Something to Look at

Two weekends ago, when we were at Leesylvania State Park, a man took a photo of Ray yelling at the beach. If you look closely at the video from that day, you can see the man in the background on the pier with his camera equipment.
As we walked away from the beach, the man approached us and gave us his business card. He told us  that on the card was a web address and that if we checked the website later, we would see Ray's photo.
The next day I checked the website, and as promised, Ray's photo appeared in a file of pets labeled "Friendly." The photo representing the "Friendly" file was of a Husky staring straight into the camera looking very wolf-like.
I left a comment for the photographer thanking him for taking Ray's photo and telling him that he could see himself on the pier in Ray's video from that day (well, a mighty small video of himself) if he searched youtube for Ray the Blind Dog goes to the beach.
The next time I checked his website (he has lots of really nice photos, I've been looking through all of his files), the Husky had been replaced by Ray the Amazing. His photo is currently (I don't know for how long) the representative photo for the "Friendly" file. If you click on any of the photos displayed on the linked page, a file opens up with dozens of photos of each subject. Ray's photo appears twice in the "Friendly" file which is photos of dogs and cats. Click on any of the photos to enlarge them into crystal clear shots of the subject.
It's fun.

A Neighborly Visit

I had just finished working in the backyard. I went through the side gate, closed it behind me, and headed to the front porch. I needed to water the hanging baskets before the start of the predicted heatwave so I grabbed the hose and turned on the faucet. Just then the mail truck stopped in front of the house and the mailman climbed out with a package. I put down the hose and started around the porch railing to meet him halfway through the yard.
I hadn't taken more than a step or two when I saw my next-door neighbor, Karen (William's grandmother), walking across the grass leading a dog. MY dog.
"Where did you get that dog?" the mailman asked Karen.
"It's hers," said Karen.
"Oh my GOD. How did he get out?" I said, my mouth hanging open.
The mailman handed me my package. I took it and put it on the porch.
"I was on the phone with my mom," Karen was telling the mailman, "and the doorbell rang. So I got up and I saw Ray. I thought it was you," she turned to me as she said this, "but it was just Ray. So I told my mom, 'I'll talk to you later, there's a dog at the door.' She thinks I'm crazy now."
The mailman was laughing as he turned and headed back to his truck.
"Ray rang the doorbell," said Karen, "He probably wanted to come over and play with Max." (Max is their eensy beensy Bichon. He had followed Karen over and was sniffing around the yard.)
I took Ray by the collar.
"I have no idea how he got out," I said. "Thank you so much for catching him."
Karen was still marveling at the doorbell-ringing blind dog as I turned to let him in the front door. It was locked so Ray and I headed for the side gate. It was closed. I got to the gate and pulled it open.
"He must have gotten out this way." I yelled over to Karen. "The gate is closed but not completely latched!"
Which means that, in the three minutes that Ray was unsupervised, he had to KNOW that the gate wasn't latched, open it, and close it again, before trotting over to the neighbors to ring their doorbell.
My dog has superpowers.

I did a bad, bad thing

I was working in the front yard. I decided, since it was an absolutely gorgeous day, that I would let Ray out front with me. This decision was based partly on the fact that he stands at the front door, knocking, if he knows I'm outside doing somethin' without him, and partly on the fact that I would be out front and could keep an eye on him while I worked. Sometimes I hook him to the retractable leash and wind it around the front porch railing and sometimes not. Since Ray had been for a two mile walk AND played with Tucker for an hour and a half in the morning, I thought he was probably too tired to try anything funky.
So Ray came outside, wandered to the middle of the yard, and passed out on the grass. I returned to  trimming perennials, watering potted plants, and bagging up plant remnants. I had been working for fifteen minutes or so, when all of a sudden I realized that I had completely forgotten about the dog. I looked at the spot in the yard where Ray had been lying, comatose. NO DOG.
My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat. I felt the blood draining from my face.
I looked up the cul-de-sac toward William's house and down the street toward certain escape. No Ray.
Panicked, I started toward the front door to get my car keys and grab my cell phone. I had only taken a couple of steps when I saw Ray stretched out on the front porch in the shade. He had gotten a bit hot and had moved out of the sun and out of my line of sight. Relief flooded me. Then guilt.
I'm a bad parent. For fifteen minutes, I forgot my dog. Anything could have happened to him. Thank God he's a lazy, lazy hound.

