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.

Rally Advanced/Excellent

Sailor here.

Mom says I have a new title. She says it’s the AKC RAE title. I had to do two things ten times. But actually I did a LOT of things many more times than ten times, more even than twenty toes and several dewclaws worth. So although I can’t count high enough, I have a new title.

Now I like titles, I do, but my new one? RAE? I mean, what is this? I think I would like the title Duke, or Earl, or even Prince. Or King. That’s it! King! I’d love to be a King.

Then I could get cookies whenever I want and go for walkies whenever I want and sleep on any dog bed I want even if Jib wants it, too. He can be Mister or Sir or something, but I want to be King!

And what does this RAE get me, anyway? Huh? Mom and I two green ribbons and a yellow ribbon and a blue ribbon and two coffee cups, but NO COOKIES. What good is that?

Bay Spaghetti

Sailor here.
Well, it was another good day. Mom took Bilgewater and me out for a spaghetti breakfast, but we didn’t eat spaghetti. I had fizzy water and Jib snorted some out his nose. And we made a new friend, too.
This morning, Mom hustled us both downstairs and out to pee. She let us back in and bustled around the kitchen, getting things out and putting things in and getting in my way because I was trying to smell what she was getting out and putting in. And because of all this getting and putting, she forgot to give Jib and me our usual breakfast. We had what Mom called an abbreviated breakfast.
Bah humbug.
Then she brushed us and shoved us in the car. That part was normal. She filled my big water bottle and fastened her seatbelt. That was normal, too. I thought we were going to a dog show.
Instead, we drove out to the Bay. Mom said we were at Bayfront Park.
“I hope she doesn’t take me swimming,” I thought and I sat in my crate a long time sniffing the air and the water and the bushes and the water and the Bay.
“Come on, Sailor,” Mom called, hanging on hard to Jib who was trying to chase a seagull.
I jumped out of the car and stood there, looking for a way out. But instead of putting on my swimming vest, Mom put my backpack on. Then she loaded up the pockets with spaghetti. She put water in Jib’s backpack and stuck a funny-looking hat on her head.
“We’re going on a picnic!” she told us excitedly.
“Oboy!” Jib barked. “I love picnics!” He turned to me. “What’s a picnic?”
“A picnic is where you eat on the ground,” I explained.
“So why is this different from dinner in the backyard?” Jibby asked.
I didn’t know the answer to that, so I quickly changed the subject. “Do you have the sauce?” I asked him. “I don’t have the sauce.”
“What sauce?” Jib asked. “I have the water.”
“Meat sauce, I hope,” I said. “For the spaghetti,” I added since Jib was looking a bit puzzled.
“Nope,” Jib said. “No meat sauce.”
“What about plain sauce?”
“Water,” Jib said. “I have the water. Maybe Mom has the sauce.”
I took a swift sniff of Mom’s backpack. No sauce. But I smelled something, a maybe something, a maybe something interesting, a maybe something…
Mom twirled out of reach and grabbed up our leashes and marched off, telling us how exciting this was going to be.
I failed to see how exciting that would be since clearly we were having spaghetti with no sauce.
Bah humbug.
We walked down a trail with holes alongside and I tried to sniff out who may have made the holes, but couldn’t find a scent I knew. Jib trotted on Mom’s other side, watching for something to chase.
We came down a small hill and there in front of us was the Bay. Mom said something about All That Mud, but it didn’t smell like All That Mud to me. It smelled like something Good To Roll In. I wondered if Mom would take off my pack and let me roll in it. She didn’t. She wouldn’t. And she wouldn’t let Jib, either.
A nice man joined Mom and took my leash because Jib is sometimes too hot to handle, even with a backpack full of water and an almost-grown-up brain. Mom said the man on the other end of my leash was John, but he didn’t smell like spaghetti sauce or cookies or anything exciting. He just smelled like, well, like John. And so I lost interest in his pockets.
We walked for a long time. A really long time. And we stopped for water, too. And we walked again. And finally the morning started to be exciting. A ground squirrel ran across the road making Jib jump around and bark. A pelican swooped over our heads, smelling like the I-Want-To-Roll-In-It mud. When we stopped for water, I got to smell other dogs who walked the trail before us and where shore birds had scratched in the gravel.
We spent another long time walking, and then we came to a grassy place with duck poop all over it. Now this was exciting. But Mom and John didn’t let us smell or snack or even walk near the poop. They took us over to a large flat bench and we all had to sit on that. I pretended I couldn’t jump up with my backpack on, but Jib leaped up and was getting all the butt scritches, so I made small face and jumped up for a butt-rub, too.
And then the sun came out and shined on us. And Mom opened her backpack and took out lunch. It wasn’t spaghetti. It wasn’t sauce. It was hot dogs! I love hot dogs!! She gave one to me and one to Jib and one to John and kept one for herself. Mine didn’t have a bun, but it also didn’t have mustard, and I ate it in about three nanoseconds. John passed a soda to Mom. Mom poured water for Jib and me. John slipped us some of his fizzy water into my bowl, which made my drink a bit exciting. Mom ate her hot dog right down. John ate his hot dog right down. I suppose Jibby ate his, too, because it was not there when I went to check. He eats faster than even I do.
Then Jib took a sniff of our water and snorted and jumped up and fizzy water came out his nose! He spent some time sneezing and rubbing his snout. I found this quite exciting!
Then, in mid-sneeze, Jib jumped up and woofed. Two yappy frizzy dogs came trotting by yapping and frizzing at us and choking at the ends of their leashes. Jib almost got sucked into Bark and Lunge Wars, but Mom said, “Look at that!” and he turned right around to look at her. (They have been practicing this for a long time and I don’t get it.) By the time Mom got through patting him Good Boy, the yappy frizzies were gone. And the fizzies in Jib’s nose were gone, too.
A small flock of seagulls flew low overhead looking for a handout. Mom’s hands were not out, so they gave up and flew out over the water. Jib sat and stood and sat and stood and couldn’t decide what to do. I lay down and put my nose in Mom’s rear pocket. Mom gave John a funny look before she realized it was my nose in her pocket and not John’s.
I dozed.
The next thing I knew, we had to scramble to our feet and go back up a new hill and down another trail back to the dog car. Jib and I hopped in. Mom hopped in. She waved. We drove.
And in the car crate, I smiled. This was a great morning. We saw exciting things, drank exciting water, and ate hot dogs for breakfast. And I came home with a backpack still full of spaghetti.
But no sauce.

