Ray Takes an Eye Test

Well, the saltshaker finally went to that big kitchen in the sky. I found it lying in the front hall yesterday, broken into two. There's no telling how it happened, although Ray was suspiciously thirsty for the rest of the day.

When I dropped Ray at daycare, there was only one other dog in the pen. A Boxer that Donny said was "in timeout" because he was a little over-exuberant in his play with the other dogs. Ray and the Boxer sniffed each other, followed each other around a bit, then both sat facing each other. They were close together.

As I watched, the boxer lifted a paw and patted Ray on the snout. Then lifted his other paw and did the same thing. It was like he was saying "There's no way you're blind, dude. Do you see this? No? How 'bout this?" Ray sat impassively through the bizarre eye test; didn't move, didn't flinch. It was a little strange. 

"I have no idea what that was all about," said Donny.

Jennifer, another of Ray's good friends at daycare

Comatose Ray

It was 6 p.m. It had been a long day. I called Gregg at home "Can you pick up Ray?" I asked. "I'm just leaving work now." 
"Sure," he replied. "I just got home myself, but I can get him."

Just as I got home and was getting out of the car, Gregg and Ray pulled up. "He had a good time at daycare," said Gregg, "Apparently he played with two huskies all day." 
We all went into the house together. Gregg immediately pulled out the dog food to fill up the dish. I walked out into the backyard with Ray who was announcing our arrival. Gregg and I briefly discussed dinner while Ray ate. We decided on a menu and Gregg prepped while I took Ray for a walk around the block.

By the time dinner was ready, Ray was asleep in my spot on the couch, curled up on an afghan. Gregg and I grabbed opposite corners and picked him up. We airlifted him to his bed while I made helicopter noises with my mouth. Ray never moved, even when we brought our porkchops to the table and ate dinner.

"That's one comatose dog," said Gregg.
"Must have been the huskies," I replied.

Shoe Raid!

Um. I don't know how they got here, 
but I wish you'd move them,
 I keep tripping over them.

I was working in my office and had let Ray upstairs when I heard a commotion coming from the master bedroom. I rolled off of my chair and went to see what was up. 
Ray had been in my closet, rummaging through my shoes. I caught him walking out of the bedroom with BOTH of my winter boots in his mouth (they weigh a ton!), kind of like a person sneaking upstairs carrying shoes in hand so as not to wake anyone. 
By the time I picked up my camera and took a picture he was looking at me like "What? They were just sitting there. Really!"

Ray the Yarn Hound

It was almost 7:00 a.m.. I thought I heard Ray moving around so I dragged myself out of bed to let him out. Maybe I could get some knitting done. I was dying to knit with the yarn I had spent untangling Friday night, a gorgeous silk/merino wool blend that was as soft as a dogs undercoat.

When I got downstairs Ray was still curled up on his bed sleeping (I hate it when that happens). I opened the sliding glass door to let him out, got out his food and filled up his dish, then headed out front to get the paper. I noticed that the potted plants were looking a little wilty so I pulled the hose from the rain barrel to water them. Five minutes. Maybe ten. When I got to the front door, I heard a ripping sound. I yanked it open to see Ray with my yarn in a tangle on the floor. I had left it on the windowsill behind the couch (HOW DOES HE KNOW??? HE'S BLIND!!!).

I saw red. 
"Aggggghhhhhhh!," I yelled, and whacked him with the newspaper. 
Undeterred, Ray barely flinched, the mess of yarn still clenched in his jaws. "BAH!!" I yelled. 
I grabbed his snout and pried the yarn from his mouth. He wasn't giving up easily. (I gotta admire him, he really knows his yarn - if I was going to fight over a yarn, this would probably be the one.) 
"BAD DOG," I said sternly. 
Ray made another grab for it. 
I opened the sliding door in the living room and said "Outside." 
Ray went.

I looked at the yarn in my hands. Because of the silk, it's a bit slippery and doesn't stay balled very well. It was a mess but didn't look nearly as bad as it had on Friday night. 
 "Stupid dog," I muttered under my breath as I sat down to untangle it. 
I am no longer a knitter. I am just an untangler. But, I looked at the bright side, at least I was still working with yarn, just not as productively as before. I wondered if the welder could make me a metal cage for a single ball of yarn. I didn't think wood would be strong enough to keep my yarn hound away.

I watched Ray poke around the patio while I sat and untangled. He grabbed an egg carton from the patio table, it hadn't quite made it to the compost pile the day before, and shredded it then moped around for a bit picking up acorns and chewing them. It's a banner year for acorns, they're coming down in buckets and Ray, apparently, is part squirrel.

I gave him about a 10 minute timeout then let him back in. He made a grab for the ball of yarn in my hands. (Wow! What persistence! If he only had opposable thumbs I would definitely try to teach him how to knit). I "Bah"ed, and Ray, knowing when he was licked (for now) headed to his toy basket to chew on the handle. I went to the emergency rawhide bone stash, which we had replenished the day before, followed excitedly by my dog. He already knows where they are. I gave him a bone which he happily tossed in the air a couple times before settling down in the front hall for a nice chew.

