All posts tagged: animals

No Dogs Allowed? Hamish the Corgi Finds a Way.

Published by

“Where are we going?” Hamish the Corgi asked as he watched me dig the hiking pack out of the coat closet. It wasn’t easy. Five months of hats, scarves, gloves, reusable bags, dog towels, and YakTrax had crammed themselves on top of it. I looked over my shoulder and up the steps to look at Hamish. He stood in the hall, big ears perked wide and high. He was smiling. “Tifft Nature Preserve over by the lakeshore,” I told him. “Awesome,” he said, “that’s not mine yet.” He disappeared into the kitchen and I heard rummaging in the dog cupboard. I yanked the day pack strap and slammed the closet door before all the other stuff escaped. I went up to the kitchen to fill my water bladder. Hamish was waiting by the sink with the dog hiking water bowl and dog water bottle. He looked from me to the treat bin on the counter, me to treat bin, me to treat bin. “Don’t forget to pack the go-go crunchies,” he reminded me, nudging my …

Snowfall and sunshine, with tubercular hacking.

Published by

The sunlight glowed through yesterday morning’s snowfall so that the dogs and I were surrounded by whirling and sparkling crystals on morning walkies. Miss Tibbit, the useless little black dog, pranced down the side walk in her bouncing happy stride. Hamish the Corgi sniffed, raced to the next interesting spot, and sniffed again. The world was bright and full of opportunities – a snow storm in the sunshine? Anything seemed possible. Across the street a car door creaked open and the dogs and I listened to a tubercular hacking emerging from the ancient sedan. Miss Tibbit stopped to look and Hamish glanced over from his position against some unfortunate shrubbery. The hacking head leaned out of the car and drooled a liquidy mess onto the street. Awesome, I said to the dogs. Miss Tibbit strained against the leash, deeply interested. Let’s go check it out, she said to Hamish who walked up next to her. Ok, Hamish said as he stepped off the curb. In the brilliant shine of a sunlit snowfall I fought the …

Now that’s a man-sized Croc.

Published by

And it is no wonder really that Wiggins the Cat was poking his head in there. To a cat, a Croc that size might be something to crawl into. Hang out in. Attack people from the comfort of. The question as I see it is more along the lines of, what happened that caused the cat to puke inside the Croc? As I think about the mechanics of it, having watched Wiggins the Cat puke more than once in his 14 years, I try to imagine his posture. Was his head inside the Croc or did he projectile? If he projectiled, why into the Croc? The Spouse assures me that he also calmly thought through the scenario as he slid his foot into the Croc at 6:10am this morning for running the dogs in the yard. He thought, why is my foot wet? Did I get snow in my shoe during the bedtime dog trip to the yard? No, he concluded, there’s no snow on the ground right now. Did the cat pee in my …

Job wanted for newly graduated smallish black dog of limited skills.

Published by

Last Tuesday evening the WideEyedSpouse and I marched down the block with Miss Tibbit to her training final exam and graduation, belching the happy taste of Sahlen’s hot dogs and a reasonable lost-grape-of-Chile Carménère red wine. We were all nervous. Miss Tibbit had been nervous all day with an upset stomach which she emptied explosively on the side of the bed, the bed post, and the floor. Miss Tibbit passed the test with what might be considered a C. Maybe a C+ with a special commendation for savant treat catching. She walks beautifully, sits like a dream, and will not/can not resist throwing herself on people to demonstrate her love. She escaped her leash during Cooper the standard poodle’s walking exam. Mayhem. Demerits. She won a ribbon for showing the most improvement during the course. Which means, of course, everyone recognized her remedial start state. Yesterday the WideEyedSpouse stood gazing down at Miss Tibbit, who was lounging across three remotes, the Xbox controller and the WII wand on the living room sofa. He asked when …

Hamish Believes He’s Been Cheated.

