Here they come again

Apparently the Mackenzie Finishing School for Klingons has opened its doors once again for the season.

Three more fleas.

These guys are okay. They don’t bother me me much. However, there are times… witness the invasion of my crate!

Hmph.

That’s really a bit thick. So is this.

Watch the personal space dude.

No. 1 likes this one, though. She’s a good sewing buddy.

I help you sew that.

Those black ones went back, and then we got these.

New Klingons on the block.

They’re pretty good too, as the species goes. I give them my lessons, but this one flunked the back-of-sofa protocol.

The Klingon-eating sofa.

I'm sinking!

They lie around in the strangest poses. Sometime you wonder if the baby Klingon wars actually did them in.

I didn't do it.

All in all, we get along fine.

Okay, you can have my bed today.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: December 1st, 2011

Presents from the humans

We took a stroll to the garden, and No. 1 said that she had never seen me move that slow. It really wasn’t me… I think somebody moved that park about twice as far away as it used to be. No. 2 made the magic rain on his garden, and then it was time to go back. My feeties just did not want to move.

“Motor won’t go!” pronounced No. 1, and she picked me right up. She gave me a ride all the way home. Isn’t she nice?

The next time we were ready to go to the park, all of a sudden a strange contraption appeared. No. 1 stuck me in it and away we went.

It may look like I'm riding, but in my heart I'm still running.

How do you like my new ride? It makes me feel like a VID (Very Important Dog), because no other dog in the park has one.

The first time I rode in the perambulator I tried jumping out and stubbed my toe. After that I have been very happy just to stay in it and let the humans help me in and out. It’s pretty good. This way I still get out of the house and smell the fresh air and see the sights, but that darn park doesn’t seem so far away any more. Once we get there, I get out and mooch around a little.

I forgot to mention it earlier, but another present the humans got for me quite a long time ago was this little doggie staircase.

Red alert, not for Klingons!

The steps were to make it easier for me to get up into my chair, where I am allowed to lie down while the humans eat dinner.

The only problem with the steps is that, as you can see, our guest baby Klingons like them too. However, at meal time the rules are absolutely clear: the dog gets a clear path, and all Klingons have to get out of the way.

After I’ve gotten up on the chair, the Klingons often come back and lie on the steps below me, which is exactly the way it should be. Dogs above, Klingons below.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: November 28th, 2011

Something to Be Thankful For

Boy, the grub sure has improved around here!

For the longest time, all the humans ever gave me was crunchy dog kibble. Well, that plus a few scraps of human food at dinner time.

But then my teethies started getting old and sensitive, and I didn’t like to crunch it up. Then they didn’t give me hard kibble any more, and I started getting moist food from a can. Then, as I got pickier, they started giving me even moister, tastier food from a plastic tray.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, all that strange stuff happened that I wrote about in my last story. After I got back from That Place for the third time, suddenly they started feeding me all kinds of good stuff. All human food, all the time!

Think about it! It’s like after 16 years, I finally graduated to the grownups!

Here’s what I get sometimes:

Yummy!

Some of you might remember I had a bad experience with this when I was a puppy, but when given in small-dog amounts it’s goooood.

Here’s what I get other times:

Yummier!

Can you believe it? They save the very best part of the chickum just for me.

There’s just one thing that is a little bit strange. When No. 2 gives me the chickum liver, first he takes a little white crunchy thing and then he kind of mooshes the liver around it. Most of the time I don’t even notice the little white crunchy thing, because I gulp that ball of mooshed-up liver down so fast. But sometimes I detect it and I spit it out. That makes No. 2 all upset. “Willie! You have to eat it!” he says.

Eventually when he’s satisfied that I’ve swallowed the little white crunchy thing, then I get a few bites of pure unadulterated liver, and that is much much better. Never mess with a classic, I always say.

So tell me, what are you thankful for today?

Turkey coma.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: November 24th, 2011

Flowers and gardens

Paws up and many thanks to all my interweb friends for your nice words about losing a member of the pack. Me and the humans appreciate it. Biscuits for you.

Today I’d like to talk about one human quirk that I’ve never quite understood: They like plants. Especially flowers.

Our front door.

Let me just say for the record that I’ve got nothing against flowers. But I can’t eat them, and their scent is not the kind of perfume that a dog appreciates, so for me they’re just a part of the background.

I’s a different story for the humans. They think flowers are cute. That means they have to take pictures of them. Sometimes they even want to have a dog in the picture.

Fine. I'll pose by your hibiscusus.

No. 2 wasn’t satisfied with just growing flowers by our front door. A few years ago, he got a little garden plot in a nearby park, and he started growing them there, too.

No. 2's garden

I like these flowers. Know why? Because we have to take a walk to get to them!

