June 4th 2009 7:34 am
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Some people think that dogs can't see all the colors (I love pink and purple, but whatever). Some people think that dogs can't see 2-dimensional objects (3-D glasses don't really go with my purple collar, so I just watch regular 2-D television, but whatever). Some people even say that dogs live in the moment and don't hold onto things which happened in the past (you can "whisper" that to me all you want, it doesn't change the fact that today is Thursday, but whatever).
We're on vacation at the campground this week. Woohoo, I love vacations...it means that mom doesn't go to that evil place she affectionately refers to as work, and instead focuses all of her attention on me (okay, so maybe Bailey gets a little attention, but whatever). We came up here Tuesday evening after she got home from that work place. The ride up wasn't much fun for me, but then again, it never is. But, once we got up here, I realized how much I would love to live here.
It is sooooo quiet at the campground during the week. There aren't that many people here, so there are way fewer cars and golf carts. This makes for a very happy Sophie Rose.
Tuesday night, I was happy-go-lucky, bouncing all over the place, wagging my tail and barking a happy bark. Yesterday, Wednesday, happy, happy, happy...Then, Thursday happened...
At home, Thursdays are not a good day for me. It is garbage day. These strange men show up, with a very large, loud truck and steal the stuff that has been left on the curb. This does not make me happy. They don't usually show up until about 8 am, but I start my worrying as soon as I get up...every Thursday. We generally get up at about 5:30 am. That gives me a good 2-1/2 hour time period to build up a good head of worry.
Today is Thursday. The same people who say that dogs can't see all of the colors, can't see 2 dimensional objects and don't hold onto the past, would probably say that dogs don't know the days of the week. I'd say that this is total poopy! I KNOW what day it is!
We got up this morning at the crack of 9:30 am. Mom took me and Bailey outside and put us on our tethers (no fences + a leash rule = us on a tether). Bailey decided that it was such a beautiful day, he'd like to sit in the sun. For my part, I did my business and rushed back to the door! It was still pretty quiet at the campground, but it's quiet at home, too, until the garbage trucks show up. I stood at the door, shaking, begging mom to let me in (she was sitting outside with us). Mom let me in, and I ran to the bedroom with my tail tucked between my legs.
Mom couldn't figure it out, at first. Today didn't seem any different from yesterday. In fact, it's a nicer day outside than it was yesterday. Then, it occurred to her that today is Thursday. Could it be that I knew what day it was? Could it be that I held onto the past and was waiting for the 3-D, green and yellow garbage trucks to roll down our street? Nahhhhhh...I'm just a dog, so that would be impossible!
Sophie "Friday's Child" Rose
April 3rd 2009 6:44 pm
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I know, I know, it's been a while since I wrote in my diary, but I'm writing in it now.
Last Saturday, we took a little car trip. As per my usual, I became a quivering, panting mess as soon as mom put me in the backseat. But, unlike my normal reaction to riding in the car, I didn't try to hide on the floor. Instead, I sat in grandma's lap...in the FRONT seat!!! Baby steps. I also spent part of the trip sitting on the backseat (not on the floor), looking out the window. Mom was really proud of me!
Now, for the real reason for this diary entry.
Our little car trip ended with us at the v-e-t's office. After the trauma of riding in the car, I was more than happy to accompany mom into the waiting room. I even let some man pet me! Of course, that's because he was between me and the cat I wanted to sniff, but that's besides the point.
We went in to the treatment room, mom put me on the metal table and the v-e-t began checking me over. She listened to my heart, looked at my ears and lifted up my lip to check my teeth and gums. Mom gave me a little hug, I got a poke. Mom gave me another hug and I got another poke. Nothing to it.
Then, it was Bailey's turn. He kind of freaked out when the v-e-t listened to his heart and wouldn't let her near his face. Then, he tried to take out some poor dog who tried to sniff him while mom was paying the bill. He doesn't have very good manners.
On our way home, I did eventually find my way onto the floor in the backseat, but we were almost home when I hopped down there.
The v-e-t told mom that me and Bailey would probably be a bit loopy the rest of the day from our shots.
I was fine. In fact, mom was wondering if maybe the v-e-t had missed when she was giving me my shots. I was running and playing just as much as I normally do.
Bailey, on the other hand, was milking it for all it was worth. He laid around for two days. Mom had to lift him into the bed, and he cried each time she lifted him. I was like, seriously Bailey, you need to man up! He tries to play all macho, but I know what he's really like...a little, tiny bit of pain and he turns into a puddle of goo. Ugh! Poor baby.
I think I've got the upper paw now. I know what his weakness is. I've just got to get my hands on a lab coat and some needles and Bailey will never mess with me again! BOL!!!
Sophie "The Doctor" Rose
March 9th 2009 6:16 pm
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Grandma and I have a real connection. We stick together. She scratches my tummy, and I let her.
Today was just another fine example of me helping grandma.
Grandma was in a painting mood. She had painted the hallway and decided, since she had the brush and paint in hand, to go ahead and paint the moulding around the front door.
The front door happens to be a hot spot for activity in our house. Me and the boys (Bailey and Bandit) guard the front door to the fullest extent, make no bones about it.
As grandma set her paint pan on the floor, Bailey began barking an alarm at the front window. At that point, I was sitting in the doorway to the living room, watching grandma. Since Bailey had the front window covered, I headed for the front door at Mach speed.
First, I bumped into grandma. She got a little off balance, but was able to stop herself from falling.
Then, I stepped in the pan of paint...the full pan of paint. Then, I stepped in it with another foot and another. I managed to miss stepping in it with my fourth foot, but the sound of the pan scraping on the ceramic tile was enough to send me scurrying for cover.
On my way to safety, I of course managed to not only slosh some paint out of the pan and onto the floor, I also managed to get some on my side and up on my butt.
Remember, if you will, I had stepped in the paint with three of my four paws. It's hard to hide when you leave a trail of wet paint behind you.
Grandma, who was a bit perturbed, to say the least, put me in the wash tub and cleaned off my feet as best as she could, before turning her attention to the floor. The floor in the foyer, the floor in the living room, down the hallway, behind the chair and into the laundry room. I covered a lot of territory before she trapped me.
When mom came home, she thought I had some weird disease because of the white substance on my belly. But, grandma squealed and mom decided I needed a full-bodied bath. Life is so unfair!
This is where it gets a little weird. I am about 90% white. I stepped in white paint. Mom, in her infinite wisdom, chose to bathe me in whitening shampoo (used to keep me and Bailey glowing like the angels we are). What was the point?
Grandma muttered something about me and how if she wants my help she will ask for it.
Sophie "Caught White Pawed" Rose