Dogs Love To Ride

The other day coming home from work I was driving down I-40 when I got behind a red Mazda Miata with its top down, two bicycles strapped to the back, and I see a dog riding in the passengers seat. He was mostly brown but I could see a touch of white on his chest, his face, and on his ears.

He was standing up with his back feet on the front seat, his front feet propped up on the headrest, his head straight up in the air, and those long ears flapping in the wind. This dog was living large as all dogs should.

Molly And The Vet

I had to take Molly for her annual vet appointment this past Monday. The trip to the Vet is just as traumatic for me as it is for Molly. I came home to pick her up and she was so excited because she got to go for a ride in the car. It has been a while for her. All I had to do was say "Do you wanna go for a ride?" She mauled me all the way to the car.

When we got about a half-mile from the Vets office she knew where we were going and she knew she had been tricked. Hopefully she will forgive me. I practically had to drag her into the office.

The Vet came in and Molly started growling and barking to voice her displeasure at the situation. After a quick consultation with the Vet on the best way to give Molly her shots, he headed to the back with Molly leading the way on her black leash with metallic silver paw prints up and down it. If a dog is going to go, she has to go in style.

Within about three minutes I heard her leading the charge back to the waiting room, panting very loudly as she strained at the leash to get the hell out of there. Since I didn't hear Molly yelp or scream, I thought the Vet had given her up as a lost cause and was going to refuse to do it. He came back into the room and announced they were finished.

I was surprised and wanted to know what secret he had discovered. There was a cat in its carrier waiting to be picked up and Molly was so busy messing with the cat, he put three needles in her and she never even noticed. The cat distracting her was all it took. Now we know what to do the next time.

Wake Not The Sleeping Dog

"N'esveillez pas lou chien qui dort." The translation for this is "wake not the sleeping dog." This phrase, according to my research, first appeared in French literature in the 14th century. It is still very sage advice seven hundred years later especially as far as Molly is concerned.

My new roommate is in the process of moving in and Molly hasn't decided if she is going to like this arrangement or not. I have been going over "Molly's Rules" with him when I have had the opportunity to and one of the first ones I told him was "if Molly is sleeping, do not wake her up." He found out firsthand the other day why I told him that.

We were sitting there watching TV and Molly as laying on the floor asleep. He reached over there to pat her on the head and he had barely touched her when she came off the floor snapping and snarling. Talk about not being a morning "person." All I could see was fangs and claws because she wakes up pissed if she is in a deep sleep. If she is having one of her dreams and you wake her up, you are as good as bit. The French realized it wasn't a good idea early on in recorded history and now David does too.

Max The German Short-Hair Part IV

I came up with the bright idea to start taking Max out on a leash so he and I could get used to each other and so he could get some exercise. I might as well have put a leash on a bull. That was without a doubt the strongest dog I had ever been around. He sniffed and peed on everything including my dad's next door neighbor's pit bull. I'm sorry but that was funny. In the pit bull's defense it was only a pup.

The funny thing was when my wife took him out on a leash. They were walking out thru the backyard and a rabbit takes off in front of Max. My father and I was standing in the backyard watching all of this. Max took off after the rabbit and I thought Kathy had achieved lift off, he pulled her off the ground so fast. She tripped and fell down and Max was still in chase mode and he was stomping on her head trying to resume the chase. To Kathy's credit she never let go of the leash.

By the time I arrived on the scene Kathy was crying pretty hard and me and Pops couldn't stop laughing. The harder she cried the harder we laughed. I did check to make sure she was alright and she was more scared than anything but Max wouldn't hurt anyone unless he was over exuberant in his friendliness. Like I said to her credit, she didn't let go of the leash and Max and her formed a solid friendship after that day.

Max The German Short-Hair Part III

Max was full of life and full of energy and he had such a unique personality. Since he had been one of my fathers bird dogs, he stayed in a lot out behind the house. This dog was an escape artist along the lines of a canine Harry Houdini. He dug a hole about three feet deep under his pen and somehow managed to squeeze his big body under his fence and get out. He would make a beeline for the house wanting in, or wanting to play, or just to show me it could be done.

This was a pattern that repeated itself throughout his life but he only had the best of intentions. He wanted to be free. I tried everything I could to an end to his escape artistry but I never completely put a stop to it. The best effort I made was to fill his hole woth bricks and logs from my fathers wood pile and that slowed him down more than anything.

Max The German Short-Hair Part II

Max was a classical looking German Short-Hair dog. The dark brown liver spotting, the greenish-colored eyes, the sleek build, and a nose built for hunting. He was also strong and powerfully built. He was the friendliest dog you would ever want to meet. He loved people and he loved attention and he would do anything he had to do to get that attention.

It had to be one of my proudest moments as a German Short-Hair owner when that breed won the Westminster Kennel Dog Show a few years ago. It literally brought a tear to my eye when they announced him as the winner. Kathy called me into the living room when she saw that dog and seeing that dog brought back a ton of great memories. I sat down and watched the rest of the competition when I saw that. Max had long since passed away but I will always have a soft spot for a German Short-Hair.

Max The German Short-Hair Part I

When I was out and about the other day, I passed by someone that was out walking their German Short-Hair dog. That made me think of the first dog I "co-owned" with Pops, a German Short-Hair named Max. I say co-owned because my father got him first thru one of his hunting buddies. Pops took him out a couple of times but Max did not hunt well in tandem with his two Brittany Spaniels and wasn't going to hunt him so he was going to give him away to someone who would use him. Pops hated to see a good hunting dog go to waste.

While Pops was in the process of looking for a good owner for Max, I decided I was too attached to him to let him leave so I asked my father if I could have him. Thus my journey began as a dog owner. It was (and still is, Molly) an awesome journey and I do not know what life would be like without my awesome canine companions.

Bringing In The Groceries

I usually try to make my weekly Wal-Mart run early in the morning on Sundays. Most people sleep in that day and it is not as crowded. I can get my shopping done and I usually do not have to wait in line.

I always bring the bags in from the car and set them on the floor and Molly immediately goes over and starts going thru them bag-by-bag. I guess she is wanting to make sure that I got her "special" treats (Ol' Roy Munchy Bones. She really loves those things and gets awful pissy if I run out and she doesn't get her morning treat). She is always able to pick out the bag that has those in it and then she is satisfied. Only then is my Wal-Mart shopping experience complete.

Molly The Interior Decorator

When I went to bed the other night it was kind of hot and stuffy inside the house and I figured it would kind of cool down as the night wore on and I would be fine. I am one of those types of people that has to sleep with some type of cover on top of me. It doesn't matter if its a sheet, a quilt, a blanket, it just has to be something.

When I got in the bed to go to sleep and turned off the lamp beside my bed, Molly took that as her cue to climb down off the bed and find her a cooler spot on the floor. She usually sleeps on her pet bed but if that is too hot she will find her a spot in one of the doorways to lay down.

About a minute after I turned the lamp off, I hear Molly dragging something across the floor. I raised up to see what was going on and she had taken her pet bed in her mouth and was dragging it across the floor. The ceiling fan is in the center of the room and she was dragging her bed under the ceiling fan. She would pull her bed a few feet and then look up to see the beds position in relation to the ceiling fan. As soon as she got her bed positioned where she wanted to, she patted her bed down, fluffed up the pillow, and laid down for a cool nights rest under the ceiling fan.