For the Love of Couches

Our house has two couches, and I love them with equal passion. The one in the sunroom is very small—at least for me—but, it’s big enough to fold its armrests around me and keep me feeling secure.

There’s usually some sort of sheet covering its natural red skin. That’s because it’s easier to wash a sheet than to wash a couch. When human company arrives, Joan takes the sheet off and pretends that I never use the couch for my own comfort. But I do.

Sleeping, or even meditating, on the sunroom couch is a daytime activity. The sun always reaches through the windows and brings out the natural highlights in my fur while warming me just enough to remind me that I’m the luckiest dog in the universe.

The only drawback to lying on the sunroom couch is the fact that no one else can sit there with me, and that’s a little lonely. A couch without another body is an incomplete experience.

However, there’s the living room couch. Joan bought that couch brand new about ten years ago. At that time Leo, Karen Fontana’s dog, used to visit every day. Leo was a Chow Chow who loved to sit on the back of the couch and look out the window. Well, Leo kind of ruined the back of the couch, but Joan keeps it because it’s too expensive to buy another couch. Of course, the living-room couch also has a sheet over it.

Every now and then, I feel the need to lie on that couch. When I do, Joan sits at the other end and rests her leg on my back. It makes me feel that I’m part of the loving world and nothing bad can happen. Once in a while, Shane sneaks up on the couch before Joan gets to sit down. There’s no room for three of us, so Joan just stands there and wonders where to sit. Poor humans. They think too much.

The living room couch has the extra benefit of being near the television with its programs on Animal Planet. I like to watch Animal Cops because there’s always a happy ending for some of the animals.

I wonder if Leo knows that his couch is still here.

Best wishes, Juno

The Vision

Shane and I are so different.

I almost met a handsome dog tonight. But, he was afraid to come too close. Can you see him in the picture? I called to him, but he pretended he didn’t hear me.

Until the dog arrived on the block, I hadn’t wanted to go for a walk, and I especially didn’t want to make a left. Shane and I sat outside of the gate. I looked to the left and wanted no part of it. Shane looked to the right and couldn’t understand why I was holding up the works.

And, then, I saw a vision, a captivating masterpiece of a dog with stand-up ears and a sleek but masculine neck unfettered by chains and collars. He was trotting around the bend at the end of the street looking all free, his tail up, his head proud, thinking what a great evening it was to take a little tour around the barrio.

Then, he saw me and Shane. Down came his head; his curly tail straightened; and you could see his nostrils flare as he grabbed our scent from the breeze. Joan said he was pretty. Shane was curious and began to whine. But, me, I yapped it up, hoping he’d come over and say hello.

But, no, he was too scared. Around he turned and off he trotted, pretending he was all brave and indifferent. But, I know he wanted to get closer to me. He just didn’t know how.

After a minute or so, we walked down the street in his direction. But, there was nothing left but his scent, which was quickly caught under the wheels of some passing cars. I wasn’t about to go chasing after a vanishing dream, so I pulled at the leash and forced Joan and Shane to turn back.

I’m going to spend the next hour or two stretched out on the cool grass watching the full moon try to squeeze through the thick gray clouds. Maybe the dog will show up again. Not that I’m interested.

Best wishes, Juno

Disappointment Is Just Another Experience

What a disappointment. I thought we were going for a car ride. I can’t believe I misread Joan. I can’t believe it. So, that means we don’t necessarily go out in the car every time Joan goes into the garage. Oh, rats!

What could I do? I looked as sad as possible. I even tried my sure-fire sigh, lowering my head so she could see the tragedy playing itself out in my heart. Nothing worked.

Why can’t I be more like Shane? He didn’t care at all. He just wagged his tail and forgot the whole thing. He’s so cool about life’s letdowns. But, me, I really feel them in the most dramatic way.

We did go for a walk, but we had to come back through the shortcut because there was a plane zipping around behind the clouds, and the noise scared me.

Some people stopped their car to ask what kind of dog I was. “That dog a malamute?” they asked. Joan said she didn’t think so. She said she thought I was a Newfy-Pyranees. Secretly, I think she just likes saying the word.

Pretty soon, though, that plane made me forget my disappointment, and all I wanted to do was get back to the safety of the home front. And that’s exactly what we did. Shane and I sat in the back yard and enjoyed the view. I feel much better now.

Best wishes, Juno

The Evening Show

"Come on, Juno. Just walk."

