The Trickster

Aha. A new trick to make me walk.

I’m afraid. Sorry, but that’s all there is to it. But, I can be tricked into forgetting my fear, and it doesn’t take our hero Cesar Milan to pull it off. Tonight, Joan tried to get me to take a walk, but I panicked as soon as we were outside the gate. The six-year-old girl who lives across the street watched me grind my butt into the street and refuse to move. She was laughing at Joan’s sorry attempts to make me walk and kept asking if she could help.

“Hey, Neighbor” (that’s what she and her mom call Joan), “Do you want me to help?”

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Joan, thinking there was no way a skinny little six-year-old could move a 125-pound dog.

Joan promised me a ride in the car, but I wouldn’t move.

She told me how much fun the walk would be, but I stayed anchored to the blacktop.

She predicted that I’d get all sorts of attention from the neighborhood kids, but I looked away and pretended not to hear.

Finally, Joan told me to go say hello to the little girl, who was still laughing at her. And I did.

The little girl took my leash and walked me on her lawn, up the steps to her porch—which scared the big boy who was sitting there; he didn’t realize how little interest I have in scaring people.

And I had so much fun, I forgot to be afraid. Joan took my leash and off we went on our walk. On the walk, lots of kids petted me and even some grownups smiled at me. What was I so worried about? And how did that little neighbor girl pull it off. That’s what Joan would like to know, but I’m not talking.

Best wishes, Juno

Cushion My Ride for Comfort

See us in the picture? We're sitting on a car hammock just for dogs! Just for me and Shane. If you go directly to http://www.perfectdogbeds.com, you’ll see much better pictures. Only without me or Shane as models. But, still, you’ll get a better idea of how cool this is.

You’ll remember our recent trip into the city, which left me not a little aching and exhausted after several hours crammed into the backseat of Joan’s dopey little car. Well, due to my discomfort, Joan started hunting for ways to make these little excursions more comfy and appealing for Shane and me. She found a few websites that sell car beds for dogs and settled on the nicest, friendliest one, http://www.ihelppets.com, which sells Perfect Dog Beds among lots of other dog friendly items. She called the nice people on Sunday morning, and the woman who answered was soooooooo accommodating and polite that Joan almost swooned from shock (just kidding).

Well, she ordered our present right away, and it arrived this very morning. And since we had to go up to Trader Joe’s anyway, we had a perfect excuse for burning gas.

I’m telling you, the dog hammock’s a hit. This gray cloud of comfort (whoops, that’s sort of a mixed metaphor with the gray color, which we’ll now re-name dark silver, even though it’s called “smoke”) cushioned our ride in the plushiest way imaginable. Now I won’t be slipping on the floor every time the car slows down. And it’s so pillow-soft, so just right for an adventurous dog like me or for a homebody like Shane.

And the company is really nice, if you can believe that any company can be nice. They give “One Hundred Percent of [their] Profits” to help homeless animals. Since Shane and I both used to be homeless animals, we think that’s reason enough to check them out. Joan’s putting them on her links section ‘cause she’s loves their attitude.

Here’s to comfort in the back of any car!

Best wishes, Juno

Vanity, Thy Name is Dog Owner

Another bath? Look at the picture. Four bottles of shampoo! Well, we’re big dogs.

Even Shane got a bath. To be precise, we got outdoor showers with the garden hose attached to the kitchen sink.

Just because I’m having skin problems, Joan thinks more bathing will help. Okay, so it feels better after it’s over; but, the whole process of wetting me down, lathering me up, rinsing me off, brushing, clipping, poking, prodding, telling me to stay, telling me to shake it out, telling me to be patient. It’s like being at the dentist office—at least, that’s what I imagine, never having been at the dentist’s office.

I think the real reason for the baths was in anticipation of the new car hammock for dogs that’s in the mail at this very moment. God, the things we dogs do to satisfy human whim and, yes, vanity. Alas.

Best wishes from a very clean Juno & Shane

What You Wish For

Back home in the yard again.

Last night, I got what I wished for, and it was exhausting. Well, as I’ve mentioned, as soon as the people with nothing to do start setting off “July 4^th” firecrackers the day before Memorial Day, my nerves quiver whenever I have to leave the yard on paw. Those walks I so enjoy the rest of the year loom before me like raucous green monsters.

It’s no use trying to analyze why humans are constantly searching for excuses to re-stage the original big bang, but they do. Oh, it’s the day before Memorial Day. Let’s make loud noises in honor of the dead soldiers. Oh, it’s midnight—one minute until we change numbers on the calendar. Let’s make loud noises. Oh, duh. It’s a day to celebrate democracy. Let’s make more loud noises. And I’m not even talking about the people with the loud cars and boom boxes. Or the people who are just—well—loud. You know. They’re just loud people, even when they’re being friendly. HEY, YOU. I’M FRIENDLY. Well, I’m friendly, too. But, I’m not loud. Except when I bark to get attention. Oh, is that why people make loud noises?

