Saturday, April 30, 2011

Apres Bath

          After his bath, thanks to the caring people at Petco, Gizmo prances around as if he knows that, whether or not he thinks he smells good, he looks really great.  He has become, if not a show dog, at least one that could win Best of Mutt. 
             Of course, the first thing he wants to do is run up to the path and begin digging in the dirt.  Once discouraged from that (because of a leash) because digging in dirt less than one hour after a bath would be like leaving a car wash and immediately driving through rain, he settles down and merely looks beautiful.

      “They say the dog is man's best friend. I don't believe that.   How many of your friends have you neutered?”  
~ Larry Reeb

Gizmo proven not to be a Corgi!

Alas, no Corgi, he. 

         Several people believe that Gizmo is a corgi, the royal dogs beloved by English royalty.                                                                                           Today, I tried to wake him to see the telecast of the wedding between Kate Middleton and Prince William at around 3 am our time.                                                                                           Gizmo preferred to nap in his cage.                                                                   Gizmo is no corgi.
      “I like driving around with my two dogs, especially on the freeways. I make them wear little hats so I can use the car-pool lanes.” 
- Monica Piper

Friday, April 29, 2011

1:30 am: Time to Whine

Sleeping in doorway against a wall, but not at night

         I got up four times during the night, 1:30 am, 2:15, 4 am and 5:45 am, because Gizmo was barking, yipping, high-pitched whining or making a sound that apparently only I could hear.  This was, by now, rather odd behavior for him. 
         Each time I got up, shuffled down to his cage and looked inside, hoping that the dog was not in pain or urinary discomfort.  Each time, Gizmo looked up at me as if to say, “I assume you have a reason to be here?”
         He did not greet me joyously or with even the least energy.
         I went to my fallback position at such times: I said NO in no uncertain times and I rapped on the cage loud enough to disturb him, but not intense enough to wake up Grace.
         Then he became quiet and perhaps just a little morose.  A half hour later I was awakened from a deep sleep by more high-pitched whining.
         I got up around 6:30 am and took him out for a walk, which was greeted joyously.  Oddly enough, on the designated piss path above the pool, Gizmo merely sat down and looked at me with interest, but as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to do there.
         Then he dashed to the side door, where he waited for me to hook up his leash.  When I opened the door, out he pranced, ears flapping, legs almost high stepping, a big grin on his face.
         Dogs, who usually have no shame, also have no memory or reaction to waking me four times in the middle of the night for no reason at all.  Today, I shall be tired and needing of a nap.  Gizmo will be his friendly, leaping, tonguing, energetic self. 
         I wonder: Can we teach any dog to apologize?

“A man once told me that his dog was half pit bull and half Poodle. He claimed that it wasn't much good as a guard dog, but it was a vicious gossip.”  Stanley Coren

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The hidden dog

Another favorite napping spot: under my desk

Grace, who had an appointment for which she was late, wanted to get Gizmo into his cage (training facility to the more politically correct).  Gizmo hid under her bed.  WAY under her bad in her office. 
She tried to coax him with treats.  She attempted to be stern and say, in no uncertain terms, “I’m not fooling around: get out her and get in your cage.”  Gizmo just retreated further under her bed.
Finally, she had to leave.  Her note told me: “Gizmo under the bed.  Can’t get him out.  Hope no accidents while I am out.”
When I arrived about an hour and a half after Grace left, there was Gizmo, happy to see me, prancing around, joyous in his greetings (as he always is).  No “accidents”, no problems in allowing him to roam free.
My fear: Gizmo has learned something new.  The next time we need to have him in his cage, he will retreat to beneath the bed in Grace’s office.
Sure enough, I was about to leave, Gizmo just stared at me from the end of the hallway and, when I made a move towards him, he dashed into Grace’s office and disappeared under the bed.
But I was as determined as Gizmo was.  I reached under the bed, found his collar, grabbed his front and back end, and dragged him out, carrying him to the cage.
I did not scold or yell at him.  I merely forcefully picked him up and deposited him in the cage.
The next time, when we were going out for the night, I opened the cage door, tossed a treat inside and Gizmo ran, not walked, into the cage.  When he settled down in there, it was with a sigh of apparent relief.  Humans one, dog zero.

