Just a little chilly....

Today was the first really cold day of winter; in the 30s with a strong wind making it feel much colder. Despite the cold, Ray and I decided to chance it and see if anyone was at the dog park. After donning two pairs of socks, a pair of long underwear, a pair of pants, an undershirt, a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, a neck gaiter, a wool hat, boots, a Carhartt coat (they weigh about 10 pounds), and a pair of dog-walking mittens (my own design - two strands of thick wool knitted together), I was ready to go. Ray whined through the whole dressing process and all the way to the park. He dragged me to the gate and excitedly entered the park only to find that all his friends were wusses and that he was the only one there.

The blind hound despondently poked around for while, sniffing here and there and dejectedly peeing on this and that, until I took pity on him.

"Do you wanna go for a walk, Ray?" I asked my lonely dog.

Ray looked at me from the middle of the park, his head cocked to one side.

"C'mon Ray, let's go," I said as I walked toward him.

Ray turned and idly walked away.

I picked up my pace a bit.

"C'mon Ray, let's go for a walk," I repeated.

Ray picked up his pace, putting a bit more distance between us.

Two could play at that game. I jogged toward him (at least, as much as I could while weighed down with 50 pounds of clothing).

"I'm going to get you," I said to my dog.

Ray jogged away, trying to stall until one of his friends arrived. I followed after him, calling and whistling (neither of which ever works - I don't know why I bother) then turned and headed for the gate. Ray heard the latch open and stopped his evasive maneuvers. I stepped through the gate and let the latch fall into place.

"Bye, Ray," I called.

Ray paused briefly then worriedly made a beeline towards me, fooled by the oldest trick in the book.

I let him through the gate, slipped his collar over his ears, and took him for a nice brisk walk.

SMACK

We were doing our usual a.m. perambulation around the lake. A woman was approaching, walking a largish mixed-breed. She stopped to admire Ray and bent down to tell him what a handsome boy he was. Ray, liking her tone, jumped up and gave her a kiss on the lips. The woman laughed and continued on, Gregg turned to look at her as she walked away.

"What are you doing kissing a Phillies fan, Ray?" he said as he read the logo on the back of her sweatshirt.

"It's not like he knew she was a Phillies fan," I said in defense of my dog. "It's not like he can read. He is blind y'know."

"That's true," said Gregg somewhat contritely. "And it could be worse. She coulda been a Yankees fan."

A New Year's Welcome

Gregg was asleep upstairs. Ray was sleeping on his futon outside the bedroom door. I was downstairs, knitting. Midnight struck.

Outside, firecrackers started popping. I heard Ray give a brief 'AROO,' then pause, and then start in on a longer bout of determined yelling. I heard his feet hit the floor, and then heard him as he barreled down the stairs, harrumphing and grumbling at the noise that had wakened him.

I was in the mood to celebrate the new year so I clipped Ray's leash on his collar and we headed out back. The firecrackers were booming in earnest now.

I stood, grinning like an idiot while Ray welcomed in the New Year. His hound dog yell is much safer than firecrackers but every bit as noisy.

Amazingly, Gregg slept through it all.

Good News and an Impromptu Party

Yesterday, we got a piece of good news: Gregg's PET scan came back clean.

So in order to celebrate, I ran around to all the neighbors that have supported us though Gregg's ordeal and invited them over for a glass of champagne at 5:00. Ray followed me mopily around the house as I did a quick houseclean then when bedtime (about 4:30) rolled around, went to his usual spot on the couch to go to sleep.

But his pillow wasn't there (it was in the wash), and his blanket wasn't there (I had folded up the throws and stashed them out of sight). He stood at the edge of the couch, his head down in sad-dog mode, uncertain what to do. I wanted him asleep so I spread his blanket in it's usual place. Ray immediately crawled up, curled up, and went to bed. As soon as Ray went down, Gregg started putting out food; a cheese board, crackers, nuts, carrots, etc.

At 5:00 sharp, Marva arrived followed immediately by Halle's grandparents, Deborah and Steven. Ray got up off his couch to greet them. I was taking coats when I heard Steven say the dreaded words,

"Um, should Ray be doing that?"

I turned to look. Something was missing off of the cheese board. Ray was headed into the kitchen with a prized mozzarella/prosciutto/basil roll clenched in his teeth. I swiftly grabbed his collar, removed the roll from his mouth, handed it to an outraged Gregg (who quickly took it to the sink and rinsed it off) and clipped a leash onto the dog. Amid much laughter, and "you shoulda seen what Ray did"s, more neighbors arrived.

Steven asked, "So what was it?"

We described the cheese roll.

"Oh, go ahead and put it on out," he said, "It's just a little dog spit." (He is my kind of people). I thought about it briefly but dismissed the idea when I saw the look of horror on Marva's face.

The small party went swimmingly.

After all the guests had left (and after Ray spent quite some time trying to intimidate Steven out of his spot on the couch - "I'm not giving you my spot, Ray. I have dogs, I know the move.") I found Gregg in the kitchen with the mozzarella roll, carefully cutting away the cheese marred by tooth marks.

"Waste not, want not," he said with a grin.

Happy Holidays to all of Ray's loyal followers.

from Ray, Gregg, Jean, Moonie, and Hugo

Christmas Eve exploring.

Ray and Gregg

Ray and Jean

Hear those lonely hound dog blues...

It was about 6 a.m.

BAMBAMBAMBAM.

Ray was in my studio trying to get into the closet again. I had finally caved-in and given him one of his Christmas presents, the shrink-wrapped rib bone, just to keep him out of my room. But now, of course, he thinks that the closet is the Pez dispenser of rib bones. I could hear him give a brief whine then wander down the hall to our bedroom.

SCRATCH; he wanted in.

"Go to bed Ray," said Gregg.

Ray gave a deep sigh. No bone and not allowed to sleep with us. I heard him sadly walk to the futon outside our room where he settled himself in.

Life is so hard for the poor, lonely, blind dog.

Demerit, Demerit, Demerit, Demerit

1. Eating the Christmas ornaments on the lower half of the tree

2. Opening one of the Christmas presents that was meant for ME (from my sister, Kathy)

3. Trying to open one of the Christmas presents tagged for Gregg (it was too flat for him to get a good grip on)

4. Annoying the crap out of me by coming into my studio 10 times a day to BAMBAMBAM the closet door to get at his presents.

On the plus side, Ray made a crying baby smile by licking the bottom of the baby's feet...

I think that cancels out at least three of the above four demerits (he's really going to have to work to cancel out opening one of my Christmas presents)

Well, how was I supposed to know it was an ornament? I AM blind y'know.