A Christmas gift

My cat brother Adric and I have a prickly relationship - I relate and Adric prickles. And he is loaded with pricklers - in his mouth, on all four fur feet....it is like living with a little saber-toothed tiger. Well, "little" would be the wrong adjective. Adric is pretty big.

But the other day I thought we had reached a new level of friendship. I thought that Adric had prepared the best ever Holiday gift for me. After all, I've been pretty good lately. As good as dogs get that is. I thought he made me a cat punching bag! Out of himself!

It started like this. Adric was in the kitchen, jumping up on the counter and scouting food as usual. This accounts for the not-so-little aspect of Adric. My Person was busy being busy, or as I think of it, wasting time that could be spent playing with me. Suddenly a hideous commotion broke out in the kitchen: cat screams and hisses and growls. I ran right on in as any dog would. There, suspended by his skinny ankle from a drawer pull, hung big ol' Adric. I was beside myself with joy and started punching away at him. It seems he liked this even less than being suspended. The level of noise increased though that didn't seem possible.

My Person ran through the house, wailing (her usual response to surprises), ran to the kitchen, ceased wailing and commenced screaming, joining right in there with Adric. (My Person has been in a choir lately and I believe she was doing an alto accompaniment to Adric's mixed soprano and bass.) She lifted him up and out of the drawer pull and Adric rolled and stumbled down the basement stairs, hissing and spitting, and then my Person rounded on me like it was my fault for taking advantage of the moment and what I thought was an amusement arranged especially for me. "Back!" she hissed like a snake in full fury, and then she sailed down the basement stairs after Adric.

Well, a long time and a lot of mushy kissy noises and poor kitties and sweet adrics later, up the basement stairs came my Person holding one wounded Adric. And off to the Emergency Vet they went. I realized then that Adric hadn't made me a nice punching bag but had gotten himself in a dangerous fix. I too have been to the Emergency Vet recently and the thought of it still makes me shudder.

Well, the long and short of it is Adric broke his ankle bone and is taking some mighty powerful painkillers and is spending his time in MY little nap bed in the bathroom, all toasty and warm and with dilated eyes and purring and singing little cat songs to himself.

And I am down one Christmas present and a little bit in the dog house but I am getting pretty used to that.

So remember, always look a gift horse in the mouth because maybe it isn't really a gift and maybe you are headed for some trouble if you think it is!

Triple-walled dog house

That's where I live. Lately.

I admit. I've been bad. But it isn't really my fault.

First, my Person foolishly left the grocery bag up on the table where I am not suppose to go and I sort of got inside and pulled a quart container pack of organic chicken broth out from under a giant heavy winter squash and carried it into the living room and ripped it open and slurped up most of it except for a little puddle by the bookcase I forgot about until it was too late.

Second, my Person foolishly left a sealed box of bird seed by the back door that I happened to pull open and dump upside down and sample a good deal of before she surprised me by coming in that very back door without knocking first.

Third, I ate a pan of almond bars that my Person made for her Friend and left to cool on top of the stove. She didn't even yell at me or call me a bad dog after that one. She just gave me a steely look and said "You know what kind of dog you are," and I cowered and shrank and glued my ears to the back of my head and gave a gulp and unfortunately I also burped. She ignore me then and strode out of the room to lie down on the couch and read. And that was very bad because I had hidden some of the almond bars under the couch throw. And then she went to bed to read and that was very bad too because I had hidden some more almond bars under the blankets. "What are you?" she roared. "A grizzly bear making food caches?" Then she laughed but it was a grim sort of laugh and I found some other place that wasn't the couch or the bed to sleep that night.

Lucky

I am taking a moment to reflect. (Actually I was napping.)

But now that I am awake it is good to reflect. It is almost Thanksgiving and my Best Friend is visiting me and I have been invited to at least one holiday meal (though rumor is I am banned from another). The sun shines every few days and the river still hasn't frozen up so there is still outdoor swimming for intrepid red dogs. These all go into the category of things I am thankful for.

Also in that category: new liver treats, kicking up my white heels walking in the oak leaf drifts, chasing squirrels, going to the dogpark with Tasha and her Bark, riding in the car and sleeping on the couch.

It would seem that I am thankful for companionship, adventure and purpose (and food). And I am lucky to have all of those things. And that is why my full name is Lucky Finnegan!

Sharing

Today I turned up my nose at walking around the lake in one of my city's finer zip codes and decided to stick to basics: sun, sand and surf in my own neighborhood. And I invited my best frenemy to join me.

Tasha the Barking Sheltie headed down to the Mighty Mississippi with me. You might think I am a wild one but get a load of this walking hairdo of a dog!

If I had hair like that I'd probably bark more too. Think of how frilly and whirly and swirly Tasha's whole body must feel. Every part of her is blowing in the wind, my friend.

I am more of a close cropped, no fuss no muss kind of guy. A fine coat like Tasha's would trip me up on my adventures and clog up with debris. And I am sure I am more aerodynamic than that furry girl. I don't need any additional turbulence when I head into adventures - I make enough of my own and sure don't need my fur doing it for me. Speaking of adventures, looks like I'm into one now!

