Saki & the Age of Passive Entertainment

1. Why do I have to come in so soon?

2. Saki watches Benji save the cubs.

Saki loves television. Yes, he’s become a truly modern child of the mechanical age of passive entertainment. Well, not so fast. He doesn’t just sit in front of the television; he checks out the speakers—especially when there’s a bark or a meow—and he searches the screen, behind the screen, everywhere imaginable, for the source. So, it was no surprise that he sat through the adventures of Benji and the Hunters, watching as Benji saved the three cubs from certain death, as the mother cat thanked him with her silent appreciation, as the cubs waved goodbye, their eyes moist. I almost cried myself.

It’s super cold. Joan won’t let me stay outside. Doesn’t want me to freeze to the ice-covered grass. So silly. I’m a cold-weather dog. So, I bug her—demanding to go out six, seven, eight times a day. It’s a little game that’s been going on for nine years. She never does catch on.

Best wishes, Juno

Walking the Floor?

I no longer walk on wooden floors. How slippery a welcome they suddenly have for me, and I tread not—not even with my great paws that should be big enough to provide support to a dog twice my size. Joan keeps buying runner rugs to make a safe passageway through the uncarpeted part of the living room. They’re very handy for dogs like me who’ve become unsure of their steps. The trouble is Saki keeps eating the rugs. He eats one end, and Joan cuts off the messy fringe left over from his bite marks. The more Saki eats, the shorter the rugs become until, finally, they’re useless. Like napkins.

Alas, I don’t complain about this situation. It’s just an observation.

So, here I stand on the edge of the precipice with nothing but floor between me and the door. Floor floor everywhere and not a rug in sight.

Best wishes, Juno

Saki, Shane, Snow, and Moi

Saki’s first official snowfall, that is, since he joined our household. He woke us all up a five this morning demanding to go out—not for anything urgent—just so he could run in circles in the snow, eat the snow, nose the snow, roll in the snow, jump on Shane’s face in the snow. Kids.

For me, the snow is always welcome. I’m basically a snow dog, and I’m sure my ancestors were lovers of icy snow-swept winters, who knows, maybe in the mountains of China or Canada. How I ended up here on Long Island I’ll never know. But, there’s no denying one’s genes.

Shane is of different stuff. He’s indifferent to everything. Snow, schmow; that’s how he feels. So, while Saki is practically doing somersaults of joy and exuberation (MS Word doesn’t think "exuberation" is a proper word), I sit peacefully with my nose buried in a white soupçon of fresh snow watching him tear through the dawning of the day. Shane? Shane sits and stares at the house, wondering when the door will open.

We’re all put together rather haphazardly, wouldn’t you agree?

Best wishes, Juno

Saki: Pen Eater

At least he didn't eat the wires—this time.

Saki eats whatever’s available. A sock, a couch, a banana, a pen. He doesn’t distinguish. It’s all good. See those paw prints on the floor? Those are Saki prints left over from his pen-eating endeavor. We all thought he was chewing on one of his toys—of which he has like one hundred, or maybe just ten. But, all the time, he was sitting under Joan’s computer desk—chomp, chomp, chomp—chewing on a black fine-point Uniball pen, dribbling ink all over his front paws, turning his tongue an unsightly somewhat Chow-Chow gray, looking very cute, looking like a little doggy angel who could do no wrong.

A long bath ensued. Then came the blow-drying, the tub scrubbing, and the ink removal. He still doesn’t get it. A toy, a pen, a ball, a tree, a chair leg—it’s all within the realm of juicy eating possibilities.

I marvel at the way the world itself is Saki’s silver lining. It's a special talent, I guess.

Best wishes, Juno

Reaching 116 (pounds)

I’m still recovering from Thursday. Joan comes in from work, sniffs me, chucks me under the chin, and announces it’s time for a bath. I’m quite dutiful about stepping into the tub and wonder if she realizes that I have the power to refuse. She’d never be able to lift me. Yet, I’m silent on this matter.

Well, after the bath I underwent the usual fluffing with the hairdryer, the fifty towels trying to absorb leftover moisture, the remarks about the flying fur. But, then came the surprise trip to the Babylon Animal Hospital where I was scheduled to undergo my annual ordeal of poking and prying by the vet. Shane came along for the ride, and he did his usual growling behind his muzzle, scaring the personnel—and you’d think they’d be used to nervous dogs by now. I mean, not everyone can be even tempered like I am.

Saki stayed behind with Shana, and it’s just as well, because we did a lot of waiting around, and I think Saki would have driven everyone a little mad with his abundance of energy.

But, here’s the real news. Remember how I used to be called words related to “plump”? (If not, you can read about it here.) Well, I’ll have you all know that I’ve lost my baby fat and now weigh only 116 pounds! That’s ten pounds less than Shane! What with bikini season another seven months away, who knows what possibilities lie in my future!

