Saturday, August 29, 2009

Trio of Tri's

Jib here.

My friends came to see me today. They are tri’s. Mom calls them the Trio of Tri’s. That means three tri-color collies, but today only two came over. Zoe is black and white, so that made three. So we had a trio, according to Mom, who can count really, really well. I looked for Tavish, but he didn’t get to come today. Phooey.

Zoe had to tell each of the boys who was Boss. She is the Boss Lady in our back yard. And she doesn’t let anybody forget it.

Jamie said, “Okay,” the minute he met Zoe.

Zoe put her head over Drummer’s back.

Drummer said, “Oh yeah? We’ll see about that!” He made Ugly Face when Zoe had what Mom called a difference of opinion.

Drummer wanted to be Boss Lady.

Zoe got in his Ugly Face and made Even Uglier Face. She told him SHE was Boss Lady. So he said, “Well, Okay, maybe,” and Sailor stopped wringing his paws.

Zoe and Drummer sniffed each other politely afterwards and that was that.

Mom says she’s glad Drummer is a boy. If he were a girl, Ugly Face may have escalated to Ugly All the Time. (Mom really talks like that.) But Drummer is a boy. Zoe is a girl. So they got along just fine after they figured out who was Boss Lady.

Mom says that the Tri Trio is coming to play with me soon. They will spend two or three play days and dark sleeps with me. Best of all, Tavish will be here, too. I can’t wait!

Mom says we will have Tri Collie Chaos and that Tavish will come for Zoe Boot Camp and Mom Boot Camp. I had Mom Boot Camp when I was a puppy and it was hard. I had Zoe boot camp, too, and it was a lot easier. But Mom Boot Camp got easier after a while. I wonder if it will get easier for Tavish.

Sailor says that between Mom and Zoe, he doesn’t have a chance.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Zoe Fur

Sailor here.

Mom hupped Zoe up on the grooming table this evening, outside.There was a nice cool breeze and I was drowsy, so I lay down nearby for a doze.

Well, for once Mom had her brain engaged and was standing to weather of Zoe.

She kept waking me up talking about Zoe's coat. It was blowing for the third time in four weeks.

"Look at All This Undercoat, Good Thing I Bought a New Rake, Wow!"

I woke up hearing the words, "Good Zoe, want a cookie?"

When I popped up, Mom laughed at me and said, "Sailor, you look JUST LIKE ZOE!"

I craned my neck to look at myself, and she was right. When I dozed, was I was leeward of Zoe. The breeze took care of the rest.

I am still spitting and sneezing Zoefur.


Sailor here.

Mom drove up in the dog car and walked in the door, announcing, “I’ve just had the car detailed and it looks great!”

I jumped on the couch and looked outside to see about my car. Yup. She was right. Detailed.

“And you’re next, Sailor,” Mom continued. “Time to detail you!”

I looked up in alarm. “What? What? You’re going to WHAT?”
I sat down hard on the floor, tucking my tail under my body. “No way, Mom,” I whimpered. “I LIKE my tail!”

Zoe vs. Mom

Sailor here.

Mom and Zoe went for a ride in the dog car. I came along for, well, for the ride.

I lay down in my crate in the back-back. Mom turned on the cold air.

Zoe wouldn't lie down in her crate in the back. She was pop-up dog. She didn't like her crate one bit.

“Mom, I wanna ride in the back seat!” Zoe whined.

Mom turned her head and looked at Zoe out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry, Zoe, you’ll be much safer in the crate. It’s very distracting to have your nose poke me in the ear when I’m trying to drive.”

“I gotta do that, Mom. How else will I be able to tell you not to flatten that squirrel or pancake that bicyclist?”

“Maybe if you weren’t distracting me,” Mom retorted, “I could keep my eyes on the road!”

I am wringing my paws. I hope they kiss and make up soon.

Fridays are Woof Days

Sailor here.

Mom says I’ve made great strides in the Friday morning department. I used to bark when the garbage men came to steal our stuff. I used to bark a lot. It’s my job to warn Mom of what she calls impending larceny. But Mom explained that these men were actually helping us be virtuous, so I changed my tune.

Mom says that every week we put our leftovers into the smell-cans for the garbage men to pick up. They do pick them up, I’ve seen them. Mom said that they take our stuff (and some of it’s GOOD stuff!) to Phil Land. He lives over by the Bay and needs it more than we do. She says that generosity is one of the most important virtues and we can be virtuous every Friday morning.

