Moo

It was a dark and stormy night. Ryan and Bailey have left Beth and I to fend for ourselves in the high lonely mountains of Montana. Beth got a craving for the ice cream and was determined to have some even though it was late and freezing out. So she put on her fuzzy slippers threw her coat on over her pjs and out we went. I myself love the ice cream but had I known the danger we were to encounter on this fateful night I would have tried to convince my Beth that bed was a better option.
We were taking the back road between our house and the quick mart when we turned the corner to find about 20 gleaming eyes staring at us from the middle of the road. Beth hit the brakes but the road was slick and we slid into a field. The eyes didn’t move, in fact I don’t think that they even blinked. Beth took one look at me, asked if I was ok and said Omar we better get out and see what is going on. Being the brave and heroic dog I am, I tried to get Beth to stay in the safety of the vehicle. Being the silly over curious human she is, she did not.
When we stepped out of the car I knew at once the treachery. A heard of solid black gigantic mooing beast stood between Beth and her ice cream. They didn’t stand a chance. Beth and I have been through this before with a small more wooly form of creatures. But that was in the day time and it wasn’t freezing out. Beth was also not in slippers and PJs, so I thought for sure that we would just turn around. She was determined and Beth and I were not on the same page. When I heard her whistle for me I knew it was time to work. Slowly but surely Beth and I worked until we got the whole heard to the side of the road. Beth had her flashers on so that passing cars would know to slow. She made a call, and we wait for a man in a uniform to show up. This was one dangerous heard. I mean who likes to play chicken with a whole heard of mooers on an icy road.
When the man in blue showed up, he and Beth had a quick conversation. I liked him, he got me a biscuit out of his car to repay me for my hard and dangerous night of work. After that, it was on to the ice cream. We had a bowl when we got home and then went to bed. What an exhausting night.
“All is not butter that comes from the cow.” - Chinese Proverb

Sunshine and Rain

In a dogs world sunshine or rain makes no difference. If you throw ball into a torrential down pour we will go and get it. If it is 110 degrees outside, we will still lay on the concrete to catch some rays. This is in dog world of course where life is a little more, simple. Things in Omarland are a bit different.

Let me explain. I, Omar the Dapper, refuse to go out when there is a slight mist. I do not see the need to get my beautiful coat dirty and smelly by indulging my needs in times of wet weather. This means that if I need to go while it is raining, I will go from the safety of the porch. Since I learned many years ago that it does not please my Beth in the slightest to clean Wee and Doo off her covered porch, I will do all I can to keep as much of me covered as possible; while leaning over the porch to relieve myself. When it is raining sideways and there is no were safe to go, I just don’t. This also drives my Beth crazy. She is constantly telling me that I will end up at the vet if I don’t just do my business, but this does not pervert my ways.

Mud and I are not friends in the slightest. My sister Bailey (the Lab) loves mud. She gets no greater pleasure in life than splashing and playing in the mud. However, my huge webbed feet tend to collected things, in between my toes. Therefore, I do all I can to move swiftly and strategically through such things. And the time Beth spends cleaning in between every toe is no joy either.

Of all the nature available to me in this world, it is grass I love. So soft between my toes, there is nothing like it. I love to roll in it. Rub my face on it. And most of all, I love to stretch out and a cool autumn day and soak in the sun on the soft refreshing grass. There should be a poem about grass. Humans have poems about everything else.

“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” - Walt Whitman

"Sewing"

