Tag Archives: pets

Josie’s Dreams

Photo by Steph Munden on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I read an interesting article the other day. According to some study out there, dogs dream all the time. And more than that, their dreams are about us, their owners. I’m not sure who interviewed the canines for this or how it was accomplished, but how interesting.

I looked at my dog, Josie, lying on the floor, just waking up from her tenth nap of the day. She blinked up at me and I said, “You must have a lot of nightmares.”

She simply yawned and went back to sleep. She has nothing to worry about as long as she has Roy.

I generally refer to Josie as “stupid,” but in reality, she is pretty smart for a four-legged mammal who drinks out of the toilet and chews on a rubber pig for fun.

When we plan any trip or activity, I plan what to pack and who to visit and Roy plans for the dog. I love to stop and eat at a nice restaurant along the way on our frequent trips to see the kids. But we can’t do that with the dog along—unless we can find a spot that’s shady enough or warm enough, or just plain fine enough for the dog.

We once parked three blocks out of the way of a restaurant, so the dog was in a shady spot. That, while we strolled through the hot sun to get to the restaurant. But normally, she’s much nearer to us than that. Roy has been known to go out during a meal and move the car, so he has a better view of her circumstances. Now, I don’t want the dog to fry in the car, but I also dread the day when we invite her inside to enjoy a steak and fries and maybe some ketchup to dip them in!

It isn’t only when we travel that the dog lives well. She has chewed up countless dog beds, I presume in protest to the indignity of lying on the floor. She leaves them in absolute shreds while she commandeers the couch I had planned as a bunk for grandsons when they visit. Not that they would mind sharing with her one bit—she has them wrapped around her paw as well.

Josie is beginning to show her age—and aren’t we all? She’s getting gray around the muzzle, and she takes a little more effort to jump in the pickup for a hunting excursion. And after an hour or two of tramping through the tall grass and chasing pheasants, she’s pretty tired, but she and Roy still enjoy the outing!

But even this doggy-master romance has its rough patches. The dog came home with a limp and a sheepish air about her from their latest outing. I noticed with surprise that her best buddy had a bandage on his hand and an air of regret.

Turns out loading an aging dog is not so handily done as before and as Roy was helping her in, she caught her leg. Roy, not realizing this, continued to push and in her distress, Josie drove home her point by driving her teeth into his hand. She obviously felt bad about what was, for an animal, a purely instinctive survival action, but I couldn’t resist a little “jab” of my own.

“So, biting the hand that fees you, are you, dog? That is not very smart.”

She turned and gave me that grave, considering look she has, as though she’s mentally measuring me for a pine box and a hole in the ground.

Yeah, I don’t think I’d care to analyze any dreams that dog has about me!

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Up on the housetop, reindeer pause; out jumps good old…Santa Cat?

It’s that time of year, folks. The time of year when I must enter the annual battle between the pets in the house and the Christmas decorations. Anyone who has pets knows exactly what I’m talking about here. Animals, who lay on, crawl through or knock over any Christmas decoration that impedes their path and owners who pull out their hair as they try to rescue the bulbs, lights, statuary, greenery, ect. which hit the deck under furry paws.
I never worried about this in the days BDC (Before Dogs and Cats.) But it began with our first housedog, Patch, who was fascinated by the Christmas tree. She would shove her doggy nose against the bulbs and she apparently didn’t like what she saw because she would bite those glass Christmas bulbs until they popped and glass scattered everywhere. I would hear a glass ball explode and race to the living room in time to see her delicately spitting the shards out of her teeth.

“You’re gonna die if that stuff gets in your innards,” I would threaten, but she was unaffected. She would simply turn back to the tree, selecting her next victim. She is the reason I learned to put the stuff on the bottom that I really didn’t care about.

The next dog we got, Ammie, was much more interested in the texture of the artificial tree. For some reason, she felt the most inward portions of the tree were best, so I would have the thrill of walking into the living room and watching the tree doing a crazy, drunken dance because Ammie was under it, chewing on the under branches.

Our current dog has continued the Christmas “dance with disaster.” She is particularly fascinated with anything wooden (those ornaments are now at the top). In addition, flashing colored lights have a bad effect on her. She barked non-stop for the first two weeks after I hung the flashing lights in the window last Christmas and then she solved the problem by chewing the whole string in half. I told her that if there was any justice, her eyes would have lit up like the Christmas lights, but apparently, there is no justice for this, because she survived her electrical Russian roulette.