Tonight, I surprised everyone by walking the entire distance around the block without sitting down once. Shane was highly approving. He never objects to my little fears, but he does sigh a great deal when I get stuck in one position—usually a sitting-down position—and refuse to budge.

It had rained during the day, so Joan tried to keep us on the dry parts of the street. Lots of people had thrown the remains of their MacDonald’s and White Castle orders into the streets. There must have been a run on junk food, because there were a lot more wrappers and soda cups than usual. Shane tried to grab some of it, but Joan caught him in time. She kept trying to whisper, “Yuk. Don’t touch that garbage.” But, she still has laryngitis. People can’t sound determined and serious when their voices don’t work.

Buddy was barking in the next yard when we got back, so Joan threw a biscuit over the fence. Then, I heard him munching and wagging his tail against his dog house.

I sat in the backyard until Buddy finished his biscuit and dozed off. Then I meandered to the front yard to watch the kitten across the street pretend she was stalking mice. She squished herself into a furry gray ball and moved like a turtle across the yard; then, all of a sudden, she popped high in the air, her legs sticking out at her sides, and landed back on earth, once more a little ball, and inched her way across the yard. She did it over and over again until she got bored.

She must have known that I was admiring her performance, for she kind of strutted up her porch steps, holding her head very high. A gust of wind lifted her gently up to the swing seat, and there she sat looking just like a tiny and noble lion.

Best wishes, Juno

When A Human Can't Talk

Shhhhhhhhhhh.

Joan lost her voice. She can’t tell us to do anything. She can’t talk on the phone. She can’t even say hello to the neighbors. Tonight, we were walking through the neighborhood, and a couple of new kids asked Joan what kind of dogs Shane and I were. Joan tried to say, “Big,” because it’s a short word and easier to say than, “Well I’m not sure. I think Shane is part Shepherd and Juno is part Newfy.” Little kids wouldn’t understand that anyway. But, the word big came out in a heavy whisper, and I’m not sure the kids heard her.

Then another neighbor was driving by and stopped his car: “Hey, Joan! How you doing?” he called. Poor Joan had to say hello without using her voice. I think he understood, though, because he said he hoped she’d be feeling better, and off he drove.

What an adventure in communication.

Now, if I lost my voice, I’d never be able to ask to come inside, and I wouldn’t know how to get people to give me extra attention. Joan knows how to get inside all by herself, so that’s no problem for her. But, if you can’t talk to people, they forget you very quickly. Joan’s in luck, though, because dogs don’t care if people can talk or not. And, we don’t forget our friends even when they get sick and can’t talk.

Also, we have a way of knowing things without verbal promptings.

Take tonight. Joan had to go to the store to get some medicine for her throat. Shane and I knew she was going to take us with her even before she knew it. And, when she went into the garage, there we were, waiting by the car.

Not only that, but we know what she would have said if she had been able to talk. She would have said, “Wow. How did you know you were coming with me? You’re such smart dogs.”

See what I mean? We don’t need to hear words out loud. We read them in thought form.

I’m going to sit outside now and think about extrasensory perception.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: See? I didn’t really have to write “best wishes,” because you already knew that I wished them for you.

Scooby and Taylor’s Yard Sale

Yard Sale Mavens

In picture number one, we have a beautiful Taylor proudly parading her flower bonnet. So charming. Work it, Taylor.

In picture number two, we have our friend Scooby looking ever so quizzical. The camera loves her.

Scooby and Taylor had a yard sale today, and I was invited. Shane mostly waited in the car because he feels more secure looking out the window, pretending he’s king of the back seat.

I had never been to a yard sale before—there were toys and dishes, tables and chairs, and even a skateboard. Whoooooosh!

But, my favorite part was meeting Scooby. I think he was a little scared of me, though, because he’s only about as big as my head. But, he’s sooooooooo sweet.

No one else was scared of me.

Alena and Vlad—Scooby and Taylor’s best friends—weren’t afraid of me at all. Can you believe those kids came all the way from Russia just to take care of Scooby and Taylor? That was so thoughtful of them. But, I think they loved me, too, because they hugged me and told me I was big and beautiful.

Everyone felt bad that Shane was in the car, so Joan took him out so he could take part in the happiness of the day. He stayed very close to Joan, but I think he felt good about being included. He was so nicely behaved, people started saying how big and beautiful he was, too!

Now that we’ve both experienced the joy of a yard sale, we feel more sophisticated, more worldly.