Best wishes, Juno

Brrrrr!

Brrrrrrr. Love it. Joan’s thinks that if she’s cold, I must be cold, too. But, it’s not so. Give me your chilly whipping wind from the North, a blast of Antarctica, a big splash of rain from what’s left of the Polar Caps. Yeah. Cold rain and ice are my solace.

Best wishes, Juno

Memories of Summer (we'll get a picture of the cat when health permits)

I haven’t left the yard for days. Joan’s fault. Something about the flu. But, it’s okay since there’s enough activity to keep my interest—that huge striped cat for example. She teases me, entices me, intrigues me with her great balloon of a belly and the way she struts along the chain-link fence acting as though she owns that particular strip of grass, as though she owns the air we breathe.

I admire her audacity. I like the way she doesn’t try to act like Saki or Shane. She’s her own cat. Sometimes I sit in the corner of the yard, and that cat sits on top of the fence and stares at me. We have a silent agreement—she doesn’t jump on my head; I don’t bark.

Best wishes, Juno

Old Age So Far

November has been perfect so far. Warm outside weather—even the cool weather is warm as long as the sun shines. I’m easing into old age with great aplomb. No complaints, no regrets, no nightmarish reminiscences, no wish-I-hads. Shane’s like me in this respect. We don’t lament the passing of time like humans do; we just make note of the breezes, the storms, the springing up of flowers in the spring and falling of leaves in the fall. And, it just is.

I tried to walk the entire way around the block today, but someone in the distance was hammering. It sounded like anger, like gunshots; it just ruined my equilibrium. So, we turned around and came home.

And so here I sit. I note the leaves rushing down the street and wonder if they know why they hurry or even know where they’ll end up.

Overnight, everything looks like autumn—the clouds are thin, the leaves suddenly yellow and red, the air clear and dry. Oh, and the ice-cream truck comes no more down the block playing that silly little tune. Ish is still imprisoned in the backyard, the people still yell at one another, the cars still speed by.

Somehow, though, it’s just a lot more peaceful.

Best wishes, Juno

Waiting for the Storm

There’s supposed to be a huge storm today. We’re waiting. Nothing’s really going on. Well, we can’t say that about Saki. He goes on and on. Wow. What a lot of energy. He loves that Frisbee, and I think he should advertise for PetCo or PetSmart or for whoever made that thing in his mouth.

I like days like this—it’s supposed to rain, it’s supposed to be a terrible stay-in day—when we get to sit in the yard for hours waiting, waiting, waiting. The cat from across the street struts along the fence, and we’re so used to it by now, we hardly turn around, and Saki runs around with that Frisbee hoping we’ll play with him. (Sorry, Saki. Shane and I, we’re content to sit and watch you run around.)

Best wishes before the storm, Juno

Goldfish Whisperer

Shane

To see Cesar Milan: well, the Upright Citizen's Brigade version of him, click right HERE.

Uneven Patios and Puppy Energy

Okay, the patio is a little uneven, but it's comfortable.

The older I get, the harder it gets to write. Also, Joan spent the weekend making a patio and fixing the first bad job she did on the walkway. “Wow, these pavers are heavy,” she lamented time and time again. Then she got a fever and slept for half a day. So, it’s not just my age. It’s day-to-day living that gets in the way of my blogging life.

Shane was sick again, too. Saki is never sick. He just runs and runs. And if he doesn’t get to run, he digs up the yard. So, we try to keep him occupied. Shane lies on the grass and lets him jump all over him—this from a dog who used to try to attack Saki! Joan throws the Frisbee for Saki about a hundred times a day. And, still he never gets tired. That is, until he collapses at the end of the day and falls into a deep sleep—so deep, you can hardly see him breathing.

That’s the beauty of extended puppyhood. You play hard, you sleep deep, you charm everyone—even tough nuts like Shane.

Best wishes, Juno

From Where I Sit

This is the best time of the year, better, even, than spring, for the leaves float so lightly to the ground you’d think they could change course in mid-flight and rise right back to their branches. The trees are still dressed in their thin autumn way, and the clouds billow and darken and whiten as they race across the sky to who-knows-where.

I’m the only dog here who looks up to see these things. Shane and Saki watch the street, which might or might not have its advantages.

For example, they’re on constant tender hooks because the cat across the street taunts them with that arrogant arch in her tiger-striped back. Whereas most cats will pretend to ignore you—especially if you’re a dog—this cat stares right through the chain-link fence. It’s as though she knows we haven’t figured out how to unlatch the gate. And does she ever take advantage! Shane and Saki get all upset and whiny.

Not me. I play the part the cat should play. I ignore—or pretend to ignore—all the silliness of confrontation and discourse. I try to give Saki and Shane the occasional word of advice, but do they listen? Of course not. So here I sit and choose the views that please me best.