"Man is a dog's idea of what God should be." -- Holbrook Jackson

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

You Tube Dog Videos


A web reference that is both hilarious and proves that dogs DO have a sense of guilt:

Amazing, if true, dog:
YOU  WON'T   BELIEVE   WHAT  THIS  "PUP"  HAS  LEARNED...  Click on the word DOG <http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=P9Fyey4D5hg

My mom was a ventriloquist and she always was throwing her voice. For ten years I thought the dog was telling me to kill my father.”  Wendy Liebman

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Whining and Barking to Greet the Dawn

Complete relaxation

          I got up four times during the night, 1:30 am, 2:15, 4 am and 5:45 am, because Gizmo was barking, yipping, high-pitched whining or making a sound that apparently only I could hear.  This was, by now, rather odd behavior for him. 
            Each time I got up, shuffled down to his cage and looked inside, hoping that the dog was not in pain or urinary discomfort.  Each time, Gizmo looked up at me as if to say, “I assume you have a reason to be here?”
            He did not greet me joyously or with even the least energy.
            I went to my fallback position at such times: I said NO in no uncertain times and I rapped on the cage loud enough to disturb him, but not intense enough to wake up Grace.
            Then he became quiet and perhaps just a little morose.  A half hour later I was awakened from a deep sleep by more high-pitched whining.
            I got up around 6:30 am and took him out for a walk, which was greeted joyously.  Oddly enough, on the designated piss path above the pool, Gizmo merely sat down and looked at me with interest, but as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to do there.
            Then he dashed to the side door, where he waited for me to hook up his leash.  When I opened the door, out he pranced, ears flapping, legs almost high stepping, a big grin on his face.
            Dogs, who usually have no shame, also have no memory or reaction to waking me four times in the middle of the night for no reason at all.  Today, I shall be tired and needing of a nap.  Gizmo will be his friendly, leaping, tonguing, energetic self. 
            I wonder: Can we teach any dog to apologize?

“A man once told me that his dog was half pit bull and half Poodle. He claimed that it wasn't much good as a guard dog, but it was a vicious gossip.”  Stanley Coren

Monday, April 25, 2011

How to Stop post-Midnight Barking


Last night Gizmo barked loudly at 4 am.  I got up because I thought perhaps he was warning us about an impending earthquake.  He was not.
(Neither were the goldfish, which Grace placed in her kitchen over a decade ago after she learned that they would leap out of their bowl if an earthquake were about to happen.  Unfortunately, she put the bowl on top of the refrigerator, which regularly shaked when it was adjusting the coldness.  The goldfish had several nervous breakdowns after we found them flopping atop the refrigerator many mornings.  They did not see a therapist even though we were living at the time in Mill Valley, the national capital of therapists.zzzzzz0
Figuring he was desperate to go to the bathroom and feeling sorry for him because that could have been me, I let him out the back door.  He ran over the bridge, dashed on to the path, zipped all the way through it and returned to the back door, happy, tail wagging, joyous.  4 am is NOT a time to be joyous.
I put him back in the cage and he slept through what was left of the night.
The next night, beginning again at 4 am, he barked.  This time I got up, walked to his cage, said “NO” and “BAD DOG” in no uncertain terms.  Reaction: not even a little chagrinned.
So I got up, opened the computer and worked on the blog.  I was fully awake, possibly because of the infusions to combat the Multiple Myeloma (bone marrow cancer) that is currently in a lock box and being successfully battled to a happy draw.  Thank you, Dr. James Berenson of Los Angeles.
One side effect of the steroids I take is that I am wide awake at odd times, which does lead to sending some strange answers in my email.
Every 15 minutes, sometimes less, Gizmo would awaken, bark, yip or whine.  I would stop what I was doing, go to him, say “No” and “Bad Dog” and pound on his cage in the hopes of associating Gizmo’s noises with bad sounds, results, etc.   This wrestling match continued until 6:45, meaning I went to him at least ten times.
It is now 6:50 am, I am still writing, but Gizmo is quiet, perhaps asleep.  Sunrise is just beginning.  Maybe I have taught him something.  Maybe I have “won.”  But it doesn’t feel like victory.  It feels like a long slog.  Perhaps it was a draw because I feel like going to sleep.