I am glad Phil Land needs our stuff and that we can be virtuous, but it’s hard not barking when I hear Phil’s friends come for his stuff. This morning, I was asleep by the window just inside Mom’s den door and the garbage men caused me to Woof!

Mom told me to settle. I settled, but my chest still felt like woofing.

“What’ll I do next week, Mom?” I asked. “It’s hard not to woof.”

But Mom was on top of that one.

“Next week, Sailor,” she said, “I’ll close the bedroom door.”

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Jib Showed Off at the Dog Show

Sailor here.

Today Mom woke us up in the dark. She threw me out in the middle of the night! I had to go into the dog yard. I didn't get breakfast.

Jib didn’t come with me. He went in the Dog Car with Mom. I was confuzled. Then I went back to sleep.

When Jib came back, he smelled like dog show crates. He smelled like dumbbells. He smelled like Tavish and Aunt Judy.

Jib went to a dog show! Actually, Mom said it was a workshop on a golf curse.

“Are you in Mopin’ now?” I asked Jib, smelling his ruff, which was not knaughty.

“No,” he said, smelling my mouth to see if I had breakfast. I didn’t.

“I am still in Nervous. But Aunt Judy let me play in Mopin’. She had an extra ticket.”

Zoe looked at Jib. “What is Mopin’?” she asked. “Does it make you sad?”

I laughed and so did Jib. I used to think Mopin’ was really called Open and the Mom would teach me to open the refrigerator. But when I learned this was not to be, I realized it was really called Mopin’.

“No, Zoe!” Jib said. “Mopin’ is fun. It is where I get to run. I get to bring back a dumbbell to Mom. I get to jump over a jump to find the dumbbell. I get to jump back over the jump and not drop the dumbbell. I get to jump over a bunch of boards, too. And I get to run to Mom and drop. Fast.”

“Did you have to Stay while Mom went far away?” I asked. This is the part I hate. This is why I only have a Compact Disc somewhere on me and not a Compact Disc named X.

“No,” Jib said, frowning a bit. “Mom stayed in front of me. But I had to Stay for a long time. A long, long time.”

“Did you hitch your bum when Mom left you?” I asked. I really wanted to know that Jib wasn’t perfect.

“Yeah,” Jib said. “And Mom came and made me right. But it was a new place. There were new dogs. I didn’t remember about my bum very well.”

I smiled and gave him a brotherly shove with my shoulder.

“What kind of cookies did you get?” I hope he didn’t get liverwurst. That is my favorite.

“Mom had hot dogs and cheese and light liver cubes,” Jib said. He drooled when he said this.

I drooled, too. I am jealous. I want light liver cubes. Maybe if I find Heel Position all day long, Mom will give me some.

Friday, August 21, 2009

I Had a Conversation with Mom

Jib here.

I was asleep. I was minding my own business. I was dreaming about when I was a wee puppy. I was dreaming about chewing on my sister’s ears. I was dreaming about learning how to climb gray steps.

Mom came and woke me up. She took off my collar. She put on her rubber apron.


Mom gave me a bath. I didn’t need one. Really I didn’t. But Mom said it was because I had one of those poops that make me scoot on the grass. She said my kilts weren’t very clean.

Mom said she also gave me a bath because my ruff was naughty.

Zoe said that my ruff was naughty with a K. My ruff wasn’t TOO knaughty. Not knaughty enough for a bath. Really.

But Mom said yes. She said we are going to a dog show tomorrow so my ruff and kilts have to be beautiful. When my ruff has knaughts, she always gives me a bath. And a bath makes it easy to brush my ruff.

So I had a bath. I was not happy.

While I was being blowed and blowed, Mom and I had a talk. Zoe came near me to listen. Sailor lay down near the cheese table to listen, too.

“Jibby, if I had known how difficult your coat was going to be,” Mom said, “I may have reconsidered neutering you.”

“What is neutering?” I asked.

“That’s when the vet removed your testicles,” Mom said.

I crossed my back legs. Mom made me straighten up again.

“Where did they go?” I asked when I had recovered.

Mom stopped brushing me. She looked into the sky.

“I think they are waiting for you at the Rainbow Bridge,” she said.

“Can I have them back?” I asked.

“Yes. When you go to the Bridge, you will get them back,” Mom said.

“Are mine at the Rainbow Bridge?” Sailor asked.

“Yes, Sailor,” Mom said, “Yours are at the Bridge, too.”

