One Photo

I just like this one. Ray looks good in this color blue.

Keep them Doggies Rolling

RAWHIDE

Yesterday, Ray dug up a rawhide bone. Not just any rawhide bone, but a huge rawhide bone that I had given him months ago. He had been saving it in his toy box, just dragging it out to play a random game of keepaway every once-in-awhile until one day it disappeared. Yesterday it reappeared.

When I first saw it, I thought maybe Ray had killed something and dragged it into the house. It was long and dangly and Ray was slapping his face with it.

When I got closer, I realized that it was an unraveled rawhide that had turned pink and green and blue from the different kinds of mold growing on it (the pictures don't do it justice). I really didn't want him to eat the thing which, apparently, he had every intention of doing, so I took a long stick, picked it up, and carried it to the trash to throw away.

Ray was very much against this plan of action and every time I got as far as the patio where the garbage-can resides, he would grab the dangly rawhide and run back into the yard with it. On the third try I was successful. I dumped the hide in the trash and slapped the lid down on the bin.

Ray spent the next hour scouring the patio trying to find his rawhide. I felt really bad that I had disposed of his prize but I was pretty much convinced that eating that hide would have made our hound extremely ill. At a minimum it probably would have had Ray producing enough toxic gas that the chemical weapons experts would have been called in to neutralize the noxious emanations.

Today, Ray went to daycare. When I went to pick him up, he came out of the play area and headed straight to a new display at the far side of the store. I followed him over and watched as Ray stuck his head in one bin after another, grabbing at the new merchandise; organic, free range buffalo bully sticks and other chewy buffalo things.

Kristen came over and we watched Ray as he started trying to wipe his head on the chewy things in the bins. As his knees buckled, he would swipe his head against the buffalo jerky, the twisted and braided things, and the other unrecognizable buffalo parts.
"He's trying to roll in that stuff!" I exclaimed, "Those must be some really stinky dog chews,"
"Oh they are!" replied Kristen, "Here, smell one!" She held a thing up to my nose and I pretended to sniff at it while I held my breath. Ray was still exhibiting his bizarre semi-roll-swipe. 

I felt bad about his rawhide bone from the day before so I bought him a braided buffalo chew.
 "This should last him awhile," said Kristen, "Do you want me to unwrap it for you?"
"Absolutely!" I replied.
It wasn't as nasty as the rawhide from the day before but I didn't want to touch dried, stinky animal parts if I didn't have to.

Kristen took some scissors and cut the shrink-wrapped plastic off the braided chew and handed it to Ray who was "watching" interestedly with his front feet propped up on the counter. Ray took the chew, happily carried it to the car, and jumped up into the back seat with it still in his mouth.

It takes about 15 minutes to get home from the daycare. The buffalo chew didn't last the ride home.

Ready for the Dog Park...Almost

Treats - Check

Jug of water - Check

Driver's License - Check

Cell Phone - Check

Baseball Hat - Check

Leash - Check

Car Keys - Check

Nagging feeling that I'm forgetting something. Turn to lock the door. Ray standing in the middle of the hallway, head cocked, a quizzical look on his face.

Oh yeah. I forgot the dog.

Ray, Creature of Habit

Ray has developed a tried-and-true method of eating his dog food:

• Stand directly outside of kitchen door with head cocked and ears deployed in Dumbo mode while mom dispenses kibble into bowl.

ALTERNATIVELY

• Stand with head jammed between mom and kitchen counter while food is dispensed into bowl

THEN

• Sit next to eating area after food is dispensed into bowl; wait patiently for bowl to be placed on floor
• Begin to eat kibble
• Hear cat food dishes hit the counter
• Abandon dog food and dribble kibble across the floor to check out cat food dishes
• Lick fork after mom puts prescription food in Hugo's dish VARIATION lick empty can until every last micron of food is gone
• Return to kibble
• Hear pop top being pulled on Moonie's food
• Abandon dog food and dribble kibble across the floor to lick cat food can lid for Moonie's food
• Lick fork after mom puts food in Moonie's dish
• Return to kibble
• Eat dribbled kibble off of floor when mom taps floor with finger at all the bits and pieces scattered hither and yon
• Return to kibble
• Finish kibble and try to sneak food out of cat food dishes before mom carries them away to feed Moonie and Hugo

Ray has found this to be a fairly effective method of eating his breakfast and dinner so he doesn't vary the methodology.

Hi Mom

My Mom, who's birthday is next week, had a heart attack this week. (Mom, notice how I discretely failed to mention the fact that you will be turning 87.) The doctors in Hartsville stabilized her then sent her to Providence Hospital in Columbia where she spent a couple of days having a great time with the wonderful staff in the CCU. Mom's only concern (besides surviving, of course) was that she would still be able to go to our family reunion in Las Vegas in two weeks (affirmative).

Mom is home now, and I know it won't be long before she is back on the computer checking to see what Ray has been up to. So, since Mom is Ray's biggest fan (she always asks to talk to him on the phone - I hold up one of his ears and put the phone to it, he listens while his eyebrows do the eyebrow dance on his forehead), I thought I would see if Ray's other fans would like to wish Mom well. Please post any good wishes you have for mom in the comments box. Thanks.

Jean

Mom - if you want to see what people have to say to you, scroll to the end of this post to where it says "Posted by Ray the Blind Dog at" then gives the time and the number of comments underlined and in blue. To view the comments, click on the 2 comments or 3 comments or 10 comments or whatever number is there at the end of this post.

