My Skunk Story

  Dear Readers,

Please don’t think I’m bragging, but just the other day I was sure I'd save my humans from certain harm.  Lately there have been many of the creatures called Mephitis Mephitis, in our yard, also known as skunks. You know, Pepe Le Pew. Not as cute as the cartoon though.

 

My latest read, the book  Rabid, A Cultural History of the World’s Most Diabolical Virus by Murphy and Wasik, reported that the skunk was the source of numerous cases of rabies in the old West. And here’s a fun fact:  a single skunk bit 16 people at a military fort. Every one of them died. Rabies, without vaccine treatment, is pretty much fatal.

Naturally I didn’t want such a thing to happen to my owners! So every night before using “the necessary” I carefully patrol the backyard. I spied a striped rascal sneaking around the bushes and tore after it. I saw the devil stamp its feet and turned its back. (A clue, I later learned, as to what was coming next.)

 

You know us whippets, nearly the fastest dog breed. I pounced and grabbed the skunk but a rotten egg stench filled the air. My human shrieked my name. Assuming she wished to inspect my catch, I scurried over.  Instead she grabbed me with a horrified look on her face.

Before I knew it I was whisked into the shower stall. Seconds later peroxide fizzed on my skin; an ingredient in that homemade remedy that removes skunk spray from dog coats. I was scrubbed, washed, rinsed, pressed, buffed, etc. until the odor of skunk was somewhat dulled.

How was I to know that skunks are no longer a threat for rabies? Do I look like a public health expert? Instead of being a heroine I’m sopped and discouraged. Sigh!

 Toodles, Barcelona  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My School Days

I’ve been attending obedience classes at the Huron Valley Humane Society. I wasn’t sure what to expect! The other students were quite an assortment of dogs; a pit bull and basset hound mix (a bassapit, a bassbull?)  spaniel, labs and a tiny toy breed our instructor dubbed “Killer.” I was the lone whippet of course.

One black mongrel just set me off and we had several hostile barking exchanges. He was always looking at me, ya now? Fortunately, Michael Burkey, the teacher (www.Michigandogtrainer.com) switched our positions so I didn’t have to see his snarky face.

I felt that I had to snap at all the other dog’s friendly overtures. You just never know when they’re out to get you! This worry definitely had an impact on my scholastic achievement. Even if I was being enticed with slices of Pupperoni and baked liverwurst.

I did enjoy my training neighbor, Killer. Who knows, we might even have played together in another setting. I did eventually relax a little but it was a challenge.

The training? I was barraged with commands:  “Leave it! Stay! Place! Lie Down!” Goodness, it took months to master “Sit!” I’m not accustomed to following all these orders. At the Carjo’s we just did as we pleased. And Kobe is such a naughty dog it doesn’t take much to look like a canine wizard in comparison.

So, now that class is over, back to the old routine. Now that I’m not in dog-filled room I guess it's not so bad trading my independence for some tasty snacks. Where’s that liverwurst?

Toodles, Barcelona  

Winter is So Yesterday

This whippet is sooo sick of winter. Looking at the soggy disgusting landscape, I see heaps of grey snow and pieces of ice littering the yard. The back deck is crusted over with sharp crusts of ice which are painful to our tender paws. Goodness, when is spring coming?

I try to pace the yard watching for critters but quickly get chilled even when wearing a coat. I long for the days when Kobe and I can lounge in the sun on the deck furniture. Do you think we could persuade the humans to take us somewhere warm?

No, instead they took us even further north so we can freeze walking down the shore of Lake Michigan with the wind howling.  On the flip side there were some awesome smells on the beach (dead fish, essence of goose, duck, even a little eagle).

 Later, inside I indulge in a bout of fantasizing about a more comfortable scene.  

Kobe on the Beach (not a warm one though!)

Here it is:  Kobe and I are taken to our dream vacation. We are lying on soft beds on a warm beach and sunning ourselves in the tropical warmth.  Greyhounds (OK, golden retrievers or beagles, who  cares?) are fanning us with palm fronds and feeding us slivers of Milkbone dog biscuits.) Cool, fruity drinks  arrive on silver platters for us to sample.

Occasionally we would race around the sand just to keep our sleek muscles firm. Then, we go back to lounging in the
breezes and sunshine. Until the temperature comes up, I’ll have to stay warm with my daydreams.  Here’s to spring!

Higher Education

As I mentioned in my Christmas blog, I just learned I’m signed up for “Basic Manners” at the local humane society. I was so mad that steam was pouring out of my pointy ears! I’m the well-behaved one in this house; why in heaven’s name am I going? The unfairness of it all was quite unsettling.   