I looked at Mom. “Can I have Sailor’s, too?” I asked.

Mom laughed. She shook her head NO. “Sailor will probably have claimed his before you make it to the Bridge,” Mom said.

I was disappointed. But if I get my own back, than it’s not so bad.

“Will I have to have baths at the Rainbow Bridge?” I asked.

Sailor lifted his head. Zoe looked at Mom.

“No,” Mom said, “You will never have another bath.”

We smiled. All four of us.

So now I smell great. I am not knaughty any more. And I get to show off at a dog show in the morning. Sailor and Zoe have to stay home.

Nyah nyah.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Another Bad Word Day

Sailor here.

This morning, Mom didn’t give me breakfast. She says it’s Saturday and a Half Assed Day. Actually, it’s a Half Fast Day, but you know what I mean. Then the doorbell rang and in my distress, I forgot to bark.

Aunt Judy came to my house just to say Hello to me and Jib! She says hello in the best way: lots of butt foozlings and side thumpings.

Mom clipped on Jib’s leash and she and Aunt Judy and Jib went away in the dog car. Mom took lots of great cookies and somebody’s breakfast with them. Was it MY breakfast? Maybe it will come back with Mom and I will get to eat it after all.

While my tummy made lion cub sounds, I stayed home and guarded the front door. Nothing much happened. Nobody came to the door, no people, no lions, no mailmen. So I slept.

When Mom came back, she brought Aunt Judy and Tavish with her. Tavish is Jib’s cousin. Tavish is the same color as Zoe. He looks like Jib with Zoe fur. He barks a lot. Jib barks a lot when he is with Tavish. They are naughty together and make me nervous.

Mom came inside for towels and her rubber apron. My heart stood still. Was it MY turn? Was I going to have a Bad Word instead of breakfast? I hid in Jib’s crate. Mom went back outside around the side of the garage. I sighed with relief. Jib trotted outside to see what was happening in the Bad Word spot. I did not. I was afraid Mom would see me and decide to give ME the bad word instead of giving it to Aunt Judy.

Jib came back inside and said that Aunt Judy didn’t have the Bad Word. Tavish had the Bad Word. That’s why Mom got wet. That’s probably why Aunt Judy got wet, too. Jib said Mom sprayed Aunt Judy by mistake and Aunt Judy sprayed Mom by mistake while they were spraying Tavish on purpose. So Tavish got the wettest of all.

Then Mom and Aunt Judy brought Tavish into the back yard and Ah-errgged him onto the cheese table. They dried him with Mom’s unbroken dog dryer. It took forever.

After Tavish was dry and fluffy and had licked all the cheese off the cheese board, Mom let Zoe out to romp. Tavish spent most of his romp time trying to say hello to Zoe’s rear end. Zoe spent ALL of her romp time telling Tavish to back off. I spent my time yipping at them both. Mom says my yipping means I am really wringing my paws, metaphorically speaking. She really talks like that.

Tavish finally figured out how to be polite for a few seconds at a time. Zoe got to have a drink of water without dripping all over Tavish’s head when she yelled at him.

I remember when Jib was a Mutant Teenage Collie and Zoe kept telling him to back off. Jibby wasn’t as stubborn as Tavish, though. But Mom says Tavish and Jib are two peas in a pod. Two cookies in a cookie jar. Two Desperadoes in our back yard. She says that Jib grew a new brain when he turned three and that Tavish will, too. All he needs is time.

I can hardly wait.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009


Jib here.

Today Mom looked at Zoe and said a bad word. Sailor gasped and hid in my dog crate. He thinks he’s safe there. I hid, too, behind the couch. But I peeked out to see what would happen.

Mom took off Zoe’s collar. She put a slip lead around Zoe’s neck. She put on her rubber apron. She led Zoe out to the side of the garage.

From the smell of it, Zoe had a bath. From the look of it, Mom did, too.

Mom ran back inside for more towels. She said the towels were for her, not Zoe

Mom says that the minute she gets Zoe all wet, Zoe shakes. Zoe outdid herself today. She got Mom very wet. Her apron was wet. Her neck was wet. Her arms were wet. Even her hair hung down in drippings.

Mom says it’s hard to wet Zoe down to the skin. Zoe says her coat is dense on purpose. If she is mushing on the Iditarod Trail and she falls into a river, her skin won’t get wet. She won’t freeze. And she says that pulling a dogsled is such hard work that her fur will dry from the skin side out. That’s how much heat she will make running the Iditarod.