Going for a walk to the park with my two humans is one of my favorite things. We take our time on the way to the garden, stopping to sniff all the pee-mail along the way. When we get to the garden, No. 2 picks some flowers and vegetables. Then he uses a magic rain shower device to make it rain. I do not care for this part, because sometimes the rain gets too close to me. In fact, sometimes I even wonder if he makes it rain on me on purpose.

But then comes the best part: the walk home! To a dog, there’s no place like home. Somehow this part of the walk never lasts as long as the walk to the garden. Maybe it’s because I’m out in front with my special going-home gait. Hurry up, you guys! What’s taking so long?

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: October 2nd, 2011

There’s no place like home

I want to show you another of my happy places. I know that it will surprise some of you.

Welcome to my crib!

Like every dog, I like my pack to be together. If I had my druthers, we’d stay home as much as possible and when we went out, we’d always go out together.

But humans are funny. They’re restless. They have Things to Do. And so sometimes they have to leave me at home alone (well, with the Klingons for company, but you know what I mean).

The smartest thing they ever did was give me this little den to stay in while they were gone. It’s hard to explain what it means to me. It’s my personal private nook, with my favorite blankets. And it’s their personal promise that they will come back for me. I know that all I have to do is curl up and go to sleep.

We have it all down to a routine. (You know how dogs love routines.) When I see them putting their shoes and jackets on, I’ll get up and start watching them closely. I’m always hoping that they’ll get the leash and stand by the door. That means I’m going for a car ride! But sometimes, instead, they go over to my den with a treat. I know what I’m supposed to do. I run over to my den, jump in, they give me the treat, and they close the door. Then they’re on their way to wherever.

Silly humans. Don’t they know there’s no place like home?

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: September 20th, 2011

A dog of many talents

I’m so happy being in a family of writers, because it means my humans are home most of the time. Also, they need my help now and then. Here is No. 2, writing his first book. I’m the proofreader, of course.

That should be a semicolon.

I guess I did a pretty good job. His book finally came out and some booklist place said it was one of the best books of the year! You’re welcome.

I have other talents, too. Most of them have to do with technology. No. 1 used to have a gadget called a veecee-r, and she would sit on the sofa and turn it on. I was always glad to see this, because it meant I would get a lap.

The veecee-r did three different things. One sound meant I could go to sleep. That seemed to be the part No. 1 was interested in. There would be people talking inside the teevee box, yada-yada-yada, and it would go on for a long time. Perfect for a nap. Another, more whirring sound, meant the teevee box would start going real fast and the sound would stop, but nap time wasn’t over.

Then we would get to the third sound, a kind of a grindy sound, and that was my cue! I would jump up out of her lap, because I knew she would be getting up soon. I think it is really great that the veecee-r makers put an end-of-laptime signal on their machine.

Same thing with the computer. No. 2 had a computer called a peecee that played a little melody when he turned it off. Even if I was fast asleep, when I heard that melody I would wake up and jump off his lap.

This one doesn't have the end-of-laptime melody.

But lately my skills seem to be obsolete. My humans “upgraded” from a veecee-r to a deevee-r, and it’s just not as good. It doesn’t come with an end-of-laptime signal. Same with the computer. No. 2 got rid of his peecee and got an apple (funny name for a machine), which just turns off and doesn’t sing about it. I guess it’s all just as well… seems like I don’t hear all those signals that I used to anyway. Now the humans have to wake me up when laptime is over. They don’t seem to mind.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 25th, 2011

Helping with the newspaper

These days I’m more of a lap dog in the wintertime… you know, when the weather is chillier. Laps are warm so they’re very good at that time of year.

One thing I like to do in the cooler weather is to help No. 2 read the newspaper every morning.

Anything exciting?

Slow news day.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: July 20th, 2011

Bark! The Herald Angels Sing

Remember back when I was young pup, and a tree came into the house? Well, I’m glad to tell you that it happened again! And again. And again …

Now, instead of being a surprise, it’s a tradition. And we dogs are very big on tradition!

Every year, around the time that the nights start getting a lot longer than the days, the same things happen. First a tree comes into the living room. The humans hang all sorts of stuff on it.

Here are three of the humans’ favorite hang-up things.

See how they look just like our Klingons?

But naturally this is the very best one.

It's a good ornament.

Then the stockings go up. We don’t have a fireplace any more in this warm place, but the chest of drawers works pretty well.

One for No. 1, one for me, and one for No 2.

The Klingons get into the holiday spirit, too, in a grinchy sort of way. They have some very strange ideas about how to celebrate. For example, they like to pull the decorations off the lower branches of the tree. And they like to drink the water from the bowl the tree sits in. “Mmmm! Yum! I’ve looked forward all year to tree-sap flavored water!”

Here are the calicoes doing their version of making merry.

Ho. Ho. Ho. Whatever.

