Likes: Venturing outside, his mom, things that roll and bounce, having his back scratched, a cozy place by the heater, power naps, black lab mixes.
Pet-Peeves: Being left alone, being talked to in full sentences he can't understand, elitism, humans who claim special rights, political correctness, fleas, sometimes grooming, sometimes young male GSDs or Huskies. Sunny on his balcony.
Favorite Toy: Balls including otherdogs' already in motion. He also likes his newest the warthog. In third place would be mom's paw inside a puppet or chewy fleece gloves. Yum.
Favorite Food: All cooked meat, most raw meat. If he can't have human food he'll have Canidae Grain Free or Red Barn roll.
Favorite Walk: The outside kind.
Best Tricks: Getting taken nearly everywhere, and looking neglected. Good at stealing your seat if you leave the room.
Bio: Born March 8, 2004 - a Pisces which explains his glamour, and the cute tho naive belief when he was a puppy that there was nothing stopping him from being a water dog like the labs who swam ahead of him at the dog park. At six years old I can conclude he's the best, most trouble-free companion ever. ________________________________
'In our relationships with dogs and other animals, the barrier to complete honesty lies only in us.' - Suzanne Clothier
So mom heard from her mom who heard from some other ditz that turkey is...drumstick roll...Bad For Dogs. We did a search and there's no credible evidence of this. If one dog died after a turkey dinner who happened to have a loud human companion (or, uh, ball and chain?) this doesn't mean turkey is bad for all of us.
If anyone has credible proof feel free to pass on a link...
Good news - mom will get to have me on Christmas day and NY day even if she's coming back from work that day - usually she can't because a howliday for a human equals punishment day for a dog in a kennel-type situ. But the Jordan will be in a home-type situ for those days so nothing stops us reuniting at o'dark hundred in the ice, sleet, snow, whatevers. I guess with age I'm increasing my personal power brokerage .. is it called magnetism??
I bolted from the sliding glass door a couple nights ago like I used to. The head of the leash is inside, I am outside, yet with a dynamic lightning bolt of immense terrierism (that's what it is!) me and the entire leash are far and across the lawn, into the molting trees, rummaging around snorting (well, just me, not the leash) and then into the next condo complex ..
That takes 30 secs. Mom is surprisingly adept at reaching there 10 secs after.
Like we've barked about before in this diary, this is the consequence of healthiness. Mom is a sucker because she's not going to take away my healthiness. In fact she's looking for a supply of fresh organ meats to make fresh(er) food for me in the coming days, she's going to have time off and we're going to be, ahem, "energized". Maybe you'll see us around.
Something new: mom goes to sleep early wakes up early (waay early - 3am early?) and we've been going to the park when it's frozen and barely light out. I would've left earlier this morn except mom ignored the nudging of the bells for an hour at least.
Her intent was to go 10 laps around the irregular track of the park.
That didn't last and we were suddenly in the forest, across from the park, past the horses (in this case no horses to be seen but a lit up bull statue) and then on a trail we're usually on when there's no one around.
This time male "joggers" alarmed me. In particular one came between mom & me and had the nerve to look, in silhouette, like mom - same colors, same stomp stomp stomp. If it wasn't mom I was scared and running, if it was her I was going to play run-dash, but it took time to determine who it was (give me a break, it was cold and I was nearly frostbitten in the noggin). It also took mom's calling and bellowing from behind the shadowy figure that chased me like what's-his-face with the pumpkin head (Scrooge?) to know I was running away in the wrong direction. It was the right direction because I was cold and that was the way home but the wrong direction because I'm supposed to bring mom home too - and she was insistent on walking.
Anyhow the conclusion was that men are clueless - he could've stopped and let me get my bearings and see who he was so I could gingerly pass him, or he could've endeavored kindly, as mom's seen some good Samaritans aka women do, to get me to go to the Urgent Voice. I ran so far that I was even out of her line of vision.
Maybe he was truly a bear and I had reason to be frightened of him. Think about it; "clothes" can hide much.