“Caution: Enter this Sewing Room at your own Risk” – Quiltbug.com

I can’t help it; there is just something about the batting in Beth’s quilts that is irresistible to me. Grandma use to tell me “sewing” and wave her hand over her quilts. That always told me to keep my paws off. Beth however has either forgotten this technique or thinks that I should be able to control myself. If the first is true, shame on her. If the later is true, shame on her!
Anyways, our friends are having a baby, and Beth has been working very hard to get this little blanket hand quilted for when the tike arrives. As she is very focused when she is sewing and both her hands are busy I thought I would just curl up at the foot of the chair. In the process I strategically placed myself on the edge of the blanket, just for a little extra cushion. Before I knew it I was nuzzling my nose in the soft batting. I love batting. Most of my toys are tore apart just so I can play with the stuffing.
Now I love my Beth, and I would never do anything to hurt her feelings on purpose. I just couldn’t help myself. While she was quilting away I tore off a small piece for myself to play with. She didn’t notice. When that piece was wet with drool it wasn’t any fun any more so I took just one more piece. She still didn’t notice. After what I think may have been about an hour she got up to get a drink. When she came back she caught me red pawed! Not only did I have a look of guilt plastered all over my face, I had a piece of batting stuck to my nose.
Disappointment has to be the worst thing a human can be in their dog. Not only can you see it on their face but you can feel it. It is like a hot wind blowing into your already dry eyes. And it takes quite awhile to make that feeling go away. In the end all she said was, “All that time, what a waste, how am I ever going to fix this.” Over all I would have to say I probably stole two whole mouths full of the lovely cottony goodness.
What could I do though, I mean, really, she should have said “sewing” and waved her hand over the quilt. Or told me to “Leave it” I always listen when I am told, but what is a dog to do without a reminder.

Homeward Bound

“Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to”- John Ed Pearce

It is true; I did want to go on a bold new adventure with Beth. When she told me we were moving to big sky country I was so excited. Being from a shelter I didn’t think you could get sky any bigger than the open fields in the Snake River valley. Boy was I wrong. Montana is filled with wide open spaces and the biggest sky a dog could ever even dream of. At night it gets even bigger too, if you can believe that. There are so many stars in the sky it is amazing.
However, I am becoming an old man (as Beth likes to say). I am really starting to miss the days spent by the lazy river, and the wonderful people at Auction West. I mean think of all the extra hotdogs that have probably went to waste because I was not there to save them from the garbage can. And who has been on security duty? When I say security I mean making sure that the patrons a securely entertained by petting me!
Well, all of this is about to change. Beth told me just the other day that we are moving home. She also informed me of some boring human things about a job transfer but by then I had stopped listening and started daydreaming about geo-caching with grandma and grandpa; and my Ebony, the most beautiful black lab on the face of this planet. It was love at first site when I saw my Ebby for the first time, and how I have missed her.
Beth said things are going to be very busy for awhile and the Ryan and Bailey (little sister) will be moving back first. It is mine and Beth’s job to stay behind and sell the house. This sounds like a big job and I am glad we will be a team on it. I guess we will just have to see how things go. I will keep you updated.

Dogs Work

It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright – The Beatles


I find it to be quite amusing that these fine humans compared hard work to that which a dog does. It is nice to see that some humans know exactly how hard a dog really does work all day. Unlike my humans Ryan and Beth who constantly remind us how they wish they could lazy around the house all day.
I would just like to make this post in Ode to all those dogs out there that truly work hard.
So Cheers,
Cheers, to the dog who puts his own life in peril to find the lost skier under the snow
Cheers, to the dog who faithfully leads his blind human through the busy streets of New York
Cheers, to the dog who help our brave soldiers reallocate themselves after a life of service
Cheers, to the dogs that become the hands, for their humans bound to a chair with wheels
Cheers, to the dogs who are the right hand to crime fighting humans
Cheers, to the dogs who are the sunshine in the eyes of children in hospitals
Cheers, to the dogs willing to pack a backpack to festivals so their humans don’t have to
And last but not at all least, Cheers, to the dogs who get left home all day, bored out of their minds and still greet their humans with kisses when they get home, without an ounce of animosity for being left in the first place.

Old Men

“The spiritual eyesight improves as the physical eyesight declines.” - Plato

This Plato must be one of the wisest humans to have walked the earth. I have noticed lately that my sight has gone a bit foggy. My Beth says that this is called cataracts. As my view of the world has dimmed what I get out of it seems to have become brighter than ever. I seem to take more time to smell things like the new flowers that were planted in the garden. I have started to listen more. I find my ears and nose are still working just fine but I feel as though this may not be a forever thing either. I have gotten better at the game of find. Though my sister was breed for such things I have grown more patient and find things more easily than she does. I put my nose straight in the air and take a sniff. I catch the sent on the wind and go straight to the lost object.
I have also found that my coat has begun to change as well. At first Beth started calling me gray beard. My muzzle was once a nice shade of brown and now it is almost pure white. But it wasn’t until a few nights ago that Beth made a startling discovery. My eyebrows! They are going white too. My eyebrows have always caught human attention as they are so expressive and contrast so much with my black face. But the thing that made me the most disheartened of all was when Beth noticed and then said “I guess I am going to have to start calling you “Old Man River” and then proceeded to call her mom and giggle about it over the phone.
I may be going gray but I am sure no “Old Man River”. I am still young at heart. And as we can probably apply Plato’s theory to spiritual youth as well, I am as young as ever!

