The talking dog- part 1
Dakota speaks. Actually, Dakota never shuts ups. Even when he’s sleeping. Take for instance this moment. I’m in bed drinking coffee, clock says 5:05 a.m., 5:06… and Dakota, appearing to be heavy into sleep, rolls over, (just be careful my 85 pound friend), saying “if you can’t keep the racket down, could you at least move over?”
Needless to say I value his feelings, for without him I would rarely take a photograph. My companion, lying there in a semi-comatose state, under covers, breathing deeply, is the grand opinionator of my photographic experience, leading the way to new and challenging places.
Anyway, I’ll leave you for the moment to finish my coffee before it’s completely cold and finish my homework. I’m studying to be an EMT.
So, good morning, good luck, good-bye. And in the words of Bob Elliott and Ray Goulding “Call if you get work.”
One tired dog-part 2
And with impending night, Dakota, being too tired to communicate, has usurped my sleeping quarters in response to my abandonment of him while at training today. Self-centered as this may be, as he is the elder of the house, I am compelled to accede to his wish (note I did not say every). Ah, his life, oft times of leisure, nay, not so of leisure as of time waiting, for whence does a dog live yet to fawn before his master (mistress in this case), to beg, plead, manipulate, cajole, demand action that would otherwise not be forthcoming. So to the beginning, good night, good luck, good-bye, for sleep shall overcome what others fail to do.
Out of sleep, into the daylight-part 3
At 13 years of age, Dakota is solidly an expert on the subject of sleep. But we do sally forth daily nonetheless, and so I thought to share a view of what we saw today, being a glorious sunny, windy, fall day.
Off to the vet – part 4
And so it’s the yearly trauma visit. Dakota, looking with anticipation, expectation, consternation, senses a difference in our daily schedule. No languishing around the house today — into the valley of death rode the 600…
Waiting at the vet’s – part 5
Bark. Louder. Bark. Even LOUDER. Yes, yes, we’re going, NOW! Jump in car. Make pit stop. “Ellen, what’s wrong with you! Hurray, hurray, I want to go, go, GO!” Poor Dakota, doesn’t realize our outing is to the veterinarian, to get poked, pulled, jabbed, touched, jaw opened (see the tartar?) ears examined, tail raised, (isn’t any place private?), weighed (she NEVER feeds me!) and of course oogled and ahhed over by the staff. Well, he is beautiful, polite and well-mannered, and I am not in the least prejudiced. Right?
Talking dog talks again – part 6
She’s at it again. I can’t comprehend why she thinks she can speak for me. So presumptuous. Thirteen and a half years of this, and lately, especially in the winter, she just gets in my way, no apologies, it’s her right. Doesn’t matter what I’ve done for her in the past. Didn’t I bring in her newspaper, weekend after weekend, shovel snow, day after day, never a thank you? But let me tell you this, when it comes to the word NO, to “YOU CAN’T DO IT,” “YOU CAN’T HAVE IT,” these are words and phrases she knows by heart. Time to fight back, take back my rights, assert my manhood, and wait – okay, here comes dinner – see you later alligator…
Another embarrassing moment she caught – part 7
Aha! Another embarrassing moment she caught. Let me tell you, going to the vet was a pleasure by comparison to living with her. Who can live with all that touchy-feely stuff. Kiss, hug, kiss, hug, cuddle, cuddle, CUDDLE! She drives me crazy. There we were, on the dock by the lake. So I get up, stretch a little and then yawn. Wouldn’t you know it, she whips out her camera, gets down underneath me so quickly I have no time to react and ZAP! Picture taken and spread all over the universe. No consideration for a guy’s feelings, just reduce me to a wimpy, girly, huggable, furry pet. Listen up all of you, I’m a German Shepherd! Got it! No body messes with macho me…
Down on the job – part 8
What was I thinking. Remiss. I am remiss. Remiss in not communicating. Remiss in self-indulgence. Remiss in self-pity. Remiss.
Not that I forgot about you, but circumstances made my mistress (as she imagines herself to be) incommunicado for several days, working (if you could call hauling, hanging and haggling at an art show work).
I am remiss in my lassitude. Staying overnight at Brad’s home makes me indulgent. And I am cruel. Yes, though you would not want to believe it, it is so. Oh, she tried napping after she took me out at 4:30 a.m., but who can ignore a low, long, slow whine? I was hungry, she was ignoring me for days, I was indignant, nay, adamant. Oh, such fortitude, such perseverance. I shall overcome!
And feed me she did. I don’t trick or manipulate. I insist! My rights asserted. After all, she did walk me WHEN I WANTED! This is a tail (whoops) tale that knows no end. Movin’ on, headin’ out, RAWHIDE!
Wake up, will ya! – part 9
Hey, dog here. You, out there, wake up! Rise and shine. Yeh, yeh, cliché, cliché. Wha’ da’ ya’ want? Shakespeare? Just be glad the spellings correct.
Glance around. Anything different today? No. Well, why the hell (heck for those delicate ears) not? Come on, life only goes around (comes around?) once. Am I right? Here you are, listening to me, when you could be out conquering the world. Or Brooklyn. Same difference.
No, I’m not a native New Yorker, if you mean New York City. I’m a mountain man, born and bread (whoops) bred in the great Taconic mountains of New York State. Laugh if you want. They may not be the Cascades (Oregon, slow poke), but it’s one heck (is that better?) of a mountain range to me.
Well, I’m up, and I’m staying up. You can go back to sleep, but I have multitudes to do. Keep in touch. Even a dog needs to know he’s needed. Really.
Why didn’t she take me? part 10
Some things are once in a lifetime. Let’s face it, at 13 and a half years old my time is limited and I’ll be going to the big one in the sky sooner than I’d like to think. So, good question you say, why didn’t she take me with her to Colorado this summer? See what I missed? A virtual tour of Pam’s old homestead doesn’t quite make the grade, especially now that she’s moved to an even nicer locale, if you can imagine. Boy, Ellen showed me pictures of Pam’s new place, and was I bowled over (or rolled over? I never know what she expects me to do). Anyhow, I took a bowl and rolled over it. There, I hope she’s satisfied. I know I’m confused, but hey, I’m just a dog.
Okay, okay, I know, get some self esteem, cut out this only-a-dog stuff. Yeh, yeh, it doesn’t do me any good…I’ll never reach my full potential…so are you helping…I mean I did ask you to write, get some friends to visit, get those other dogs writing…it’s lonely on the mountain…
Evening comes despite paranoia – part 11
So, night rushes in where the timid and paranoid fear to go. Not I, big strong, dog I am, am I. A day on the computer, gazing out towards the lake. Why does she squander her time there when I know that outside lays a world of grace, humor, sincerity and honesty. I’m just a home-grown boy with down to earth feelings. Give me a bone and I’m happy. What makes you happy? Dare you tell? I promise not to divulge your secrets-nary an intelligible word has escaped my mouth since birth. Humans seem unable to grasp my utterings, yet I must endure their demands to comprehend their’s. What a world we live in, eh?
A week or so ago at the swamp – part 12
Down in the pines two foxes stopped. Admiring each other, they neglected to notice my proximity. What a chance I mused, fate may yet bring me friends of a similar nature, for surely the foxes would not deny a common heritage, anatomy, world struggle, fortitude in the face of the enemy. Lord, give me strength as I reach out to brothers… But to no avail, one look at me (“Hey dude, who are you?” said a fox) and they scattered to the wind, leaving me once again to contemplate my place in this vastness, the meaning of life, the harshness of the living, the loneliness a dog must bear…woof