Saturday, November 21, 2009

Report of an alarming nature...

Well, not three hours after being torn from the Presence & Being of My Adored Canine at our local airport...
The Dog continued to sleep curled-up in the way back of The Short-person's AUDI. Said place is his third and, probably, the one most enjoyed of his several beds. Apparently, from what I can surmise, the hum of the car's four wheels tearing over Italian asphault is unbeatable for provoking A Good Nap. Yet, in The Dog's defense, it was a radically early 6 in the morning. The Dog doesn't stir from his upstairs bed at home until at least 8:30AM. Sadly, I was thusly kissed-off by The Short-person without so much as one Parting Glance FROM THE DOG!!!
...was not a report of the most alarming nature received from The Short-person.
While standing in line to board mon vol Air France pour l'Amerique... just one of way-too-many such human pilings compressed into the hour and ten minute change-of-plane jaunt at the massively disjointed CDG aeroport... why does the French Government feel the need for an alphabet soup of terminals, not forgetting that to get from G to E requires visiting A, B, C, D, and F?... did my cellphone not suddenly jump to life with the following Text Message... here it is in its entirety AND unedited for Posterity...
Your Dog is INSUPPORTABLE!
Gads.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Oh, Moses...

It is Thanksgiving next week and I must attend to My Dear & Aged Mother. The rest of My Family will be present too for the Food Festivities. One or more of them gets to do the cooking. I will watch while sipping a dry pro-secco. My Mother says she is of The Age when we'd be lucky to get a Swanson's Deep-dish Turkey Pie out of her. Too bad... I love Swanson's! Their crusts are divine!!!

In the meantime, The Dog knows nothing about...
A) Thanksgiving... though, if he did, he would be enthusiastically hoping for some morsel of "white meat" or an entire Swanson's all to himself...
and...
B) My Imminent Departure avec la compagnie Air France.
Let's go right to Our Scene...
Me... Oh, Moses... Oh, Moses...  I will be leaving you in a few short hours and I have these Parting Words for your edification... 
The Dog... ?**!!#@???
Me again... I want you to understand that you will be under the care & feeding of The Short-person. It is important to know that this Person has COMPLETELY & TOTALLY DIFFERENT parameters of Discipline, Behaviour & Care of A Dog. So, brace yourself. The Dog Sitter will SAVE you on Sunday.
The Dog, again... ???*!!!***?
Me, for now... I'll be back in two weeks. Be A Brave Weimaraner! 
Gads.


Thursday, November 12, 2009

My echoes heard for days...

There is no Photographic Documentation for what I am about to tell... and probably just as well too...
The Dog fell 10 feet off a staircase at a friend's country house last weekend!!! Yep. But, there was NO CRASH-BOOM!!! Nope. Not at all. Somehow, The Dog's mighty hefty 65 lbs. of spoiled & recalcitrant Weimaraner... coupled with Nature's ever-acting Gravity... orchestrated The Dog back up & onto his all-fours... an acrobatic gesture lightly akin to what circus performers do after a Death Defying Leap off a trapeze. The Dog had made an ill-executed rearward march around a little iron gate on a landing to a terrace. It's a bit different for entertainment value. The Thrills & Chills were something else. However, I do not consider this A Stupid Dog Trick. During The Dog's unexpected change of level... shall we say... I had cause to let out a monstrously loud...
Ohhhhh! Moooszzzsesss!!!
...which resounded for hours afterwards throughout the local mountain valleys. I must say, this was a very effective alarm. Suddenly, between blinks of horror AND leaping to save My Dog, 10 house-guests gathered immediately by my trembling side to give whatever Aid & Succor to the fallen animal they could. I was easier to attend to. All I needed was a LARGE white wine. I could have cared less that it was ONLY 10:17 in the morning.
But, where was The Dog?... they all asked. 
Oh, well, gainfully restored to an Upright Position, The Dog had trotted off to continue with either of Two Dog-in-the-country Options...
A) continue with his Terrorist Campaign against the insidious castle cats...
OR...
B) off to sniff ca-ca di capra on the trails in the olive groves above my friend's medieval keep.
I felt like a fool for having wasted a good yell for That Dog. Hopefully, it will be his last circus-style performance for a while. My 60 year old heart might not stand another shock like that. White wine can only do so much, you know? Gads.