It was 7:30.

We took Ray for a nice long walk. It was already starting to heat up. Ray was lagging by the time we got to the street that intersects ours (four houses away from being home). Ray flopped. I took the spritzer and squirted water into my hand for Ray to lap up. After ingesting a teaspoon of water he revived enough to make it home. He's starting to remind me of a southern Belle. I can see him saying with a strong southern accent "I think I am going to swoon," as he flops over with one paw pressed to his forehead.

When we got home, I took a handful of ice cubes and tossed them in his water dish. Ray went to the dish, stuck his snout underwater, blowing bubbles out his nose, and went bobbing for cubes. Water sloshed over the sides of the dish and all over the tray. I took a towel and stationed myself next to the dish wiping up the water. Again and again he bobbed until he had eaten all of the cubes. The dish was mostly devoid of water. I went to get a dry towel and mopped his face. We were having a good time.

The New Gate

The pet gate that I installed across the stairs to keep Ray away from the cats hadn't been working out so well. It was difficult to open and a pain to use, so Gregg had taken to climbing over it using the railings as leverage. He viewed it as a form of exercise. My legs weren't long enough to use his technique so I just tried to avoid going upstairs. 
Last week, I decided I'd had enough.

Last year at an estate sale, I had purchased a see-through "room divider" (dirt cheap) that was made out of black-painted steel. It was 4 panels wide and I thought it would be good in a garden for vines to climb. Turns out two panels were enough for the vines, so I had two left. I measured the panels and found that they would be a perfect fit across the stairs (what are the odds?). The only problem was they were six feet tall. There was enough room for them height-wise, but six feet was a bit over-the-top, so I started looking on craigslist for a welder that could modify it.

After a couple of looks I found just what I had been looking for. A hobbyist welder who was interested in small jobs. Brian came over on Friday to check out the job, measure, and pick up the two panels. By Monday evening (or maybe Tuesday) Brian was back with the reconfigured gate to install it. He did a great job at a really reasonable price.

Before

All night long, every time Gregg would swing open the gate to go up the stairs he would say, "this gate is great." The next day "this gate changed my life." After almost 3 months of wrestling with a pet gate to get upstairs, I understood how he felt.

After

(Hugo demonstrating

the cat escape-hatch)

A Busy Morning (revised)

This morning Ray was feeling very refreshed after sleeping for about 12 hours straight. He started outside, playing with his outside rope, a marrow bone, and the watering can which he had hidden in his grave the weekend before; then moved inside to play with:

• my flip flops
• a belt
• a little plastic cat ball with a bell in it (which will never be the same)
• his inside rope (the one Hannah sent him)
• the previously-chewed eyeglasses case
• the toilet bowl brush handle (all that is left of the old toilet bowl brush)
• the weasel ball
• a felted bowl
• a knitted gauge square
• his tennis ball
• a cat "wand" with bells on it (one of his favorites)
• my socks
• the basket that holds his toys (he is slowly destroying the handle. It's his basket, I'm not going to stop him)

Some of the things that he tried to get but were off limits

• my coffee
• Gregg's coffee
• Gregg's breakfast (eggs and prosciutto)
• a ball of yarn that I had spent two hours the night before untangling (guess how it got tangled...)
• a street atlas

Notice that we're not very strict parents. Most of the things that he plays with don't really get damaged. But paper products, food, and balls of yarn are not some of those things.

After about an hour of non-stop movement, I decided that maybe a long walk was in order. So we all went.

No day is complete for Ray if he doesn't get to meet new people and/or dogs. This day was no exception. On his walk, Ray met John with his two dogs Boomer and Zooey. Boomer, a Chow mix, took to Ray just fine. Zooey, a huge Italian Mastiff, not so much. Ray was crushed, as he usually is when his charm fails him.

I think he should have tried the tried-and-true Ray technique of yelling in her ear. Gets 'em (almost) every time. Or makes them deaf, whichever comes first.

Zooey, John, and Boomer

Just a Quick One

I took Ray for a quick 2 mile walk this morning before checking my email to see if I needed to go to work. When I pulled myself up to my desk, I whacked the crap out of my knee. As I sat rubbing my knee and moaning (are there funny bones in the knee? That's what it felt like), Ray, who was in the office behind my chair, looked very concerned, then flopped over and offered me his belly to rub. I'm sure he was thinking that it makes HIM feel better so it would probably do the same for me. He was right. I rubbed his belly and felt better. Who knew?

I dropped Ray at daycare. I brought along his toy, the big ball that has a rope running through the middle with knots tied at both ends. Ray doesn't play with this at daycare, (Well, he can't see it, and the other dogs won't put it in his mouth like we do when we play tug-o-war) but the other dogs love it, so every once in awhile, when I think of it, I bring it along. A black lab-mix put his paws on the low wall to see me better so I gave him the ball. He gladly grabbed it and ran off, followed closely by a pack of dogs. In no time at all, there were five of them hanging onto a piece of the rope. The rope isn't very long so all the dogs were clustered together. It looked a big, furry starfish spinning across the floor.
"I wonder if they think they're winning," said Donny.