Best Dog Ever

I'm pretty sure that Masala's idea of heaven consists of millions and millions of squirrels frolicking in a never-ending forest. He loves loves squirrels. There is not much he won't ignore for a treat, but when squirrels are around, even treats won't distract him.

Because the dog has such an affinity for squirrels, sometimes I will let him "chase" them. This usually means the squirrel is already too high up on the tree for him to reach and has already freaked out that a predator is near. (I just don't have the heart to cause squirrel cardiac arrest, even for Masala.)

Today we encountered just such squirrel, and when I yelled at M to "Go get 'im!" he pounced toward the tree like a lion going in for the kill (he was still on the leash, mind you). Normally he will simply jump up, put his feet on the trunk and stare into the branches longingly thinking, "I'll get you next time, sucka!"

Not today.

No.

Today, that dog tried to climb the tree. When I tell you he tried to climb the tree, I mean he literally attempted to get his hind legs up so that he could scurry up, as if say, he was a CAT. When that didn't work, he tried to jump into the nook between a couple of branches. He got more airborne than I've ever seen him get, and quite honestly, if given time to practice, I dare say he could get up in that tree.

My neighbors must've thought I was high the way I was cackling on the sidewalk. It was truly, truly awesome. And hilarious. And so. freakin. cute!

Because one never has a video camera at the appropriate moments in life when they are most desperately needed, I do not have photographic evidence of his dog-defying feat today. I do, however, have this little video I shot a few months ago. (God. My accent has gotten out of control. Must move from here asap.)




LOL. While previewing, Masala heard me on the video, stopped what he was doing, and ran over as if to say, "Ready! Play! Where's the ball??!!"

Singlehandedly Saving the Economy

So...umm...I bought some stuff. Actually, I bought a lot of stuff.

Yesterday I was feeling nostalgic for weekends in Charlottesville when J and I would spend an hour or so at Barnes & Noble happily perusing the shelves (him) and nicely laid out selections on tables (me). I'd always come home with 2-4 books, determined to read them voraciously, and a guilty chocolate chip cookie or 2 (seriously, best choc chip cookies I've ever had, and that's saying something). Anyway, inevitably we'd get home and decide we needed to watch a movie or tv show and the books would sit until a nice summer or spring day when I would insist on lounging by the pool (of the apartment complex at which we did not live).

This nostalgia began because I'd been sitting on my new porch swing reading Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason and wondered if Helen Fielding had written anything since that awful Olivia Joules crap. Google landed me on this semi-interesting article about chick lit which then led me to searching this Sarah Dunn person which then led to me feverishly clicking on "add to cart" on Amazon.

Some of my items ended up in the "Save for Later" bin, but I did come away with these four titles (2 at full price - but free shipping, and two at ridiculously low prices like $3 and $4):

The Girl She Used to Be - David Cristafano

Prozac Nation - Elizabeth Wurtzel

The Big Love: A Novel - Sarah Dunn

Strokes of Genius: Federer, Nadal, and the Greatest Match Ever Played - Jon Wortheim (About the match which ignited my undying love for Rafa. Shut up, Megan.)

After these purchases I made my way to the kitchen (for the purpose of doing dishes) where I realized that a large number of my drinking glasses have vanished. Sure, Masala and I have broken a few, but I didn't realize the damage was this drastic. Now, if all glasses are dirty and in the dishwasher, there are none to drink out of! This situation, of course, had to be rectified.

I had to bring in the big guns: Mom. She loves this stuff, so I called her and gave her a project. A few hours later several emails subject line "glasses" were delivered to my inbox and thus began the hunt for drinking glasses. Somehow, I ended up purchasing a few of these recycled glass storage jars which I fell in love with. I mean, I've been needing some containers like this for awhile now for all the stuff I've started buying from the bulk bins at the organic grocer: lentils, couscous, quinoa - not to mention regular ole flour and sugar necessities.

All of this is well and good, but the !!MOST EXCITING PART!! about all this research was finding this gem of an online retailer: Greenfeet. They sell recycled and organic home products and purchase carbon offsets for all of their shipping. Very, very cool. So naturally, I had to buy something from them. Ta-dah! My new drinking glasses:

Also, Mom sent me the Southern Living catalog, as she does not quite understand my aesthetic, but was trying to be helpful. Surprise, surprise to me - some of the stuff in there is fab. And not cheap. But I do want the Tribeca Tumblers on pages 6/7...maybe another time.

