After Dinner Show

It was about nine o'clock and I was finishing up the dinner dishes when Ray wandered through the kitchen towards his dog door.
He'd been pretty active earlier in the evening. Although I had left him sleeping peacefully on the bed, he wasn't there very long before I heard his paws hit the floor and he barreled down the stairs and into the front hall. He gave two deep-from-the-belly yells, the ones that mean something serious is afoot, and then, when I told him to take it outside, headed at high speed to his dog door. He was yelling the second his nose hit fresh air.
After a bit more yelling along the back fence, then the side fence, then the middle of yard, Gregg went to retrieve the hound ("just trying to avoid getting arrested" he always says as he heads out after Ray). He dragged the protesting dog back inside and closed the dog door. But we were cooking dinner, and Ray's determination to get back outside at whatever-it-was was inhibiting our ability to maneuver around the small kitchen. I opened the back door, grabbed Ray's collar and led him out to the patio to see if I could identify what was making him so antsy.
I watched the blind dog stick his nose in the air and do his Ismellsomething dance but didn't let go of his collar. Faintly, from the direction of the high school, I could hear a disembodied voice announcing something over a loudspeaker. (It was Tuesday night. What could possibly be going on in the middle of the week? Was Ray just vocalizing his support for the home team?)
I let Ray sniff the air a bit more then dragged him back inside and told him to go lay down. He paced the length of the kitchen a few more times but when I went to sit on the couch, he curled up next to me and settled in with a distinct 'harrumph.' Ray eyebrows were doing the dance on his forehead, the only indication that he was alertly keeping track of whatever it was that had him so riled up.
So here we were, hours later, I was just rinsing the last few pots, and Ray was standing calmly at the back door waiting to go out.
"Here, I'll let you out, Ray," said Gregg as he entered the kitchen.
He opened the back door and Ray stepped out onto the patio, then took off like a shot past the kitchen window into the middle of the yard, yelling to wake the dead.
I put the last pot in the drainer and watched as Gregg ran past the window in rapid pursuit of the noisy hound.
I smiled to myself, turned, and headed back to the comfort of the couch.

Tit for Tat

I was on the front porch emptying the vacuum cleaner when Bill and Cindy walked by.
"Getting ready for Halloween?" Cindy yelled.
"Just starting," I shouted back. "If only I had a dumpster."
The Dumpster of Doom had been the best year ever for Halloween decorations.
I headed across the lawn to chat with my neighbors so that we didn't have to yell, then, when I heard a noise at the door, turned back to let the hound out so that he could visit his friends.
Ray bolted across the yard, greeted his girl, then flopped to the ground, exposing his belly.
As I continued past him, heading to the sidewalk, I glanced over to see Cindy bending over to give Ray a bellyrub. One big dog paw came up to rest squarely on her breast.
"You do like my boobs, don't you?" she said to Ray fondly.
Cindy straightened up and said to Bill, "Did you see Ray cop a feel?"
"No," he replied, laughing.
"Here, watch this," said Cindy.
She bent over the still-reclining dog and put one hand on his chest. Again Ray's big paw came to rest, this time on Cindy's upper arm, then ever so smoothly, the paw moved to alight on Cindy's breast.
I shook my head. Boys. They're all the same.

Just for Fun

Funny, this reminds me of someone.

Notes on Murphy

The sleepover continues. As usual, when Murphy visits, Murphy's law is in effect and it rains. The problem with rain is it creates mud. And the problem with mud, as we've found in the past, is it creates Pigpen.
Since I am trying to reduce the incidence of mud by once again trying to grow grass in our yard, I closed the dog-door and attempted to limit Murphy's access to squirrels. Ray happily curled up on a chair and slept. Murphy whiled away the hours watching through the glass doors, keeping an eye out for small, furry marauders, alerting us to their presence with an ear-drum shattering shriek every time she spotted one.
Three or four times during the day, in between the raindrops, I let the dogs outside to play (but kept the dog door closed). As they finished and showed up at the back door to get back in, I would ease the door open, point at Murphy an give a firm "STAY."
While poor, pathetic, filthy Pigpen stayed outside, Ray would come in for a quick rubdown. After a few swipes of his tootsies, he would be good to go. Only then would I retrieve more towels to tackle Murphy and her hula skirt.
As the day drew to a close, Murphy staked out the front door in anticipation of her owners' return. She'd never spent more than two nights with us and it was apparent that she thought she was going home. After an hour or two, she gave up and retreated dejectedly to the couch.


Pre-dog, our yard looked like this.

Backyard, pre-dog

Then it looked like this.

Backyard, December 2010

Then, after drastic action was taken, we had the mulched playground look.

Backyard, January 2011

After reseeding in the spring and again a few weeks ago, I would have described our grass as "struggling" or maybe "languishing."
With the arrival of Murphy this weekend, I think I would have to change the description to "nice try" or  "there's always next year." (sigh). On the bright side, there's more grass now than in the above two photos.
As for the plants in the top photo, most have given up the ghost and gone to that big green garden in the sky. The upside of that, I can now say with certainty that anything remaining in the yard is just about 100% bomb-proof.