If you don't want your dog to have bad breath, do what I do: Pour a little Lavoris in the toilet.”     Jay Leno

Lhasa Apso: the disposition of a rattlesnake with menopause

http://www.lhasa-apso.org/
Abby, 8 months old, doesn't look vicious
Muffin: a biter?



    From my friend Corwin: how to tell if Gizmo is a Lhasa Apso:
     Reach for the dog when it is under the bed.  If the dog bites you and your hand comes out bloody, it’s a Lhasa Apso.    
      Corwin was in the kennel business, was bitten 20 times (usually his fault) and 19 of those bites were from Lhasas!  He describes Lhasas as having “the disposition of a rattlesnake with menopause.”    
Is that true?  Lhasa owners please respond.
Gizmo has hidden under the bed, we have reached in and brought him out, usually because we needed to leave and he belonged in the cage.  At no time did Gizmo growl at us, let alone ever bite or gnaw at us.
Corwin’s conclusion: Gizmo is a Shih Tzu.
           Any other absolute “tells” indicating what kind of dog you have, such as biting the hands of people reaching for them under a bed?  Please respond because what Corwin revealed would never be found in a description of the dog.

           "An honest man is not the worse because a dog barks at him." - Danish Proverb

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Proudly Post Plunge: Gizmo Apres Bath

          After his bath, thanks to the caring people at Petco, Gizmo prances around as if he knows that, whether or not he thinks he smells good, he looks really great, if not a show dog, at least one that could win Best of Mutt. 
             Of course, the first thing he wants to do is run up to the path and begin digging in the dirt.  Once discouraged from that (because of a leash) because digging in dirt less than one hour after a bath would be like leaving a car wash and immediately driving through rain, he settles down and merely looks beautiful.

“They say the dog is man's best friend. I don't believe that. How many of your friends have you neutered?”  
~ Larry Reeb

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Gizmo vs. The Cage

Grace, who had an appointment for which she was late, wanted to get Gizmo into his cage (training facility to the more politically correct).  Gizmo hid under her bed.  WAY under her bed in her office. 
She tried to coax him with treats.  She attempted to be stern and say, in no uncertain terms, “I’m not fooling around: get out here and get in your cage.”  Gizmo just retreated further under her bed.
Finally, she had to leave.  Her note told me: “Gizmo under the bed.  Can’t get him out.  Hope no accidents while I am out.”
(A few years ago, Grace left a note: "I love you, Grace.  Please get haircut.")
When I arrived about an hour and a half after Grace left, there was Gizmo, happy to see me, prancing around, joyous in his greetings (as he always is).  No “accidents," no problems created when he roamed free.
My fear: Gizmo has learned something new.  The next time we need to have him in his cage, he will retreat to beneath the bed in Grace’s office.
Sure enough, I was about to leave, Gizmo just stared at me from the end of the hallway and, when I made a move towards him, he dashed into Grace’s office and disappeared under the bed.
But I was as determined as Gizmo was.  I reached under the bed, found his collar, grabbed his front and back end, and dragged him out, carrying him to the cage.
I did not scold or yell at him.  I merely forcefully picked him up and deposited him in the cage.
The next time, when we were going out for the night, I opened the cage door, tossed a treat inside and Gizmo ran, not walked, into the cage.  When he settled down in there, it was with a sigh of apparent relief.  Humans one, dog zero.

"Man is a dog's idea of what God should be." -- Holbrook Jackson

Friday, April 22, 2011

What breed is he? Please vote, respond, offer wisdom!!

