Reality Strikes

Today, Ray ran broadside into The Rock at the dog park. I know I've mentioned The Rock before. It's about the size of a midsize car. Except it's a rock. I thought he was a gonner.

There was a pack of dogs racing back and forth through the wooded area of the park and Ray was all charged up. Usually when a pack races in the woods, Ray runs in the open area bordering the woods, yelling all the way. He tries to keep up (usually he's half a turn behind) and he's come close to the rock before, but he always swerves at the last minute, either just missing it or grazing it just a bit. I usually try to keep an eye out, and if he gets too close, I yell, "BE CAREFUL," but mostly Ray keeps track of it (I don't know how, he just does.)

Today I had turned away for a moment and when I turned back he was in the midst of a full-on collision. His head and neck snapped around, he staggered, then walked away licking his nose. I thought for sure this was it. This was the one to do him in. I ran over to him, grabbed his collar, and led him away, looking for signs of blood. I pulled his lips back to see if he'd smashed his teeth. Nothing. I made him stay still, while I checked him over, then turned him loose. He ran and yelled like he normally does. All I could think of was the headache he must have.

I've always known that Ray is not likely to be a long-lived dog. I figure he'll die of a broken neck from slamming into something (like today). Or Gregg and I will slip up, Ray will get out of the house or yard and get hit by a car. It will only take one mistake on our part for this to happen. Just one. It's a sobering reality for me. Like the thought of Murphy moving away, I try not to think about it. But it's there. Lurking in the back of my mind all the time. And today the harsh reality struck Ray in the face while I stood by helpless. I'm guessing that will happen at the end too.

Restoring Order

Ray is such a helpful dog.

Gregg and I spent the day putting our new kitchen in order. We probably traversed the hallway between kitchen and dining room (where we had everything stored) 100 times. Ray, probably traversed the same area 95 times.

Ray is such a good unpacker. He didn't worry abut the whole opposable thumbs thing. He just grabbed a corner of newspaper in his teeth and flapped his head up and down to dislodge contents. This worked pretty well until it came to glassware. Then it became a bit of an issue.

Ray also liked to help unpack spices. He poked through boxes, gingerly picking up little plastic bags in his teeth, testing out the contents to see if was something that could perk up the flavor of his dog food. It it was something good, Ray tried to carry it away, although what he thought he was going to do with mustard seed is anybody's guess.

When it was determined that maybe the dog was a bit of a hinderance, I called Rachel to see if I could get doggy delivery. She was agreeable and, almost immediately, a furball was zooming through the gate and around the backyard with a ganglier version in hot pursuit. Murphy kept Ray entertained for about an hour while Gregg and I continued our tedious task.

I found myself working and wondering for the zillionth time what will happen to Ray if/when Rachel, Josh, Murphy, Izzy, and Turkish (the two cats) finally move out of Marva's basement. I just don't know how he will be able to function without his best friend. It just doesn't bear thinking of. I can't think of it. I won't.

Finally, a kitchen.

I can't help but wonder if it was temporary insanity or just my measure of faith in my blind dog that made me paint the brand new kitchen with Ray and his high-energy best friend going into and out of the house all day through the dog door. I guess it was just dumb luck that nothing bad happened. The only bit of paint that ended up in the wrong place was a small streak on one of Ray's ears. Despite the fact that I had to put the paintbrush down every 10 minutes and go outside to tell the dogs to BE QUIET, I got quite a bit done (apparently, playing takes A LOT of barking and yelling).

It takes awhile to paint a kitchen three different colors (plus primer, white trim, and ceiling paint) so really, having another dog here to entertain Ray turned out to be a good idea. I could have taken them to daycare but Ray has been in daycare almost every day since the construction started (almost eight weeks) and when the crew told me yesterday that they weren't coming back until we get the knobs for the cabinets, I decided to keep Ray home. Rachel dropped Murphy off in the morning and I decided to keep her here too. I thought both dogs could use a break.

I was careful not to leave the paint tray on the kitchen floor. (I really didn't want to write a blog about white footprints on carpeting, although it could have been pretty funny.) And I tried to be cognizant of where the step stool was in relation to the dogs (although Ray stepped through the dog door and into the stool while I was on it - I was involved in a tricky corner and didn't notice). But overall, having both dogs here while I painted was not a problem.

As a matter of fact, they pretty much stayed out of the kitchen until Gregg started to cook. Then all of a sudden, the kitchen was THE place to be. Murphy and Ray grabbed a toy and played tug of war in the middle of the heated tile floor. Gregg gamely ignored them and I stood idly by and laughed at their antics. Life was returning to normal and it felt GOOD.

Hmmmmm

What does it say about me when the only Christmas shopping I have finished is for my dog?

Mr. Clean and Pigpen

Why you don't want a short dog with long hair

Notice the difference between the tall dog with short hair and the short dog with long hair.

Doesn't seem to bother her too much, though.

Genius Dog

I've been debating with myself about whether or not I should mention this because it makes me sound kind of stupid, but I just recently realized that Ray is handicapped. I noticed it for the first time when Murphy was staying with us. I think it was the close proximity, over a couple of days, to a dog that can actually see that made me recognize exactly how disabled (otherwise enabled?) Ray is.

Murphy is one of those dogs that tracks your every move with her eyes. She is constantly looking at your face and reading expressions. Murphy is a very bright dog and is so trainable it's almost laughable. But I noticed while she was here how much she picks up her cues from body language and facial expressions. She gets a worried look on her face if you frown. Ray doesn't have that option.

Which brings me to my next observation. Ray is practically a genius. He is the Helen Keller of dogs. Although I have not been able to train him to heel (I think it is a lack of skill on the trainer's end - and maybe a bit of the hound dog stubborness) or teach him to not eat shoes, or keep him out of trash, Ray has learned (almost) everything else I've tried to teach him. Well, I guess there's the thing with leaving the cats alone, and not jumping up on small children, or trying to eat my mom everytime he sees her, but he's learned just about everything else.

Okay, so he can sit, and shake, and flop (sometimes, when he feels like it). And he can navigate in the dark. And he can make people happy just by being Ray.

Like I said. A genius.

If you're interested in funny...

Rachel posted these links on my facebook page. (thanks Rachel!)

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/07/dog.html

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/11/dogs-dont-understand-basic-concepts.html