Published by

Hamish the Corgi is guest writing this week. I, WideEyedFunk, bear no responsibility for the opinions expressed below. I am disgusted by recent household events and I am done with sulking. Miss Tibbit was forced to attend dog training classes a couple of weeks ago because she is mildly disobedient, and in my opinion, really obnoxious. She is a toy-stealing, leash pulling punk. I believed Dog Training was a punishment. I have recently become aware of some facts that have made me rethink that notion. I now believe that I have been cheated. Here are the top 10 reasons I believe I have been cheated. 1. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class. 2. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class. 3. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class. 4. Miss Tibbit gets fed treats one after another for an hour during training class. Sit? Stay? Come when called? Ridiculous to treat for these. I sit …

Why does Miss Tibbit smell like meat?

Published by

I crouched down so I could see under the table. Hamish was worried and had squeezed himself under the low shelf of the stainless steel prep table in the kitchen. He looked across the floor at me and asked again, “Why does Miss Tibbit smell like meat today?” I sat back. “Well, you know Tibbit is a Bad Dog most of the time on walks, right?” Hamish just looked at me. In his opinion, being a Bad Dog was no reason to smell like meat, unless the Bad Activity had been stealing a packet of meat from the counter. No dog has ever perpetrated this act in the WideEyedHousehold. Hamish would have known. He kept staring at me, waiting patiently for an explanation. “Hamish, remember when we all left the house last night and left you upstairs in your room?” He blinked. “We went to dog training school.” He stared at me some more, still not clear on the meat connection. “Apparently Miss Tibbit is so bad, that the Dog Teacher said to give her …

Hamish Rides Console

Published by

He’d ride shotgun but he is too small to see out the window. So he rides Console. Riding Console in the trucks we’ve had over the years is easy. The space between the driver and passenger seats is huge. The console is a big padded platform that looks like it was designed to provide mattressy respite for beefy man arms. There’s enough space that a passenger beefy man arm would not accidently touch a driver beefy man arm already using the console. Hamish the Corgi fits on truck consoles with room to spare. His panoramic view of traffic, countryside, and snacks being eaten by the passenger is unparalleled from the console. However. When Hamish cruises the urban scene with me and the Mini Cooper S, he struggles to maintain the attitude of superior contentment. You can see that he is smiling, but maybe his back teeth are clenched. Smile and clench your teeth – then say “this is great”. That’s exactly how Hamish looks riding the Mini console.The Mini console is low and he mainly …

Hamish the Corgi is Embarrassing.

Published by

Have you ever heard of display urination? No? Neither had I until Hamish the Corgi came into my life. Evidently dogs, male dogs most of the time, like to lift their legs nice and high to wee when other dogs are around. Hamish is keenly aware when an unfortunate is locked inside, watching from a parlor window as Hamish prances across this other dog’s front yard. Hamish will take a moment to be sure he is in the ideally, most obnoxiously centered viewing position, then he will lift his tiny, 5 inch leg as high as dogly possible to wee on that other dog’s property. Usually you can hear the barking change from alert to berserker during the display. If that were all, I’d probably get over it. However. And mind you, I’m going to have to be indelicate here. Hamish, my furry pal, my buddy who is napping next to me now, well, he’s a display dooker too. Don’t be coy, you know what dog dookies are. The problem, if we can stretch our …

The Dog Has An Opinion. Why Do I Listen?

Published by

Hamish just told me he thinks it’s more than time for morning walkies. It was simply his opinion. I didn’t care. Then he expressed his opinion to Miss Tibbit and she got all excited about it. It is now her opinion, also. Evidently, we will be having walkies soon if I am to have any peace in my day of Big Thinking. Hamish has an opinion a little too often in the course of a day. He believes that Wiggins The Cat should not be wandering around the house at 5:30am. He tells the cat so. We all must listen as a captive, bed-ridden audience. He strongly believes that nasty looking, ancient, fuzzy dog should not walk on our sidewalk or wee on our flower beds three times a day, every day. He cries his thoughts on the matter in full voice, telling the block, telling the scrappy dog. As far as I can tell, only Miss Tibbit cares. Hamish is entrenched in the notion that toys are his, and he graciously allows Miss Tibbit …