A Rude Awakening

This morning Ray was scratching at the kitchen door at 4:08 a.m. I didn't even grab my robe, I just sprinted down the stairs to let him out before he woke up Gregg. Ray trotted out the back door and headed for the fence.

"Aarrrrrroooooooo. Aarrrrrroooooooooo." Ray yelled at the top of his lungs. It sounded like the blast of a foghorn, only louder since there was no competing noise from birds, lawn mowers, or string trimmers. I slipped on my flip flops and ran outside. It was warm and steamy and there wasn't a peep of noise. "Aaaarrrrrrooooooooo." I clapped my hands and said sharply, "NO. Ray, COME." Ray stopped briefly and looked at me then paced a bit at the fence. "Aaaaarrrrroooooo." I clapped my hands again, "Ray, NO." I started toward him and Ray took off across the yard and stopped at a bush to pee then came trotting back, "looking" around him. I waited, on alert, as he headed towards me, ready to grab his collar and drag him in the house at the first hint of an aaarrrroooo.

Ray, apparently satisfied that whatever-it-was was gone, came and we entered the kitchen together.

I let him follow me upstairs, threw his scratchy blankie on the foot of the bed and went back to bed. [Usually when he wakes me up early, I just sack out on the couch with Ray on my feet so that he doesn't scratch the kitchen door down (once he knows I'm "awake," he's relentless)]. It wasn't even 4:30 and I wanted to go back to sleep. Ray came into the room, jumped up on the foot of the bed and settled into a ball on his blankie. He raised his head briefly and growled, I sat up and put my hand on him - usually his growls are followed by a single, deep, menacing bark. He laid down again and went to sleep.

I woke up at 7:00 to a strange noise; no dog was on the bed. I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the hallway, I was groggy from oversleep, and saw Ray shredding a brown paper bag. He was happy that I had gotten up to join him in his game. I went to grab my robe and saw Gregg laying sideways on the bed, his legs dangling off the side. He had woken up at the noise, sat on the side of the bed, then briefly laid back down for a nap. "What was that noise?" he asked, still half asleep. "Ray was shredding a bag," I replied.

I headed downstairs followed my my faithful hound. I fed him and made coffee. Gregg came down and settled in with the paper. I sat sipping my coffee, thinking of the morning's events. I wondered how many neighbors Ray had disturbed. Should I make some flyers apologizing for the rude awakening and put them on my neighbor's doors? How many blocks would I have to cover. At least our cul-de-sac and the street behind us and the one across from that and....my mind boggled. I had a nagging feeling that I shouldn't have let Ray sleep on the foot of our bed. I should have just slept on the couch with the dog as usual. To prove that I was right, Ray walked over to his bed where some of the velcro had come undone and started shredding the hi-density foam stuffing. I could just see what he was thinking... "Guess I won't be needing THIS anymore."

So, The Blog Dies...

...or not. Well, even though Ray has only five, wonderful, diehard fans (eight if you count my mom and my two sisters), we have decided to continue his blog for a while longer. The decision was reached when the payment came due to re-up his blog site. It didn't feel quite right to let it lapse yet. So for those of you who wrote in requesting us to keep posting, thank you for following Ray the Blind Dog.

Here are some photos just for you, loyal five. This is Ray, sporting his new Hawaiian print summer collar, trying to find a comfortable way to sleep while riding shotgun on his way home from the dogpark this morning.

Mmmmmm Goood

The other day, Gregg and I were in the living room reading the paper and drinking our tea and coffee (respectively) when Ray ambled into the room, sniffing. He went over to the table next to Gregg's chair, laid down and jammed his head under the table. "Whatcha smell, Ray?" I asked. I got to my feet and went over to have a look but didn't see anything. Ray got up and wandered away then came back and did the same thing. This time I got up and moved the table to see what had captivated Ray's interest. There was a daddy-longlegs-kind-of-thingy on the floor, it's legs curled up into the signature dead-bug posture. Probably the same one that had been pinging into the window a few days before which had made Ray dance on his back legs trying to catch it. At the time, I thought maybe Ray had heard buzzing or the ticking noise the bug made whenever it hit the window. Now I realized that it was more likely that Ray had smelled the thing as it flew its crazy path around the room.

Now that the table was out of Ray's way, he was able to do what he wanted to all along. He ate the bug.

Just Another Ray Day

Yesterday was an all Ray day, both directly and indirectly. We went to the dog park then came home and I cleaned my car. How does that relate to Ray? Well, every nanometer of my car was covered in dog park dust and dog slobber. It took me four hours to just clean the inside. It occurred to me last weekend when someone actually had to sit in the back seat, that my car was disgusting and I hadn't cleaned it since I adopted Ray last June. My car never really got dirty before. I mean, how much dirt does one person generate driving to-and-fro to work on an irregular basis.

So I left Ray in the house with the back door open and spent a large part of my day in the driveway. Occasionally, I would pop back in the house to throw in a load of laundry. I was washing dog bedding and dog blankets (the ones I use to throw over furniture and the back seat of my car), and dog towels. And I would check on Ray who was sleeping in Gregg's chair.