Thank you, Scooby. Thank you, Taylor. See you next time.

Best wishes, Juno

Monsters to the Left of Me

There’s something about turning left that throws me off balance. Joan thinks it’s funny. Shane just gets exasperated. But, I tell you, it’s a real condition.

We walk down the driveway—that is, Joan and Shane walk down the driveway while I hang back until I’m sure nothing is amiss—and we step outside the gate into the street. If we walked straight, we’d land smack in the middle of the poison ivy that’s busy winding itself around the little wilderness of trees. It’s very shiny and really rather beautiful, but it’s not the sort of thing you want to roll in—at least that’s what Joan says. So, we have a choice—make a right or make a left.

I’ve had a problem turning left for about five years now. It comes and goes. I’ll go through weeks or months when making a left is no big deal; then, boom, out of nowhere, a left turn becomes a scary prospect, a vaporous gray monstrosity, a cunning slip of a shadow that paralyzes me with that loud mocking laughter that no one notices but me.

What’s a dog to do?

A dog turns right.

And, don’t bother reading anything political into this little problem of mine, for I’m just a dog. Sure, I write a blog, but that doesn’t make me political.

You might think my problem is sort of silly, but some humans have strange foibles, too. Maybe they don’t have left/right dilemmas, but some of them are afraid to walk down the street without a cell phone stuck to their ear; others set fire to little sticks of tobacco and suck on them; lots of them drive really fast just to prove that they can; some of them even kill each other for having thoughts different from their thoughts. But, I guess you can’t compare a dog to a human, you know, because humans are so much smarter.

So far, nothing bad has ever come from my right turns. It’s all good. Now that I think about it, nothing bad ever happened during a left turn either. So, I guess it’s all in my head, as they say. But, things in your head are always harder to deal with than things in the real world. Isn’t that true?

Best wishes, Juno

An Evening of Fireflies and Sticks

I’ve been staying indoors this week because the days are still too hot for me. But, at night I like to sit in the front yard and watch the galaxy of fireflies, which is sometimes eclipsed by a zooming car or a mini-parade of strolling people.

Tonight, was no different until Ish came over to play. Shane had to go in the house so Ish could come inside the gate. (That's him in the picture, looking out the door, ready to do battle—for what, I'm not sure.) You know, those two dogs just can’t make peace. I’ll bet they don’t even know why they don’t get along. Well, really, it’s not Ish’s fault. He’s still too young to know that it’s not a good idea to jump on Shane’s face.

Ish ran around the yard and wagged his tail. He tried to get me to play, but, come on, I’m too old for that sort of thing. Joan threw a stick for him, and he ran after it. Over and over and over, he ran after that stick. I don’t get it. What’s the big deal about running after a stick?

Then, he and Joan sat on the stoop, and she put her arm around him. Harrumph. It wasn’t right to for me to be so far away from the loving, so I hauled myself up and claimed my spot on the other side of Joan. She petted both of us for a long, quiet time, and I felt a little sorry that Shane had no way of feeling the peace.

Finally, Ish went home, and Shane was able to come outside and take a nice walk with us.

It was dark already.

The breeze lifted everything—the tree branches, the heavy air, the low clouds, my spirits. The walk progressed very nicely until I heard a noise. No, it wasn’t a firecracker; it was a human who was very angry at a ball for refusing to fall into a hoop at the end of his driveway. Well, what did he expect? It was dark, after all.

I had never seen anyone get mad at a ball. Every day brings a new experience.

Best wishes, Juno

Ish Plus Shane: Call Me When It's Over

Ish keeps coming over to visit, and we have to keep him away from Shane. Once again, Cesar Milan isn’t here to whisper his tranquil-dog secrets to Shane. Joan tried his technique, but she just doesn’t have what it takes to keep Shane from losing his temper with other dogs. Especially with Ish, because Ish acts like a puppy and jumps on our faces and runs in circles and rolls over and makes his dog-grin face whenever Shane starts to go a little crazy.

Joan keeps telling Shane that Ish is sweet—I mean, just look at that handsome face—but, Shane won’t have any of it. That’s why I got to walk around the block with Ish today, and Shane had to stay home.

Wow. What a lot of work. He’s like a wind-up toy. Zoom zoooooom zoooooooooom. I was all worn out when we got back. Shane was kind of sulking, but at least he had his tranquility and his own little bed. Me? I went out and hid in my green grotto.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: There's another story about Ish on this blog. It's right here.