Guess What?

Yep.  Monkey Butt. Again. This weekend Ray started in on his right butt cheek. Almost one year after his first outbreak of monkey butt, he has another. So yesterday I took him to see his favorite vet, Dr. Copp (all Ray's vets are his favorites). She gave him a shave and gave me the requisite spray and ointment.

"Sorry, Ray, but we're going to have to shave it."

"Ray, I like your after-shave."

Last evening when I was spritzing his hot zone and applying the unguent, Moonie and Hugo came to watch. Ray was splayed out on the rug, Moonie was six inches away from his butt, concernedly watching the procedure. (Ray does the same thing when Moonie gets her treatment, although Ray is not allowed in the room, he jams his head through the gap in the door or lays on the floor outside and waits to make sure his favorite cat is alright. The first few times he whined sympathetically through the whole process. Now he just waits patiently until it's all over).

Hugo sat nearby, sniggering at the dog's suffering.

Exhausted after his ordeal.

The Amazing Blind Dog

Lately, after Tucker comes over to harass Ray for an hour or two in the morning, I will hook Ray to his leash and we will walk with Darlene and Tucker to their house. Sometimes, Darlene and I will turn the dogs loose in Darlene's yard before Ray and I continue on home.
The first time we did this was a bit of a disaster. Tucker wanted to play with Ray some more, but Ray needed time to memorize the yard. Ray tried to pace while being bombarded by the cannonball (Tucker) and was getting a bit disgruntled with the youngster, until Darlene and I snagged the little guy and took turns holding him on our laps. After that first time, Tucker has been occupying himself with a largish, hard-plastic ball that he kicks and chases back and forth along the back fence line. Ray has been able to pace in peace.
It has taken a lot of pacing. Darlene's yard is a maze of low walls, not-so-low walls, walkways, drop-offs, fences, shrubbery, trees, perennials, grills, patio furniture, firepits, and other extraneous stuff...in other words a blind dog's worst nightmare. But I can tell that Ray relishes the challenge. And he's almost got it memorized, too. He paces faster, and as he nears low walls, his feet start to do his marching band routine. And the most obvious sign that he thinks he's got it down -  Ray stands outside the back door of Darlene's house. He wants to go inside. He's ready for his next challenge. Amazing.

Bye Hal

Today is a dark day for Ray the Blind Dog, but being a dog, he doesn't know it. (ok, I guess technically every day is a dark day for a blind dog, but you get my drift).
Today Ray's beautiful, serene, supermodel of a girlfriend, Halle, moves with her mom to the West Coast.
We saw Halle yesterday afternoon when we took a walk around the block. Ray got his final bellyrubs from Halle's mom, Sam, and I gave Halle pets and kisses.

Then, last evening, Deborah came by with Halle as I was preparing dinner. As usual, Halle gave a little skip when she saw Ray and me. She danced into the house and Ray picked up his rawhide bone to  tempt her into a game of keepaway. But this supermodel doesn't play games. She went straight to Ray's toy basket to find something else. She came out with a rawhide chip and settled down for a companionable chew. A final drink with a good friend, as it were. Ray lay down nearby with his rawhide resting on his front feet. He knew something was up but just couldn't put a paw on it.
Deborah and I watched for awhile, both of us choked-up. I pretended to be strong for Deborah's sake and kept the conversation away from the impending departure of her daughter and favorite dog. Ray is going to miss his girlfriend, but Deborah is going to have a huge hole in her house.

VIDEO ALERT - A Ray at the Beach

For Father's Day, Gregg, Ray, and I went to hike at Leesylvania State Park, located on the Potomac River. We had never been there before and didn't really know what to expect so we were totally surprised to find out that there was a beach.
Although only a river, the Potomac has waves. Not the 'grab your surfboard' kind of waves but the kind that make a blind hounddog use his special yell, the one usually reserved for coons, foxes, extremely nervous little dogs, and the mad pee-er.
I'm not exactly sure what Ray thought those waves were doing but he was quite determined that they weren't going to do it unannounced.
So here is a video (taken with my phone, so the quality isn't great) of Ray using his insides-liquifying voice at the beach.