A lot less Trouble

Can a Klingon just fade away?

A lot less Trouble

Our second calico, the one I call Trouble, just isn’t what she used to be. She used to be a lot bigger than me but now she’s down to just about my size. Like her sister who left us, she has taken to yowling at the door and drinking a lot. The thing about this one though… when she drinks, she thinks she is a desert cat in the Sahara and has to scratch out a watering hole. She meows and scratches and scrapes and drinks… it’s pretty funny except when it’s annoying.

The humans have noticed it too, and have started taking her to That Place. One time they came back with a bag of some kind of special water that they hung over a lampshade, hooked up the other end to the Klingon, and it’s fill ‘er up! What will they think of next?

It’s pretty amusing to watch No. 2 at this, because it requires about three hands. Sometimes the special water will start spraying all over the Klingon and him and the sofa and the living room. Then No. 2 starts employing what I believe is called salty language.

No. 1 is much more calm and collected. According to No. 2 she comes from a long line of nurses. They must be born with three hands, because No. 1 never has any trouble with the procedure.

When they started doing this, it really made a surprising difference. It took about a day for Trouble to get her personality back, which is to say, she started getting in trouble again. She did things like sharpen her claws, bat at pen caps, and talk to the birds, which she used to do all the time.

Oh yes, and she continues to have a talent for turning up in unexpected places. Like here:

You did say it was a garden bed, didn't you?

And here:

Nothing here but us watering cans.

Even though Trouble and I aren’t the best of friends, I’m glad she’s feeling better.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 31st, 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

Roughing it (again)

I’m not a really big fan of roughing it (see my story about gorving). It was all the same to me that we hadn’t really been on any camping-type trips since then. But No. 1 came up with a place she thought I might like.

Little cabin in the woods

Now this is what I call roughing it! You have walls. You have a floor. You have light. You have heat in case it gets too cold. (No. 1 also praised the hot water for showers — not that I would know anything about that.) Best of all, you have a bed to curl up on.

No. 2 likes the loft, which you get up to by climbing a ladder. This part isn’t really dog friendly, but it’s monkey-friendly and also 50-year-old-teenager friendly. He went up there and we almost couldn’t get him to come down again.

How's the weather up there?

When you want to go outside, you open the back door and there you are, in the middle of a forest. And there was almost no one else around!

Here I am, showing off my mountaineering skills.

I am a wolf in the forest.

Sad to say, we spent only one night here, and then we went to a big hotel for awhile. There wasn’t much for a little dog to do. It was noisy, confusing, and there were soooo many people, everywhere you looked. I had to be careful not to get stepped on.

Maybe roughing it isn’t such a bad idea after all. I didn’t much care for gorving, but gocabining is all right with me!

Woofs,
Willie

No. 2 here: If any of you are wondering where this is, these are the Shinneyboo Creek Cabins, just a stone’s throw from the I-80 highway to Reno, an exit or two past Emigrant Gap.

Edited: August 22nd, 2011

Me and the interweb

I started this dogblog a couple years ago, but actually me and the interweb go way back.

Once upon a time the www was still a shiny new thing, just like me, and No. 2 set up a little corner of it just for me. Here’s what it looked like:

Blast from the Past

Some of you might recognize the old-school formatting, i.e., none. I’m glad that I had No. 1 to help me design this dogblog! It looks a lot spiffier, don’t you think?

Eventually No. 2 took the old page down, but it did lead to a couple of good things while it lasted. First was that one reader wrote to my humans and told them I had the frosting gene. That was interesting.

Second was that a white papillon in Japan wrote to me! Her name was Puzoo. She said that she also likes the making of the bed, and her humans said something very wise, which is that all papillons are equally to be loved. I’ve never seen Japan, so I asked my humans where it was. They said it’s far away, so far that you can’t even get there in a car ride.

But still, it’s nice to know that I have a friend way, way over there. I hope that I’ll get to meet you some day, Puzoo!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 19th, 2011

Hot spot

I got a hot spot. A hot spot is when you’re itchy all over so you chew, and then one place is just easier to reach than all the others so you chew that one the most.

No. 1 does not like it when I chew on my fur. She squirts me with stuff. Finally I had to go to That Place. The nice human with the concerned face gave us some medicine and told No. 1 that I should wear a t-shirt.