Just Another Day...

...of mayhem.

I was getting ready to paint my studio/office. I was walking through the dining room on my way to the laundry room then on to the garage to gather supplies when I spotted Hugo under the dining room table. He had a chipmunk hanging out of his mouth. I quickly closed the dining room door behind me and grabbed Hugo to take him out through the garage. We didn't get far before Hugo squirmed out of my grasp while at the same time the chipmunk stopped playing dead, dropped out of the cat's mouth and made a mad dash for the laundry room. I once again grabbed Hugo, threw him out of the dining room and closed the door behind him so that he couldn't "help" me re-catch the catch of the day. I quickly turned so that I didn't lose track of the chipmunk but I was too late. No munk.

I closed the door to the laundry room so that the chipmunk couldn't get back into the house and went to get a flashlight. Hugo was lounging in the front hallway looking pleased with himself. I returned to the laundry room to begin the Great Chipmunk Hunt. Forty-five minutes later (it's a really small room with lots of nooks and crannies) I admitted defeat. I opened the laundry room door to the garage and opened the garage door to the outside, hoping that the chipmunk would see the light and head for the great outdoors. By this time, Ray had wandered in and wanted to know what I was doing. I had the bright idea that maybe Ray could track down the critter so I went to get his leash and led him to the last spot that I had seen the little varmint. I tapped the rug with my finger indicating where Ray should start. He sniffed interestedly for a second then led me through the dog gate into the laundry room, sniffing first at the furnace, then at the covered litterboxes. I looked inside (just in case) but there was nothing. Ray had lost interest in tracking the munk with the heady scent of cat crunchies (litter covered... you know...) hanging in the air. I led him out of the laundry room and turned him loose. I went to get my painting stuff and left the doors ajar for the chipmunk to escape.

Two hours later, I headed downstairs to fetch more painting supplies. Hugo was in the dining room staking out the tiny wine refrigerator (not, as my friend Joanne suggested, picking out a nice merlot that goes with chipmunk). I once again threw Hugo out of the room and went to fetch my munk herding supplies (I have years of experience as a munk herder):

1. a cardboard map tube
2. a yardstick
3. the flashlight

I looked under the fridge with the flashlight and saw the chipmunk wedged between the wall and the fridge. I removed the end of the map tube, positioned the tube next to the fridge and, using the yardstick, herded the chipmunk towards the opening. He obligingly ran into the tube whereupon I slapped on the end and lifted it upright to slide him to the bottom while I transported him outside. At this point, Supermunk, as he will be known forevermore, defied gravity and ejected himself from the top of the tube in a daring leap to the floor. A sprightly game of chase ensued.

By this time, Ray had realized something was going on behind that closed door and he desperately needed to be in on it. He just KNEW he was missing all the fun, so he started yelling. When that didn't work he switched to vigorous digging, trying to tunnel his way into the dining room. I was sweating and swearing profusely and tried not to think of the wet edge drying on the walls upstairs.

Supermunk jumped up onto one of the dining room chairs that was against the wall under a window. It had all of the chair pads stacked on top of it. Supermunk scrambled up the stack of pads and sat looking at the light streaming in. A lightbulb went off over my head. I opened the window, Supermunk jumped up on the windowsill and popped outside. I opened the door to let Ray into the room. He snuffled around for a minute or two then disappointedly left the room. I went back upstairs. Hugo was lounging at the top of the stairs, laughing. I thought evilly of sacks, rocks, and rivers and returned to work.

Baby Blues

"Uh oh," I thought to myself. I was watching as a woman entered the dog park with a dog and a little, tiny baby nestled in a carrier on her chest. There was a blanket draped over the baby's head to protect it from the morning sun. There is a dog park rule that kids have to be over 9 years old to enter the park but it doesn't say anything about babies (do they qualify as kids?) and people do take their kids in when necessary. I always try to keep a close eye on Ray when there are kids in the park, he has knocked them over by jumping on them on more than one occasion. He can't help himself, he is extremely attracted to small children.

I was rather far from the gate where she had come in and was watching Ray to see if he would "notice." He started to make a beeline for her (HOW does he know???????). I hotfooted it in the same direction to try to intercept him but my hound covers ground much faster than I. He reached her and tried to jump up enticed by the intoxicating scent of a newborn. She fended him off and I watched horrified, as first one, then the other, tiny, dangling, baby foot disappeared into Ray's mouth. I arrived at the scene and grabbed Ray's collar to keep him from eating the rest of the infant.

"I'm really sorry," I said to the woman, "Ray loves kids and gets hyper-excited around them, I'm not sure if it's because he's blind or what," (always play the blind card when there is a possibility that Ray is in trouble - it almost always works.) "Awwwww," replied the woman, "It's okay, Cameron (her dog) does the same thing. He loves her feet." She lifted the blanket to reveal a tiny girl with a head full of curly, soft, black hair. The baby was still asleep. "She's still sleeping!" I exclaimed. "I told you," said the woman, "She's used to it, her feet get licked all the time."

Ray had calmed down a bit so I let him go. He returned to the baby feet. I grabbed his collar and dragged him away a bit then turned him around and pushed him away from us and into the park. I stood by the woman chatting (and as protection) as Ray ambled off in search of fun.