Artless

Being a companion animal to my Person isn't easy. I spend a lot of time sitting on my heels waiting for something interesting to happen.

And even then, my Person's idea of interesting is not really very interesting to a little red dog. Reading is not interesting to me. One would be better off asleep and in fact when reading is going on you can count on my having a snooze.

Painting is not very interesting either except for when my Person is eating and painting at the same time and I end up with most of her snack because she drops it when she switches paint brushes.

Being told it is super supper time and then having to wait while my Person dithers around making her own supper or just plain forgets about me and goes back to painting instead is really not interesting.

I am trying all my best heart string plucking plaintive expressions. Do I hear the sounds of kibble in my dish? No, just the swirl of turpentine and clatter of brushes. Maybe I need to brush up on the art of making myself more interesting!

Trick or treat

The season of holidays has begun. First the world turns yellow and orange and then the leaves fall and the cold rains come and before you know it Halloween is upon us. Next up are some other holidays which interest me only because a lot of good food is served and my human cousins drop a lot of it on the floor under their chairs.

But Halloween is most compelling for a dog. On Halloween night the children of the neighborhood swap their jeans and t-shirts for costumes and show up right at your door in the dark, yelling and laughing and asking for treats.

This is my territory!! I am supposed to be performing for treats. And I am supposed to guard my house against incursions by ghosts, princesses and knights. So what happens on this special night? I get tethered to a chair in the kitchen and told to be quiet!! I don't get to charge the door. I don't get to scare the vampires and skeletons and ghost brides. I have to stay in the kitchen, alone, while Adric patrols and gets first crack at household defense.

What a horrid night. It was no treat for me, just a terrible trick.

One of these things is not like the others

This is kind of like an IQ test. It will judge your ability to see relationships between things, to recognize sets. So, which one of these four things does not belong:
1) red dog
2) snow
3) green grass
4) warm sunshine

Are you done? This one should be pretty easy. Red dogs go with everything but warm sun and green grass and - here's the odd one out - snow are the Axis of Unrelatedness. Here I was, happily in the midst of a bit of late summer easing into fall reverie and I get dumped on with snow! This is just too much for me to process. I wouldn't know what to wear but I never change clothes much. Or bathe. Good thing I don't need to, being naturally clean.

Well, I got in a bit of a river swim anyway and ate lots of grass and skipped ahead pretty fast whenever a snow clump slid off a branch and landed near me. I ended up with muddy feet and a wet belly and my breath came out in frosty clouds as I blinked in the sunlight and watched runners go passed in shorts and winter caps. It is the change of seasons - we just don't know what the season is changing to!

Look out below!

Here is how I look when I have been swimming and running. It is similar to how I look when I accidentally almost do myself in.

My Person says I need climbing gear or longer toe nails or less enthusiasm for high-risk adventures. This might have something to do with the fact that today I fell out of a tree at the dog park. About a 12 foot drop. Aren't I remarkable?

How, you might ask, did I get so high up a tree? Easy, I would reply. I ran!

The dog park has lots of big old cottonwoods, those great water-loving trees with complicated, bank-stabilizing root systems. Well, the river rises and the river falls and sometimes those trees stand knee-deep in water and sometimes the river rushes by and drags away the sand. And after a few – or even many – years the roots don't have so much sand to hold on to and the big old cottonwoods begin to slant a little. Or a lot. Some of the dog park cottonwoods stand at about a 45 degree angle, their angle of repose for now, and just the perfect angle for an intrepid red dog to run right up.

The cottonwoods start out broad and then they begin to taper. I was running up every cottonwood I could find and making a neat U-turn just as the trunk was almost too narrow for a maneuver like that and then running down again as fast as I could. And then on to the next tree.

I was scaring my Person a bit, and Tasha's Person too. Tasha was there but not climbing - she's a more cautious sort and she's not sturdy like me. One might even call her delicate. Anyway, I had this scared-ish audience and I just couldn't resist continuing my tree climbing, especially since I got a treat every time I made it back to terra firma.

Then my great trick turned into a great fall. I ran too far up a tree and the trunk got too tapered and my U-turn went a bit wobbly and then I sailed through the air and all one could hear was the collective intake of breath by my watchers and the plaintive call "Finnegan!" I was a bit crumpled in the sand with my tail tucked and my ears back and I was as scared as everyone else. At first. Then I tried out all my movable parts and they still moved and I tried out my non-moving parts and they still didn't move and I tried out my ability to eat treats and that was unimpaired so I popped up, good as new!

My Person says she's going to start carrying a giant blue IKEA bag to the dog park to use as a portable stretcher just in case one of my adventures has a bad end. I think she worries too much. Doesn't she know that trees are for climbing?

Par-tay

I thought you'd like to meet some of my human family. This is not a six-legged human relative - I don't think I have any six-legged relatives - but a group of several of them all hugger mugger. This is an uncle-cousin-cousin group plus one little red dog on top.

We were having a birthday party for my cousin. He is 14. I am only in the four to five age range, but the exact information escapes me and therefore everyone who knows me. I cannot even imagine being 14! That is really a lot of dog years.