Gizmo: The Original
Lhasa Apso puppy

Welsh Corgi pup


         We need your opinion and vote on this: 
Corgi: legs & body about right, ears wrong!
       








         A veterinarian wrote that Gizmo was a Shih Tzu.  At 30 pounds plus when a fat, otherwise normal Shih Tzu weighs in at around 16 pounds, he was twice as big as Beowulf and any other Shih Tzu.  Call him SUPER SHIH TZU.
         There were debates about Gizmo’s ancestry whenever and wherever dog people gathered.  
Some thought he was a corgi, which would make him related to the dogs owned by Britain’s royal family.  If that were so and he knew it, Gizmo might begin snubbing us.
Lhasa: Could be???
         Others said he was related to a Lhasa Apso, which once attempted to bite both Grace and I during a stroll through Central Park in New York.  Gizmo has never tried to bite us and, as far as we know, has such a nice disposition that the thought has never occurred to him.
         One woman said he was definitely an Australian Terrier, but I looked at its picture and it bore little resemblance to Gizmo.  At first, I thought she suggested a “Mongolian Terrier,” which apparently does not exist, or at least is not AKC registered.
Coton De Tulear: Maybe?
         My own research (consisting of wandering through web sites looking at pictures of really cute dogs) indicated that he might be a Coton De Tulear, named for the city of Tuléar in Madagascar, and in recent years known as the Royal Dog of Madagascar.   But they are small dogs weighing in at 13 pounds when sopping wet – could Gizmo be a Super Coton, even though that sounds like French for a cotton ball so large it cannot fit into a vitamin bottle?
         At the dog park, there was a general agreement amongst three dog owners that Gizmo was definitely and surely a Tibetan Terrier, which was probably the right name for the breed.   Because they were so certain, as soon as I got to my computer, I Googled "Tibetan Terrier" and looked at the pictures.  Well, that was about the closest match.  See for yourselves: 
Maxwell, the Tibetan
Phoebe, the Tibetan
Tibetan, yes; Gizmo: possible
          Finally, after several discussions and some light-hearted disagreements, the matter was settled.  A woman mutt owner at Ironwood Park announced, “I tell people that I have a Designer Dog and let it go at that.”
         Meet Gizmo: Designer Dog or maybe a Tibetan, Lhasa, Shih Tzu, Coton de Tulear or Corgi mix.  Your opinions and/or vote appreciated... and remember, I'm from Chicago, so voting more than once is encouraged.

“If your dog doesn't like someone, you probably shouldn't either.”  Unknown

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Our Opera Dog



We take Gizmo to Opera in the Park, where eight soon-to-graduate-and-become-famous singers performed outdoors on a perfect Sunday with a 25-piece local orchestra.  It is both free and one of the highlights of living in the Palm Springs area.
Gizmo was perfectly behaved throughout, except that he slept through a couple of arias.  But then, so did I.

“Dogs have owners, cats have staff.”  Unknown, but often quoted by me

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Dog Story

Gizmo gets a LOT by intense staring

         A dog story:  A woman owned a dog who was scratching his right ear.  A lot. 
         So she took him to a vet, who examined him and diagnoses that the ear was mildly infected.  The vet said, “I can put some drops in the ear and clear up the infection, but he’s got to much hair in his ear.  It will cost you extra if I remove that hair, but you can get human hair removal gels and do it yourself.”
         So the woman went to the drug store, bought some Nair and brought it to the pharmacist to pay for it.
         The pharmacist warned, “If you are going to use this on your legs, you can’t shave your legs for two weeks after application.”
         “It’s not for my legs.”
         The pharmacist continued, “If you are going to apply this to your upper lip, you can’t put on make up there for two weeks.”
         “It’s not for my upper lip.”
         “What is it for?”
         “My schnauzer.”
         “Well, in that case, you can’t ride a bike for two weeks.”