Photo from the Jim Warren official website: http://www.jimwarren.com/site/index.php?option=com_gallery2&Itemid=57&g2_itemId=467

Prison

"We seek peace, knowing that peace is the climate of freedom."
- Dwight D. Eisenhower

Life for me started out behind bars. Well maybe not at the very beginning. In the very beginning my brother, sister and I found ourselves alone in a box by the water. It was a very scary time for me and I do not like to dwell on it. After what seemed to me, to be a life time of cold, damp nights, with a growling belly, a woman came along. She was jogging with the biggest dog I had ever seen. When she found us she removed her coat, bundle us in it and took us to her car. The woman kept telling us it was going to be ok, and that we would all have warm places to call home before we knew it.
This is where the bars come in. I don’t know if that woman knew what she was talking about but I am inclined to this day to think that she did not. After the long ride, we ended up in a building that smelled overwhelmingly of dog and chemicals. We were bathed, toweled, feed and put in to a small concrete cubby with a barred door. It just seemed to be getting worse. Though it was nice to have a full belly and be warm, I longed for the smell of fresh air. Being part hound dog, my nose burned with the smell of chemicals.
The people came in with the rising sun that next morning. An old man with a grizzled face was the first to greet us that morning. He gave us our morning meal and a fresh blanket. As he was about his work that morning he would stop buy with a cookie for each of us and tell us we would not be here long, saying things like no one will be able to resist those cute faces. I was hoping he was right but at this point I wasn’t to inclined to believe that humans really knew what they were talking about..
That very afternoon a young human came up to our cage and yelled. At the sight of us, she was yelling to her father saying “daddy I want this one!” I wasn’t sure what was going on but before I knew, this little human was stealing my sister away from me. I growled at them, but this did nothing to deture them and they took her anyways.
It wasn’t but a few weeks later that my brother was taken. I was alone. In a concrete box that reeked of chemicals. I am not sure why I was even here. I had done nothing to earn this cell. In the months I was there I learned as much as I could about the wide world from the other dogs trapped in here. I learned that the people that came and went were not to be feared because they were the ones looking to take a dog home. I also learned that I would be starting a class soon as well. The teacher I was a signed to was a young woman.
By this time I had been in my cell for a few months. All of the people who came and went admired me as cute but never chose me as the one for them. My teacher came to me a few times a week. She would say to me “Omar, (which is the name I was giving by my jailers after just a few weeks) you are cute but you need to learn manors if you are going to find a good home to call your own.” So manors I was taught. I was so eager to sit and stay, and lay down and give high fives. She always told me that I was her best student. After class we would sit together for a few and she would tell me about her day, and the noise beagle her parents had.
When we were done with our session she would take me back to my cell, I would do everything I could to resist, but humans being a smart race had laid floors that I could not sink my nails into and so this was a futile effort. She would turn to me and say as she closed the door, “I am working on it Omar”. I had no clue what it was that she was working on so this meant nothing to me, until the day that I found out.
When I was six months old and had done 4 months of hard time, she gave to me the greatest gift of all or at least the best thing I had ever gotten at the time. She showed up earlier than normal to give me the good news. I was going to have a pen outside during the day. She told me she had found me a great dog house at an auction and that though the ground was gravel she thought I would like it better out here. She was right.
All day I could smell the fresh air, hear the birds sing and soak up the sun. We continued our lessons and I soon learned to tell stories and to whisper. I learned to touch things with my nose on command, but the real crowd pleaser was “dead dog”. The girl would point her figures like a gun and say bang. Down I would go, I was a great actor, and sometimes I would whimper for extra effect. Still I longed to go home. I hadn’t felt grass on my toes since I was a pup. All I had was my gravel kennel outside, and the solid slick floors of the building inside.
This is the account of what I remember about prison. This is why I hope that the people who read this will think about adoption. Why not rescue your next best friend from the biggest horror in their lives. I promise they will appreciate it, and show you by loving you with ever ounce of their being. I know I do.