It was great celebration. There was food on the table and below, dishes to be washed (and I make a fine prewash cycle), there were pile-ons and presents and a pizza party the night before with movies I slept through and a trip to the dogpark (everybody sing!) that I didn't sleep through.

It was the best sort of weekend for a quiche, pizza and family loving dog like me!

Dog park

My Person sings me a song. She made it up herself and she calls it Dog Park. It goes something like this:

"Dog park, dog park
Dog park, dog park
Dog park, dog park
Dooooooooog park!"

What this ditty lacks in grace, imagination, variation or lyricism, it makes up in being short and to the point. This makes me happy. And what else makes me happy is that she sings it before we go to - you guessed it - the dog park!

And here I am now, fresh from a chorus or two of our favorite song and ready to run my little red heart out.

After this it will be time to head home for the evening meal. I can feel another song coming on:

"Super supper, super supper...."
I bet you know the rest!

Oh to be free

See the wild creature trot down the woodland path? A fox you wonder, or could it be...a wild Finnegan?

I was enjoying a solitary hike (solitary as long as I was looking forward since I was being trailed by my Person as usual). I was thinking how nice it might be to live here, alone and wild, wandering and sniffing all the day long, hunting and scuttling through the shadows at night.

What fun! Especially if my Person would show up every 12 hours with a nice dish of food. And if we could move my cushion down here.

Come to think of it I could use the bed too. And the couch. And I like the lawn chair for napping and squirrel duty. And I would kind of miss having Ollie to pester, even though there are plenty of things down in this woods to chase. I just have a feeling some of them might chase me right back. So I guess I will trail my Person back home after all!

What dogs do for fun

That is an easy one. Dogs do about anything for fun. And for treats! Like going swimming even when they are non-swimmers. And climbing trees even when they aren't climbers.

This little bit of late summer fun is going to be gone too soon and the ice crystals will be sticking to your forehead where river water splashes once sparkled. Frigid winds will howl out of Manitoba and blow you right off that tree perch. (And it will hurt when you land on that frozen sand!)

So go have a little frolic in the sun and act like a little red dog while you can!

Dog daze

I don't know if it is still summer or not but it is chilly enough to make me think it might be getting close to autumn. So I have decided to get in a summer's worth of lawn chair napping in one afternoon.

My Person is completely ignoring me but since she is cleaning the basement I figure I am better off right where I am, doing just what I am doing. I am not allowed in the basement so my interest in it's hygiene is slim.

Adric spends quite a bit of time down there. As a matter of fact, all three cats sneak down there on a regular basis and then I hear what sounds like sand flying around. Then the cats come flying up the stairs as fast as they can and in a state of great joy. Who knows what they have been doing down there.

Well, pondering the ways and whys of cats is enough to put a dog to sleep so I'd better continue my snooze before it gets too cold to!

Mythic

On my travels I see mysterious things. Sometimes they are little and sometimes they are big and sometimes they are of mythic proportions. For example I just happened to see the Loch Ness Monster today as I was strolling around an urban lake. Click on my photo and you'll see it better too.

Now I didn't think too much of it even if my Person was all agog. I was much more interested in the muskrat who just sort of accidentally jumped into my mouth at the very moment I was pouncing on the river bank. My Person did shriek louder for that than she did for Nessie and I literally dropped my jaw - and the muskrat. He gave me a quick and baleful look and headed for the deep weeds.

If I felt like going for a big swim I could have tried the same technique with the Lock Ness Monster but it is a bit larger than I am. I do hate to be on the receiving end of "pounce and bite." If a pitbull can send me to the hospital I shudder to think what Nessie could do!

Walking down a country road

I have no idea where I am going and (this part is a lesson for my Person and other humans) I am perfectly happy.

Everything is a a little surprise for me. Waking up. Having breakfast. Seeing a donkey stare at me from behind a bush (that really happened on this particular walk). Finding a frog hopping along the same road as I am, maybe with a better idea of where he is going.

I sure have had some unpleasant surprises too but often such things are quite interesting once you have survived them.

This particular country road sure held my interest though. There were the two fawns that were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. Then I found something crunchy to eat when my Person was looking the other way. Loons called from a nearby lake and weren't quite drowned out by the sound of jet skis. (I barked at a bunch of them - jet skis, not loons - later on, though I guess that puts me on the list of obnoxiously noisy things.)

My Person trotted along behind me, identifying birds and plants when she could and pondering trouble and strife when it occurred to her and she even threw in some worrying, planning and slapping at mosquitoes and I tried as hard as I could to let her know this wasn't just time for a walk, it was time for a little red dog philosophy.

Swimming with tigers

My Person and I broke our stride today and tried something different. We deserted our familiar routine and visited one of the city's urban lakes. We picked the one with the most enviable zip code and set off showing those fancy lake dwellers how we rustic riparian types like to enjoy ourselves. I was the only one swimming in the whole darned lake, or so I thought.

After a few laps my Person hauled me out and we stopped to read a nearby sign. It read "This lake contains muskellunge."

I was swimming with tiger muskies! Can you believe it - ferocious stripey fellows with uncountable numbers of sharp teeth. One could have nipped off part of this little red dog! I probably look pretty tasty paddling around through the weeds.