"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea." -- Robert A. Heinlein

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Gizmo: Escape Dog

I drive to the dog park, get out of the car, open the back door and there is no Gizmo.  Just a moment before, he was happily staring into the wind out the non-driver’s window.  Then he switched to the other side, giving me a chance to close that wide-open window.
I panicked.  Gizmo had disappeared!  First thought: could he have jumped out through the window on to Monterey, a four-lane highway?  I looked in the well of  the seats.  No Gizmo.
Then I heard someone (her name was Judy) shouting from beyond the enclosure leading to the dog park.  “Are you looking for this dog?”
Indeed I was.  Gizmo had somehow leaped past me, gotten out of the car before I knew where he was, ran across the street and then followed the woman inside the enclosure or safety lock, preventing big dogs from getting in to the small dogs area. 
Gizmo truly deserves his alternate nickname of Escape Dog.

"Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful." - Ann Landers

Monday, April 18, 2011

Dogs, Celebrities & Custody Battles IV:





Grace, my wife and Gizmo's co-owner, has never been in a custody battle
over Gizmo or any other animal.

            Britney Spears, while she was in her downward spiral, lost custody of her children, Sean Preston and Jayden James, in 2007 to Kevin Federline.   When she attempted to also take control of her dogs, animal rights activists took sides and asked Federline to have custody of the dogs as well.

         After that, the readers of two magazines, New York Dogt and Hollywood Dog, voted Ms. Spears the worst celebrity dog owner.

         While splitting up after six months of marriage, both Drew Barrymore and Tom Green wanted Flossie, a yellow Labrador.   In 1998 the dog became a hero when it alerted the couple by barking and somehow banging on the bedroom door that the house was on fire, saving their lives. 
         Barrymore won custody of the dog.  When Flossie died in 2010, Barrymore spread her ashes across the Ganges River in India.

"You enter into a certain amount of madness when you marry a person with pets." --Nora Ephron

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Dogs, Celebrities & Custody Battles III:

Publicity hound Tila Tequila, Singaporean-born American rapper and television personality who starred in men's magazines Stuff, Maxim, and Penthouse, lost an after-death custody battle about her deceased fiance’s dogs. 
          It’s a little complicated, as these things tend to be.
         During happier and perhaps more romantic times, Tila announced her “engagement” to Casey Johnson, a Johnson & Johnson heiress, in a video they posted on line, while in bed and wearing only bras and panties. 
          After Casey suddenly died, Tequila was upset when Nicky Hilton (sister of Paris and “celebutante”) and Bijou Phillips (daughter of a singer in The Mamas & the Papas) arrived at her home to claim Zoey, an 18-year-old sick toy poodle owned by Johnson, who died a week before this incident.  Other reports say Nicky and Bijou were also interested in Casey’s other dogs including Elvis, a Yorkie, and Blackie or Onyx, a black poodle mix).
         Tequila believed that Nicky and Bijou wanted to put Zoey down so that the dog could be buried with Casey, which sounds pretty bizarre even by Hollywood standards. 
Others said that Nicky and Bijou were staging a doggie intervention because Tequila was a bad dog mommy.   Perhaps their first clue about her maternal fitness might be when she changed her name from Nguyen to Tequila. 
           In any case, there was a big hullabaloo, cops were called and eventually Nicky and Bijou were allowed to take the dogs from Casey’s house, which was described as a “rubbish-strewn slum with no electricity, water or gas, and rats in her swimming pool.”

          “Any member introducing a dog into the Society's premises shall be liable to a fine of one pound.  Any animal leading a blind person shall be deemed to be a cat.”   Oxford Union Society, London, Rule 46

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Dogs, Celebrities & Custody Battles II:

Celebrity custody fights over their dogs, collected from the Huffington Report, TMZ and others:

         In 2009, Jennifer Love Hewitt and her former fiancée Ross McCall announced they were having an “amicable” split.  Then they got into a battle about who got custody of their dog, Mona, and things got a lot less amicable. 
           A “source” revealed to one New York sleazy newspaper that, when the dog was with Hewitt, she tried to change its name so later when McCall called it, the dog wouldn’t come.