Cats are much more likely to climb the tree, but in my house, they quickly decide that the Christmas scarf under it is their own private bed. Hosmer, the cat we have now, cannot be stopped. I’ve put things in front of the tree and presents where she wants to lie. She merely cleans things out and lays there anyway. She also likes the nativity barn and has never heard that there was no room at the inn, because she has been known to push out the Christ child so she can lay inside. 

Gifts are another issue, since I have learned not to put them under the tree. The cats will claw anything soft open. I awoke one morning to see the cat peacefully sleeping on a pillow I had handmade for my mother, the shreds of the paper wrapping surrounding her on the floor. The dog was even worse, since one year I awoke to find a half dozen presents torn open and a box of chocolates (which had been wrapped in plastic as well as wrapping paper, open and gone. She had smelled the candy and torn through the gifts until she found it. I suppose I could consider myself fortunate that she found it after destroying only half a dozen gifts!

Any hopes that I had that this year would be calmer have been destroyed already. The cat has succeeded in crawling over a line of ceramic Old World Santas to take up her regular abode under the tree and the dog has already knocked over the large ceramic camel and two wise men in my nativity set. A star appeared in the east and the wise men came, but they reckoned without the giant dog who knocked over their camels and sat on the Christ child! Everyone have fun putting up your decorations and have a joyous season!

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Reasons I Miss the Dog

We lost our Golden Retriever, Ammie, in May. It was a real blow to my husband, who loved his hunting dog and spoiled her to the point that his family nicknamed her “The Princess.”

Ammie

Ammie

After the dog died, I comforted Roy the best I could, but I confess that in reality,  I put my feet up and relaxed because without a dog, things could be easier.

I celebrated like this for more than a week (okay, maybe a little longer) and then I realized that something was wrong. At first I couldn’t pinpoint it, but when I finally investigated, I discovered to my dismay, that it is possible that I MISS the dog!

For one thing, what do I have to torment Roy about? I can’t talk about my red-headed rival or bug him about his favoritism towards the Princess. It’s no fun to make jokes about how much he loved the dog when he just lost it. I’m not terribly sensitive to his affection for the dog, but even I can’t be that much of a jerk!

Second, I miss the dog because now I can’t blame her for the mess in the house. With dog hair and toys, she was always a good fall guy for the house being a mess. Without her, I must just face the fact that I’m a slob!

Third, I miss the dog because it means now when Roy wants to take a walk, he wants me to go along. Before, the dog was his companion, but now, it’s me. And I don’t walk as well or as fast as the dog. Nor do I like the feeling that I’m a poor replacement for the Princess!

I miss the dog because she entertained my grandsons. She would play with them, run around with them or play fetch. My oldest grandson spent his annual visit to Grandma’s house informing me that I don’t play catch (or fetch) as well as the dog did! My younger grandson found meals boring because his favorite activity has always been drop the food on the floor and laugh at how fast the dog scoops it up. Now, Grandma just whines at him for dumping food on the floor! It’s not nearly as much fun, but it works.

And that food on the floor is one of the main reasons I miss the dog.

"The Princess"

“The Princess”

I spilt some eggs on the floor a week ago. I stood there and wished the mess would clean itself up, but of course, this did not happen. There was no dog. There was no eager tongue, ready to lap the whole thing up and leave the floor cleaner than it had started.

Then, of course, there was the goat-like tendency of the dog . She would eat anything; plastic, cloth (she really liked dirty dishcloths), and various pens, pencils and particularly markers. She would eat it all and then promptly regurgitate it all over my floors. This happened on a regular basis….oh, wait a minute, I guess I don’t  miss that. Without the Princess,   I don’t have to worry about the three Ps in my house(puking, pooping, peeing). I don’t miss the dog hair everywhere either. Oh! And I don’t miss the impromptu snacks the dog had by jumping up on my counters to consume whatever she could find.

So, in fact, I don’t miss the dog as much as I thought. This could be serious. I just told Roy he could get another dog. I don’t suppose I can take it back now, huh?

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