After this close shave we retired to the familiar shores of the Mississippi River and I attended a beach party for dogs. There was a puggle and a doodle and a poodle and shepgle or maybe it was a beaglard or maybe it was just called a shepard beagle but it was a funny fellow regardless of its name. And we jumped in the waves and my Person tried to make us "Sit!" in the deep water but we are all too smart for that. It was a real summer day and even my favorite princess Tasha is now cleaning out the sand from between her toes!

Hummingbird

This little bird has captured my Person's attention. It is trying to get some nectar from a flower that hasn't opened up yet.

I know how it feels. I look about like that, only larger and red, when my Person hasn't opened the cupboard where my food is stored, when she hasn't put that food in my dish and when she hasn't given me the high sign that I can start eating.

The little bird was pretty amazing to watch as it went on to find a meal at nearly every kind of flowering plant my Person has been planting since before I arrived on the scene. There is even a special garden she calls the prairie garden and I like that garden a lot. After all, I am a prairie sort of dog from Prairie du Chien. That is mainly where this little bird was hovering and sipping, in the garden I mean, not in Wisconsin, lifting suddenly and swooping out of sight and back again before you could count to three and occasionally sitting down on a little branch, still and crisp and not its usual so-fast-it-is-blurry self.

I sat with my Person and watched the little bird eating until at last it flew away for the evening, and I think we both were thinking how wonderful it might be to fly like that, and while we were busy imagining, the light grew dimmer and the evening grew quieter and all the other birds went to their roosting places for the evening and so did my Person and so did I.

Doggone clean

Nothing like a good scrub up.

This is how we dogs get clean - we jump in the river and then roll in the sand and before you know it we are sparkling clean and smelling fresh and don't need any bathing at home. Ever.

It is funny how many products people seem to need to keep in good order - shampoos and soaps and lotions and gels and sprays and scents and sun screens. All you really need is a good tossing of river sand in your fur and you are set for at least a week.

Prissy Pants Pico doesn't clean up this way. He is always licking himself and the other two cats and they lick him in return. I find this behavior disgusting. I'd rather be covered with good clean sand than spit any old day. Everyone knows spit is for cleaning shoes and Pico doesn't wear any. And neither do I!

That darned cat

Most of you know I have some dramatic aspirations. I have answered a few audition calls in my time. I imagine plenty of other farm boys, listening to crickets on hazy summer evenings, dream of trodding the planks, a rapt audience agog as they do their full routine of "Sit!" and "Wait!" and "Leave it!" (This last met with thunderous applause.) Well, that's me all over - if you happen to have some treats on you.

Well the agent called, and to my ever-lasting astonishment, wanted a cat and not me!! Off went Pico and his companion Adric and left me home! That Pico couldn't act his way out of a paper bag. His ability to dissemble is nonexistent. He is incapable of rouse. And he can't even cock his head cutely when you ask him a question. I am a master of all of the above.

Pico isn't a scholarship student in outdoor obedience - as I just happen to be - and the only command he obeys is "Go take a nap on a comfy chair for 18 hours."

LIfe is so disappointing sometimes, and though it is mean to wish failure on others, I am struggling to heed the call of my nobler side. Good thing I am a dog, as you know what side will prevail...but if I were a cat...well, I guess I would have slept through all of this!

Finally

I have been getting nagged to write a bit about life but it just has been an endless slog of chores. Laundry, classes, harvesting (I am by origin a farm dog), herding cats. The usual summer fare. I even did a little Tom Sawyer routine and helped paint the fence with my chin and ears but more of the time I kept the chipmunks from leaving pawprints in the fresh paint while my human cousins labored under my Person's stern eye.

But finally, today, I had an adventure worth telling about. We were on our way home from the usual Monday bluebird trail inspection and what did we see ahead of us as we trudged on the bridge, high over the Mississippi? Ducklings! On the foot path, along the busy car traffic!

I was pretty surprised and excited. My Person was pretty surprised and full of stupid life-saving ideas. We tried herding the ducklings along, hoping to get them off the bridge, but at the foot of the bridge is a busy intersection! The ducklings kept veering toward the edge of the bridge, peering under the railing at the water 60 feet below. Then my Person hailed a passing cyclist and he stopped to help us try to gather the ducklings. I was tethered to the railing as my Person thought my happy barks were "not helping the situation." She told me as much. The cyclist tried to block the ducklings from running into the street. My Person frantically grabbed at them. She caught one and bundled it up in her shirt. Another jumped off the bridge - horrors! The others swirled and beeped and peeped. I barked and howled (I admit a little loss of self control). The ducklings surged. My Person grabbed another and then another. One ran along the bridge and then jumped down from the bridge into a tree top on the river edge. The cyclist stuffed the captured ducklings into his backpack and then we all walked along until we got nearer to the river and let the ducklings off in the weedy ground where they continued to swirl and beep and run into each other. Believe it or not, the tree-top duckling made it there too having fallen out of the tree and followed his siblings' calls.