Sharing

It was day two of a three-day, three-night Murphy-sleepover.  The dogs were quiet.
I surreptitiously checked to make sure that they weren't doing something that they ought not. They weren't. They were quietly lying side-be-side in the front hall sharing a less-than-palm-sized piece of rib bone; the remainder of  a gift that Ray had gotten sometime in the distant past. The piece was so small that I couldn't believe they could both get their mouths on it at the same time.
Every once-in-awhile, Murphy would gain sole possession of the bone and turn her body away from the bigger dog in a miniature game of keepaway. Ray would follow her around in an attempt to get it back. Murphy would eventually take pity on the blind hound, drop it for him, and wander off. Ray would settle in for a chew, then realize that she was off doing something else, and leave the bone to go in search of her. As soon as the bone was unattended, Murphy would swoop back in, scoop it up, and start the game anew.
I found myself wondering if there could be two better friends in the world.

Surprise Package

"You got a package." said Gregg walking up the drive from the mailbox. "From the Royal Mail."
'Royal male?' I thought to myself. 'I wonder which one.'
"It looks like it's from Niki Moore," Gregg continued.
Even more pleased to be receiving a package from a friend than from a random Royal, I took the thing and, followed by my instantly-excited hound, went to sit on the couch to open it. I looked at the unprepossessing package. It was a soft-sided envelope that looked a bit the worse for wear from its trip over the pond. I shook it, but nothing rattled so I assumed everything was intact. I grabbed a corner of the brown packing tape that covered most of the mailer and pulled hard. The very satisfactory sound of package-opening followed.
Ray, who was standing with his head right next to the package, gave a little start at the sound of ripping tape, then got into the spirit of the thing and grabbed a corner of the envelope in his teeth. Using Ray's grip as leverage, I stripped off the rest of the binding. Not waiting for an invitation, Ray excitedly jammed his head into the mailer, flapping his head up and down, trying to find something. He removed his head, took a deep breath and went back in. Still not able to get a good grip on whatever it was, Ray repeated the process, trying to dive further into the envelope but hindered by the sheer size of his head relative to the package. This time when he withdrew, he held a book in his teeth. He spat it on the floor, stuck his head back in the mailer and came out with a package of cookies (Jaffa Cakes!!!!! ). I excitedly took the cookies from him as Ray went back into the package, grabbed something out and headed for the front hall.
"What's he got?" I asked Gregg as I removed another pack of Jaffas from the envelope.
Gregg bent over and looked at the thing in Ray's teeth.
"It's some kind of dog bone," he said.
I picked the book up off the floor where Ray had left it, and withdrew from the package the remaining contents; a handwritten note and a special edition of the "Weekend" section of the Daily Mail featuring the cast of Downton Abbey, a favorite of Gregg's (he'd gotten a late start watching it and had been trying to unravel all the characters). Something for everyone. A warm glow spread through me as I watched Ray trying to unwrap his bone. A surprise in the middle of week from Ray's British buddies. How very, very pleasant.

Can't you open this any faster?

Here, I'll help.

I know there's something in here for me.

Let me just get it and I'll get right out of your way.

can't...quite...reach....it

...mmrph...stupid ears...

...wait, I've almost got it....

WOW. Lookit THIS.

I've gottttt a boooone and yooou caaaan't haaaave it.

ummm, heh, could you open this please?

Chick Magnet

We were walking one of our usual routes. A woman in the age group usually described as 'indeterminate' was working on the front porch. She was dressed in workman's (workperson's?) clothes and was bent over a door stretched flat on a couple of sawhorses.
As we got even with the house, the woman looked up from her chore and said, "Hi sweetie." As is always the case, she was speaking to Ray.
Ray, after three years and much discouragement from the person on the other end of the leash, has finally come to realize that not every random voice he hears is talking to him. However, Ray also knows exactly when someone IS talking to him. He headed across the yard to greet his new friend.
I took note of Ray's body language and immediately started in with the "stay down, stay down, stay down." Ray was wiggling all over begging for attention.
"Here, I'll just get down on his level," said the woman as she knelt in the grass.
Thrilled, Ray wiggled up to her, his tongue flicking. The woman pursed her lips to receive his doggy kisses. Ray obliged.
 "He doesn't often get the opportunity to kiss people," I told the woman.
"Well, I'm only here as a contractor for a couple of days," she replied, "So he probably won't see me again."
"Actually, he doesn't see you now," I told her, "He's blind."
The usual "awwww" was followed by further permission for more kisses. I realized that I would never be able to take Ray for a walk on this particular route again. I knew there was no way I would ever be able to get him by that house. It was a flop-trap in the making.

Ray and I continued on our loop. We were headed towards Ray's friend Tucker's house. I saw a car pull up opposite the house and disgorge Tucker's mom, Darlene; her mother, and her son. They were all looking our way and smiling. I waved and called a 'hello'.
Darlene pointed to their driver, "Jean, that's my sister." I waved a quick hi but was concentrating on Ray who knew his friends were there and was headed in their general direction. I steered him towards Darlene's mother who has been visiting for the last couple of weeks and is a particular favorite of Ray.
"She's over here, Ray," I told the dog. Everyone watched as Ray gave a little jump and a spin and tried, (but missed) to give Darlene's mom a kiss, then tried his best to eat her, starting with one bony wrist.
"Wow, he really does like her," said Darlene's sister, watching from the car.
I knew that Ray's attraction to the older woman had been a topic of conversation. The first time he met her, Ray had done something similar but then had just leaned against her knee in bliss while she petted and crooned over him.
I pulled Ray away from the crowd and we headed on up the block. I told Darlene's mom that Ray would stop by to say his goodbyes before she returned home.
Two more conquests for the blind hound. My dog the chick magnet.