Jib Here - And I Love Her!

AND I LOVE HER

Jib here.

I love Mom. I really do. I always did. But she didn’t always know that. She knows it now.

A long time ago, Mom said, “Oh, Jibby, I love you so bad!” and something warm and furry turned over in my chest and I wanted to lick her and lean on her and I couldn’t stop smiling. I love her. I do.

And I love My Collie Mom, too, but that was a long time ago when my nose knew her scent before my eyes were open. I loved her milk and her licking and her soft breathing. And sometimes I still dream that I am warm and full and she is licking me. And when I dream this, I yip a little to keep my siblings away and have My Collie Mom all to myself.

But now I love Mom. I show her I love her all the time. When it’s light outside after Long Dark Sleepytime and Mom lets me out of my crate, I stretch at her feet to tell her I love her. I lean against her and kiss her arm to tell her I love her. I run between her legs to tell her I love her, too. And when she says, “Where’s my pony?” I run back between her legs the other way to tell her I love her. I love Mom. Especially at breakfast time.

I love Mom when she says it’s time for dessert and she opens my crate after chicken time and gives me the special treat I only get after chicken time. I love Mom when she throws my bouncy ball and keeps throwing it even when I am tired and feel like throwing up. I love Mom when she pulls a squeaky squirrel out of her pocket when I find Heel position without being asked. I love Mom when she throws Squeaky Squirrel for me to catch. I love Mom when her hand smells like liverwurst and she takes me to the dog park and makes me watch her instead of all the other dogs and gives me what is in her hand. I love liverwurst, too.

And I love Mom when I my tummy feels icky and I hork in my crate and yell for Mom. She always comes running and cleans up so I can lie back down and go to sleep until daylight. This happened once a long time ago, but I know if it happens tonight, she will come when I call. And she won’t make me skip breakfast, either, unless I hork more than once. Then I have to skip breakfast and my morning drink-of-water for a long, long time, and when I finally can drink again, Mom only lets me have a tiny bit and I have to wait for breakfast until Sailor and Zoe get supper. But I love her anyway.

And I love Sailor. He is old and wise and doesn’t yell at me any more when I try to lick his lips. He just turns his face away and I am happy. This means I don’t have to take over for him and make decisions I can’t decide and go places I don’t want to go. Like the bath tub.

Sailor is fun to play with when he makes me run, but he doesn’t run much himself. He just starts to run, and when I take off and run across the lawn and down the fence line and when I turn and run down the other fence line and when I keep running and look behind me, he is just standing on the grass with his tongue hanging out. Is he laughing at me? I am not close enough to hear.

I love Zoe, too. She runs more than Sailor even though she is older than he is. Mom says Zoe is twelve-going-on-puppy. She will run with me, but then she stops and I keep on running down the fence line and when I turn around, she is prancing on the lawn, laughing at me. I don’t have to hear her laugh to know she is laughing. I can see it in her feet.

Zoe never told me off when I was a puppy. Not once. She just turned away and ignored me when I jumped in her face and tried to pull her collar off. And if I got too obnoxious, she gave me The Eye. But she never yelled at me or booped me with her nose. Never.

Mom says Zoe is the most tolerant of dogs. Whatever that means. Zoe treats the human puppies like she treats me, but is much better at getting away from them than she ever was from me. I am hard to get away from. My feet are fast.

I love Leisl the Leonberger. She runs with me and chases me and I chase her and her Mom gives me treats if I sit when she commands. Leisl likes to come over to romp and to eat the cat-pee plant and to get in trouble. She likes to warn me that my toys are now Her Toys and I can’t have them. But I can have them. I just have to give her The Eye and not back down, and she lets go. I love Leisl, she is fun.

And I love the bouncy Poodle down the block. Mom says he is everybody’s favorite uncle and would get me in trouble if he could. He would do naughty things and teach me to be naughty. He would bark and bark to tease me into jumping at the end of my leash and then he would just stand there while Mom scolds me. When Mom and I are out walking and we see Bouncy Poodle, she tightens the leash and says, “Here comes Trouble.” But his name isn’t Trouble. It should be, though. Instead of me.

But best of all I love Mom. Even when she is not perfect and doesn’t feed me when my tummy says it’s tummy time. Even when she is not perfect and takes away her yummy pen, and says Leave It! when we’re out on walks, and forgets to refill my water bowl every two minutes with cool water. Even when she is not perfect and makes me watch her instead of watching the dog across the street or the squirrel in the tree, I love her. And even when she tells Sailor that she loves him the best, I love Mom. Because I know she really loves me the best.

When she is lying on the couch, I like to come and lay my head on her chest and listen to her soft breathing. She would be perfect if she had milk and licking.

Happy birthday to Me!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Sailor here. Today is my birthday, according to my pedigree and to my Mom. She says it’s really the anniversary of my birthday because I only had one real birthday and that was ten years ago. In human years, that is, not in dog years.

Mom says that if you count 10.5 dog years per human year for the first 2 years, then 4 dog years per human year for each year after, this makes me 53. If the first year of my life was about the first fifteen years for a human and if the first two years were equal to twenty-four human years, and after that, if each year is equivalent to four years, than I am 56 in Mom years. Another place on the Internet told Mom that is I weigh between 51 and 90 lbs. (and I do), I am 66!

So which is it?

Who cares? I feel young! I run in the backyard chasing Jib and squirrels and barking at the mailman through the fence. I run many, many agility courses at class and a few more at home. I eat like there’s no tomorrow and I remember eating like this since my puppy days. I still bark and jump when Mom comes home, but I don’t jump on Mom any more. I jump next to her. And I taught Jibby to do this, too.

I am young! Except a little bit when I take a nap at night and have to stand up when I wake up and my legs are a little stiff for the first step or two. Zoe is like this, too, in the morning, and she’s even older than me. She is twelve in Mom years and too many for me to count in dog years.

I am young! My digestion is as good as it’s always been, but most dog cookies that crunch make my eyes run. I only used to get goopy eyes from wheat, but Mom says that my Moon System is not so young any more, so my eyes run with grains. I don’t ever remember running with grains. I run with Zoe and Jib and with Mom at agility, but not with grains.

I am young, but I have matured, too. I no longer gnash my teeth when Mom says things that confuzle me. Like the grain thing. I just smile and pant and let it all roll off my back like a light rain. And the best part about this is that I never get my face wet.

I have matured. I have finally learned to love heeling at Dog School and retrieving my dumbbell and jumping over the broad jump. And I never wake up stiff after this.

I have matured. I don’t bark hysterically when the doorbell rings. I let Jib do this for me. Mom says that I may be getting a little hard of hearing, like Zoe who has to be within ten feet of Mom when she calls her for supper. But when Mom whispers, “Cookie,” or opens a bag of potato chips and I am in the other room or down the hall, I can hear just fine. Then I come running. You never know….

I have matured. And I am still young in my heart. Mom says I awake to each day like it was my first. And she says that I am blessed because I don’t know that one day, that day will be my last.
Huh?

I think I will let this roll off my back like the summer rain.