As if this wasn't enough, I thought Masala should get in on the action, too. Sure, he'd gotten two new squeaky/ball toys when I bought his food, but those were just cheap little things. This hot weather has me so hot I'm already sweating behind my knees...inside...in freaking MAY. I can only imagine how he feels. During winter I came across some "cooling" beds and made a mental note for the summertime. Today felt like just the day to try to find one of them. Lucky Little M will soon be sleeping coolly in his very own Snuggly Sleeper (did not pay price on that webpage):

Yes, I wanted to get him an environmentally friendly bed, too, but those things are a) damn expensive and b) they don't have "cooling" ones yet - I felt like he would really feel the benefits, so I eco-splurged.

Who needs real life friends and/or local retail outlets when you have internet shopping? Best part is, next week or two I'm going to get all kinds of goodies delivered to my door as little surprises that I completely forgot about amidst whatever shitty day I'm having. Hurray! Is retail therapy on dual levels! Am genius. (Am also broke until June)

Accentuate the Positive

It's been a rough few days. This past weekend was so much fun, and it's always difficult for me to come home to this boring, awful place after good times with great friends. Then, yesterday, I got some bad news on the work front - not about my current job, but about the prospect of moving away. Fortunately, the following things have kept my malaise in check so that I don't downward spiral into full-on can't-get-out-of-bed-drink-all-the-time depression:

* The gym - Post-workout euphoria is almost better than sex, and in this crappy town, definitely safer.

* Masala - I can't decide if it would be better or worse if he knew how to talk, because the thoughts I create for his expressions crack me up and what he's really probably thinking is "eat. sleep. go for walk. sleep. eat. get belly rubbed. sleep."



* Escazu chocolates - I recommend the Beaufort Bar. Get one for yourself, ASAP. You won't be sorry, and it's totally worth the cost. I promise. Would I lie to you?

* Bridget Jones

* Random phone calls from 2 old friends

* Sleep. Lots and lots of sleep, especially way past alarm clock going off. Wait. Is that good or bad?

* LOLCats - my favorite so far this week:


* This week's Goop newsletter - I know, that site is totally cheesy and kind of pretentious, but Gwyneth has good intentions, so I visit it from time to time. This week she asks several "sages" about why humans are inclined to think bad thoughts, how it adversely affects us, and how to keep it in check; she calls it the "evil tongue." An excerpt from one of the answers that I keep coming back to:

When we speak positively and refrain from evil speech, we surround ourselves with more and more positive energy, therefore sustaining our spiritual growth. Conversely, when we speak negatively about others, our words stay with us wherever we go, blocking our happiness. For instance, when we wake up in a bad mood for no apparent reason, Kabbalists explain there is a reason. The energy we created by maligning someone’s character yesterday adversely affects us today.

One's personal thoughts on Kabbalah aside, the heart of this lesson, I think, is very valid and definitely worth putting into practice. It's all about karma, people.

Battle Scars

I count nine separate points of entry.  Nine places the teeth punctured my skin.

I was getting ready to go out, and if you've ever lived with me you know this often includes a fair bit of walking around in my underwear.  I was in and out of the bathroom - drinking water, eating a birthday cookie I had just baked for J, complaining that I had no cute clothes.  About half an hour earlier there had been a mini-meltdown over what to wear on the birthday/St. Patrick's day bar crawl celebration; my line of work has considerably dulled my wardrobe, and I didn't want to be the "old" lady at the pub. 

Masala was roaming around getting into trouble, as he is prone to do.  I coralled him into the bathroom with me while I dried my hair to give J a little respite from saying "No!"  This was my first bad move.  While in the bathroom, Masala discovered the trash can.  Remember when this happened a couple of months ago?  Yeah. I was trying to prevent that. 

I had just finished my makeup and was about to begin putting on actual clothes when J announces, "Nik, he's got something!"  We all know what that "something" was. 

He runs from me as I yell at him to drop it.  He takes cover under the table.

I know it is coming.  This is his M.O. He maneuvers so that I can't get above him, and he has the better ground.  But I have started this, and so I tell myself that I must finish it. Mistake number two.

He growls and snarls when I try to take it from his mouth.  I yell, "NO! NO!" which normally causes him to acquiesce. 