Jib Here - Today I am Three!

Dear MamaMarla,

Thank you for my burfday present. It came in a big box yesterday. Mom brought it inside and opened it. She shrieked and danced and laughed.

Inside were my BRAINS! Mom read the destructions for installing them. She unzipped me behind the ears. She dropped my brains inside. She zipped me back up. Then she told me to shake my head.

I shook my whole body. Then I shook just my head. I heard a small rattle and then a loud CLICK.

And suddenly I could think! I could remember! I could come the first time Mom called. I could stop chewing everything in sight. And everything outta sight, too.

Mom gave me cookies. She had tears in her eyes.

Sailor didn't get any cookies.

I love Brain Day!

Love,
Jib

SCULPTED

Sailor here.

Mom loves the top of my head. She says it is soft and rounded and loves to rest her hand there. When she does this, I stand very still and pant. Mom wrote me a poem about the top of my head.

As I reach down to pat my dog’s head,

I marvel at what a perfect fit

Is his head to my palm.

The two meld together,

My yin to his yang.

I remember having similar thoughts

When my babies were born.

What a perfect fit,

Their little bodies meeting mine,

Nestled at my side.

It was as if they were sculpted before birth

To fit just so.

Now, with my hand on Sailor’s head,

I know better.

It is my body,

My hand

That was sculpted

Before time began

For such a fit.

I NEVER SAID GOODBYE

Sailor here.

Mom's friend is very sad today. Her dog went to the Rainbow Bridge while she was at work and she never got to say goodbye. What is goodbye?

Mom wrote a poem so I could remember.

You died today. And I was gone,

Away at work, away at play,

Inside the house, upstairs somewhere.

You died alone. I was not there.

I never said goodbye.

You lay down in your corner.

And sleeping in the shade,

You felt our love,

Though we weren't here.

You didn’t want our grief

To spoil Your Time to leave.

You slipped away into the light,

Comforted by bonds of love

That remain unbroken still,

Heart to heart between us.