Best wishes, Juno

Webs & Triangles

Spiders make humans scream (just ask Megan). But, I think they make splendid webs, and besides, humans make webs, too—all kinds of webs. If you look really closely, you just can’t believe how complicated and beautiful a spider web is. It’s like a gossamer curtain of silver. And, in the middle of all that beauty, the spider waits, every so patiently.

It’s been raining all day, and here we are taking advantage of a little dry spell to luxuriate under a cloudy sky still thick with rain that’s too light to fall and too heavy to rise. Saki always wants to be the most acute angle on the triangle. I let him have his way. Life is all very temporary, and I say there are some things just not worth worrying about.

Best wishes, Juno

Okay, Students. Listen Up.

"Everyone back to your seats for a pop quiz."

This is Cousin Eileen. She's a teacher, and I think she missed being in the classroom during her visit to New York. Well, since she's a creative sort of person, she simple substituted us dogs for her students. She taught us all sorts of things—you know, about history and math and current events. We also watched Wives and Daughters together and spent some quality sniffing her ankles under the breakfast table.

After she went home, Saki ate her bed. Joan wasn't happy about it, but she understood.

Best wishes, Juno

Ish's Fence & Saki's Sleepover

Such a lovely day; so soporific in its way.

Two pieces of good news. Well, first of all, you’ll be happy to know that Ish—you know him; he’s the dog who sometimes visits from across the street—is no longer spending his days and nights on a chain! John—that’s his owner—came over to tell Joan about it the other day. Here’s how it went:

Joan pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. John walks across the street with his hands on his hips.

Joan: What’s up? What did I do wrong?

John: I just want to tell you that I put up a fence in the backyard for Ish.

Joan: Fantastic!

John: Now he can run around. He’s not on a chain.

Joan: Wow! I’m so happy.

John: Well, I just thought you’d like to know. Now you don’t have to worry about him.

Joan: Bravo! I knew you were a good man. I just knew it!

John laughs and waves goodbye. The end.

The other news is that Saki had a practice sleepover at a dogsitter’s house. The sitter and her family loved him, and Saki had a super time of it. Now he has a place to go if Joan has to be out late in the day.

Shane and me? We prefer to stay put, thank you very much. We’re way over running around all day and eating the furniture when no one’s home.

So how about all this happy news? Very pleasant, I’d say.

Best wishes, Juno

The Saki Good-Dog Project

Saki and Ish think of ways to tear up the lawn--what's left of it.

Saki is on Joan Assignment. Everywhere Joan goes, Saki must follow. No more running in the yard unless Joan’s watching him; no more eating pillows in the sunroom unless Joan’s watching him; no more…. Well, you get the idea.

Saki even has a “play pen” now (which Kyla calls “jail,” but it’s not), so we can all relax for a few minutes at a time and not worry about Saki committing crimes of social etiquette or those involving personal property—the destruction of lawns, pillows, socks, envelopes, clothespins, hoses, etc.

I think this new tactic will work, and it'll make Saki a very good dog, indeed. Like Cesar (Milan) says, a good dog needs affection, discipline, and, what was it?, exercise? Oh, dear. No wonder we can’t get this right.

Best wishes,
Juno

Come on, Paterson, NJ!

15 September: SHE'S HOME!

LOST DOG, PATERSON NJ

Lily was lost at a gas station in Paterson New Jersey on Sunday, August 10, 2008. If you see her, please contact me immediately. We're hoping some kind person in or around Paterson will help save her. She's a friendly dog.

My email is Joan.Taber@gmail.com

I'm Not Proust

Joan says that if I don’t start taking walks soon, I’m not going to have anything to write about. “You have to get out in the world, or your brain will atrophy.” Well, I guess she never heard of Marcel Proust! Or how about Emily Dickinson? Some of the most brilliant people stay indoors. You don’t know that because you don’t see them. Oh, so now I’m not a people? A dog? I’m a dog?

I'm just kidding around. I know very well that I'm a dog. When the little kid down the block found out I was still afraid to go out because of the firecrackers, he said, shrugging his shoulders, "But, the firecrackers are gone. I don't get it!" Well, I don't get it either. I'm just a lot happier in the yard. Saki and Shane still walk around outside the gate. Not me.

Best wishes, Juno

Posticipation

Wow. Saki's sitting still for the photo. It's a miracle.

So much to think about.

Well, I still refuse to walk. Today, I managed to turn the corner with Joan, Shane, and Saki. I heard a noise. What could it have been? Something in the distance, like a rumbling, like danger. We had to turn around. I sat in the yard and everyone walked without me.

They came back in one piece. Now, that’s quite a feat considering the bad things that happen outside the yard. And the worst of the worst are the terrible things you imagine will happen. Anticipation—it’s life best and life’s worst. I prefer postipation (yes, I know it’s not a word, but it’s mine).

Best wishes, Juno