Mom says that Zoe lives in California and that she doesn’t need an Iditarod coat. Zoe disagrees. She still thinks she will someday get to Alaska and pull a sled. She says she will be the lead dog.

I jumped up to look out the window. It was sunny. It was hot. Mom was back at the bath tub with Zoe. I saw Mom shove her face into the towel. Then she gave Zoe a cookie I woofed, but Mom ignored me. Sailor stayed in my crate, drooling a little. I think he was nervous.

After Mom dried as much of herself as she could, she turned the water back on. Zoe was rinsed and rinsed. All the dog hair that fell out in the bath was flung into the bushes for the birds. There must be a lot of birds needing nesting fur. There was that much dog hair.

Then Mom brought Zoe into the back yard. She lifted her onto the Cheese Table. She turned on the dog dryer that blows fur and gravel and leaves. It sucks up water, too. Fur flew into the air. Great clumps of fur.

Mom dried and dried. Zoe licked and licked. Then the dryer stopped. All by itself. Mom said a bad word that wasn’t “bath.” She went inside to see if anything broke on the breaking box. She said nothing broke.

But something did break. The dog dryer broke. Zoe broke it. I was happy. Mom wouldn’t ever blow my dry again. Ever.

But I was wrong. Mom opened the cupboard. She took out the small dog dryer that was always a dog dryer. It is orange, whatever that is. Mom says it takes forever to dry a dog with this dryer.

Mom finished drying Zoe. It took forever.

Then Mom dried her own hair with the dryer. She blew off the dog fur from her legs and chest and arms. She came back inside looking really scary. But she went into the forbidden water bowl room and came out looking like Mom again.

Zoe is very proud. She says the backyard looks like it snowed. What is snow? Sailor says I lived in snow after I was born. I don’t remember. If snow is fluffy and gray and covers everything, then it snowed. It snowed in my backyard.

Zoe says she is going to get even with Mom. She is going to finish blowing her coat all over the house for the next three days.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Foozle me, Mom!

Jib here.

Sailor is better. I like it when he’s better. He chases me. He rolls me in the dirt. He barks at the mailman and tells me to bark at the gardeners. He makes me happy.

Mom is making sure Sailor stays better. She gives him neck messages. She buries her hands in his ruff and her fingers talk to his neck. He loves it. He leans his head into her chest like Zoe does when Mom rubs her behind her ears. He sighs. He closes his eyes.

Mom is making sure Sailor stays better in his hind end, too. First, she foozles his butt fluff. Sailor’s feet jump around and his tail wags and wags. He laughs into her face. He loves being foozled. Then Mom messages his back and butt. She says the foozling makes Sailor relax so she can talk to his muscles without having him move around too much.

Sailor says that until today, his back hurt a little when Mom messaged him. He says the foozling was great, though, and didn’t hurt. And his back felt better after Mom’s fingers talked to it. She also talked to his legs, and Sailor says that felt great.

Yesterday, Mom petted sunscreen over her arms and watered our tomatoes. Then she foozled Zoe’s butt fluff. She laughed and said a naughty word and Zoe ran across the lawn and Mom went inside and washed the fur off of her arms. She had to use soap. I’m glad she didn’t foozle ME. Bad words make me nervous even when Mom is laughing. The worst word she says is "bath.” That word makes me really nervous and she said it yesterday after she foozled Zoe.

Sailor thinks “bath” is the worst word, too. And he puts his ears down and mutters when Mom says “teethies.” I don’t. I jump up on the cheese table. I like having my teethies brushed. The toothpaste tastes great and so does the cheese. Sailor likes the cheese table, too, and will jump up even though Mom is holding his toothbrush. Mom tied a white metal board to the cheese table and sprays spray cheese all over the whiteboard and we lick it off. Sometimes we get a free lick. Sometimes we get a toenail grind. And sometimes we get our teethies brushed after the cheese is gone. Mom says this is a good way to keep us occupied when she grooms us.

Zoe doesn’t like the cheese table. She says it means something is going to happen to her that wasn’t her idea, and that is not her idea of fun. She won’t come for supper even when she’s hungry unless it’s her idea and not Mom’s. She WILL run to the front door for walkies, though. Walkies is her favorite thing. It doesn’t matter whose idea it is. And Zoe likes being foozled if she doesn’t have anything better to do like nap or watch the street or mark the edge of the brick patio.

Here comes Mom. I think I will smile at her and turn around and coax her into foozling MY butt fluff.