At the end of four hours, Ray was up. I walked into the house to see muddy footprints on the carpet in the front hall and clods of mud scattered around. Ray was standing in the living room with a giant pig ear in his mouth, a grin on his face, and his tail wagging like mad. It was freshly dug up and after being a good boy for so long, he was ready for a game of keepaway. It was obvious that the mud clods scattered in the front hall were from him trying to kill his pig ear (by madly slapping his face with it) after unearthing it. I chased him outside, "trying" to grab his pig ear (you couldn't pay me to actually touch the thing. Even when we were at the store, Ray shoplifted it and I bought it for him because I didn't want to touch it to take it away. We drove home from the pet store with Ray's head hanging out the window, the pig ear dangling out of his mouth and me hoping that he'd drop it on the road somewhere.) After a quick game of keepaway, I returned to the front hall to clean the muddy footprints and pick up clods of dirt before vacuuming.

By the time all that was done it was time for Ray's afternoon walk. We were half way 'round the block when we met up with Ray's youngest girlfriend, Roxie. Last summer, she had been a 4 pound puppy with a thing for older, blind dogs. Now she was a whopping 12 pounds and as tall as Ray's ankle, still carrying a torch for the coonhound. She jumped up, trying to give him kisses but Ray just turned his head away in embarrassment. He likes some age on his women.

When we got home, I fed Ray and the cats then started getting stuff ready for dinner. Ray finished eating then ran to the front door and started yelling. I looked out to see his friend, Ike, tearing down the street. I slipped on my flipflops and headed for the back gate, calling, "IKE! IKE!" Ike turned and dashed into the backyard. He and Ray were ripping around, Ike bodyslamming Ray and rolling him over, then both frantically wrestling. Mayhem ensued while I went to the gate to see if anyone was looking for Ike. I saw Ike's mom slowly cruising down the street, concernedly peering this way and that out the window. I called and waved to her. She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car carrying Ike's leash. We rounded up Ray's friend and he left with longing looks back at his boyfriend. Ray walked into the kitchen and collapsed on the floor, panting.

Attention Ray's Fans

We're approaching the anniversary of Ray's first year with us and I'm thinking of retiring the blog.

So IF you want the blog to continue, please let me know. Just leave a comment in the comment box. If enough people are interested I'll keep writing if I can find something to write about.

Thanks,

Jean

The Pavarotti of Hounds

At the dog park, today, was a Redbone Coonhound. I'd never seen one before, and it was beautiful. We've met Bluetick Coonhounds, Bloodhounds, Beagles, Foxhounds, Black and Tan Coonhounds, Basset Hounds, and now a Redbone. I've heard them all yell and I have to say, when it comes to yelling, Ray blows them all out of the water. I don't know if they were trying to breed a hound dog that could yell louder than any other dog on the face of the earth, but I think they did it with him. He has an AMAZING voice. He is the Pavarotti of hounds. He makes all other hounds seem like Justin Bieber. I found myself thinking that if I were a raccoon in a tree and had a pack of Ray's under me, no hunter would be necessary. I would die of a heart attack. Maybe that's what they were trying to do when they bred Ray, save money on bullets. There was just that one teeny, tiny problem....

Top Fives

When I'm out and about with Ray, I tend to get asked the same questions over and over again. I don't mind because, like everyone else, I love to talk about my dog. But I started thinking about some of the usual and unusual questions that I've had about him. So here are two lists, the top five questions that I get asked about Ray and the top five weirdest questions that I've had about Ray,

Top Five Questions People Ask About Ray

1. "What kind of dog is that?" or "What kind of hound is that?"
2. "Is he TOTALLY blind?" (in the interests of full disclosure, I always give the long answer. Fully detached retina in one eye, mostly detached retina in the other. The one that is still attached in one spot is deformed. Judging from what I've seen at home and at the dog park, Ray can see dark shapes best, especially if they are moving and if they don't get any farther than 4 or 5 feet from him. If they aren't moving or get too far away, he doesn't do so well.)
3. "Has he ALWAYS been blind?" (this one gets an "awwwww" or a "well, at least he doesn't know any better." I reply to the latter, "That's right, he doesn't know he's blind and we don't tell him."
4. "How old is he?" (the answer to this one always gets an "awwwww," when they find out that he's a young dog and not an old geez that has gone blind. In my estimation the old dog that's going blind is a sadder case because they don't know what's happening to them.)
5. "Does he make that noise at home?" (this one always gets asked with a look of horror on their faces. Thankfully, I am able to answer in the negative.)

Top Five Funniest/Weirdest Questions People have Asked About Ray

1. "Is he NORMAL?" I blogged about this one a couple weeks ago so it is still fresh in my mind and, I think, my favorite because it seemed so random at the time. (blog link http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2010/05/is-he-normal.html )
2. "Does he have brain damage?" (asked by someone at the dog park who had been watching Ray run randomly around. When I told them he was blind they said "That was my second guess.)
3. "How do you take him for a walk?" (answer: "I hook a leash to his collar, and he leads me outside and down the street." The reply, "He LEADS????? My response, "Well, I tried for the first 8 months to get him to heel but it didn't work out so well, so NOW he leads. I got tired."
4. "Does he skateboard?" (asked by someone who saw his lymph node impaired leg, noticed the swelling and thought maybe his muscles were bigger in that leg. I think they were joking.)
5. "Do you think he's faking it?" (asked about his blindness by my friend, Joanne, when I was complaining about him finding and stealing my yarn, no matter where I put it down. She was joking, of course, but it really got me thinking....)