         The stars of Jon and Kate Plus 8, Jon and Kate Gosselin, had arguments about who would get their two German shepherds, Shoka and Nala, which they bought during a 2009 series episode. 
           Later, Jon returned the dogs to the breeder after complaining that Kate refused to care for the dogs in his absence.  That was in addition to battles about who was or was not unfaithful and custody of the eight children.  When the dust settled, Kate took one of the dogs back.
             “Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside a dog, it's too dark to read.”  Groucho Marx

Friday, April 15, 2011

Dogs, Celebrities & Custody Battles I

         Celebrity custody fights over their dogs, collected from the Huffington Report, TMZ and others:

         Charlie Sheen Twittered on March 28, 2011 that his ex=wife is a “loser whore” and a dog thief – not the best way to settle custody of his two pugs.  He wrote on his Tweet site which has 3 million followers, "We must bombard with Warlock Napalm, that traitor and loser whore #DUH-neese POOR-ards. a vile kidnapper and now dog thief. hate," he wrote on his account, which has more than 3 million followers.
           According to TMZ, Richards was told that two of Sheen's pugs were being mistreated, so she took them both. Unfortunately, one of them died – also not the best way to make a separation pleasant.                                    
            This tweet comes as a surprise. Richards has been supportive of Sheen throughout his recent ordeal, and Sheen, in turn, would only say nice things about his ex.                           Richards and Sheen have two daughters together, Lola and Sam, and now one pug.

I wonder what goes through his mind when he sees us peeing in his water bowl.”  Penny Ward Moser

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Gizmo Armpit Relaxation


         Today I lay down on the floor of the bedroom and Gizmo came over to examine me.  I had never before gone down almost below his level and lay there quietly, pretending to sleep.
          First it was sniff-sniff to my left cheek, nose and mouth.  Then he walked around my head to my right side, where he lay down and nosed his way into my armpit.
         Whatever he was doing, it caused me to insanely giggle.  He pushed a little harder into my armpit and then rolled over on his back.  All four feet were limply in the air.   He was completely docile, calm, relaxed.
         He sighed.  And immediately went deeply to sleep, barely breathing.  Contented.

         "If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain  dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons."  James Thurber

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

40% Married Women Get More Emotional Support from Pets

         In a recent New York Times, in the Science section, there was a story headlined “The Creature Connection,” about how involved we are with our dogs, spending $48 billion on our pets, another $2 billion on pet conservation.  It was also pointed out that we Americans spend over $300 billion on killing animals for meat and while hunting.
         The same story, which quoted Alexandra Horowitz (I am listening to her book “Inside of a Dog” on a CD in the car), who noted that people are passionate about their dogs.   “70 per cent of pet owners say they sometimes sleep with their pets (but not Us, this time); 65 per cent buy Christmas presents for their pets; 23 per cent cook special meals for their pets; and 40 PER CENT OF MARRIED WOMEN SAY THEY GET MORE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FROM THEIR PETS THAN FROM THEIR HUSBANDS.”
         As soon as I pointed that out to Grace, while Gizmo was sitting in the kitchen with us and sporting a slightly pained expression, she firmly said that that did not apply to her, that I was giving her all the emotional support she wanted or needed.
         Gizmo got up, went around the corner of the separation between the kitchen and the rec/TV room, lay down in the corner by the window, nearly under the farthest bar stool that was there.  Then he sighed and went to sleep.  No sense trying to fight against Grace’s extreme satisfaction with her human person.

“I tried to get my dog to practice safe sex. But he keeps licking the condoms off.”  Tim Halpern

Monday, April 11, 2011

Retraining Gizmo

    Gizmo ran through the path we cut behind the palm trees, found a way to get out behind the hot tub, ran down the steps and stood at the base of the bridge, eyes brightly shining and ready for his walk without  ever urinating where he was supposed to.  But he followed our orders and walked that path.
The next time I took him over the bridge and to the path, he ran even faster to the end of it, broke through the underbrush and came out by the hot tub.
In other words, after only one run through the path and out, he learned that was the quickest way for him to get to his prized and wanted walk. 
The third time I took him to the path, I had him on a leash and held him from running all the way through.  This, I thought, would teach him to urinate where I wanted him to.
The leash only convinced him to sit at my feet, look up into my eyes with an expectant expression that seemed to say, “OK, you win.  What do we do now?”
By the next morning, when we again approached the path with Gizmo on the leash, he had re-learned that the path was the place where whizzing was to be done.  Humans = one, Gizmo = zero.