You carried this love with you,

As you chose to go alone.

I never said goodbye.

But, what is one goodbye

When set against the thousands

Of hello’s that we have shared?

What is one goodbye?

It is for people, this goodbye, not for dogs.

Dogs don’t understand goodbye.

They know a pat, a kiss, a hug

As their loved one walks away.

Dogs don’t understand goodbye.

What they know is your return.

They know you will come back.

And so they wait with patience,

Napping in the sun

Until you walk back through the gate.

They know you will return.

Yes, dogs know hello.

They know the leaping bliss,

The joyous bark,

The happy kiss,

The ecstasy of greeting.

Oh yes, dogs know hello.

And what is one goodbye

When set against the thousands

Of hello’s that we have shared?

No, I never said goodbye.

You taught me well.

I had no need.

And when my time has come at last

To follow you into the light,

To meet you waiting at the Bridge,

My love, my heart, my perfect dog,

You will be the first that I shall seek.

Yours will be the first hello.

Jib Here - Spelled!!

Jib here.

Mom can't wait til I grow up. She was down on her knees yesterday, doing something Zoe says is all about her Prey Drive. She was asking Santa (or someone big up in the sky) if I would EVER be safe outside my crate.

Who says I am safe INSIDE my crate? Huh?

I think I'll slide the pan all the way out of my crate again and chew up the corner. Again.



HOW DO YOU SPELL JIB?

Jibby here. Guess what? Mom spelled me. Spelled me from class. Agility class. My favorite class. And Mom spelled me. She says that means we aren’t going back.

“Not ever?” I asked.

“Not for a while,” Mom said. “You need a brain in your head and not in your feet,” she said.

“And other parts,” she added under her breath.

What does she mean? My brain is fine. It works. It works fast. It works fun. Mom says that last night it fell out of my nose.

But I was good last night. I didn’t yell. I didn’t scream. Mom reminded me to be quiet. She reminded me with Stinky Spray. Right in my mouth. Yuk. Double yuk. And it was really hard not to yell. Yelling is fun now. Yelling is loud. I love to sound loud. It makes me feel grown up. Yelling is loud now because we have a new place. It is indoors. Actually, it’s through several doors. It is echo-ey. It is crazy. It is very exciting. There are Tall Ring Gates. Very tall. There is a Walk-It and a Climb-It and a Teeter. And many Overs.

And there are DOGS! Dogs everywhere! Dogs jumping. Dogs climbing. Dogs walking. Dogs chasing dumbbells. I love dogs!

And there was a big black Rushing Terror. He growled and lunged at me. So I had to show him. Mom said I did the teenage equivalent (whatever that is) of thumbing my dewclaws at him when he turned around. I peed in my corner. To show him this was MY place. Not his.

Mom groaned. She grabbed paper towels. Mom said she loves Nature’s Miracle. That must be me. I am Nature’s Miracle. I am Mom’s Miracle, too.

But best of all, there were GIRLS! I love girls! Girls are my favorite! And there was a collie girl!! Across the room. Heeling with her Mom. A collie girl!

My Mom let go of my collar. “Climb it!” she said. She pointed to the Tall ClimbIt. I climbed it. I stopped at the bottom. I touched the TouchIt.

And Mom was right. Right then my brain fell out my nose.

"Girls," my brain said. "There are girls here. Right across the Tall Ring Gates."

I ran. I launched. I cleared the Tall Ring Gates with room to spare.

I said hello to the Collie Girl. “Hi, I’m Jib. Who are you? I’m Jib!”

"Camille," she said. "I am Camille. What are you DOING?"

Camille's Mom grabbed me.

I ducked. I ran. I said hello to the Golden Girl. “Can I smell you? Huh? I’m Jib. I’m Jib!”

I started to say hello to Black Little Girl. But Mom caught up with me. She dragged me away.

And she spelled some words. Some bad words. And me. She spelled me, too. She spelled me out the back door. She spelled me down the sidewalk. She spelled me away from all the girls.

I was spelled from agility. Mom says we will go back. But I have to be put in neutral first. So my brain will stay in my head. So my nose will stay away from girls. So I will be good and not bark and not run away and not tell everyone I am Jib.

Now, is this fair?

Jib, the life of the party, spelled J-I-B