Hopefully the ducklings have made their way to the river and haven't gone bridge climbing again. For myself, I am exhausted and need to rest in the shade. Until I have another chore to do that is.

On the trail

Those of you who know me well know that I am officially an unofficial bluebird trail monitor. My Person is officially official but she couldn't monitor the trail without me. She eyes the stuff up high and I keep my nose to the ground and between us we do a good job.

Today we saw newly hatched bluebirds in their nest box and also a tree swallow who was so devoted to its egg clutch it refused to leave when we peered in the nest box. Such brave creatures birds are!

On the way home we walked across the Mississippi River, using a helpful bridge of course, and looked down over the riverside tree canopy stretching out below us. A cowbird, that much maligned songbird (look it up, you can start with the westward movement and the slaughter of the plains buffalo herds and you end up with this little bird living in my city, humans are the problem as usual) was perched on the bridge railing, calling in distress and looking out at the trees as well. Suddenly a cooper's hawk lifted up out of the trees, a bird in its talons.

I guess we saw it all this morning: a homeland lost for one species and regained for another and the cycle of life and death played out before us by our fellow creatures.

Contemplation

A summery day is just the perfect time to lie in the grass and meditate. Or fall asleep. My Best Friend always falls asleep when he mediates so maybe it is all the same thing.

I have been pondering a bit between snores, getting in touch with my inner self. My inner chicken, my Person says. That is just because I ate an entire chicken carcass a few days ago, and so far no remains of it have, well, emerged. She thinks I am plugged up, but I think I am really a wolf in Red Dog clothing and can eat a lot of bones without ill effect.

But my inner chicken isn't limited to my diet. It also includes my feelings: feelings about conflict and the rough and tumble life of dogs, how some dogs are friendly and some are not, some playful and some want to fight, what people expect from dogs and what dogs expect from each other. My Person signed me up for an outdoor advanced obedience class and I get just a little scared of all the things we have to do and the other dogs in the class, all the direction and correction going on. It all makes me feel a little chicken.

Maybe I would like to be a simpler sort of fellow, not a dog signed up for advanced classes. Maybe I would like to be a rural rustic and lie on my side in the shade with a grass blade between my teeth, a bird singing over my head.

Of course if the bird is a chicken, I'll just have to eat it.

At swim, one dog

There is a freeze warning for the northern part of my northern home but just look at me in my swimsuit, enjoying the sun and having a sip or two of enriched water.

I hear that some people drink coffee and energy drinks and tea and all kinds of flavored water that they pay for with money that could instead purchase things like dog toys and dog treats. Why, you might wonder, as I often do whenever my Person buys something for herself and not for me, why on earth buy some fancy juiced-up liquid when you can just come down to the shores of the Mississippi and jump on in and drink as much enhanced water as you want for free?

This river water probably has lots of caffeine in it and lots of roughage besides and little fish parts and some greenery and wiggly guys and paramecia and twigs. This is water you can chew as well as slurp.

Of course you might end up with some uninvited guests living in your gut. So begins my summer of giardia once again!

I've had enough!

Too much has happened to this little red dog lately. First I get my lights punched out and end up in the hospital, and then my Person up and leaves me and I have to spend a week in a prison for sad dogs. And then today, on this gently sunny spring day, we bravely brave the dog park for the first time since the Incident and who do I see the minute I arrive? The dog that beat me up!

It seems this dog was a fighting dog found on the mean streets of the city. I feel badly for him but I would just as soon NEVER see him again.

After that uneasy encounter I continued on my way into the park and calmed myself down by running as fast as I could and swimming and playing with a Shiba Inu who was just my size. I even joined my friend Tasha in a game of Chase the Person around the Tree. I thought it was a little tame but it got Tasha pretty wound up. I spent my evening watching my Person babysit and it was nice to stretch out on the grass and feel it tickle my bare chest and watch the birds sail into the yard. Life finally seems peaceful once again. Oh I hope I am right. I've had about as much excitement lately as I can take.

Thumbs up!

Whew! I am glad this week is over. I am done being an invalid, I am done wearing a 5T toddler shirt and I am done with my check up. The vet says I am almost as good a new with a little scar tissue added. And minus most of my chest fur.

I deserve a treat!

Low on adventures

The busybody is at rest. And highly medicated.

I am feeling better and remember how to wag my tail. But I am not doing that any time soon because my Person is making me wear this stupid tank top to keep my wound clean. How embarrassing! She bought me several little shirts to wear and I am surprised but relieved that none of them have bears or bunnies or Spiderman on them. Or Elmo.

If this had happened to my friend Tasha she would have a pink t-shirt for sure! But I am glad she doesn't have to go through this.

A bad day

I am a mutt. I am a mix of many of breeds of dogs. It seems all of us dogs carry traits from our ancestors. Mine make me want to hunt for chipmunks and stick my head into holes in the ground for a good sniff. Other dogs have ancestors who were trained to be to be valiant and to fight enemies to the death. That makes them extra loyal to their packs but dangerous to others when they get mad.

The pit bull dog is one of those breeds and they are caught up in a swirl of controversy: their human pack members love their ferocious loyalty, but their huge, strong jaws are a danger to those who get in the way of an aroused pit.