So No. 1 went to the Nearly New store and came home with a baby human shirt, and she took her scissors and cut the arms right off! The she stuck my head through the neck and my arms through the holes.

It's not as bad as all that.

Here’s what it says on the t-shirt.

No. 2 wishes he had one like this.

I don’t know how long I have to wear this, but my hot spot feels better already.

I'm going for Best (Dressed) in Show.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 16th, 2011

A Klingon Named Trouble

Things have changed since our pack lost a member. The other two Klingons started to hang out with each other a little more.

Klingons at Work

It may not look like it, but this is amazing. These two never really snuggled up together before. They always snuggled up with their sister who left us, who was the Great Conciliator. I guess Klingons can change.

Believe it or not, Klingons actually do have different personalities. I’ve told you about the friendly one, the calico who just left us recently.

The other calico is a different story. She is the Klingoniest of all the Klingons. I already told you here about how she treated me at first. Things got better (see “Detente with Klingons”) but we still have conversations like this one.

ME: Bark! Bark! (Do you really need to occupy the whole staircase so that I can’t get around you?)

HER: Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh (Klingons rank higher than dogs, so you’ll just have to wait.)

ME: Bark! Bark! Bark! (Get out of the way you dumb Klingon!)

HER: Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh (Make me you stupid dog.)

ME: Bark! Bark! Bark! (I’m calling the humans to come and get you!)

HER: (as No. 2 picks her up): (Dang! I was winning.)

The humans have some funny name for this Klingon, but to me her name is Trouble.

Uh-oh. Get me out of here.

Why is she Trouble? Let me count the ways.

Trouble on the Roof

Trouble in the Dresser

Trouble Tries to Defenestrate

Trouble Thinks She's Hiding

But probably the worst, the very thickest travesty of all, was one time when I had a biscuit on the bed. I wasn’t quite ready to eat it yet, but I was keeping an eye on it, as a dog does.

The cheesy ones are one of my favorites.

Trouble approached my biscuit. Of course I acted instantly, moving to guard my treat against her evil intent. She did not care for my actions. In the ensuing tussle, the Klingon fetched me a good swat.

After that, No. 1 looked at me, hollered “Winky eye!” and took me to That Place. Dye was dripped into my eye and a strange black light shone on it. Yes, the Klingon had given me a scratch on the cornea.

Then I had to have goop squeezed into my eye twice a day for awhile. In my estimation, this whole incident was entirely unfair. When a dog has a biscuit, it’s sacrosanct. There’s no coveting it, there’s no approaching it… and when a dog defends his biscuit, where’s the fairness in attacking tender eyes with razor-sharp claws?

Despite all this, for some reason Trouble has stolen No. 2’s heart. Go figure! I guess some guys (not me) are just suckers for a pretty face.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 10th, 2011

Riding high

No. 1 and her buddies all got together and made a blankie. They brought it over for us to see.

No. 2 was called to hold up one end. For some unfathomable reason he thought it would be a clever idea to hoist me up over the top of the blankie while a picture was being taken.

Yes, very funny. Are we done?

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: August 6th, 2011

She’s gone

You remember my bestest Klingon? The one that was the first to decide that I was all right with her?

I'm not worried about this one.

When I was a young pup and new in the pack she came up one day and started head-butting me all around the room. At first I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but eventually (there were no claws involved) I figured out it was okay.

A friendly game of tug.

Well, that Klingon has gone and disappeared! I never see her around any more.

This is the last picture we have of her.

In the linen closet with her sisters.

The day she went away, No. 1 carried her into the car in her arms. They said that for her last ride, she didn’t have to be cooped up. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere anyway. She was having a lot of trouble standing up. No. 1 says that she was about a hundred and twelvity-five years old.

When they came home, No. 2 was boo-hooing, in a way that I’ve never seen him before. I didn’t really understand why he was so upset, but a dog doesn’t have to understand some things. A dog knows his humans. I gave him a kiss and he said that made it better.

It’s too bad. If you have to live with Klingons, that one was the sort you want.

Woofs,
Willie

In Memoriam Chutney, 1990-2009

Edited: August 3rd, 2011