All posts tagged: pets

Walking dogs in the fall has a certain frisson.

The leaves changed in here Buffalo in that last week or two. An orangey road glow replaces the striking sun to shadow dichotomy of summer. Bowers formed by century-grown wrinkled and twisted tree branches, trimmed into arches over the sidewalks, allow a little more of the post autumnal equinox sun through so that there is a gloaming rather than pools of shade. Miss Tibbit and Hamish kick up leaves as they trot along, noses in the air to catch the damp scents. Fall dog walks joyously beautiful. They are peaceful. The fair-weather dog walkers have abandoned the parks and streets and Miss Tibbit has fewer dog friends to yowl toward. Hamish has fewer challengers to his tiny and vulnerable Corgi dignity. Yet, fall dog walks are fraught with danger. It is a social danger, sure, but no less frightening for that. It is all Hamish’s fault. As you may know from past chronicles, Hamish is a Master of the Craft of Display Defecation.  His joy in his craft is unsubtle. A car full of family …

Miss Tibbit Takes Herself to Brunch.

“I’m feeling peckish,” Miss Tibbit, the Useless-Little-Black-Dog, thought to herself this sunny Saturday morning. She was curled tight on the Big Bed next to the Person. She laid there for a few moments more, thinking through her options. The Person had coffee and a book, nothing worth asking for there. Wiggins the Ancient Cat now lives in a sequestered room and his food bowl was not accessible. Miss Tibbit had cruised the kitchen counters during breakfast two hours ago. Empty. Also empty was the Sesame Melba Toast carton abandoned by Hamish the Corgi on the living room floor. Miss Tibbit sighed and resigned herself to hungry napping. One ear perked. Miss Tibbit had an idea. An elusive memory tracked across her tiny mind. She felt that something wonderful sat on the kitchen floor, unguarded, far away from the Person, and certain to satisfy even the biggest snacky appetite. The Person mistrusts Miss Tibbit’s intentions as a matter of habit, so this had to be a cunning operation. Miss Tibbit made a plan. “Yaaawwnnn,” she said, …

Miss Tibbit, the Useless-Little-Black-Dog, had a bad week.

Friday: There was a horrendous, apocalyptic thunderstorm and she was forced to go out into the yard for bedtime peeing while the storm still rumbled in the distance. It was scary. Saturday. It was still raining, and Miss Tibbit had to go for morning walkies in the rain. Her coat got all wet and her paws splashed through endless puddles. Plus, all the worms were floating and mushy instead of barbequing on the sidewalk the way she likes them. Who wants worm soup? Sunday. Even though the sun was shining everyone was too busy scrubbing the traffic soot off of the front porch and making a screen for the front window. No one offered a nice, long park walkie. No one lounged around in the back yard for hours. It was boring. Monday. The vet’s office was smelly with other dogs, none of whom were available for playing. Miss Tibbit had lots of treats, but she was stuck by three needles dumping stuff in her, one needle taking stuff out, a nasty nose drip medicine …

10 Reasons Miss Tibbit The Useless Little Black Dog May Not Lick My Face

10. Miss Tibbit is a dog and has aromatic dog mouth. 9.  She licks the floor. 8. She licks the sidewalk. Oh, why? Because it has on it flavorful substances like gum, bird crap, spit. 7. Miss Tibbit bathes herself and her pal Hamish the Corgi with her tongue. I don’t want that on me. 6. Miss Tibbit enjoys cat litter snackies. She eats the crumbs from the basement floor. You know how it works: the cat jumps out with litter stuck to his feet. The litter scatters. Tibbit cleans that up. Two strikes – basement floor and cat litter. 5. Two days ago I yanked a rotting baby bird carcass out of her mouth by its little feet. It was mostly down her throat already so I had to have a good, strong grip on those curled up bird toes. 4. Miss Tibbit has sticky spit. 3. She sniffs the cat’s butt, and I can’t be sure she does it from a sanitary distance. 2.  She licks her own wet nose. And finally, the …

No Dogs Allowed? Hamish the Corgi Finds a Way.

“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 …

1,500 miles of family, Or, Caviar tastes like chicken pox.

Stop 1: Scottsville, Esmont, Charlottesville Virginia WideEyedFunks: I was spooning caviar onto a smear of cream cheese at the pre-Christmas dinner snackie spread. Sister-in-law L. and Older Brother set us up with fine cheeses, Dracula’s Dilemma pickled garlic, some kind of awesome aged herbed salami.  And caviar. Our WideEyedParents were across the room and from around the Christmas tree we could hear dad shouting at mom: “Do you want some cold cuts?” “A cool one?” she said, “no, I don’t want a beer.” Heh. Might be time for hearing tests. Sister-in-law N. pushed through Sister-in-law L. and me to get to the snackies, “Quit snack blocking,” she told us. I inched my counter stool over an inch or so, but not really too far. I hadn’t tried all the cheeses yet. I lifted my caviar cracker to take a bite. “You eat that stuff?” Older Brother asked, clearly doubtful. I shrugged and ate the cracker. Older Brother watched me chew. “I don’t eat it,” he said. “Good,” Sister-in-law L. said, “more for the rest of …

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

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.

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?

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 …