Stalemate: Dogs do Not Understand “Flu”

I tried throwing his toys.  I gave him lots of affection.  He’s inexhaustible.  I couldn’t walk him very far yesterday. He’s the only dog I know that can untie a double knot on a tennis shoe.

Once he gets something in his mind:

His feeling was: get the feet to move, the rest will follow. I will get my walk.

I love that he’s figured my feet come with their own leashes: he just has to unroll them.

Photo Proof that a Labrador Will Try to Swim in One Inch of Water

The day I went to take pictures of our foal in the oven, Molly was also there, with her labs.  Labrador’s really love water.  Montana watched me walk out on the grass, above which Barbie’s pregnant belly was hovering, and then start jumping around: it was boggy. I stepped on a solid clump of grass and my tennis shoe went completely underwater. I was leaping, splashing and swearing.  This was Montana’s response:

Water?!?  I’m going IN.

She lays down and wiggles her body as deeply into the water as possible.  Her nose is floating.

Then she dives…totally ready to dog paddle.

If you look closely, you can see she’s making waves, that’s water surging over her leg. She’s swimming.  Never mind it’s only an inch of water!

Like all good water dogs, shaking it off!

She had Daisy, Molly and I rolling with laughter. It was not a warm day.

To watch her joyfully splash and play in the grass puddles as if she was in a lake was hilarious. Even better, she’s not a young dog.

Is this the doggie version of Dance Like No One Is Watching?

In Which We Terrorize the Populace with an Invisible Dog

Christmas disappears at night.  It’s as if the leash simply vanishes into nothingness.  I literally can’t see him at the end of the leash.  Maybe I should contact the city about better street lights.

This wasn’t a problem until recently, when a kid popped out of the bushes unexpectedly. Startled, Christmas growled, and air snapped a million times around the kid’s legs, very fast. The boy was about 15, and couldn’t SEE the dog.  He was blindly jumping, knowing something was after him, (or possibly I was shooting a gun at his feet).

He looked scared, and said accusingly, “What the !@#$ is it?  Why are you pointing it at me?!?  Stop!”

“Sit!”, I yell, sternly.

Continue reading “In Which We Terrorize the Populace with an Invisible Dog”

Canine Interuptus

SkunkAThon break.

Oh, there’s more.  But my dog informs me I’m spending far too much time clicking the white thing, and far too little time skunk hunting.  Which, by the way, is a Real Job.  With purpose. Unlike clicking on the white thing.  And scaring people with unedited tales that are FAR too long.

Meet our guest blogger for the day: TCP

Closer….closer…that’s it…

…look deeply into my eyes.  You feel no need to read TLH on a regular basis.  In fact, you feel an urgent need to go home and walk your dog.  Or ride your horse.  Or ride someone else’s horse.  Or chase a cat.

(Oh. Whoops.  My bad.)

I will offer inspirational movies.  They will remind you humans what real work and proper animal care look like.  As soon as the movies are over, you will feel calm, serene, and energized.

Only walking your dog will release this energy…you feel compelled to walk your dog…the clogged-up, stinky creek is perfect.  Remove the leash….that’s it….remove the leash…

Hell Hath no Fury Like a Lapdog Scorned

I woke up to white fluffy stuff all over the ground, in gentle mounds and drifts.  Sleepily, my first thought was:  Snow? My second thought was: Uh-oh.  It’s inside the house.

It’s all coming back to me.  Christmas had a bad day yesterday.  I’m going to be welded to the vacuum.  That’s enough right there to make me want to pull the covers back over my head.

Lapdogs are supposed to be cute, easily entertained, fluffy little fur balls, who consider a walk around the block roughly the equivalent of running the Iditarod. Dogs who like sofas and disdain cats.

Daisy laughed her head off when she saw the dog purse I bought.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I bought the purse before I knew who he was.

Christmas, when we adopted him, had all the outward signs of a lapdog.  Long, fluffy black hair, short stature, and he could cock his little face into adorableness like nobody’s business.  Lhasa Apso x poodle, the shelter said.

Right.  Someone has never seen a terrier mix in their life. He’s inexhaustable.   There’s also, unbelievably, bird dog in the mix.  Nine inches tall, and he points.

We live in a semi-gated community, which, among other amenities has a lake populated with big mouth bass, water-lilies, turtles, and two urban savvy ducks who refuse to migrate.  Christmas desperately points them out three times a day.  Nose straight out, body rigid, foot up, tail straight back and still.

Mom.  Ducks.  Shhhhh.  You can shoot them now.

Continue reading “Hell Hath no Fury Like a Lapdog Scorned”