Gradually, over the course of two or three weeks, presents start to pile up under the tree, but the stockings always stay empty. And then, one night while we are all asleep, something magical occurs! We get up in the morning, and the stockings are full of presents! It’s the big day!

The first order of business (before breakfast, and before the humans even get dressed) is to open the stockings. Here I demonstrate the proper technique:

I'm helping.

My stocking is the best, with lots of things that dogs appreciate, but No. 2’s is usually pretty good, too. It has a lot of sweet things in it. No. 1’s usually doesn’t have anything to eat, except shortbread cookies in honor of her Scottish grandma. It does usually have pieces of fabric for her to make the blankies with. She appreciates that.

Then we have breakfast. and then, it’s time for the presents under the tree!

When we were all much younger, the Klingons used to open their presents, nice smelly Klingon-nip toys, and then proceed to flop on their sides and act goofy for awhile. Now, though, they don’t even act like they’re interested, and I usually have to open their presents for them. I tear into the paper with my teethies and rip with my paws until I have gotten the thing uncovered. Klingon-nip is okay, but it’s no substitute for a nice yummy dog treat. That’s what’s in MY present!

After we unwrap the presents, No. 1 starts making a glorious Christmas feast! And when we sit down at the table, that’s the best part of the day, because as we all know, Christmas is all about eating.

I'll have a drumstick. And a wing. And a big hunka white meat...

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: July 11th, 2011

She’s home!

Back in that other place where we used to live, it was No. 1 who stayed home and No. 2 who went away in the day. When we moved here, it switched around; No. 2 started staying home and No. 1 went away in the day.

Guess what? She quit doing that! Now she stays home and No. 2 stays home, we all stay home and I have a human and a spare ‘most all the time! I highly approve of that.

It’s a good thing, too. You know, I used to hear her car coming and I would bark her home. She must have gone and got herself a quieter car, because it’s been awhile since I heard her coming. Sometimes I don’t even knows she’s in the house until I see her. In fact, just about everything comes quieter these days.

This is where I hang out while No. 1 is working in her studio all day. She gave me this comfy brown fabric and I made a nest for myself here.

Just two feet behind No. 1's chair.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: June 20th, 2011

My favorite time of day

There are lots of great times of the day, but my very favorite comes in the evening when the humans start puttering around in the kitchen. When I hear the squinch-squinch sound of the can opener, then I know… It’s Klingon feeding time!

Here’s the thing about Klingons. They’re carnivores, which means they’re supposed to have nice meaty diets. The humans give me dog kibble, which is fun to crunch in your mouth, but it isn’t as juicy and stinky and delicious as food from a can. That’s the kind of food the Klingons get to eat. Well, two of the three Klingons anyway. The third one doesn’t care for moist food and only eats dry kibble, which only goes to show what small brains Klingons have.

Now you might think it’s a little bit unfair that the two sensible Klingons get yummy canned food and I don’t. But I’ll tell you a little secret. I get some of the Klingons’ food, too. Sometimes #2 sneaks me a bite, and sometimes I take matters into my own hands … er, mouth, and dart in for a bite when the Klingons are finished.

Of course, such an exciting event as canned food time demands a song. When dogs get excited, they sing. Don’t you?

Here I am, singing the canned food song.

In case you want to sing along, #2 made up some human words to the song. Of course the dog words are better, but the human words are good too. They go:

Canned food! Canned food!
Give me your canned food, do!
I like canned food
So much I’ll bark at you!

The melody is “Bicycle Built For Two.”

One of the Klingons also sings along sometimes, but she meows instead of barking and that just isn’t right at all.

Edited: April 30th, 2011

The making of the bed

One of the most fun things EVER is the making of the bed.

First, No. 2 takes all the blankies, the sheets, and everything off the bed. This is very exciting. All of a sudden there is a great wide expanse of empty bed for me to run around on, spin, jump, bark, rumpage, and FRAP!

Sometimes No. 2 joins in the fun.

Really?

Then he gets a new sheet and stands at the end of the bed. “You ready?”" he asks me.

I was BORN Ready!

He flaps the new sheet high in the air! It is so exciting!

I spin like a whirling top!

I surf the sheet, catching the leading edge and conquering it.

The sheet comes down.

You try to cover me but I am too swift.

No. 2 never gets it right the first time, and is forced to repeat the maneuver.

He is chagrined.

Do it again!

I am ready for Phase 2!

Then come the rest of the blankies and the pillows, etc. And the fun is over, until the next time!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: April 20th, 2011

The coming-home kiss

It used to be, when we lived in that other place before, that No. 1 stayed home and No. 2 tromped off in the day and came home just in time for dinner.

Now that we live here in this warm place, it’s No. 2 who stays home and No 1 gets dressed and goes away in her car in the day.