One got mad at me at the dog park and I ended up at the University Veterinary Hospital. My Person was terribly afraid and I couldn't get away from that dog or get out of its mouth once it pinned me. If a brave man hadn't pulled the pit bull off of me I might have been hurt much worse. I couldn't walk after I was attacked and my Person had to carry me for a long, long way to get out of the dog park. My friend Tasha was with me and she was very scared and so was her Person. I am recuperating now from a very bruised shoulder and leg and a deep puncture wound in my chest.

I hope that pitbull owners understand that they need to have complete control over and be very near to their dogs at all times. Maybe it isn't what their pit bull might do to them that is the issue. It is the incredible amount of damage to others that pit bulls are capable of that makes them a real danger.

Summer daze

I know it it is just barely spring but today seemed like summer. Minus the green.

What do kids get up to on warm summer days? A bit of running and splashing in a swimming hole and maybe even trying to catch a frog or two? I did all of that. And more!

I shed some of my winter coat. I swallowed lots of enriched (pond) water. I got so muddy my socks turned brown. I stuck my nose down into a hole in the ground. My Person said "Someday, something will bite your nose and then you'll be sorry."

But I won't be. When winter is gone and spring is really here, even a sore nose can't spoil my fun!

What dogs do

It is cold and gray but my Person says it is spring. And in the spring she plants seeds in her garden (which takes up most of MY yard by the way) and then she waters what she planted and waits and checks and studies and waits some more.

So I am gardening too. I have my best toy, a blobby thing my Person knitted for me, and I am going to plant it in my garden. And I will water it and watch to see what grows. It is made of lambswool and I am not sure if it will grow a nice toy tree or one covered with little lambs. Either would suit my purposes. Either I will have a lot of new toys to harvest or a lot of little lambs to herd around. And if the latter is the case, my Person can sheer off their extra wool and knit me up even more toys. And next spring I can plant them as well.

The first time my human Grandmother saw me she said I was just a farm dog. Wait until she sees what this dog can do!

Sharing again

It has been a long cold week. Rivers are rising in many places as the spring moves forward in a series of wintry stalls and open water ices over and then melts again. My favorite riparian dog park is almost completely flooded - where dogs so recently were leaping and chasing, ducks are now paddling. I guess we dogs are sharing our park with others, but we don't have much choice.

It is good weather to go for a run and then head inside. My frenemy Tasha's couch spot has been taken over by my buddy Pico. If I get too close he makes a funny sound like he's losing air, so I stay as far to one side as I can. But it is nice having someone to share with.

Speaking of sharing, my Person has been busy baking her favorite no-knead bread and she shared it with me a couple days ago. If it is on the counter and she's off somewhere and wasn't polite enough to include me, then I figure all is fair game. So off to bed I trotted with my prize and spent a glorious afternoon munching and dozing under the covers. I was happy and my Person got an unexpected opportunity to share.

Isn't that the stuff that gives life meaning?

Blowing out the cobwebs

Ah-ha! To run on dirt and grass instead of snow is a springtime pleasure...even though the grass is still looking pretty dead. My Person and my Auntie Val and I had a big hike today in the high wind and milky sun and I got to lead the way. I followed a deer trail along a creek and got us lost and then I got us unlost. I am a pretty good tracker but I am better at finding where moles and voles are than where the trail went.

It was a good airing out though and we all needed it.

The house needed some airing out too. The Barking Furball has gone home and though she was glad to be shut of us she left some bits and pieces behind. Tasha lives up to the Furball part of her name even more than the Barking part. If Tasha were musical and had bad taste, she could be a one dog hair band.

In the Olympics of Housekeeping my Person would score a solid 4.4: okay start and very bad follow-through. But when I start sneezing up cat fur and the cat brothers start complaining about the dog fur on their feet it is time to vacuum. So my Person hauled out the air sucking monster and the last of Tasha disappeared. Now if I want to see a little Tasha I will have to go to the dog park instead of looking between Adric's toes.

I shall be released

It is the big count down until Tasha's Person #1 and Person #2 return home. (They can fight about who is which.) And then Tasha can return to her home as well. And then I will rule once again!

Right now she's outside scaring birds and I have sneaked out one of my toys for some play time. You won't be surprised to hear that Tasha commandeers my toys when she finds them so is has been a toyless two weeks for me.

Pretty soon I won't have to listen to my Person saying "Good girl!" from the other room or listen to the crinkle crinkle of treat bags being unrolled but not for me, and there won't be a furry puffy one anchoring the other end of the couch or someone to show me up on the finer points of dogdom, like heeling and such. It will just be me, me, me. Plus Adric and Ollie and Pico. And some others I won't even mention.

Will I miss Tasha - of course! But I will see her at the dogpark. And if she doesn't bring her Barbie suitcase I might even invite her for a sleep-over.

In praise of short hair

Do I look a little damp? I should be. My Person decided, with her unerring sense of timing, that it was just right for a walk for me and my frenemy Tasha, well ahead of predicted sleet. Ha! Here I am an hour later, damp and slightly disgruntled and trying to forget the feel of ice pellets banging on my little red head.