But, I learned last week that this class is the first step in becoming a trained Therapy Dog. Well! That changes the whole picture. I may have a new purpose in life.

Now, earlier this year [ My Dog, the Therapist blog] I explored the idea of offering my services as a therapist. I had envisioned, that my clients would spill their souls while I laid nearby on the furniture and listened. But, I guess that it is NOT the way a therapy dog operates.

Instead, I’ll visit folks in the hospital, clinic, hospice or whatever. As we interact, I will melt their hearts; lower their blood pressure and all that.

So I have readjusted my attitude and look forward to taking some continuing education in February. So Stay Tuned!

Dog Obedience and the Holiday

Well, Christmas has finally come. For days I’ve been dreaming about Santa Claus. The way Kobe has been acting, he’s just begging for a big hunk of coal in his stocking.

He perches on the furniture to look out the window, sleeps on the bed whenever the humans are gone and leaves little surprises in the back office. And not good surprises of course.

And the counter-surfing! For the sake of brevity, I won’t go into that.

So today I was looking so forward to Christmas and just expecting something. Maybe a little giftee, a stocking filled with trinkets, a squeaky toy to pounce on, some juicy treats! I did hear that there were Milk bone® wreaths made for us.

Not Feeling Grateful

But, Christmas morning there was nothing. The wreaths got misplaced; we heard we’ll get them later. There were little bits of ham in our dinner. But, it wasn’t the exciting Christmas I had planned on.

I just knew all along that Kobe would gum up the works! Then I learned that the good dog, the perfect pet, moi,is registered for “Basic Manners”, an obedience class.

If that doesn’t beat all! Here I am, obedient as ever and I’m the one being “trained.” Can’t wait to blog about that.

A most unsatisfying holiday.

Tootles, Barcelona

A Summer Weekend

 

     Now that it's fall, my mind wanders back to our summer adventures. Kobe, our humans and I were heading up north for a long weekend. At first, we anxiously noticed the suitcases coming out. But, when the Milkbone® biscuits and squeaky toys got packed, we knew that this time we were going along. 

     As we drove along we saw a motel along the road. It will remain unnamed for soon-to-be obvious reasons. Nearby there was a very nice doghouse with a St. Bernard in front. His name, Barney, adorned the house. He seemed like a friendly enough sort, but when I sniffed him he didn’t sniff back and had no dog smell! What the hay?

      Turns out he’s just a statue. But, he’s sitting in front of a perfectly serviceable dog house.  So, Barney did offer some respite for a weary traveler.  
    Well, I am the product of good breeding and I conduct myself as a lady. As such I prefer to do “my business” in private. When the opportunity arose for me to use the necessary away from prying eyes, I took it! Is that so wrong?

     I did NOT understand why everyone erupted in hysterical giggles as I discretely went in the cool recesses of Barney's home. Not to worry my dear audience, they cleaned up after I was done, but not without enjoying a good laugh at my expense. 
     Well that was the highlight of our vacation. Since I do not kayak, don’t like the water and was not offered an ice cream cone or taken out to a nice dinner, I’m afraid the trip had little to offer.  So much for another tepid adventure.

Toodles, Barcelona

 

A Turd is a Turd is a Turd



My paw on the mouse

I’ve been surfing the web and reading other dog’s blogs. One is a provocative website written by some pit bulls rescued from the Michael Vick case.  One dog, Grace, has been blogging since her rescue in 2007 or 2008 which you can read at

vickdogsblog.blogspot.com. 

 Now they have a pretty sweet life. And I appreciate the emphasis on the present, not the past. But, it made me think about Mr. Vick, someone with a vague resemblance to a human being.

 

Not to say he doesn't have his supporters! But then so did Hitler; (as you know, throwing out Hitler’s name always helps solidify whatever argument you’re making!)

Well, you may like Michael Vick and think he’s a swell guy and great football player; but there’s no guarantee that he’s going to treat anyone better than he treated these dogs, many of whom he killed in a gruesome manner.  There is lots of research on animal abusers and the likelihood that they abuse others, domestic partners, elders, children, etc. And in this dog’s opinion, he deserved to go to prison. Remember the cartoon titled “Jury of his Peers?” 

A Jury of His Peers

So kudos to Grace and the rest for going on to have a good life after encountering that waste of skin. Thanks also to the rescuers and all those others working to end cruelty towards animals. The best revenge IS living well.

And why is the Humane Society of the United States now working with this sadist who is doing public announcements since he is supposedly reformed? Face it, the reason he stopped is because he got caught. 

 You Michael Vick are a turd, turd, turd. No offense to any fine turds out there.

Tootles,
 

Barcelona