Therapy dog

My owner keeps insisting I come up with "an act" to win her money on America's funniest home video.

What I'm considering is typing my memoirs about life with a neurotic owner. I didn't sign on to become someone's therapist.

I'm going to use my book royalties to move up in the world. Owners the world over will want me to come and live with them. I'll finally be treated as the queen I am.

(This has nothing to do with me being mad at my owner for cutting short my visit with my boyfriend and playgroup this morning.)

We want the same things, so why am I in trouble?

The Luchita's takeout was too much to resist ... what did my owner expect me to do, while she went into Marc's? DUH!

It tasted great going down. And I was even able to re-close the styrofoam container. My owner didn't realize what happened until she got home.

That all happened on Sunday. My ass is a little sore today from the exit strategies of large quantities of refried beans and the spicy shredded beef burritos.

What happened earlier on Sunday, really miffs me ...

My owner was throwing a tennis ball to me, because she didn't want to go for a longer morning walk. I tossed it back to her (I admit I was a little short on my toss). She was taking her time picking it back up AND THEN, I saw the CAT.

Well, yes, I chased that fat thing right across the street.

I couldn't believe that waddlekins kept ahead of me. It went up a tree.

I stood underneath, yelling up, I'll GET YOU! I'll GET YOU!

My owner used more force than normal to put me back on leash. She took me back across the street while telling me I was a "bad dog!" She locked me in the house while she went back to get the cat.

Wait, why am I in trouble? I was doing the SAME thing! We both apparently want the cat and now that I've got it trapped, my owner's going to take advantage of my skills.

I am standing against the door staring out the glass windows squares. My owner can't get the cat either. She gives up ... serves her right.

Oh, Deer!

I was so cold today that I sat down on the trail to warm my ass.

Today wasn't fun like yesterday ... yesterday, I had a face-off with a buck. I could've taken him, if my owner hadn't pulled me away.

They sure don't hide their scent very well, I found him two more times. The next time I found him with a doe.

Most of the other dogs were oblivious as the deer crossed the path some distance ahead of us.

Today my owner let me off the leash. I ran around like CRAZY R usually does. It felt great to run free.

Webby was there today and yesterday. I hadn't seen him in weeks. He probably has more sense than the rest of us, because after a short while, he made it clear he was ready to go home.

Webby and I were the only two mutts ... there were two black labs, a yellow lab, a standard poodle and a sheltie. A terrier mix came by as we were leaving ... my owner was too cold to let me continue to visit.

Publicly humiliated ... race results are posted

The race results are posted from our 5k run on Sunday ... damn my owner for using my name ... look us up in the bracket for age 40-44 females. My name is spelled Gerte macDogell.

If you can't click on the link below, copy and paste it.

http://www.cwrrc.org/Fall%20Classic/Results/Fall5k2005.pdf

Wish J1 would adopt me

7 a.m.; 38 degrees F;

Hurray! We went to the woods today. I've missed my buddies because I've spent the last two days in other places.

But hey, where is everybody?

Alright, finally ... here comes my friend, DM, and her stinky neighbor, ZA. Their 70-year-old owner B1 is upset today. He has to drive his mother somewhere. He has to leave pretty soon.

As they leave, Crazy R and owner POC show up. Crazy R races away. Upon her return she crashes into the back of her owner's legs. To keep from falling, POC grabs onto J2. She regains her balance. POC isn't so lucky the next time. She takes a fall the next time Crazy R crashes into her from behind.

As she's brushing herself off, M and the baby dogs show up. While I'm not thrilled with the little golden puppies, Crazy R is playing way too rough with them. I stay out of the whole thing. I keep looking at my owner, hoping she'll get the message to keep us moving along.

C1 shows up but he and Crazy R are ganging up on me. I've about had it with Crazy R.

At last, Crazy R's owner takes her away. C1 and I get to wrestle uninterrupted.

C1's owner, J1, tells my owner, J2, that she doesn't usually leave C1 at home alone.

Hmmmm ... how do I get an owner like that? J1 will you adopt me?

The Happy Humper, ZG, shows up. I sniffed his brass, but my owner pulled me away. Hey, where are we going?

This isn't fair, ZG and C1 are staying ... why can't I??

5k race ... losing for my owner's sake

9 a.m.; sunny; 50ish degrees F;

We ran a 5k road race today. I was the solo canine.

Once I realized my owner was not a contender ... I stopped pulling her wide ass along.

After two miles of running straight up the middle of the road, I decided to sniff along the roadside brush ... And do what I like to do ... mark my territory.

The embarrassing thing is ... my owner signed up for the race under my name ... so Gertie MacDogell will be reputed as a slow motion dog.