Not this time. He knows he has me beat.  There are a million chairs, and there's no way I am going to get it from him.  I don't want him to "win" this way, though, because it will only encourage the behavior.  I endure, not wanting to let go until he has calmed down. The final mistake.

I'm not sure if he got more aggressive, if my position changed, or if maybe even I was hurting him.  Whatever happened, my left thumb was caught in the crossfire.  I didn't know what it would look like when I ran to the sink to rinse it off.  Would it be attached? Did I lose part of it?

Thank God J was there.  Once I realized my hand was mostly ok and that all digits were accounted for, the tears came harder, the sobbing nearly uncontrollable.  I said we had to go to the hospital. J, being ever practical, brought me a shirt at once. I had completely forgotten my state of undress.

"What am I going to do with him? What am I going to do? I can't keep him."  I repeated over and over in my head and more than once out loud.

J told me to sit down while he rushed to the pharmacy for hydrogen peroxide and bandages.  I tried.  I couldn't sit still. I walked around. I googled "dog bite first aid." I took deep breaths. More and more tears.  I tried sitting on the floor. When J returned I was sitting on an ottoman in the bedroom pressed against the wall, silently crying.

My hand will be fine.  We fixed it up with Band-Aids and Neosporin and determined a trip to the emergency room was probably unnecessary (a trip to the bar, however, was totally required after I composed myself and re-applied makeup).  Today it is swollen and bruised, but it appears that full function will eventually return.

My psyche, on the other hand, is profoundly fucked up by this turn of events.  I don't like being afraid, yet I am.  In the past when he has growled at me I try to regain control as soon as possible afterward by taking something away, just to let myself (and him) know it's ok. Normally, it is. A hundred times a day I take stuff away from him - sticks, plastic, paper, you name it.  He only goes postal when it's an animal product - a stray bone on the sidewalk, a butter wrapper, or yeah, a tampon.  It makes sense...but why? I've never heard of anyone else having this problem. What am I doing wrong? What did I do to make him this way? How do I fix it? What if I can't?  A million and seventeen questions. 

And my heart is broken. That sounds ridiculous. He is my best friend in a town where I relate to almost no one; we cuddle on the couch almost every night. But he hurt me. I know he is an animal, and I have anthropomorphized him, so again, this is my fault. He acted like on animal survival instinct, and if I feel betrayed then that is my problem. But I still don't like being afraid of him. It's weird. It's very, very weird how I feel about him now. 

He has been nearly perfect since it happened. Sitting immediately upon being told. Sleeping the entire drive back. Performing unerringly on our walks.  Yet, I am hesitant. I don't know where to go from here. Surely because he won he will try it again. He will sense my fear, and I'm terrified this is going to become a common struggle. 

I am at a loss. I don't know what to do or how to move forward.  That's why I wrote this post. I needed to sort some of this out, and it seemed too important not to talk about.  But I can't deal with it fully yet, so that's why I've closed the comments. I'm not strong enough to take advice and criticism or weigh all the options. I need rest and recovery and then I'll assess how to respond. For now, I'm just trying to take it moment-to-moment without another confrontation, to let my heart heal as much as I am letting my hand heal. So thanks for reading, if you made it this far in my melodrama. : )

Watchdog

It's around 10:45pm as I return home from dinner and a movie.*  Per usual little M greets me at the door, tail wagging, eager to play.  I lean over the baby/doggie gate to put my leftovers down when I am startled by the door creaking open. 

Masala, ever the protector, scurries into his crate, tail between his legs and looks at me all, "WTF?"

Thanks, buddy. Nice to know you're there for me.


*He's Just Not That Into You - a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, but overall not that great (albeit better than most romantic comedies these days, sadly enough).  Also, it bizarrely left me feeling depressed and bitter rather than giddy, daydreamy, and lovestruck.

Dear Masala,

Please don't hate me, but more importantly, I'm asking you very nicely not to spazz out tonight.

I know we didn't really go for a good walk today.  You see, outside it's what we humans call, "freezing-ass cold," also known as "cold as balls."  Your owner/human, well, she is what we call a "wuss" when it comes to chillier temperatures. 

But it's more than that.  You see, she has been in what she and her co-worker are referring to as "Hell on Earth" this week at work.  She almost had 9,871 jury trials; she has dealt with 9,870 difficult clients; and IT IS NOT EASY WALKING AROUND IN HEELS ALL DAY DEALING WITH PEOPLE'S SHIT.