"I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven't got the guts to bite people themselves." -- August Strindberg

Sunday, April 10, 2011

When Golf Carts Get Exercise


 
Sighted during our walk:  Two people in golf carts with their dogs in the carts next to them.  They were going towards Ironwood Park: neither humans nor dogs were getting exercise.   And the golf cart would weigh exactly the same at the end of the outing as it did in the beginning.

You can say any fool thing to a dog, and the dog will give you this look that says, "My God, you're right! I never would've thought of that!"  – Dave Barry

Gizmo vs. the Ducks

Norman Mark Media
I awake around 7 am, take Gizmo out to the pool area, where there are two mallard ducks happily paddling in the pool.  Gizmo shows a little bit of curiousity and the ducks immediately take wing. 
With Gizmo on patrol, and urinating in what was probably their nesting area, we will neither have baby ducks in the pool this year (although I loved seeing them swimming near their mother) and nor will we wonder why nine baby ducks were alive one day and disappeared the next.  Roadrunner birds and the coyotes around here can be vicious.  

          "In dog years, I'm dead." --Unknown

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Pee Posting

          In the book “Inside of a Dog,” Alexandra Horowitz theorized that dogs urinate on a rock or a tree in order to leave a message for other dogs.  When Gizmo does that, he is revealing what time he was there (the latest odors will be the strongest), the state of his health, a little note about where he is emotionally and perhaps other messages which we have yet to decipher.
Personally, I believe that Gizmo is leaving love notes or sexual invitations, which might be translated something: “Healthy male dog seeking companionship of female who loves doing it doggie style.  No wierdos, please.” 
             That leaves us with several questions, including the mystery of “air” whizzing, which is like air guitar (pretending or miming playing).  Why go through the effort of raising his leg and then prancing triumphantly away when no yellow liquid is left behind?  Is Gizmo leaving an “air” scent for the next dog?
         “Air” whizzing absolutely requires that the quotes indicating irony surround the word.  Does this mean that a dog somehow understands the concept of irony? 

