Tuesday, March 24, 2009

I Am Drunk

Sailor here.

I am drunk. Again.

Mom says she will NOT make jokes about drunken sailors, but that I am quite amusing.

I don’t feel amusing. I feel drunk. My legs wobble. My eyes don’t focus. My teeth hurt. Well, actually, one tooth hurts. Mom says it’s not my tooth the hurts because my tooth isn’t in my head anymore. It is somewhere else. Maybe Sock Heaven.

I was not happy when Mom took me back to the vet. Now, I like the vet. She smells friendly and loves me and pets me and doesn’t do rude things to my rear end for very long. But Zoe said that if I have to go back after seeing Dr. Karen, it won’t be fun.

And it wasn’t. I didn’t get any breakfast. I didn’t get a drink of morning water. Zoe and Jibby got both. I did not. So Zoe is right: it wasn’t fun.

And Zoe should know. She has had many vet visits and comes home drunk with pain pills and collars and all sorts of strange odors. And her breath smells awful!

I hope my breath doesn’t smell awful.

Jib gave me the dog scan with his nose, all over me, and then snorted.

“You smell awful,” he said. “What happened?”

I started to tell him that I went to the vet and sat in a crate and went into a room and jumped up on a table and then forgot everything until Mom hupped me into the Dog Car to come home. But then I forgot what I was saying. Mom says I went to sleep and the vet took out a tooth.

How can that be? I can still chew. I think. I can still bark. I think. I think I will try to chew and bark… tomorrow.

But I can still smell. Or at least I hope to smell again. All I can smell now is a funny smell.

When I got home, I stood in the doorway and looked at the deck. I looked at the deck for a long time. Mom says I was on screensaver. Jib stood by me to keep me from falling over. The deck was very interesting. I think.

Mom says I am stumbling about in a miasma of anesthesia fumes. She really talks like that.

Zoe says I had an operation and will be fine by midnight. I plan to be asleep at midnight.

But where is my tooth? If you find it, please keep it. I don’t want to go back to Dr. Karen to have it put back in.


Jib here.

I am hungry.

Sailor was fed. Zoe was fed. I was not fed. They got to eat in their dog yards. I had to Wait until Mom gave them their chicken legs. I couldn’t try to steal their supper. I couldn’t bark at Mom. I had to wait. Politely.

I did NOT want to be polite.

Mom has what she calls a new RooTeen. She says that since I work for cheese, I will be happy to work in the Ring when my cheese is on my crate. She says I will work for all my meals and snacks, too. And when it’s time to show, I will be happy in the ring thinking about my cheese. But I think I will be happy when I finally get my cheese. This is my new RooTeen, anyway, and I am beginning to like it.

Mom asks me, “Are you hungry?”

“Of course I’m hungry! I’ve been hungry since you opened the refrigerator!”

Then she feeds Zoe and Sailor. Actually, she feeds Sailor and Zoe. Sailor eats fist because he is the most polite.

She feeds me last. She cuts up my chicken legs into many bites. She puts my bowl of food on the table outside. She feeds me many bites. One bite at a time. And I have to work for my bites.

I used to eat All At Once. Now I eat one bite at a time.

And I am not supposed to jump up to my bowl. I am not supposed to even look at my bowl. But if I look at Mom, sometimes I can look at my bowl. Sometimes I can run to my bowl. And Mom gives me a bite of chicken. But I can only run to my bowl when she says, “Yes! Let’s eat!”

In the mornings, I get to eat from a spoon. Mom says it is good training for biting metal articles with my teeth.

When Mom asks if I am hungry, I have to figure out how to make her give me each bite. Sometimes she will give me the whole bowl. All at once. Sometimes it takes me many bites before I get the whole bowl.

Tonight, I had to find Heel and not look at my bowl. Then I got a bite. I had to Heel around the Bowl Table on the outside of Mom. Then I got a bite. And I had to Heel around the Bowl Table on the inside of Mom, but I kept looking at my supper. Finally when I looked at Mom, I got a bite.

And to make it harder, she kept asking, “Are you Hungry?”

“Yes!! Yes!! I am! I am HUNGRY!”

Then Mom took me out to the weave poles. They are different from the ones in class. The ones in class are fun. I can wiggle my way down the channel. Mom’s weave poles are stepped into the grass. They look different. They smell different. I am usually confused.

But tonight I weaved. I weaved all six. I was wiggly. I was fast.

And Mom said, “Yes!” and gave me my entire rest-of-my-supper.