Tonight, she just could. not. do. it. 

I know, I know. She went to kickboxing.  She could have taken that time and spent it with you trotting up and down the street, walking to the waterfront, or playing on the tennis courts.  Instead, the selfish bitch did something for herself that she hasn't done in three days.  Please forgive this transgression against canine kind.

Due to her neglect of you this evening, she has resorted to the usual method of apologizing in the human world - she tried to buy your love.  That's right. She feels guilty, so she bought you that new squeaky toy. 

Yeah, that playtime a little while ago with the new squeaky toy - she did that for you because she couldn't do the walk today.  It's not the same, I know, but just this once consider accepting the consolation prize. 

Your cooperation in this matter is greatly appreciated, and indeed recommended, because I think if you pull some of that running-around-like-a-crazy-dog shit in the middle of Private Practice tonight, she just might kick your ass.

Love,

Niki (aka Your Human - who has no idea why she referred to herself in the third person throughout this letter but is too lazy to do anything about it now)

Fetch!

I'm phoning it in today, because election results coming in soon and tomorrow I'm going out of town.  Excerpts from The Dangerous Book for Dogs, by Rex and Sparky.

The Rules of Fetch
Players: Fetch is a contest of two players, one human, one dog

Boundaries: Humans must throw the stick to an area where it can be retrieved.  Any place that a dog cannot physically reach, such as on top of a van, is out of bounds.

Scoring: Humans are awarded points based on throw, and dogs are awarded points based on retrieval.  Humans - 5 pts per 1yd of distance, 42 pts if stick is thrown w/in 30 seconds of being retrieved and dropped.  Dogs - 37 pts if stick returned w/in 10 minutes, 154 pts + 12 liver treats for catching in midair

Penalties: Humans - 78 pts for throwing stick w/in vicinity of another dog who intercepts it, 340 pts for throwing in hard-to-find location, 663 pts for not throwing stick immediately when dog is ready to go again.  Dogs - 2 pts for becoming distracted longer than 30 minutes, 15 pts for dropping stick twelve or more feet from human's location, 212 pts for returning with wrong stick unless this stick is returned in less than 5 minutes, in which case, no penalty applies.

Duration: The game goes on until a player earns 17,572 pts at which time that player wins.  If a player gets tired and gives up, that player forfeits the game.  If dinnertime arrives, game is suspended, to be resumed at a later, more appropriate time. 

Pure Bliss

It has been raining off and on all day. 

The moment I got home the rain had subsided, so I walked in the door and immediately changed into dog-walking clothes. 

Masala was beside himself with happiness at the prospect of getting out of the house more than an hour before his usual walk time.  We put on the harness and leash, grabbed the poop bags, and bolted out the door.

The rain sprinkled on us, but it was nothing a girl can't handle.  I didn't even bother with a raincoat; what's the point?  A little water isn't going to kill me. 

We were striding happily along, Masala prancing and not even remembering to do his doggie "business," when without even a moment's notice the bottom fell out of the sky.

Torrential downpour. 

We turned tail and headed home, but we had already gone several blocks down the street.  At first I was all, "Oh, it's just water, no need to rush."  Thirty seconds later my tune changed.  Enough is enough, and besides, Masala needed to get at least a little bit of energy out before we settled in for a rainy night. 

So we began to run.  The poor dog has no idea what to do when I pick up the pace like this.  At first he is startled, then he patters along beside me, and ultimately he bolts ahead like he is trying to cross the finish line before me.  Then he'll stop, wait for me, and we repeat the process.

Eventually he settled into my stride, and as we're sprinting down the sidewalk toward home, rain pounding on us, I look down and notice that he is literally bounding.  Not just a trot, but full-on front paws coming up at the same time and then the back paws following.  We are joined in a common mission to get the hell out of this rain before we drown.  I let out a giant laugh and realize that for one moment, my life is perfect. 

I am giggling the rest of the way as he is determined to get out of the wet.  As soon as we see our house, he's darting across the lawn, jumping up the steps to the porch.  He then gave me a look that said, "Don't you EVER do that again." 

A break from the Olympics

What do these pictures say to you? Head to your friendly neighborhood pub and enter the Caption This Contest for picture #1. Just for kicks, feel free to leave ideas for a title/caption for each one and an over all title for the "ensemble" series in the comments.

Number One (the blurry one):


Number Two:

Number Three: