Shane On A Foggy NIght

I think Shane needs some attention. He’s been looking very sweet lately, looking for love, looking for kind words. Look how handsome he is with those white teeth (sharp), those soft brown eyes, that neck like a tree trunk. It’s not his fault that he has “issues” in life. People were very mean to him when he was a puppy, and he never got over it.

Me. Yes, people were mean to me, too; but, I’m a different breed. We’re not all alike, you know. Just like people aren’t all alike.

Anyway, I’m saying all this because tonight Shane got scared of something that wasn’t human—the fog. I’m usually the one who’s scared of things that aren’t human, and he’s the one who’s only scared of humans.

Well, he just asked to go outside, and when Joan opened the door, he took one look at all that gray fog and refused to go near the door. He just sat down and lowered his head as though the foggy mass would turn suck him from the safety of the house.
We had to go outside to show him that just because you’re surrounded by fog, it doesn’t mean you’re going to get swallowed up by it. It convinced him to come outside, but he ran back inside. Poor baby.

Now, I see that Shane and I do have something in common. I’m afraid of noises; he’s afraid of the silent fog. It’s a start.

Best wishes, Juno

Happy Thanksgiving

Shane stretched out after watching everyone eat Chix Patties with all the trimmings.
Look how Ari loves me unconditionally.

So, by now you know that Thanksgiving in the Juno-Shane house doesn’t include turkey. Last year, Joan made “Tofurky,” but she didn’t like the fact that it came with its own stuffing. She likes her own much better. So, this year was Chix Patty year with real cranberry sauce, organic potatoes, butternut squash, pumpkin pie, and, oh, I could just go on and on. It was fun. Charles was here for some of the goodies, but he went to Aunt Maureen’s for a “real” turkey dinner. Shane and I weren’t included.

Then, Joan and Ari spent an hour on the web cam with Pam and Jim and Shana. Poor Shana was sad to be so far away on Thanksgiving. Shane went in to see what was up with the web cam, but not me. I’m scared of the floor. So slippery. Instead, I snuck up on the couch when no one was looking. When they found me, I looked so cute, everyone just said, “Awwwwwww.” (Humans: so easy.)

Happy Thanksgiving around the world, even if you don’t celebrate it.

Juno

The Cappuccino Plan

She drank it all?

I had devised a plan to block Joan’s exit from the couch, to make her my prisoner, at least, until she was sufficiently saddened by my mournful glance, my longing gaze at her luscious cup of morning cappuccino, to give in and share.

Usually she gives me three fingers of cappuccino foam--first, the index finger; then, the middle finger; then, the ring finger. Then she says, "Good dog. That's all. The rest is mine." Don’t think I’m not grateful, but I want more. How I love coffee, especially morning cappuccino. And, really, Joan makes enough to meet the caffeine needs of an entire family.

So, the minute she sat down with her cappuccino, I would park myself between the couch and the coffee table, taking care to lie down on her slippers. Joan would be stuck on the couch until I relented, and I would refuse to relent until she gave me a few more luscious dabs of cappuccino foam.

But, this morning, she figured out that she can simply step over me. And, she can do it without slippers!

Very clever, Joan. Very clever, indeed. I’ll have to come up with a better plan.

Best wishes, Juno.

Watching the People Eat Ice-Cream

Interesting things happen down the block. I think the people fix cars, so there’s always something to listen to—some little squeak, a grinding of some sort of metal thing, a spinning of rubber, a horn, a bad word or two. And there’s always something to watch. The humans bend over the motor and twist things and take things out and stick them back again and slam things and yell, “Not now! I’m busy!” Humans get so mad at machines. Dogs never care about machines. We don’t need them, so we don’t get mad at them.

Sometimes the ice-cream truck comes down the block playing the same tune over and over and over. And when it does, all the big and little people at that end of the street run out of their houses and line up like little kids on the cafeteria line at school. And they unwrap their treats like it's Christmas, like they’re desperate for a big sugary surprise to sweeten up their lives. I sit and watch them lick and smile and chomp and grin until the big rectangle of ice and sugar turns into a skinny stick—nothing left but the stick, the wrapper, and the memory. They usually throw all three of them in the garbage or the street. That's great for the ice-cream seller, because the next time he goes around the block, the people run out and do the same thing over again.

Actually, I wouldn’t mind having one of those treats, but Joan doesn’t line up with the people.

And, there are dogs who live on the other side of those ice-cream-eating people down the block. They come around the corner and stare. It drives Shane crazy, but I just sit and stare back. Okay, sometimes, I whine a little, but that’s just to let them know I’m a softie.

Before the people moved in, I never paid much attention to that end of the block. Now, I sit and watch.

Best wishes, Juno

Affection on a Cold Day

"No, Charles, I really do love it out here in the cold. And, where's your jacket?"

Ah, the cold. I love the cold weather. Give me a patch of ice—a cold hard place in a field of green—and I’m there. Charles approached me with gentile care as I meditated upon the benefits of cold on my allergic skin. I tried to explain it to him, but, the poor man didn’t get it. He thinks the cold is something to be avoided—unless, of course, he’s skiing; then, it’s okay.

Oh, to err is to be human.

Shane trembles in the cold. Every morning he goes tearing out the door, all gung-ho and full of energy, looking for little animals or shadows to chase. Then, he stops in his tracks, looks at the icy dew on the grass, and runs back to the door—unless, of course, Joan comes outside with us. But, she’s always saying, “Brrrrrrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrrrrrr,” which is a little unsettling since I’m thinking “Brrrrrrrrr” is a good thing, and she and Shane are hoping to escape the “Brrrrrrr” as soon as possible. Me? I’m Alaska dog. Antarctic dog. That’s just the way I am.

On our walk this afternoon, a man in a truck wanted to know which dog he could have—me or Shane. Joan told him that she loved us too much to give us up. I went up to the truck to get petted on the head, but I think the man was a little afraid of me, because he kept saying, “Good dog, good dog” in a nervous little way. But, the truth is he didn’t know what to do with all my affection.

Charles, on the other hand, is very good about accepting my affection. It seems to calm him. Did you know that people who have dogs have lower blood pressure than people who live without us? I don’t mean the people who get dogs and stick them on a leash in the backyard; I mean people who have dogs and take care of us. Yup. It’s true. And, with all that low blood pressure, they live longer, happier lives. You can read it in JAMA, which might put you to sleep, or you can take it from the source—that’s me.

Here’s to the cold!
Best wishes, Juno

Just Wag Your Tail

I swear, I don't have imaginary friends.

You can’t see him, but you can smell him. He’s a little dog with a great big head, all black, short hair, very stocky. He must live down the block, because he shows up on a regular basis and causes me to get up and bark. If only he’d come up to the fence and say hello, I wouldn’t bark. The trouble is, the second I see him, he hides. That’s why you probably won’t believe me when I tell you that he’s not my imaginary friend. Imaginary friends don’t make you bark; they’re nice to you; they play tag with you. (Uhm, at least that’s what I’ve heard.)

I think it’s a good thing to say hello. It makes the neighborhood calmer, more tranquil, friendlier. Sometimes, dogs who seem really scary turn out to be very friendly. All you have to do is wag your tail when you see them, and they change from tough to mush in a split second.

People around here are like that, too. They look all mean with their pant waists wrapped around their knees, bopping down the street with their eyes all scrunched up and their lips curled into a snarly pose. Well, all I have to do is wag my tail, and they get the biggest smile on their faces and say, “Hello, beautiful.” You should try it. Unless you’re human and don’t have a tail. Then, well, you could just smile and say hello yourself.

Best wishes, Juno

A Dog's Advice: No One Listens

Now that it’s November, I like to spend more time outside. As long as it’s cold and my belly is full, I’m happy.

On our walk this evening, I met someone who was afraid of me. I sat down very quietly, hoping she would come and pet me, but nothing. I guess there are times in life with the mountain just refuses to come to Mohammad. The trouble is, sometimes Mohammad had better steer clear of the mountain, because the mountain has fear, and when things have fear, they also have danger. So, I finally analyzed all this and moved down the block.

When we got to the corner, I looked around and saw the woman run to her car, her eyes on me, the fear showing in her tight lips. And so I felt sad about the whole thing. As I explain to Shane on a daily basis, fear can be managed; you just have to treat it as if it has no power, and, puff, it’s gone.

No one listens.

Okay, fine, I don’t even listen to myself. But, that’s different. I’m afraid of sudden loud noises, because they come out of the unknown. But, I’m not afraid of things that are just sitting in front of me. And I’m certainly not afraid of myelf.

Best wishes, Juno