I hope I can remember what I did right at breakfast time.

Thursday, March 12, 2009


Jib here.

Yesterday Mom took me to Sheep. I got to bark at them. I got to chase them. I got to turn them around. There was a nice person. She petted my head and said Good Jib. Then she turned into a different person altogether. She turned into the Person with the Stick.

She turned on me when I ran and ran and tried to catch the sheep. I wanted to go! I wanted to charge!

But the Person with the Stick was in charge. I wasn’t in charge. I didn’t get to charge. Because she held a Stick.

I don’t know the roolz. Mom says I will catch on. I want to catch sheep. They smell great. They squish when I bump them. They go away from me.

But then there’s this Person with a Stick. And she won’t let me get close to them. So I trotted away from them. But she didn’t say Good Puppy. She called me back. And then when I came back to the sheep, she sent me away. "Out! Out!” she said and waved her Stick.

I caught on. I am not supposed to catch the sheep. I am not supposed to chase the sheep. So I was good. I went Out Out. I went way out to where the stick wasn't. I went out against the fence and down the fence and away from the sheep. I went to Mom. Mom said I could go to the sheep. But I didn’t want to argue with the Stick.

Then the Person with the Stick came and took me by the collar and brought me to the sheep. I was careful not to get too close. When the sheep started to run, I turned them and went Out again. The Person with the Stick said Good Boy. She did this again and I did this again. I have a lot to think about.

I need to go back. I need to learn the roolz. I need to know when I can chase the sheep. I need to know when I can’t. I NEED ROOLZ!!!!!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


Sailor here.

Mom says the Old Man is Snoring.

I am snoring. I am bored snoring. We can’t go out and play in the mud. We can’t go out and splash in the puddles. We can’t go out. Mom says it’s because of the Old Man.

I am the Old Man! I should decide!

Jib says that HE is the Old Man and what’s an old man? But he wants to decide.

Mom decides. She is the only one around here who can open doors. (More than I want my testicles back, I want opposable thumbs. Mom says good luck with that one, too.)

Mom didn’t open any doors. Instead she decided to play indoor games with us. First she put me in a Sit-Stay and took Jibby into the other room. She came back and gave me a cookie when she saw my butt was still on the floor. Jib didn’t get any cookies.

Then she put me in my crate and took Jib into the other room. I whined. I could hear him trying to score cookies. I whined some more.

Mom kept saying, “RIGHT!” to Jib and I bet he got lots of cookies. She usually clicks her tongue or my clicker or says, “YES!” when we are right, but today it was “RIGHT!” for some reason. And I bet that Jib got lots of cookies.

“You’ll have your turn soon, Sailor,” Mom called. She closed the door so I couldn’t hear Jib being right all the time.

I settled down and listened to the Old Man. He wasn’t snoring but he was throwing water against the windows.

Mom came in and woke me up. She put Jib in his crate and took me into the other room. Jib yelled, “NO! NO! Me,me,me!” until he got tired of this and then went to sleep.

Mom let me smell the cookies in her pocket. She smiled. She put my Go-Out lid across the room. “Go out!“ she said excitedly. I went out toward the lid. “Sit!” she said, and I turned around. And sat. Right there. Near the disk. I got lots of cookies.

Then she set up a small agility jump. She stood behind me. She said, “GO!” I know GO, too. I went. And as soon as my front feet got ready to leave the ground, she threw a cookie (a BIG cookie) sideways and said, “RIGHT!”

Huh? What does that mean? I thought about this as I went over the jump. When I landed, I turned on a dime and got the cookie. Mom said “Good Dog” and gave me a pat when I came back to her.

Mom and I did this some more times, as many times as I have toes on my front feet. And suddenly the light bulb went off.

RIGHT! I get it. RIGHT! I am RIGHT!

Now I turn right when she calls, “RIGHT!”

Mom says this will come in handy in agility class when I go over the A-frame and have to turn away from her into a tunnel. Actually, I don’t go over the A-frame, it’s too scary, but I know what she means.

And Mom says that if the lawn ever dries out, she will set up a jumping box outside with my agility jumps and show me how to turn RIGHT in different ways. I can hardly wait. I love cookies. But for now we can practice indoors. Mom will say RIGHT and throw a cookie and I will jump and run and turn RIGHT and get the cookie.

I love indoor agility. Especially when I learn something new. I got many cookies today and learned how to be RIGHT.

And Jib didn’t get as many cookies as I thought.