Back to last night.

Joan was taking Kyla back to the city, so, since I wouldn’t go for a walk before they left, Joan said, “Okay, you can have your wish. Get in the car.” And we did.

Some people honked their horn and waved to us on the Parkway. Other people were trying to kill each other by going really fast in and out of lanes.

We got into the city and dropped Kyla off, and then we drove all the way down the West Side Highway to around 53 Street and crossed over to the 34^th Street tunnel. The best part was stopping at red lights, because I got a really good look at all the interesting people—the Menschenmassen; that’s what Joan kept saying.

At one light, I was gazing at a man smoking a cigarette outside of a bar. He looked at me, you know, like he wanted to hug me. Joan called out, “Two beers and a bag of chips, please!” And the man called back, “You got it.” But, then the light changed, and we never got the beer or the chips.

Lots of people were going to the theater. My head was hanging out the driver’s side window; Shane's head was hanging out the rear passenger’s window. So, in a way, we were theater. Only, no one had to pay to see us. Theater should be free, don’t you think? Like Shakespeare in the Park with a trunk near the stage. You put money in when you can. Joseph Papp was a genius.

We finally got to the tunnel, which is so bright, I thought it was morning. But, no. We came out of the tunnel into the night and went home. Wow. Was I tired. Shane wasn’t. But, I was. Now, I’m not too sure if I want such a long ride, thank you very much. However, a good time was had by all.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Joan's trying to find some doggy car beds so we can make similar and longer trips, but in greater comfort.

Waiting for the Spirit

I don’t know what my problem is. I have no stick-to-it-tive-ness. I love taking walks, really. Everyone talks to me in their high-pitchy voices; all sorts of kids run after me and pet me with their smooth stubby hands; smells beckon me from the bushes along the parkway with their steamy, yet subtle, perfumes; squirrels tempt me to run after them, but I don’t take the bait. And yet, I put up such a fuss every single day that sometimes we just stay in because Joan’s too tired to play Dog-Whisperer Clone.

It’s the fire-crackers. You never know when one’s going to go off. It’s the loud motors. You never know when they’re going to lose control and hit me or Shane. It’s the . . . Oh, I’m just making excuses. I’m like a human on a diet, a human on a get-in-shape plan. Diets don’t work. Getting in shape doesn’t work. You’ve got to change your life, your attitude, your list of priorities.

All this will I ponder as Shane waits, as Joan waits, as all the people who like to say hello to me wait, as I wait . . . for the spirit . . . to move . . . me. Any minute now.

Best wishes, Juno

Bosslike Powers

This evening, Shane decided he could attack a pit bull. He didn’t. He just thought he could. Joan had him by the collar and kept asserting her bosslike power over him—you know the routine from observing wolf packs and listening to Cesar Milan. I guess Joan didn’t believe her own lie. Shane sure didn’t believe it, because he kept making whiny sounds and drooling. The pit bull is a lot stronger than Shane. But that’s only when things are normal. Shane’s so fearful that it makes him stronger, or maybe crazier. He’s so afraid that he loses his ability to reason like a sensible dog, which makes him forget to be afraid. That’s the most dangerous kind of dog.

Anyway, the pit bull and the man with him kept walking and so did we. But, wouldn’t you know it, we turned so many corners on our walk—and so did the pit bull—and we crossed paths again. I guess Shane was too tired to make a fuss. Joan kept saying, “I’m the boss. I’m the boss.” No she’s not.

Best wishes, Juno

People Are Animals, Too.

“One is dearest to God who has no enemies among the living beings, who is nonviolent to all creatures.”
Bhagavad Gita, (Hindu Scriptures, oldest human sacred text c. 2500 - 3000 BC)

The dog across the street has had puppies. She’s too skinny, so Joan brings food to her now. I wish the ASPCA would come and take the dog away. But, as long as she has a ratty little doghouse, it’s okay for the people to keep her chained up and underfed for her entire life. I try not to get serious, but sometimes I just don’t understand why some people are so cruel to animals. After all, people are animals, too.

On a lighter note, the hot water heater is leaking all over the basement! And, why does that earn an exclamation point? Because, Joan can’t give me the bath she thinks I need and knows I don’t want. He-he. Well, she could give me a bath, but she won’t. Even on a hot day, a cold-water bath is too shocking for a dog. Joan bought a tankless water heater, which is still sitting in her car. I was very happy that the plumber didn’t call her back to fix a date for installation. I’m a dog. I should smell like a dog. The hot water heater should stay in the car!

It’s been a very humid week, and it looks as though summer has pushed the beautiful spring days into a future dream. That means days lying spread-eagled in front of the air-conditioner, lapping up lots of water, splashing in the doggie pool, and hiding from the fire-cracker people who perk up their lives with big bangs and pops and flashes of color. I guess they wouldn’t be so happy to make loud noises if they were in, say, Iraq or Afganistan. (Sorry, I got serious again.)

Best wishes, Juno