"If your dog is fat, you aren't getting enough exercise"   -- Unknown

Friday, April 8, 2011

Dog Park Etiquette


 Another visit to the Civic Center dog park, late-ish in the afternoon on a perfect, 70+-degree day with a few lazy white clouds punctuating the sky.
Gizmo wanted to dash into the park, but I held him back, shortening the leash and indicating that it was time to heel.  The result: Gizmo obeyed until we were through the gate and inside the big, steel fence, with only one more gate between him and the freedom to run with other dogs without a leash.  It was too much of a temptation for him and he pulled and panted.  And I gave in: if something that wonderful was almost directly in front of me and I was leashed, I would probably pull on it as well.
We went to the under-35-pound dog area, where tiny Chihuahuas and Shih Tzu’s and miniature whippets were forming packs and/or alliances.
As soon as Gizmo entered, he went through the required newcomer’s dance: They smell him while he stands still.  Then he smells them while they are at approximately attention.  Then, after Gizmo signals that he wants to play by putting both front paws down, bowing slightly, tail wagging, it is time for a romp, a full-out run through the dog park, with other tiny dogs trailing Gizmo and his chosen play date.
Then, in a round-alay that I did not understand, Gizmo would peal off, find another partner, run over to him or her and, if the new partner didn’t immediately join in the romp, Gizmo would run through the new partner, charging over their shoulders or rumps, and running ahead, looking back in the evident hope that they would follow.
Dogs’ play was a mystery to me.  At one point, a huge boxer in the large-dog section of the park began barking at the little dogs.  The smaller ones, protected (it seemed) by a fence with ¾-inch steel bars, began yapping back at the boxer, who then ran along his side of the fence.
This caused the small pack of tiny dogs to run along-side the boxer on their side of the fence.  The big boxer was barking and growling in terrible low tones as if to warn the little ones that he would wreak havoc with them if he could ever get his teeth around them.
After less than three minutes of running back and forth, the boxer seemed tired, the small dogs were barking and walking just because it was expected of them and they also seemed pooped.  Then the boxer’s owner came along and fastened a leash to the dog, cutting down on its freedom of movement (or to have barked.)
While this was going on, I was standing near the fire hydrant that the city had thoughtfully put up in the park, although I hadn’t seen any dogs using it when I visiting the park before and I assumed it was put up as a knowing wink-wink-nod-nod to the adult owners of the dogs: see this park is so complete that we even provide a fire hydrant for the dogs.  What do you want to bet that it will never be used?
Well, this time a tiny, long-haired dachshund, looking like a small messy peacock that is too close to the ground, ran over to the hydrant and used it.  So much for my unresearched theories of pissing in dog parks.
After a short time of watching Gizmo chase dogs far smaller than he was, I decided to visit the Big Dog Dog Park, reserved for hounds over 35 pounds.
We entered, Gizmo participated in the greeting ritual (you can sniff my ass, if I can sniff yours) and then it was off to play.  Gizmo got along very well with dogs considerably bigger and taller than he was. 
There were only a half a dozen rottweilers, yellow labs, boxers and black labs there, and most of them were lying down on the ground, panting from whatever exertion has been afflicted on them from our bottoms.
Gizmo continued to want to play.  He went from dog to dog until he found one that had a little energy left.  Then it was off to the races, with the large hound running away and Gizmo happily chasing him.
I kept an eye on Gizmo to make sure that playing with the Big Boys wasn’t going to hurt him.  That was not a problem: the big dogs accepted Gizmo as one of their own and he proceeded as if it was a level playing field.
His running joy, his sniffing, checking, playing, running total involvement in both sides of the dog park was something for which I was not so secretly cheering: a dog like Gizmo, so often confined to our home or walked with a leash, became über Gizmo when freed of that restraint and when with others of his species.  He was FREE!!  He was in the realm of the possible.  He had escaped while being protected under the watchful eyes of his careful, cautious owner.  And he was increasing his vocabulary of doggie language, communicating when it was time to play and to rest to others.
And again, I was learning from my dog: about the rules of play, about the psychology of the temporary pack (when the tiny dogs were all yapping at the huge boxer on the other side of the fence) and about the pure enjoyment of life. 


"If your dog is fat, you aren't getting enough exercise"   -- Unknown

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Lectures II: the Proper Behavior When Courting


Gizmo and friends: NOT the time to lick your balls

The lectures on the proper behavior when in the company of a lady continue.  I tell Gizmo one of the secrets of getting along with a woman: “Especially when on a first date, and even for a long, long time after that, it is wise not to lick your balls (or anyone else’s, for that matter) even if dinner is over and you are at her apartment drinking Cognac.”
Gizmo looked at me as if he thought I was nuts.  I looked at him with the knowledge that whether or not he needed the wisdom I was imparting, there were the unspoken rules that ought to be followed.

        "I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult." --Rita Rudner

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

I lecture Gizmo on proper behavior while attracting babes

 
         The lectures on the proper behavior when in the company of a lady continue.  I tell Gizmo one of the secrets of getting along with a woman: “Especially when on a first date, and even for a long, long time after that, it is wise not to lick your balls (or anyone else’s, for that matter) even if dinner is over and you are at her apartment drinking Cognac.”
Gizmo looked at me as if he thought I was nuts.  I looked at him with the knowledge that whether or not he needed the wisdom I was imparting, there were the unspoken rules that ought to be followed.

        "I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult." --Rita Rudner