Monday, November 9, 2009

His rain-slicker...

I'll have you know... the only way I could get this photo was through the auspices of Bribery & Deceit. Doggie-cookies. Aren't they an amazing invention? They work every time. Often though, I can trick The Dog into thinking my little SONY digital-camera is a treat too. Not always but, enough times to get a few good dog-portraits. Sadly, this was not the case this morning. I had pulled out his rain-slicker for a w-a-l-k in the rain.

Yes... The Dog is sporting his rain-slicker. He HATES it. He shouldn't. It's wool lined. Nevertheless, when he hears the shush-shush of its nylon fabric, The Dog goes post-haste al suo posto... normally, the downstairs one...  hoping what he heard won't happen... Silly Dog. Eets beeeg raining outsyde!!! Let's get this rain-slicker on you. 
Finding the whole exercise of putting on the rain-slicker more than just tedious, The Dog's next tactic is to curl into a tight little Weimaraner ball... Come here, Dog, and be brave. Give me one of your hind legs, so I can slip these straps on over your Weimaraner behind. This is what The Dog HATES the most. Those thin elastic leg straps, which force him to bend his leg in what The Dog believes to be an un-natural position. So be it. The rain-slicker goes on The Dog!
Several wasted minutes later, The Dog is dressed for the rain & wind & cold outside. However, he is so embarrassed to be attired in a rain-slicker, he retreats again al suo posto... the upstairs one... far, far away from our front door and imminent Public Shame. Apparently, wearing human-style garb is TOTALLY against The Code of the Weimaraners. So be it. I am not having any accidents in my house because...
A) The Dog HATES rain & refuses to go out in it...
and...
B) because thinks he can hold it until the five day forecast changes for the better.
Right.
So, I have to pull out the big guns of more Bribery & Deceit... pieces of bread. WHOOOSH!!! Guess who is at attention at our front door? Yep. Mr. Recalcitrant in his Navy blue rain-slicker. Gads.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Defects of Design... dammit

As is The Custom in Our Home, at strategic moments during Our Evening, while The Short-person is on a final ILS approach to falling asleep in front of the TV... and after a delicious meal of sauteed pork-chops with zucchini... I go over & adore My Dog. Normally, The Creature is to be found on his Upstairs Bed... sleeping. He is united with The Short-person on that.
Adoring entails giving goolie-goolie. This is Our Local Custom of scratching a certain body part. For The Dog, it is one of two Inner Thighs. Knowing full well of this Custom, The Dog awakes & lifts his leg in preparation for what is to come... the soothing effect of my delicate tickling where his hair don't grow and he can't reach. It is My Public Service to The Dog.
A while back, I told The Dog that God was Very Kind & Generous in bestowing upon him two Inner Thighs. Thus, saving him the indignity... or the uniqueness... of being a three-legged Weimaraner. The Dog only HARRUMPHED!!! for more goolie-goolie. It IS addicting. Just ask The Short-person. I am obligated in doing his back & bumpy-head.
Anyway, what I am about to describe I have known since The Dog was just a wee puppy but, last night, a particular detail of his Weimaraner physiology struck me as especially odd...
The Dog has a nipple on his pee-pee!!! 
However, I will NOT dignify this with a photo.

Now, don't you think someone... someone Real Big & All Encompassing, who lives upstairs... or everywhere, as the case may be... and whose name begins with a "G"... yep, we're talking about God Himself!!!... has screwed-up? My Dog has been burdened with a weird sort of Design Fluke!!! Not Very Kind OR Generous. Gads.