next 9 years. A permanent fixture at the station, he became a celebrity of sorts. Hachi died near the spot he’d occupied all those years just outside the train station doors. He was 12-years-old. Continue reading