Lambiedog

Life after illness

    Now that I'm on the mend, I'm returning to my old life.

Much is the same:

  -Gorgeous sunsets

  -My unchanged need to launch myself vertically should my owner ignore me while socializing.

 
    Yet, in the food and fun department, there's an unpleasant new rigor.

I'm receiving tiny, boring meals multiple times a day, in deference to my delicate digestive tract.  Further, the snacking situation is terrible.  They've outlawed all treats, on doctor's orders.

Worst of all, my rawhides have been hidden from me.  My family used to be great at noticing when I wanted to play Fetch The Rawhide, or Chew the Rawhide, and at helping me to find my rawhide when I misplaced it.  Now they're pretending they don't notice what I'm trying to communicate. 

How could they be so obtuse now when they've been so empathic in the past?

They throw my mallard and I run after it dutifully, but it's just not the same. Mallard ≠ Rawhide.

What sort of dog am I really?

It's rare that one is required to so baldly delineate oneself. 

Am I a runner or a walker?

These are the times that try dogs' souls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                      The key thing is to act confident about your decision.

Evening ritual

 

    I look forward all day to my bedtime wrestling game with Thomas.  First he chases me, then he throws my rawhide and I run after it for awhile, and then we growl at each other for a bit.  As an evening ritual, it's second only to my nighttime pee in terms of importance.

 

    I'm going to be bereft when he leaves.

Whitley Heights

  

     Hollywood's Whitley Heights was the scene of our latest Secret Stairs walk -- Walk #36.  This was a classy area, with our first staircase being entered via a wrought iron gate.

Whitley Heights is an appealing and well maintained neighborhood.  Even the dogs we encountered seemed upbeat and welcoming.

        

Following the itinerary led us through one of the parking lots for the Hollywood Bowl, where we were surprised to encounter friends who were there to take part in the Amazing Los Angeles Race.

I wished them well as they embarked upon their endeavor.  

        Later we heard that they had come in first! 

    If the encouragement that I provided them helped in any small way, the sweat I expended on the stair walk would be worth it.  I live to serve.

Keeper of the cords

The guys had gathered for a game of Starcraft.

My role?  Cord maintenance.

I found it to be hypnotically relaxing.

Dolce in Surf Dog competition

        My neighbor Dolce headed for Coronado earlier this month to participate in the 6th annual Surf Dog competition, a charity fundraiser for the San Diego County public schools.

     With more than 50 dogs competing, this was no lightweight event.  Dolce had an official vest and an entry heat.  And, through family member Brett Rolin, she even had a sponsor: Banfield, The Pet Hospital.

     Although Dolce swims daily, she did not have surfing experience.  Luckily, the tournament provided some crack surf instructors who helped her pick up the rudiments of the sport.

    In the end, Dolce did not win the competition -- that honor went to a French bulldog -- but her performance was amazing for a dog who had never surfed before.  

    Her family was very proud of her.

 

Snack time

 We were playing over at Willy's house when Kim brought out some treats.  We all gathered round.

 On the ladies-first principle Miss Jade got the first snack.  Then, maybe on the guests-first principle, it was Charo's turn.  

Finally it was time for the Most Important Dog to receive my treat.

 

 As the host, Willy was very patient and waited until everyone else had been served. 

Solace for my loneliness

Things have been dreary around here.  All my favorite people have been gone.

         

So when I saw Rambo out at the bluffs I was eager to do some running around.

 

 I had remembered him as a scary guy, but he was actually rather submissive to me.

Which worked out well.

....

 

          

Mallard and Maggie

Oftentimes people talk to me in baby voices, as if I was immature or unsophisticated.   

Maggie's different.  When she plays with my mallard with me, I don't feel she's patronizing me.  

      

We're just two adults enjoying a game of mallard.