On the positive side, because I'm good looking and make such a running presence, a lot of people were cheering for me. The 5k runners liked me being in the race.

The half-marathon people were a little too intense and ignored me. I'd like to show them who can REALLY run ... if only I were off-leash.

I met a few dogs among the spectators. They cowered when I came up to them. What wimps ... that makes me really want to intimidate them. GRRRRRR.

During the run I contemplated how to get my owner to get her weight down. We both really like to eat. It works to my benefit for her to eat a lot (she gives me most of her food).

On the way home, we stopped by Berea Animal Rescue ... this is where my owner and I first met. My owner wants to submit my story as one of their success stories.
The volunteers asked what name I used while at the shelter. It used to be Sydney (my owner changed it to Gertie after she noticed I responded to it).

They excitedly said they both remembered me ... of course, they really liked me ... so I hopped out of the car and strutted around for them.

I must have seemed nervous because they were trying to reassure me that I wasn't being put back in animal shelter.

C'mon J2, take me outta' here.

Pups must be put in their place

7 a.m.; 22 degrees F;

I was pulling my person, J2, at a good clip along the wooded trails. (I cannot disclose the exact location, because we will get in trouble for breaking the leash law.)

Except for my owner and me, the whole quarter-mile, figure-eight path was vacant.

And then ...I saw HIM. It was C1, and his owner, J1. They were sneaking into the woods via the cut-through from an adjacent field.

C1's long, collie-like hair looked like it was sequined ... he had tiny little frozen droplets distributed throughout his coat. He had just arrived from a swim in the lake. What was the water temperature??? Wow, he's amazing.

C1 is my boyfriend. We make a great-looking pair.

He runs up to me, sees I'm still confined to a leash and challenges me to a wrestling match. He likes to unfairly grab my collar in his mouth. While its nice to have his muzzle so close, it kinda' hurts ... HEY, cut it out, C1.

His owner, J1 (aka fairy princess), tells him to settle down.

Then we notice two golden retriever youngsters ... really young ... and no human nearby. What's that about?

Down the hill there ... a woman is (crawling) making her way up through the leaves and brush. What was she doing down there anyway?
The pups have discovered C1 and me.

Neither one of us is particularly fond of youngsters ... because they don't seem to understand that I'm the leader. They keep chasing both of us. I snarl and try to get the male to back off. He barks at me instead of leaving. Dumb-ass.

I whiz. He whizzes where I just went ... little shit.

His owner, M, seems green as far as dog-ownership. She says to the little whizzing fellow, "I think you have a bladder infection, you keep peeing".

Humans hate to waste money on vets for no reason. M will probably find out that "marking" for dominance isn't a bladder infection.

Whoa! Here comes my blond-female-lab pal, DM, and her shit-eating old, black-lab neighbor, ZA. ZA always has feces-breath from her habit of eating it. No one has figured out a deterrent yet. I really like DM and her owner, the man, B1. They are both very kind.

Now arriving ... another youngster, another black lab, Crazy R.

She's nutty. Her owner, POC, says as much. Crazy R zooms around like a maniac.

I chase her and snap. Crazy R is smart enough to pay attention and change direction.

MD, the male adult golden retreiver joins us with female owner, DD. DD keeps yelling at him to come to her. He doesn't pay any attention to DD. I don't like his attitude. I go over to him and tell him to do what he's told. He takes off. I find it necessary to use a little more force in getting my message across to MD. My owner grabs me by my collar, keeping me from fully correcting MD. I don't understand why I'm kept from playing referee ... I mean look at me ... my coat is black and white.

My boytoy, C1 keeps running off the trail to chase squirrels. I can't join HIM because J2 has put me back on leash.

Next to enter the woods is the man, DG. He comes in with his humping, standard poodle, ZG. We like ZG, he just gets excited pretty easily. ZG and DG move ahead of the group. They begin playing hide and seek, using the hemlocks along the ridge. I watch the rest of the dogell-gang. They are a bit confused by this game. Should they play or just watch?

Uh-oh! DM's owner, B1, has spotted the vehicle of our common enemy. We call the enemy man, "the man in the yellow jacket" becasue he swears at our owners for allowing us to roam, leash free. He's right, but our owners just let us chase him out of the woods. Then they laugh their asses off and speculate that the cops or rangers will be waiting for us all the next day. It never happens.

I actually like the man in the yellow jacket. He reminds me of a man who used to pet me and give me treats.

I've heard YJ swear at the other dog owners, but my owner tries to greet him occasionally. She knows I have a special connection to him.

However, I also have a "tough-girl" reputation to uphold, so I have to oblige my gang by barking and growling at YJ.

He's safe today ... we only saw his car and not him.

Everyone's starting to leave. Wait, what about the good-bye treats from B1 and J1?