My eyes.
You can almost see what I’m thinking.
I don’t speak words, but my eyes are truly windows.
And the curtains are never drawn.
Category Archives: dog behavior
Focus
Let Us Play
Hey there!
See that toy on the ground?
Do you?
‘Cause I don’t think you see it.
If you SAW it, you would PICK it UP and throw it, yes?
What’s more important right now?
That’s right… nothing is.
Let Us Play.
I Am Not Complete
I’m expectant.
I am at the ready.
I detect any small noise that may be them.
I’m waiting for the rest of my pack.
Yes, A-Dog is here with that “camera” again, but I yearn for the rest of my peeps.
I am not complete.
Stare Down
It may look like I’m waiting for the ball to say something, but balls don’t talk, silly.
It’s a stare down, between me and the ball.
One of us is going to move and I’d bet my silky ears, it’s going to be the ball.
I See You
I’ve realized that I can’t see very well any more.
I lose sight of the ball sometimes.
I need the light to go up and down the stairs.
I bark at sounds instead of sights now.
But it’s okay.
I see you.
this is what happens when you lay on the ground
Oh, you silly boy. Don’t you know when you lay on the ground that it’s an invitation to your face? I’m compelled to give you a nose tap in the ear, or if I’m lucky, get a good lick or two on your cheek.
Yup, target annihilated.
Old Lady
I run with A-Dog a few times during the week. I can hardly stay inside my skin when I know she’s getting ready for a run and I might be going too. She used to take me every time, but as I grow older, I’m not allowed to go every day.
Recently, my body started to rebel. I would run a mile and begin to limp. Of course, I wouldn’t stop unless A-Dog did. Even with a day of rest in between runs, I would still limp. She said it was hard to tell which leg was affected and after a few days of little improvement, we had to go to Dogdom’s unspeakable four letter word: the vet.
No need to go into details on that horror, but if any dogs out there want to share a better place to hide than the human leg tunnel, I’m all silky ears.
My diagnosis was arthritis — a mild case that can be treated with medication. I started with a quarter pill, twice a day. After two weeks, my dose is now a quarter pill once a day. I am in awe that such a small bit of medicine can make such a difference. (Although, hearing the humans trying to break that little pill into four pieces is hilarious. Watch the language, people!)
I am back to running every other day to a maximum of 3 miles. I’m grateful and hopeful that I can do it for the rest of my life.
Dude, Where’s My Girl?
Okay, I’ll admit that I can be neurotic. I like routine, crave it actually. so, when a constant in my life gets gone, I worry.
A-Dog took a short trip away with her girls this past weekend. I’m her girl and why I wasn’t invited is still a sore point… Anyway, I’ve gotten used to the fact that she’s always here. She hangs with me most of the day. We run outside together. She rubs my ears at random times. We take potty breaks (not together, mind you.) We’re together day to day.
The rest of the family is here, but they go in and out more often. If they all leave for somewhere, she’s the one that makes sure I’m good to go, or good to not go. She always says “See you soon!” And she’s off. But not for too long.
She was gone for 36 hours this time. I didn’t eat. I looked for her in my waking hours. I did manage to sleep (I am a dog, for goodness sake. Sleeping is a claim to fame.) But I was trippin on a whipple dip.
It’s all good now. I’m calm, cool, collected, eating, sleeping, chilling. I put my neuroses on ice. I can’t stop her from going away, but I hope it’s not for a long time.
Best of Scout ::: Dog Head through the Kitty Door
::: Originally published February 2009
Guilty as charged! The kitty door lives on the bathroom door and when one of my humans goes in there, I want to be in there too! It doesn’t matter where I am in the house or what I’m doing, if I hear one of them go into the loo, I am THERE!
As I’ve written before, I’ve lived with cats.
Both Fatboy and Littleman (pictured) are now in whatever represents kitty heaven (catnip and forbidden furniture?). But when they lived here with us, we’d all be in that bathroom, if allowed, when the humans were doing the doo.
Now, I know if you’re reading this, you want to know why. What is the fascination? And for both cats and dogs to exhibit the same behavior, it’s a bit mind-boggling. Well, I’ve got nothing for you, sisters and brothers. If you think you have the reason why, I’d love to hear it. Or if you are guilty of shoving your way into the loo, I’d love to hear your motivation.
You’ll have to excuse me for now. I must click down the hall to stick my nose through that little flap to say hellooooooo.
No Self Control
Does a dog have any self control? That’s a good question and I’m not sure if I know the answer.
Let’s examine food in relation to self control. I’m pretty well-behaved, so they tell me. I’ve seen other dogs constantly scrounging for food and I don’t do that. I would if I could, but the scrounger has been trained out of me by my family. Another training technique they used was making me wait for my meals. Oh, the sweet torture! Shoes on the Floor would give me the command to sit, put food in my bowl and make me wait about fifteen excruciating seconds (full of drool, need and want) before saying the magic word, “Okay.”
:: busted ::
I guess that training has set me up to behave pretty well around food. Doesn’t mean I’m not opportunistic… read on, my sisters.
A-Dog used to do a lot of baking B.C. and I was not much interested in the end result. Although that chocolate smell is dee-vine! In the baking process, sometimes it makes sense to bring butter to room temperature, which means it needs to sit out for a couple hours. And in that couple hours, I may catch a whiff of said butter about 1,874 times. I don’t think it’s a question of self control when there is torture involved.
The score? Scout the Dog 2 — Sticks of Butter 0.
Then there was the Onion Kulcha – oy! Unfortunately, onions are toxic for dogs. But I am a self-confessed bread hound. Love the stuff. I find it hard to resist under regular circumstances, but the fragrant Indian bread, makes my nose dance. Left unattended, I made that flat loaf all mine. The confusion and panic that ensued may have been funny, if not for the call to Doggie Poison Control and the words induce vomiting. I’ll spare you the details, but “better in than out” has a whole new meaning for me now.
I guess from these examples of behavior that self control is a human trait and we dogs still rely on instinct. Makes us charming and disarming, yes? And that photo above? I had just eaten a sandwich off the counter. Will they never learn?