But you should see Tasha! Being plumy may lend a certain charming and girlish appearance (as if I care) but imagine having five-inch belly fur, crusted with ice and clotted with mud and hanging all damp and bedraggled. Yuck! Needless to say she is sequestered in a highly absorbent environment for a while until she dries out. I maybe look a little wet but I came out of it better than she did!

My Person must realize the advantage of my hair style since she just had her scrambled and Tasha-like hair chopped off. I think maybe she took a picture of me with her to the stylist, not having found more practical or attractive styles in a fashion magazine. I won't tell her but the look is more successful on me. Maybe if she had furry ears...

Play time?

This may look like the pose that a jaguar or a leopard assumes before dropping on its heedless prey but it is really an invitation to play. From the position of advantage that is. I'm as smart as a Big Cat.

You see, the Barking Furball started playing with me today. At first I thought she'd popped a circuit breaker. My Person even left her beloved computer and came to gawk. So I assumed the Big Cat position and wouldn't you know, Tasha stopped playing as suddenly as she began. And I was just ready to mix it up.

Of course Tasha's idea of mixing it up probably has something to do with donning pink wings and playing Barbie. So it is just as well. But I think I'll hang out here awhile just in case any likely prey - I mean playmate - happens to wander beneath me.

The agony of sharing

I can't believe I am sharing my couch with a girl. I mean my Person is a girl but this dog girl on my couch has me all worried. Is nothing sacred?

I guess things are going better than I expected with Tasha the Barking Furball. She has been just slightly condescending to me (she only likes fuzzy dogs) and she has shared my backyard peaceably and she has even shared some of her treats with me. Cheese and Bacon Madness! Would my Person buy me a treat called that? No way! (Actually I wonder about the wisdom of buying Tasha treats with the word Madness in the name but I am not her personal shopper.)

So, we are embarking on Day Two of life with Tasha and I am doing my best to be non-controversial and keep my opinions to myself and I am incapable of discussing religion or politics so maybe things will continue down this path, fraught with more bark than bite.

The calm before the storm

It was shattered yesterday. A sweet and mild day full of drips of melting snow and bird calls and soft sun was followed by a punch in the nose of a snow storm. I can easily ice my armpits in the backyard without lying down and the squirrels need some extra bounce today.

But a bigger storm will hit tonight. Hurricane Tasha is coming to stay. I have put little PostIt notes that read "This belongs to Finnegan. Do not touch," on all the furniture and my toys and water dish and food bowl. The cats are teaching each other how to plug their ears with their paws and they keep falling over in their attempts. My Person seems absolutely oblivious (what else is new) and isn't preparing nets, dungeons, chains, separate dining facilities, ANYTHING! I better put one of those PostIt notes on her.

So I am enjoying the quiet - broken only by the growls of snowplows and the snaps of snow shovels and people's backs. And waiting for the real storm to begin.

Sunbathing

Roller coaster weather has left us all a bit dazzled. It has thawed, then frozen, then thawed, then frozen so many times lately people don't know whether to wear their shorts or their long underwear. I have seen someone wear both at the same time! I bet people wish they all had one outfit, serviceable and stylish for all weather conditions, like a certain little red dog does.

The cat brothers are stupified by the sunlight. (And by everything else but we won't talk about that now.) While I am busy working, pulling squirrel duty from the back step - admittedly a very sunny spot - Adric and Ollie are inside lounging and giving each other a good tongue washing. I'd give them a good tongue lashing for being so lazy, but maybe they feel like they are working.

I could use a bath too but I am not really due until May. So I will give one of my socks a slurp and let the sun do the rest of the work.

Cold nose, warm heart

Today is a tough day for some folks, especially visiting and thin-blooded southern Best Friends, but I am just the guy to warm the day up. My nose may feel cold but I am a hot dog! Lots of running and jumping and snuggling will make Valentine's day warm no matter what the thermometer says.

I also recommend barking for warming things up. Ask my friend Tasha. She's an expert.

She came for a sleep over this week and we had a blast. In two separate rooms of course. We played a great game called "I can't see you and therefore you do not exist!" whenever we had to be in the same room together. Adric the Cat tried to paste her a few good ones making him my favorite cat brother, right after Pico and Ollie that is. (Hmmm, bottom of the list as usual. Sorry Adric.)

I can't wait until Tasha comes back for a longer stay so here's a little shout-out to her and everyone else too: Happy Valentine's Day!

Mug shot

I am recovering from a visit by my human cousins. They are pretty fun but the indignities I endure to amuse them!

I got my own back today though. I led them on a merry chase around the dog park, running lightly through deep damp snow and leaping logs and skittering across icy ground. I can think of two kids who are going to sleep well tonight! They were lying in twisted piles more than they were chasing me. "Let's corner him!" they yelled time and time again. As if!

Still, we had a good visit together. I stared at them meltingly until they handed over pizza. I nosed around under their covers to keep them awake. I made sure they got up extra early and I ate their breakfast leftovers when they weren't looking.

Now it is just me and my Person to clear away the dishes and the blankets and the spills and the books and art supplies. But I got a wee bit tired out entertaining my cousins so maybe I'll just have to sleep through the clean-up!