I stay home with No. 2 and keep him company while he taps-taps-taps on his computer all day. At about a certain time in the afternoon, I get a feeling, and I say to myself, ‘Self, I think it’s about time for No. 1 to come home.’ So I take up my station at the top of the stairs.

This is a good vantage point, because from there I can keep an eye on No. 2 and I can also see the front door and listen for the car.

Pretty soon I hear the car drive up and I hear the door shut, and I set up the barking! “She’s home! She’s home!” I bark at the top of my lungs. The door opens and there she is! I run down the stairs, barking her home.

Then I run to jump up on the back of the sofa.

Incoming!

She leans down and I give her a kiss!

Smooch!

And she gives me a liver treat. That’s the way it works.

If she’s talking too much when she comes in, or forgets, then I tag her heels giving her the big bright eyes until she remembers. It’s wonderful when No. 1 comes home, but it’s just not right if I don’t get liver.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: January 24th, 2011

It’s getting cooler

The weather isn’t quite as warm now, and it looks like this in the back yard.

Just like dogs, our trees are shedding. They’re turning all their leaves brown and dropping them on the ground. The leaves are crackly and crunchy when you step on them.

For some reason, the humans are not content to let the crunchy leaves stay on the ground. No. 2 rakes them up into big piles. Then the Klingons come along and jump into the piles and scatter them around again. This is fun to watch, except that the colors of the Klingons and the colors of the leaves are about the same, so you have to keep a wary eye out in case of sneak attack.

When they’ve had their fun, they lay around and don’t even help make the piles again.

No. 2 goes away sometimes. I don’t like this. The first clue is when the suitcase comes out.

All of us help him pack. The way we do it is, No. 2 puts the suitcase on the bed. The Klingons get into the suitcase. No. 1 calls out “Socks, underwear, shirts, pants!” No. 2 yells “Check!” I watch with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s good to have a human and a spare.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: September 8th, 2009

Our walks after dinner

When it’s warm outside, we go for a walk after dinner. The whole pack goes… me, the humans, and all three of the Klingons. The way we do it is, one of the humans says “Walk!” and we all get ready.

Did you say walk? Now? It's time?

I get my leash on and we all gather in the side yard. Then we go up the road a little ways and turn left. The Klingons are slow, so we have to wait until they all catch up. Then we go down a hill. We stop and look out across a field to an old house where nobody has lived for a long time.

No. 1 says this is her favorite view of all.

Then the funnest part. We go into the woods! There’s a little path there and we all walk through. I stay on the path but the Klingons take the high roads.

At the end of the path we come out behind a house where there’s never anybody there, and my bestest Klingon goes and rolls and flips in a patch of dust. I really don’t know why she enjoys this but I guess it takes all kinds.

Then it’s a race to the finish. No. 2 goes out ahead and calls the race as the Klingons head toward home. I must say that they do not understand the concept of a race, because they go in fits and starts, and they stop to look behind them all the time.

One time on the way home I walked through a patch of weeds, and they grabbed me! I was stuck! Couldn’t move forward, couldn’t move backward. The humans rescued me from these grabby plants and carried me home. “What a mess!” I heard. They took a long time to pick a whole bunch of little bitty green sticky things out of my coat. I heard No. 1 exclaim, “213!” That was not that much fun.

Woofs,
Willie

[No. 1 here... the "house where where there's never anybody there" is a non-residential frat house down the street from us in Gambier, Ohio, a tiny academic town in central Ohio, home to Kenyon College.

No. 2 and I cherished our walks with Willie and the cats. The neighbors always marveled to see three cats walking with us. In fact, they were known as "The Famous Gambier Walking Cats."]

Edited: September 4th, 2009

My fringes are here!

The humans kept talking about “that awkward gangly stage.” I don’t know what that meant, but apparently I’m over it now. My ear fringes have grown out!

A papillon’s pride and joy are his fringes. We’re named for butterflies, you know, and our ears look like big fluffy wings.

They’ve also stopped referring to a “pipe cleaner” when talking about my tail. Now it’s long and fluffy too, and swishes all over the place when I wag it.

No. 1 has been teaching me things. I know lots of words and what I’m supposed to do when the humans say them. Each word also has a signal, and I know those too! Let me tell you, this is a great way to get treats. The way we do it is, the humans say the word or make the signal, I do the thing, and I get a treat! What a racket.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 21st, 2009

Walking with the pack

Now the white stuff has gone away and it’s a little warmer out. I’ve started going outside more, walking with my pack. That is, the core pack… the humans. (The Klingons are optional.)

I enjoy the walks. Dogs love walking. The way it should be on walks is, that both the humans are near me and I can see them. This is important. We all need to be together.

Hurry up, No. 2. You're lagging!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 18th, 2009