Back on the job

Okay. I woke up from my delirium of happiness and there is still work to do. So here I am, up a tree, wondering what to do next.

The weather is warming up so I will spend more time outside today. This means I can chase more squirrels and there are more dogs at the dog park that need some harassing. Rumor has it that my only dog friend is coming for a sleep-over soon so I am going to practice all my snarky tricks like stealing treats really fast and always being in front on a walk. Plus I need to sneak a magic marker from my Person and draw a circle around everything that the Barking Furball Tasha is not allowed to touch. Like the contents of the livingroom.

Meanwhile my human cousins are heading my way so I have chores to do to get ready. I better go linger near my leash until my Person gets the drift and off we'll go for the day.

Time to relax

Ah...I feel so relaxed. I am happy about the new President. Most of the world is I hear. So I think I can be off duty for a while. No longer need I be concerned with every stranger walking up the street, every dog that sniffs along the sidewalk, every rabbit that visits the yard. I don't have to be afraid and I don't have to go shopping either. I just have to be a responsible little red dog, be honorable with other dogs and be useful and helpful.

I am still going to chase those squirrels away though. As soon as a I wake up....

Obama Dog

A picture is worth a 1000 words! I am almost as happy as my Person!

I would be even happier without clothing however.

13 below and falling

It is a brisk out today. Fresh. Chilly maybe. The snow is over my keel and the air freezes the inside of my nice, wet nose and when I run through the drifts the hairs of my chinny-chin freeze and soon I am wearing a little ice beard which makes me look wise but cold.

You have to prepare a bit before you go outside in this weather. My Person puts on layer after layer of clothes. I go from deep snooze to ready to play a lot faster than she does and I prepare for the icy blast by running in place by the door, jumping, whining and then wildly hurtling around the room when my Person puts on her outermost layer. If you grabbed her scarf and pulled, she'd spin like a top and that would be fun for you but she'd probably fall down on the ice that is hiding under all that cold snow.

The birds look extra cold today with fluffed out feathers, often hopping on one foot to keep the other foot warm inside their feathery coats. And even though I love the snow it is good to have a warm place to curl up when the fun is over and I have such a spot and I am headed there now.

Softy

I was up to my usual tricks today - haunting the river bottom, pouncing in the snow banks, hunting for snow mice - the usual routine. Another dog showed up, and can you believe it, he only spoke German!! He wanted to play.

Now I am a Social Barker, not a problem, can quit any time, but this dog didn't bark at all and so it turned out we didn't have anything in common and we didn't play after all. In fact, this little guy seemed a little upset by my barking.

He trotted away and I bounded away and that was that. Or so I thought.

Then my Person spoke up. "You are a Ruffian," she said. Or maybe she said "You are a Roughian." I kind of like the idea of being a Ruffian - "Ruff, ruff," that is what I like to say to the world. But a Roughian?

I've decide to take up knitting just in case she meant spelling number two. I think knitting is not rough. It is genteel. It is soft and quiet and produces fun things to chew - like scarves and mittens and socks. It is accompanied by the soft click of needles and the soft sighs of knitters and causes cats to fall asleep (not that they have trouble in that area) and dogs to, well, cease barking.

Well, ruff or rough as the case may be, I am a knitter now.

Hunting instinct

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a little red wolf. He was my ancestor. He had brown eyes and soft ears and a black, wet, cold nose and he liked to hunt.

Leap forward a few generations and several thousand years and you come to me. My ears tip down and I am a bit shorter than my wolfy forebear and I spend more time couch surfing than deer stalking. But I am still a hunter. Here is one of my latest trophies.

I caught tree! It was on the small side itself, and it was already lying down, but it was a battle of titans and I bit it all over its little branches until it surrendered. But being a modern hunter I practice catch and release. So I left the little tree reclining on the frozen shore and it made no move to get up or hide from further attack and you can go see it yourself if you feel like hunting.

New and lightly used

As I suspected, the new year crept in without me hearing and I didn't bark the old one out the door. In fact I was at a private party but I had faded a bit, perhaps was even snoozing lightly, when the great moment came.

And as I also suspected, no resolutions were in order and things have been going pretty well so far: plenty of 2008-model squirrels left to chase, dog parks to play in full of dogs to bark at, treats from store owners. I even was allowed to go inside a pizza parlor with my Person while my Best Friend ordered our dinner to go.

2008 presented me with new challenges and learning opportunities: modeling, trying out for a play, staying overnight with my human grandparents, snowshoeing up north where the wolves live. I had trips and visits and learned to play off-leash without running away from my Person forever. I grew a winter coat and then dropped it over time and over the couch and now I am growing a new one. I had holiday meals with new friends including a lovely woman with Alzheimer's who found my soft ears a comfort to pet. Plus she fed me a huge amount of turkey under the table. I survived an almost endless bout of giardia but I kept my sunny side (that's the red side) up most of the time.

What a life I have. I have a couple of new 2009 toys to chew and my cat brothers are as sleepy and round and easy to catch as ever. And now it is time to add a little taste of pizza to my 2009 experience!!